Annabeth tasted of beeswax and olive oil. Percy could smell the lemony scent that clung to her hair. Her lips were as soft as flower petals, but it was the warmth in his chest — enough heat to rival Helios' sun chariot — that he felt the most. He had never felt this way before. It was a most pleasant feeling and Percy reckoned those in the Isles of the Blessed could not be happier than he was right then.

        The kiss ended as it began: softly and slowly. Neither wanted to let go of each other. It was about more than a kiss — it was about the fact it was morning and the two would have to part ways. It was about how, when they kissed, they became more than two people. "I'll see you in two days time," Annabeth said.

      "Will I get a kiss then?" Percy asked.

     Annabeth smiled. "We'll see about it, Seaweed Brain."

***

    He changed back into his tunic. It was still wet, but it would be soaking anyway, when he arrived in Abydos. "You'd better hurry for work," Annabeth said, her tone brisk and light, though her eyes betrayed the slightest hint of sorrow.

      "Do you need anything else?" Percy asked.

      Annabeth blinked and shook her head. "Swim safely, Percy."

     "I will," he promised. "I will."

***

    The swim back went faster than he expected. Percy crested through the waves with ease. His mother used to joke he was half seal and for good reason; Percy oftentimes felt more at home in the water than on land. It was not that he felt awkward or ungainly on land, but in the water, he felt more alive. It was as if his heart pumped water instead of blood. "The sea god favors you," Paul often remarked.

      Percy thought of these things as he made his way ashore. His tunic was soaking and he wrung it out as best as he could. Judging from the sun's position in the sky, he did not have time to stop by home for breakfast. Instead, he hurried to the harbor where he worked.

Mr. D scowled when he saw Percy. "You're late, Peter."

"It's Percy, sir," Percy said.

Mr. D scowled further. "I know what your name is, Pierre. Get to work!"

Percy cursed Mr. D under his breath as he stepped forward to help load crates of incense onto a boat. The crates were not heavy, but they had to be held carefully because of the precious cargo they carried. There was myrrh and sweet-smelling frankincense in these wooden crates and their heady scents filled the air, stronger even than the stink of fish, but not quite overtaking the salty tang of the sea.

Percy was a good worker, though he had a habit of arriving late. He was tall and though not the broadest of shoulder, he had a special kind of physical intelligence. There was a certain strength in him that, much like the sea, was dangerous to underestimate. Nobody knew quite what made Percy this way except for the man himself.

It was his childhood. Seeing his mother take heavy-hitting blows and even heavier words taught him to be wary. That wariness, coupled with the protective love he felt for his mother, made it so he started earning coins at ten to help her put food on the table and keep a roof over their head. By the time Percy was eleven, Gabe was losing more than he earned in gambling. When he was twelve, his mother had had enough of Gabe. While he was away at a festival to Dionysus, she managed to obtain a divorce. When Gabe tried to force her back, she remained stalwart.

      Percy felt a burst of pride whenever he thought of how she had shut the door of their newly-built hut to her ex-husband. The next few years had been hard. Percy hired himself out most days, while his mother did laundry, cleaning, and cooking in the houses of wealthier women. They rarely saw each other during the days, but they'd supper together and talk before bed.

       When the workday was over, Percy returned to his mother's house. His clothes and hair were dry now, though his back was sticky with sweat. It was only when he approached the threshold of the house that he felt some foreboding. His mother was there at the hearth, feeding the fire fresh kindling, as he stepped in. She looked up and her gaze raked Percy. "Where have you been?" she asked.

    She did not yell, but Percy felt his insides squirm. He almost wished she would raise her voice as she continued, "I worried when you didn't return last night. I stayed up half the night waiting for you. Then, you weren't here in the morning. Your bed was cold and untouched and no one could tell me where you were until later this morning when I heard reports that you were working at the ships."

        Percy bowed his head. Not once during his swim had her thought of how his mother might feel if he were to disappear. He had given her no warning. She had every right to angry at him. "I'm sorry," Percy said.

    Sally pressed her lips together, but then her resolve broke. She hugged her son. "You're safe and unhurt," she said with more than a little relief. "That's what's important."

    She didn't pry, but the confession rose from Percy's lips. "I was visiting Annabeth."

     Sally let go of Percy and studied his face, her own brow furrowed. "The priestess of Aphrodite who you asked to marry?"

    Percy nodded and Sally sighed. "I hope you understand what you are doing, son."

      Her grave tone reminded him of Frederick's refusal. Just how angry would the man be if he realized Percy had kissed his daughter? And if they went further — what then? Sally reached over and squeezed her son's hands. "There are things you must know if you do not know already," she said. "Come into the garden and we shall discuss them in private."