Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
CASSANDRA
Medusa’s yellow eyes regarded me with something akin to confused fascination. “Why do you have a wheel of cheese?”
It wasn’t just a wheel of cheese. It was a honeyed, roasted wheel of well-aged goat cheese studded with figs. “To break your fast,” I said, primly. “Is that a problem?”
She looked down at the ceramic dish that held the once-roasted, now cooled, carefully prepared cheese. “You went to a lot of work.”
“Not really. Just a little thought.” I wished I could snatch back the words. I didn’t want her thinking of the people who didn’t give her a little thought.
But she didn’t seem saddened, just entranced, sitting perched by the table like one of her crows. “I haven’t eaten roasted cheese in a long time. And never cold.”
“I like to delay my pleasure, sometimes,” I said, keeping the words light but watching her response from the corner of my eye as I nonchalantly reached to break the crusty bread.
I was rewarded by a quick, searching look that was just as hungry as the one she was giving the wheel of cheese sitting in caramelized honey.
Athena had cursed her.
Her.
For what Poseidon had done.
The same goddess had given me the gift of clear eyesight.
I resisted the urge to pull off the veil in fury. Why would anyone—especially another woman—blame Medusa? I wasn’t surprised at Poseidon. Just disgusted.
I was surprised by Athena. I’d thought she was one of the good ones. Obviously, I’d been mistaken. It happened. Unlike some, I learned from my errors.
I’d pray for her conditional protection no longer.
If I took off the veil in protest and burned it, or spat on it, or threw it into the sea, it’d do no one any good.
I’d just go back to being unable to see well.
I could get by. I’d lived my whole life squinting, avoiding nighttime travel and social activities, and being very wary around anything that I could trip over, fall from, or generally hurt myself on.
But I wanted to watch Medusa feed those crows again. I wanted to see the fierce light in her eyes when she was challenged. I wanted to see her lost for words when I flirted with her.
I wanted to see her expression when I parted her legs and feasted.
What finer retribution was there than living joyously and giving the traitorous goddess no more of our thoughts?
Before me, Medusa sat, watching me as if lost for words.
I knew of her history with men—at least, a turning point in it. She hadn’t taken husbands, as her sisters had. There were men in the village. Some of them had dark hair and muscles, and possibly even picked up after themselves. They were middling, but that was all we ever asked of men.
Regardless, she was here. Alone. And I didn’t think that was entirely due to trauma.
So, keeping my rage to myself and focusing instead on the possibility of joy, I said, “I notice you haven’t taken a husband or wife.”
Her hawk-like eyes were on my fingers, as if they were the feast and not the food. So I hadn’t missed the way she’d looked at me last time we broke bread. Pleasure hummed under my skin.
“…No,” she said, frowning a little.
“Have you considered it?” I asked, adding, before she could respond with the obvious, “A wife might actually be beneficial when you greet newcomers, don’t you think?”
She looked up at me, and I didn’t try to hide my mirth at the suspicion warring with hope. “I hadn’t considered it.”
“You’d have to find the right person,” I agreed. “We’re all searching for her, aren’t we? Someone we can learn and grow with, but also rest and relax?” I offered her the cheese. “I’ve never married,” I offered her, pleased at how well we were doing. “Never met the right woman.”
She sat there, holding the ceramic bowl containing the cheese, the snakes on her head moving as if restless.
It was always a bad idea to mix protection and pleasure, but no one had ever called me wise and meant it. So I just waited, giving her time to get used to the idea.
She eventually chose a piece of bread. “Is that…” she fell silent, the words hanging between us, as if unsure of their purpose.
She dipped the bread into the cheese, scooping out some of the soft, gooey mess and leaving some flakes of crust in her wake.
“Will you leave to continue your search?” she asked me, moving the cheese back toward me.
Yes, if you’re not the woman I think you are. “I like your isle,” I told her, but I wasn’t looking out over the hills that jutted dramatically from the sea or the rolling meadows.
