Hades. His master once this mortal life was through. Such knowledge did not trouble him, Hades had seemed a rationale lord—one who prided duty and loyalty. Both of which Ariston had pledged to him. Once he returned…
The Underworld.
Medusa. She was there already. While he was trapped alone.
Where was she? Had they banished her to Tartarus? For loving him? His fear would press in on him, terror and rage threatening his fragile hold on sanity.
He peered up into the leaves, drawing deep the cool night air. He’d spent most nights here. He no longer sought the owl he heard night after night. Perhaps it needed its solitude as he did. But he left it treats, hoping to coax it from the tall branches. The treats would disappear, but the owl had yet to reveal itself.
He pulled the dried fish from his chiton and glanced into the tree. He placed it on the same limb, low and broad enough for the animal to perch and enjoy its meal.
“What are you doing?” It was Spiridion’s voice.
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bsp; Ariston turned, smiling. “You should be sleeping.”
The boy shook his head, casting a bleary-eyes at Xenia’s guests milling about inside the great hall, on the far side of the courtyard.
Ariston nodded.
“Are you feeding her, too?” the boy asked. “She’s very shy. But she’s come to my window a few times.” He smiled. “She’s lovely.”
“She?” Ariston asked, hoping in spite of himself.
“The owl,” Spiridion climbed onto the bench, peering up into the tree. “She has a hole, there…”
Ariston looked up, unable to discern any hole or nest.
The boy looked at Ariston, his expression grave. “My dream… I thought it was a dream, but now I know,” he paused, taking a deep breath before going in, “Medusa told the owl to watch out for me. And Kore as well.”
“She did?” Ariston’s question was a whisper.
“The night before you came… I followed her from the cabin, saw her talking to the owl in the tree. She pleaded with Thea to watch over us, and you,” his voice was low. “And she has. I see her, wherever I go.” He smiled then, shrugging.
Ariston ignored the heat that burned his eyes. “She’s a fierce protector.”
The boy clicked, then cooed – a perfect imitation of Thea’s endearing call. The very call she’d made for Medusa, her beloved mistress. Ariston sat, watching the boy as he clicked and cooed… until Thea answered him. “There she is,” the boy’s voice was ecstatic. “She’s there.”
Indeed, Thea sat, high in the branches of the tree – her feathers making her almost invisible.
Ariston felt the air leave his lungs. “Thea,” he said to her. “I’m thankful you’re alive and well, little one.” He offered his arm to her. Thea cooed, flapping her wings once before flying down to perch on his proffered arm.
“She is lovely,” Spiridion was in awe. “You are,” he spoke to the owl.
“She is, indeed.” Ariston agreed.
Spiridion reached up, tentatively. “Ektor said she was not fond of people-”
Ariston smiled. “If Medusa left you in Thea’s charge, you’ve no need to fear her.”
Spiridion was humming softly, under his breath, a song all too familiar to Ariston.
“Where did you hear that song?” he whispered.
“Medusa would hum it. Kore had favored it, curling up and falling asleep without too great a fuss. I’d learned it well,” Spiridion’s touch was light upon Thea’s head.
The owl’s eyes shut, a soft coo bubbling up from her chest.