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Ariston could not meet the younger man’s eyes. “I’m in no mind for leading. But I would rest awhile, if you will have me?”
He had delivered the children.
/> He had no purpose now.
“You are always welcome,” Ektor nodded, though Ariston saw the concern that crossed his young friend’s face.
Chapter Fifteen
The boat bobbed at the end of the dock, rising and falling with the gentle rhythm of the waves beneath. The water was darker here, at the edge of Greece and its borders, but it beckoned to Medusa all the same. And it gave her, in some small way, pleasure.
She sat on the dock, dangling her feet in the warmth of the water. She closed her eyes and let her mind wander, her memories filling her. Somehow her memories no longer pained her, knowing he lived. With endless days before her, she sought him out more and more – each memory revisited aplenty.
She remembered the day he’d come to Galenus’ house fresh from the training field, his shirt darkened with sweat and his arm bleeding from a wound he’d sustained. Why he’d been sent to them so quickly, where her old guard had gone, were mysteries she’d never lingered on.
She’d stood, covered in her veils, beside her scowling uncle as Galenus read the note.
“Well, soldier,” Galenus had sounded most aggrieved, “you’ve been ordered to reside here, under my basileus, by Athena’s order. You are to serve as the priestess’ guard, and accompany her to and from the temple daily.”
“Yes, sir,” he’d said, barely glancing her way.
But his tone had caught her attention. He was not pleased to be there, nor any more pleased by his assignment than her uncle. And for some reason, she’d found his barely repressed irritation heartbreaking – and comforting. She knew what it was to chafe against one’s lot in life, and she ached for him.
She had known even then, in some small way, this man would change her.
She sighed, the salty air burning her throat and dragging her from her thoughts. The sea view that greeted her offered little to appreciate.
A crumbling temple, the only remains of the island that lay mostly below the water’s surface, was her home. It was a small island, set far off the northern coast of Crete, beyond the range of travelers. Only those lost would find this place.
Or those sent by the Gods.
There had been several. Aloeus of Thrace, Phocus of Aegina, Molus and Tityus of Delphi, and more – more than twenty slate grey statues littered the mouth of her cave. Hera had seen fit to send her a guard. The creature, said to be the son of Cerberus, Hades’ hound, had arrived with her sisters. A gift from Hera, they told her.
He had no fondness for her, and kept to himself. But his howl set the hair along her arms on end, for he only bayed when someone approached. His call meant her companions had work to do.
Heavy footfalls set the ancient dock swaying. “Will you eat?” Stheno asked.
Medusa glanced up at her. “You still ask?”
“I will continue to, though I know your answer. You’re as frail as a wraith, almost a shade of yourself.” Stheno sat heavily beside her.
“Do not trouble yourself over me,” Medusa murmured.
“I will,” Stheno argued.
“What of father?” Medusa asked. They had returned only this morning, after traveling to their father to share her fate.
“He wishes you would come home.” Stheno shrugged. “I told him your bargain, but he cared little for it.”
Medusa stared out over the darkening waters. “He cares little for bargains that give nothing to him.” She sighed. “Why would he have me home now? I am of no use to him as I am?”
“That I cannot answer, sister.” Stheno bit into an apple, chewing heartily.
Medusa glanced up as her other sister joined them on the dock.
“Did you tell her the news?” Euryale asked.
Stheno glared at Euryale, “Not as yet.”
