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He’d stayed, bracing himself against the silence of the house and the fear that threatened to overcome his resolve, but found nothing else.
On his way from the house, he’d stumbled over the limb of a broken statue. He’d cast only the briefest glance at it, unbothered by the Persians’ looting when his lady was still lost to him. But the limb was a forearm and hand, splayed wide. The workmanship was unsurpassed and lifelike.
And on the hand was Galenus’ family crest. A ring he’d been forced to swear fealty to when he’d joined Galenus’ household.
“It was as if Zeus had struck him from Olympus, catching him up and casting him in slate. He was rock…he was stone,” Xenia’s words filled his ears and mind.
He’d stooped, examining the broken piece with care. Each tendon and knuckle was painstakingly intricate. Turning the arm, he noted the slight creases in the bend of the elbow. None was left beyond the arm, the rest had been shattered.
Thea had cackled at him, ruffling her feathers with impatience.
“We will find her, little one,” he’d reassured them both as he’d made his way to his horse, tethered outside.
He’d mounted and turned, sweeping an appraising eye over Galenus’ house once more. If Ektor spoke the truth it would not be here for much longer. His eyes strayed to the olive trees, those three trees he thought of so fondly.
Thea settled on his shoulder, cooing in his ear.
“We will find her,” he said again.
As they approached the trees, he felt such defeat. He’d hoped that, somehow, she’d still be here. Or that there would be some sign to indicate where he should venture next. She would have known he’d come after her, surely.
But she thought him dead.
The pain in his chest threatened to overwhelm him.
He saw him then, in the deepening shadows beneath one of the olive trees. Nikolaos lay on his back.
“Nikolaos?” His voice was harsh.
Nikolaos didn’t answer.
Ariston nudged his horse closer to the figure. No, it wasn’t Nikolaos, but it was his likeness. Though the statue had been cut cleanly from the shaped shoulder to the figure’s waist, it was as detailed as the arm he’d discovered within the house.
It was Nikolaos’ face, frozen in distress, that greeted him. His stomach tightened, as did his grip upon his reins.
Perhaps there was a curse. Whatever had transpired, it left only unease within him. He would not linger here.
He camped overnight, surprised when Ektor joined him. It was Ektor who mentioned the caves, inspiring him to set off at first light.
Ariston’s knees gripped his horse as he scoured the horizon for any sign of caves. The Gorgons might have come here, fleeing from Athens even when the Persians had been at their door.
He swallowed his frustration, though it choked him to do so, and turned his energies to searching the caves. He prayed they’d found shelter, for the Persians had wrought destruction well into the countryside beyond the city.
He was comforted to know Stheno and Euryale were with her. Though Elpis had described them as monstrous creatures, their devotion to Phorcys and their family was unshakable. They would guard her, tend her, and care for her as long as she had need of them, if only to return home with her.
He prayed that her wounds had healed, that she was well enough to travel. They would journey to Rhodes as soon as he found her.
Thea lifted her wings, flapping to climb into the pale blue sky.
His eyes narrowed, watching the bird’s slow climb. She was still so weak. Her frailty restored his anger and gave him the energy to carry on.
The sun was high when he found the first cave entrance. It led into a series of small, shallow caverns. But there was no sign that any person had been there.
He rested in the shade of the rocks, sharing food with Thea. She could not hunt for herself yet. She gobbled the dried fish, clicking noisily before she flew off. Moments later she circled back, clicking and cawing for his attention.
“You’ve found something,” he whispered, jumping to his fee
t to follow.
