“Goodnight then, my lady…mistress.” He inclined his head. They’d reached their meeting place, three fig trees before Galenus’ house.
This spot brought some of his brightest mornings and longest nights, sentiments the Goddess would hardly hold with.
She sighed loudly, but sounded amused as she said, “You may call me by name, soldier. There is no rule against that.”
Ariston swallowed, taking a deep breath. His voice sounded strained, “Goodnight then…Medusa.”
> Chapter Two
He said her name, softly.
Not mistress or priestess or niece or daughter, just her name.
True, she’d goaded him into it – but it did not diminish the pleasure she felt upon hearing him. The deep cadence of his voice awakened the strangest sensations.
What was this warmth that filled her belly? What fire licked her skin? Indeed, even breathing in the cool night air seemed troubling.
“Goodnight, soldier,” she murmured, refusing to look at him. “Blessings to you.”
She moved down the smooth stone path towards her chambers, knowing he would wait until she was safely inside before retiring. She took several slow breaths, easing the tightness in her chest. How could he stir such strange feelings? It would be wise not to examine her reaction too closely.
She glanced up to find Elpis, her companion, watching her from the arched window of her bedchamber. Thea, her beloved owl, regarded her with huge yellow eyes.
She lifted a hand, smiling in greeting. Elpis waved back, saying something to Thea.
Medusa ran up the path, into the house and down the open walkway to her chamber. As she swept into her room, she greeted them. “Good eve, Elpis.”
Elpis smiled. “And to you, my mistress.”
Thea called out, a sweetly beseeching coo she made for Medusa alone.
She went to the owl. “And to you as well, my dear little friend. Have you kept Elpis company while I was away?”
Thea fluffed up her chest as Medusa stroked her head affectionately, clicking softly in answer.
“Mistress,” Elpis’ worried tone drew Medusa’s attention. “It pains me to dim your bright smile, but your uncle seeks an audience.”
“Now? Surely he can wait for our evening meal?”
Elpis shook her head. “Your parents have sent a letter.”
The pleasure of the evening vanished. Medusa pulled the veils from her head and laid them gently upon her mat, anxiety pressing upon her sharply.
There were times when wisdom and reason failed her. Her parents were often the cause of these failings. Why had the Gods made her their daughter?
Such thoughts are not fitting for Athena’s Priestess.
She closed her eyes and prayed for patience and generosity.
Thea hooted, seeking her attention. Medusa cooed back, watching the animal’s eyes narrow into pleased slits.
Oh to feel such contentment, such peace and love.
Love had never been peaceful, not for Medusa. In truth, she’d seen very little to indicate love existed. Duty was her fate. Duty did not waver. It was constant. And she was content with her station – most of the time.
Duty was undoubtedly the reason for her parents’ correspondence, though what new duty they might demand of her was a mystery.
“How was this message delivered, Elpis?”