Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.

Thanks for all your lovely reviews. I didn't reply to each one individually because for a while I had no access to my PC and when I finally did, it was too late to start writing review replies for a story that most of you had probably forgotten that they had reviewed. Again, thank you. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter.

Chapter 4

A few months later…

"For God's sake, is she ever going to stop crying?"

Amphitrite smiled and rocked the little one who was trying to make herself heard. At two weeks, Eve was a curious and energetic baby who was constantly trying to establish herself as a centre of everyone's attention. Now she firmly refused to shut up and kept on screaming her head off. Her parents had no idea what the problem was – she wasn't wet, she wasn't hungry, she was too young for colic.. and she would not refuse to be soothed.

"I'll give her a bath," Ampphitrite said and stood up, holding the child. Eve went on crying the whole time her mother left her on the bed in the nursery to prepare the bath-tub, but when Amphitrite opened a jar, the wailing stopped: the little one had caught the smell of the sea-salt that her mother was measuring before pouring it in the warm water.

"So now you're glad, aren't you?" Amphitrite asked. "I know, I know," she said. "Come on now, and be happy."

The baby gurgled when she felt the touch of the water. James, who had entered the room a moment ago, shook his head. "I've heard that babies loved their bath," he said, "but this goes beyond everything I could imagine. She looks ecstatic."

Amphitrite only smiled. That was to be expected by a daughter of a sea goddess, but she did not tell him that. He still had no idea who she was and she had no intention of informing him. He wouldn't have believed her anyway – how could he? She could have convinced him, but she didn't want to. He was not blessed with the gift – or curse – of seeing through the Mist, so he could not do much to protect Eve from the monsters who would inevitably come after her. Amphitrite had never had a half blood child before, but she had made observations that children of the most powerful gods were like magnets to monsters – they were just too strong. In a way, they reeked of Olympian-ness. There was no doubt that her daughter would be one of them.

Washing his hands, James noticed the opened jar and frowned. "I am still not sure that you should pack the child in salt," he said reproachfully, going to the bath-tub.

Amphitrite waved his words off. "I know what I am doing," she said. "Look at her – does she look miserable to you?"

The question was rhetorical, since the baby was obviously happy and relaxed, without feeling even the slightest discomfort.

"Besides, I am not packing her in salt. I'm just putting sea-salt – a very small amount of sea-salt – in the water before rinsing her out with clear water."

James was still not convinced. He was right for himself, of course – the very idea of making a contact between salt and a baby's skin was very dangerous and even harmful – but for this particular child it was the best way to make her healthy and strong. Amphitrite still held some hopes that he's continue her practice of soaking Eve in water with sea-salt, but that was not likely. When she left, James would inevitably bring the little one up in the way that he considered best.

There was no doubt that he adored the little girl. The room that they were now in was big and sunny, the furniture – expensive and cheerful, the toys varied from little fluffy balls to teddy bears three times Eve's size, everything was perfect. And James never got tired of watching the little girl or doing things for her. The babysitter they had hired even grumbled a little, saying that there was no need of her – the baby's parents did almost everything by themselves. She felt only like an ex-insurance or something like that.

Now she appeared at the door case, visibly embarrassed. There was no need to – her free morning was still not over. Anyway, the girl didn't like the sight that greeted her – she felt as if she was not doing the job that she was being paid for.

"I would have given her a bath, madame," she said quickly.

Amphitrite smiled at her. "I know you would, Olivia, but we wanted to do it ourselves," she said.

The young woman's eyes widened when she saw the opened jar. She did not approve her mistress' practice of putting salt into the baby's water and she had told her that. But Miss Shore had not listened. What was the woman trying to do, peel the skin off her baby's body or what? It was a crime, really it was. But Miss Shore was a strange woman in many ways=

"Would you need me now?" she asked.

Amphitrite shook her head. "No. If there is something, we're going to call you."

"Very well, then I'll go to my room," Olivia said.

"All right."

