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Thea flew again, swooping past the tent opening, hovering briefly.
Did he see Thea?
His features were fluid, displaying his heart with no words spoken. His gaze narrowed then widened. His jaw tightened and his chest rose sharply. She tensed, waiting, as his eyes peered into the darkness.
He found her.
Her heart leapt into her throat as she waited. He would come to her, she knew it.
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Ariston had cursed his summons, cursed the Persians and cursed the Gods. The trek from the Temple of Athena Polias had been unbearable, each step a cut upon his heart.
He did not know if he would see her again.
If she was called by Athena, nothing would change. A gift, he supposed.
But the alternative, his lady claimed by Poseidon, was beyond bearing. His hands tightened as images of her laughter, her smile, filled his mind.
Would she laugh with Poseidon?
No, no good could come from such thoughts.
A heated curse filled the air, forcing him back to the matter at hand. Why did the council continue to debate? The Persians were coming. The Athenians and their allies were ready, as ready as they would ever be for such barbarians. Action was needed now. The time for words had passed. He could hardly wait for battle. Those who fell beneath his sword and spear would find no mercy. It was there, upon the battlefield, that he could release the anger and pain he’d held at bay.
His lady’s fate was unknown, pressing upon him. His eyes continued to stray to Athena’s temple, a pale shadow in the moonlight. He should be there, with her.
She’d chided him to do his duty. She’d accept nothing less, for duty ruled all of her.
But his duty was of little import to him.
And now the bickering of Athens’ great commanders was more infuriating than a swarm of gnats. He knew his Ekdromoi would lead the Athenians into battle. They were far superior in close combat than the others. Yet the two commanders roared on, delaying this verdict.
The night dragged on as they argued over the formation of their fleet, the worries over Thermopylae’s fate, and the massing hordes of Persians at Sardis. He knew things were grave, but his restlessness could not be soothed. His gaze wandered again to the temple, the hillside, the rocks… A flicker of movement caught his eye.
Thea fluttered by, her coo confirming her very real presence.
He narrowed his eyes, unable to accept what he saw. Yet the owl flew past once more, calling to him – surely.
But what he saw, sitting upon the rocks, could not be. The Gods were playing a most cruel trick on him. Medusa was not here, she could not be.
Yet his eyes found her, knew her, and his body reacted.
She is here.
His comrades were lost in the throes of debate. They had no need of him now.
This war, these soldiers, even the Persians sitting upon the sea’s edge, could not stop him from going to her.
He slipped from the tent undetected. Circling behind the tent, he moved past the guards at watch without hesitation. He jumped on the back of his horse and nudged the animal forward, onto the thin path that cut sharply up the hill, towards her.
It took him moments.
As he crested the hill, she rose to meet him. In the pale light of the moon, he stared at her in wonder.
Chapter Six
He slid from his horse, running to stop before her. Her face, white and luminous in the moonlight, tilted toward him. Her veils were gone, freeing him to explore every curve and line of her face.
