PROLOGUE
Eulalia rolled her eyes, brushing her brown waves from her face as she lifted her elbows to prop herself on the side of the wading pool. “Of course. What are nymphs if not wasting away, waiting on a husband or better yet, to spawn a demigod and incur the wrath of a wife?” Naeda’s eyes went round with panic as she shushed her friend. “Be quiet, Eulalia; you know not to disparage the goddesses. We all know what happens to nymphs who anger them.” Indeed, we did. Many nymphs had suffered at the hands of Hera and other goddesses alike when their husbands were found in our beds, whether we invited them there or not. Another soft tug from Neera urged me for further details. I cast her a disparaging look but obliged. I could never say no to Neera; she was the kindest of us all. “Well, I told him no, that I wanted to be left alone. He started rambling about vanity and how he couldn’t help having a fishtail, as if that was the issue,” I huffed. “My own father has two fishtails, as if that would ever be the issue.” I may not have had a close bond with Phorcys, but I was still the offspring of the primordial sea god. “Anyways, Glaukos wouldn’t stop or let me get a word in, so I finally just gave up and went ashore. At least he couldn’t follow me there, not with that fishtail he seemed so insecure about.” A throaty laugh sounded behind our group, each of us startling from the sound before noting its source. We turned as one to take in Galatea as she breezed over the rocks to our little sea-side alcove. “You can’t run forever, Scylla,” she said, her smile sobering somewhat before her grin took on a mischievous edge. “But you do it for as long as you can, my dear. You know of the dangers.” I sat up, letting my feet trail back into the water beside Neera as Galatea gave me a comforting pat on my shoulder. Her soft scent wrapped around me in a comforting embrace, like rich red wine left out to breathe. “Be wary of all males and their fickle promises, and never love a mortal,” I answered, repeating her lessons to assure her they were well learned; she nodded approvingly. Galatea knew them better than most of us, from bitter experience itself. She was forever cautioning us about the men that pursued us, and worse, the folly of falling for mortal men. For now, those of us who could enjoy our peace did, and we continued to evade those that longed to possess us. Galatea straightened and looked out at the open water beyond our little haven. “I’m sorry, girls, but we’re needed below. You’ll have to continue discussing your spurned suitors another day.” My hands fidgeted in my lap as I watched each of my friends rise to their feet or swim to the edge of our little pool, where it deepened into the open cerulean waters of the sea. I longed to follow them, but with a sea god on my trail, it wasn’t wise. That was his domain. One by one, I watched my friends dive beneath the water’s embrace until finally, only Galatea remained. “Take care, Scylla,” she offered in farewell as her head dipped beneath the waves. I rose to my feet and gathered my chiton from where it stretched across the sunny rocks. The soft fabric kissed my skin as I cocooned myself in it, pinning it over my shoulders and securing it with my strophion. The fabric fell to my ankles and swayed gently in the breeze with each step towards home. I let the crisp brine of the sea’s air fill my lungs, the soft turquoise waves lapping at my toes as they dug into the soft sand with each step, both serving to calm my nerves. If only every moment were as peaceful. I enjoyed the laughter and crows of mirth that filled the air when I spent time with the other nymphs, and they always managed to make light of my plight—our collective plight. I had turned away man, god, and those in-between, yet they still persisted. Too many of us had fallen prey to the whims of a male—god, demigod, human, and more—and too many had paid the price of such unions. Look at Daphne; she was a tree now, for nymphs’ sake, and don’t even get me started on Io’s bovine transformation. No, it was better to remain as I was; just Scylla, at peace in the world to walk my own path. As much as I loved my time with the others, regaling them with tales of the bloated soliloquies and gifts from my aspiring paramours, this moment—this was where I truly thrived, just Scylla and the sea. My head fell back towards my shoulders and I stretched out my arms, swaying with the tides as I continued to pad across the beach. A soft cadence of steps rose behind me on the sand, barely audible, but a whimper rose above them and caught my attention further. I turned, finding I no longer walked alone. A stray hound approached carefully as he hung his head, looking at me with hopeful but wary eyes. He looked rather haggard, the poor thing, wet fur dripping slightly and a waist too tapered from hunger. He held one paw aloft, and as he took another haphazard step toward me, I could see the reason. I crouched down, careful to keep my movements slow. “Shh, quiet now little one. Come to me so that I can help you.” His warm brown eyes took me in once again, weighing the risk of trusting me. Seeming to find me worthy, he hobbled the few steps to where I hovered. His paw flopped at an angle that was not entirely natural as I reached for it; it was clearly broken and would need to be set if it hoped to heal. I moved cautiously, not wanting to scare him or jostle the injury, but the hound seemed at peace, understanding I meant