Amphitrite watched her leaving. Then, she and James started rinsing Eve with clear water. But Amphitrite's movements were mechanical. She was thinking of Olivia Sanders. It was obvious that the girl was very fond of Eve and Amphitrite did not doubt that she'd take good care of her. That put her mind at ease. Unfortunately, she could never relax around the young babysitter. In a way that only a woman could understand another woman, from the very beginning she had realized that Olivia neither liked nor trusted her. The girl had no way of knowing what it was that made her feel uneasy, but she instinctively felt that her young charge's mother was not like the other women. And that frightened her. Besides, she was very fond of James.

It was strange to think that this thought gave Amphitrite no distress. She was well acquainted with jealousy, having millennia of practice with the feelings of betrayal, disappointment, helpless rage that could never be fully satisfied by getting revenge on the women she had been cheated on with. But the thought that James might like another woman gave her no distress. With the progress of her pregnancy, she had lost a great deal of her desire for him and now felt only warmth for the way he had made her feel: appreciated, loved, unique. She had never felt like this before: to be the only one for someone. But that did not mean that their romance could last. It couldn't. Amphitrite was immortal, forever young and beautiful; James would grow old and die very soon in comparison. His span of life was nothing more than a flicker of a candle compared to hers. Besides, she did not love him the way he loved her, she had known that from the start. He had been a lovely distraction, something dear, but temporarily. He had also been a tool for her to get even with her husband's infidelities. He had been the knight in shining armor to comfort the damsel in distress – gods, had she been distressed! But the romance of the whole run-away-thing had started to wear off. The simple truth of the matter was that she was meant for living in the ocean, for being the Queen of the Sea, to sit on the throne next to Poseidon and sleep in his bed at night – no matter whether he chose to share this bed with her or go to another woman yet again. She could not keep hiding forever. And if she didn't come back soon, she might very well cause the end of the Western civilization. Poseidon was on his way to sink it, if the reports of earthquakes, shipwrecks and hurricanes all over the world were to be believed. Her love for James had been real, but not whole-hearted and definitely not eternal. She could only wish him the best.

They wiped Eve, dressed her and put her to bed. She immediately started crying. James groaned.

"Look, I am sorry, but I really have no time," he said. "I must appear in court in less than two hours. Call Olivia to help you."

"All right," Amphitrite replied. "Good luck!"

He kissed them – first Eve and then her mother – and left.

"Good luck, James," Amphitrite repeated. She was not wishing him luck just for the suit today – she meant it for the rest of his life, for she would be gone before he came back.

She did not call Olivia. Instead, she took the baby for the crib and sat on the sofa, holding Eve against her. With her free hand, she reached out for the sea-shell that looked completely out of place in the nursery. She put it to the baby's ear and the little one calmed down almost immediately – she had heard the echo of the ocean, its whisper and roar, its breeze and storms.

"Yes, Eve," Amphitrite said softly in ancient Greek. "Yes, this is your legacy. Your love. Your passion. And this is where I will go to. I must."

She sighed. Had she known from the beginning that one day she would go back to the ocean, back to Poseidon? Yes, probably. The thought of running away and leaving them forever had looked alluring, but it was never realistic. Amphitrite's life had been predestined and built long before the world had started assuming his current shape. Her place in this world, her home, her marriage had been woven into its fundamentals. James – and Eve – were only fragile threads in it, dear as they were to her. She belonged to the gods and the sea. To Poseidon.

Eve had fallen asleep, curled up like a kitten against her mother. Amphitrite stood up and very carefully placed her back in the crib, bent down and kissed her forehead.

"Good luck to you too," she whispered and left the nursery.

A. N. Yes, believe it or not, the tradition of bathing a baby in salty water is still living in some regions of my country. Of course, it's usually old wives and uneducated families who practice it. Some people even go so far as actually rubbing salt into their babies' skin, as if they are steaks ready for baking! They think that this practice will help the infants not to get sweaty when they grow up, can you believe it? The actual result is that the babies get dehydrated, their skin peels off, there were even deaths caused by this ridiculous tradition of mistaking babies with fish or pork. Terrifying.