“Was I?” His voice was hoarse.

Chariton had offered him the water skin. “Yes. I placed the coin under your tongue myself…”

Ariston felt it in his hand, and lifted it. “Here is your coin, Chariton. I will have no need of it…for now.”

Even when fever had taken hold of his wound, laying him low, his men hadn’t given up.

When he’d risen, the crew called him favored by the Gods. Wagers were placed on the outcome of their next battle, the number of fatalities and ships lost. With Ariston as their leader, they were assured a most glorious victory.

That he lived without care or thought as to the Gods’ will, he kept to himself. He would honor his pact with Hades. If Olympus were to fall into Tartarus, he cared not.

He would honor these men and lead them to victory here, for they’d helped him back from Hades. Tomorrow would see a bloody battle that needed all able bodies, and he would fight at their side. He owed them his fealty.

But when this battle was done, he would leave them.

In the months since he’d returned, his every action had been mindful of one goal – returning to her. As his wounds healed and his fever left him, he trained. He would fight anyone and everything that stood in his way.

Athens had been evacuated after the brave Spartans fell at Thermopylae, and all of Athens’ citizens had sailed to Aegina. It had been the only way to save Athens’ citizens from certain death. She would not have left Athens before the evacuation. He had to believe that she’d made the journey to safety. She would be on Aegina – he would join her soon.

The Persians had decimated Athens. News had reached them that even the Temple of Athena Polias had been burned and looted. The Goddess’ priests and priestess, and those who refused to leave Athens, had been slaughtered. This affront to the Gods had inspired outrage from Athens, her allies and the Gods alike.

It gave him hope. If the Gods were distracted by such offenses, Medusa might escape further persecution.

His hands clenched and the sand sifted through his fingers. While he’d been tied in his sickbed, his lady had sailed past him on the sea to safety. This hope ate at his heart and haunted his dreams.

Every moment of the day was marked with her absence.

Pamphilos leaned back, offering Ariston the water skin, smiling. “Drink?”

Ariston took the skin, swallowing the sweet wine to wash the bitterness from his mouth. He handed the skin back, nodding his thanks.

“Will your uncle’s plan work? Will we crush their fleet?” Pamphilos stared out over the darkening sea with yearning.

“He’s not led us astray yet. But I’ve no ability for divination, nor am I an oracle.” His eyes strayed to the Aegean with longing as well.

“Morning cannot come soon enough,” Pamphilos sighed.

Ariston nodded his agreement.

One of the men began strumming his lyre, his nimble fingers plucking the chords with ease. Ophion searched out his aulos, the melody of the long double reed pipe rousing the audience. The men’s voices rose, carrying the worries of the following morning away.

Pamphilos smiled and turned back to the men, his voice loud and strong as he joined them about the fire.

Ariston’s eyes wandered to the black velvet night sky. The stars, flashing brilliants in the dark, told him more than he wanted to know. Autumn storms would find them soon. This battle, this war, must end before then.

He made his way to the shoreline, searching out some peace and quiet. The water was calm, reflecting the glorious night upon its gently rolling surface. The beauty of the night stirred the vision of another, one he treasured dearly.

“Is the night sky over Rhodes very different?” The memory of her voice caused the hair on his neck to rise.

“No, my lady,” he’d replied. “But the company here is far superior to any I shared there.” He’d gazed at her in the moonlight. They’d loved and had lain under the moon on the sand of their beach, still tangled up in one another.

She’d turned to him, a bright smile on her face. “Oh?”

He’d rolled onto his side, propping himself on his elbow. “I believe your smile dims the stars.” He smoothed her hair from her forehead, relishing the feel of her. “Be careful, wife, for you might offend Selene if you shine too brightly.”

She shook her head, her eyes as deep as sapphires as they met his. “I shine only for you.

”

Tags: Sasha Summers Loves of Olympus Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net