no harm. “Hold on, my friend. I’ll do my best, okay?” I gave him a reassuring pat on his head and moved about my tasks. Scouring the beach, I spotted what I needed and darted around to gather my supplies, returning with a short length of driftwood and a sharp shell. The base of my chiton, now wet from the waves, was weighed down and clinging to my legs, collecting bits of sand and other debris. After shaking it as clean as I could manage, I gathered the fabric and used the shell to rend it, removing a small bit of length from the bottom hem. Gingerly taking the injured paw in hand, I laid the driftwood against the leg to steady it, then used the strip from my chiton to wrap it, soothing coos coming from my lips all the while to keep my new friend at ease. A small yelp sounded as I straightened the injured leg but the hound did not try to run or to bite, understanding in its pained gaze. Once I was finished, I brushed the tips of my fingers through his wiry, damp fur once more, resting my forehead against the soft strands between his ears. “It’s with the gods now; rest, my friend. Rest and heal.” A slurping lick ran up the side of my face. I could only assume it was his way of offering gratitude. The fabric of my chiton clung to my back from the heat of the afternoon, and with my skirt now sullied by crouching to assist my new friend, it seemed as good a time as ever to retreat to my other favorite, secret place. A small detour on the way home wouldn’t hurt. The hound watched me as I got further away but seemed content not to follow, so I left him in peace and carried on. Further down the beach was a small bay, and in it a bathing pool I loved to frequent. Like the alcove where I loved to visit the other nymphs, it was sheltered by a rocky outcropping, as if nature itself had wanted to hold this sacred place in a secretive, loving embrace, both a part of the rest of the shore and yet separate, a whisper of mystique to the air around it. The shallow water was the perfect temperature for a dip during the day, cool enough to ease the heat of the season without bringing a chill. I peered around to be sure that I was still alone. In the distance I could see the hound, making his way down the shore with a steadier gait. I smiled at the thought of his recovery as I once again unhooked my strophion. The flowy fabric of my chiton billowed free, only clinging to my legs where it was still wet from the shore. I hummed to myself, lost in thought as I undid the clasps along my arms and shoulders until the fabric slipped from my form to pool at my feet. The damp, sandy mess squished in my hands before I dunked it unceremoniously in the bathing pool, letting it plume under the water and swishing it back and forth to dislodge any persistent debris before I stretched it out along the warm rocks to dry once again. With the chiton managed, I could focus on myself. I had just been at the pool with the others, but I was a daughter of primordial sea gods; there was no such thing as too much time around water or too much bathing. The water welcomed me as I eased my way into the pool. It caressed my calves, my thighs, then my waist until I was finally submerged to my shoulders, releasing a peaceful sigh. I dipped my hair beneath the surface and ran my fingers through it, releasing Neera’s braided handiwork from my crown. Light brown curls rippled through the water, dancing with its movement like seaweed before I sat up again and stretched languidly across a rock just under the surface. This pool had a perfect vantage of the gorgeous sea. I rested my chin on my forearms, watching it ebb and flow as I lazily swished my legs behind me. True contentment. This is what I wanted from my life. A soft patter along the sand alerted me to a visitor. I turned my head, expecting to see my canine patient, but no. A woman stood in his place. Hair as black as pitch shone in soft curls along her shoulders, but the tendrils were the only soft thing about her. Her skin shone with a cold radiance that was as alarming as it was alluring. She was willowy in build and her body language screamed of foreboding. She reminded me of the sea snakes that occasionally graced the shallows. Beautiful creatures, but as deadly as they were comely. Rigid and cold, her eyes fixed on me as her mouth gave a subtle quirk upward, as if hiding a secret. A pit began to empty out in my stomach as dread crept up my spine. This was not just a woman. This was a goddess, and the slight lift of the corner of her mouth seemed more likely from malice than joy. Malice from a goddess was a recipe of disaster for a nymph. I let my body shift back under the water to hide it from view, gazing at her with trepidation as I shifted cautiously towards my clothing. A burst of cruel, cold laughter rent the air. “Your wanton form has been out for all the gods and world to see, and yet you feign modesty. I knew you were a filthy temptress. There’s no need to feign innocence or false modesty now. I know what you are.” I jerked as if her hand had slapped my face along with her callous words. What was immodest about nudity in a bathing pool? Regardless, I had angered her in some way, and I needed to approach this very cautiously. Right didn’t matter to the gods; only power. I cleared my throat, trying to sound as contrite and placating as possible. “I do not know how I have offended you so,” I shuffled a tiny bit closer to my clothing with each word; “I will take my clothes and leave—”
