88. The Carvings
The Carvings
The next evening,
Perses and I met by the docks.
I had whispered to him yesterday
before leaving that I had a plan.
My heart fluttering,
as I escaped from my father’s palace
into Nyx’s oncoming darkness.
He was standing watching the sea,
his handsome face looking like
it had been chiselled from
the same ancient stone of the cliffs.
I tried to quell my heartbeat.
‘Asteria.’ The way he said my name
made it sound like ambrosia itself.
‘Perses,’ I said softly.
For a second neither of us spoke,
until finally he cleared his throat.
‘While seeing you is a gift always,
may I ask what you wanted
to speak about?’
I ignored the way his words
made my spirit rise.
‘Your brother enjoys carving, yes?’
At his nod, I carried on.
‘Come with me. I will show you
things he can carve and leave for Styx.’