“So, you used…” Wait. Rylander…

I pushed to my feet. “Where is he?” My hand braced against the wall as my legs wobbled. But before Apollo could answer, I found Rylander’s form slouched against a rock. Blood dotted his throat. A torn tunic hung off his shoulders, exposing a chest streaked in crimson claw marks foaming with white poison. His trousers were shredded up to his knees, ichor clinging to the threads.

Beside him, the Siren Queen sagged, dead. A glazed cast dulled her wide, open eyes. Apollo’s dagger protruded from her chest. The red rubies on the end darkened, almost black, as if they’d absorbed the essence of her blood-colored hair.

I pushed Calliope and Apollo out of the way and ran to Rylander. I flung myself against him, holding him close. “Open your eyes.” I slapped his face. “Open your eyes.” I turned my head. “Is he dead? Why didn’t you save him?” My fingers brushed back his brown waves. “Don’t you dare think about leaving this world without me.” My head crashed into his chest. Hot tears spilled into his wounds as I clutched the collar of his shirt.

Apollo saved me, a worthless pirate, but didn’t save his divine son. How could he let him die?

“You’re crushing my ribcage,” Rylander sputtered.

I lifted my head. His lips curled into an impish grin. His dimple danced. His eyes, barely slits, found mine. “I can’t say I’m upset about you lying on top of me, but…” Each word came out in labored breaths. “I really can’t…” He started to cough.

I rolled off him, repositioning myself at his side. “You’re alive.”

“I think so.” Rylander maneuvered his hands around his chest, targeting his wounds, knitting them with his power. He looked up.

“You don’t seem very surprised I’m alive.” I tilted my head. I didn’t need him to make a scene, but his lack of shock startled me.

Rylander smiled. “When I held the dagger at the height of my powers, it shared with me the images of those blessed to use it. I saw your image before I saw mine.” He tapped me on the nose. “Which meant that the dagger could do you no serious harm.”

Apollo approached, walking hand in hand with Calliope. “I healed you first because I knew this one”—he motioned his head toward me—“would overreact.”

I huffed, eyes slitted.

“Plus, your mother was insistent I ensure her son make it out alive.”

“You’re alright?” Rylander asked his mother. His eyes appraised her for injuries.

Tears spilled down her face. “I am now.” She let go of Apollo’s hand and knelt in front of her son. “Thank you.” She cupped his cheeks, and I inched to the side, allowing them space.