She met my gaze. Color appeared in her cheeks, and straight away she looked down.
Tenderness and excitement both warmed me. I took some bread, considering whether I turned up the heat, or backed away. My body told me to keep going, but…
“It’s dangerous, here,” she offered. “Not on the isle, but here. This is where I’ll fight any who pursue those who seek sanctuary.”
Of course it was. And that was why I hadn’t just vanished into the hills until a ship passed by. “I won’t leave you to face Perseus alone,” I told her, taking some cheese. “I’d sort of like to kick his corpse into the sea.”
She made a noise of agreement and bit into her food. I joined her in that, seeing how she sat a little higher, how her wings relaxed and the serpents on her head coiled themselves into snakey, cute bundles that resembled a classic hairstyle.
“I don’t usually allow untrained people near when there’s to be conflict,” she said, “but if I can spot this Perseus, I shall indeed reserve his corpse for you.”
Look at us, eating the cheese I’d prepared and making plans for the corpses she created. She didn’t even realize we were a couple yet.
“This is excellent,” she told me, reaching for more bread.
“I’m glad you like it.” I waited while she took more, pleased to see how she loaded her bit of bread…
and how few crumbs she’d left behind in the cheese, too.
She was certainly more comfortable talking about bloodshed than romance.
As someone with an interest in this upcoming conflict, I could work with that.
“Perseus is expecting to find me on the dock on the night of the new moon.”
She shrugged. “Once you’ve more clothes, I’ll throw some blood around down on the steps, rip your cloak a little and leave it lying around.”
“My cloak isn’t very distinctive,” I mused.
“Mayhap my robes?” I felt guilty as her eyes swung back to me, color flooding her sun-bronzed cheeks again.
“I apologize,” I said quickly, worried I’d taken it too far.
“I shouldn’t jest. And in truth this is no jesting matter.
If I don’t meet Perseus, he may sail away for a time and return at a later date. ”
She shrugged again, frowning. “Why do we care when this man comes?”
“Two hundred experienced warriors, Medusa.”
She arched her brows. “Why is it you apologize for strange things, and yet you insult me so?”
I froze, the bread halfway to my mouth. What else had I apologized for? More flirting, probably? And was she truly insulted? Ways to remedy the situation spun through my head in a storm of anxiety. “I…”
She reached over, the tip of one clawed finger touching me gently beneath the chin as she closed my mouth with gentle pressure from below, smiling.
I had to swallow as my mouth watered. The faintest pricking of the tip of her claw held me otherwise immobile. Why hadn’t I sat beside her?
“So shocked, clear-sighted woman?” she murmured, withdrawing that single finger.
Part of my mind adjusted her skill level in my mind. She wasn’t the type to be overconfident. If anything, she probably still understated her competence.
As peerless a warrior she no doubt was, I’d still walked in on her asleep.
As if in answer to my thoughts, she smiled, and her fangs slid free.
My heart turned over in my chest.
It was probably quite concerning that I simultaneously and graphically imagined two very different uses for those fangs.
The first and obvious was the damage she could do to attackers.
The second, and lingering image, was of those fangs flush against my flesh as she licked me, rendering movement impossible.
Heat swept through me as I imagined lying helpless beneath her, unable to do anything but take.
She lifted her fingertip to her mouth. Honey ran over the claw. I’d felt how gentle the pad of that digit was just moments ago. I could feel the warmth where she’d touched me still.
Medusa licked the honey from her fingertip.
Her tongue was long. Impossibly long.
If I hadn’t been sitting, I might’ve fallen.
“Eat,” she told me, quietly. “You’ll need your strength.”
I drew in a breath, happy in that moment to sustain myself purely on her.
“We’re going flying,” she promised. “So you’ll worry no more, and lose no more sleep.”
Reducing my worry would be a blessing, but the thought of never missing out on any sleep with Medusa around? That sounded like a curse to my ears.