Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
CASSANDRA
Ifell asleep planning, and I woke up planning, too.
I’d gathered fruits and bread and cheese last night and walked toward her temple in the pre-dawn. My excuse to remain would only last until Perseus was dead. I had no doubt that Medusa could deal with him and his men, as long as they weren't allowed to creep up on her. I needed to use my time well.
My nose hurt in the cold, and so did my fingers. Still, had there been wildflowers, I would have gone into the wet grass after them. Medusa would melt like cheese for a posy—I knew she would.
And then it started to rain. The moisture interacted strangely with the magick in my veil.
I persevered for a time, but eventually snatched the veil away, irritated that I could see better with my own eyeballs than the magick cloth.
Dirt beneath my sandaled feet turned to mud as I limped along, leaving splatters over my calves.
There went any hope I had of being seductive today.
Soaked to the skin, I ducked under one of Medusa’s stone works in progress and saw her temple looming over me, finally.
All the relief ebbed out of me when I saw Medusa herself standing in the narrow arching doorway leading into the temple.
I couldn’t make out details without my veil, but I wanted to believe the blur of green around her shoulders was a sleepy tumble of snakes, and that she was smiling at me with affection.
I had no time to allow the nagging voice of self-doubt to speak up because I was upon her quickly.
“You’re chilled to the bone,” she said, her hand searingly hot on my arm.
“It wasn’t raining when I left,” I said, in my own defense.
“Why did you come?” she asked, steering me through the room. “Did I not reassure you yesterday?”
“Not really,” I said, enjoying having her tow me along until I accidentally kicked something large and grey.
I let out a noise of pain, pulling out of her grasp and sucking in air as the agony seared through me. I let it hold me for a few moments. That poor toe. I let the air out, hearing it shake. I wouldn’t cry. I couldn’t breathe well enough to cry.
By the time the white-hot pain started to ebb I could see her standing nearby. “I can’t see well,” I told her, by way of explanation, the words breathless and quick.
“I…can I…can I just carry you?”
I was sopping wet and filthy, but my toe hurt. And she was warm. “Yes, please.”
“Where’s your veil?” she asked me, scooping me up without a moment’s thought.
I let myself relax in her arms, holding my offerings safely. She was so warm, and when I closed my eyes I could hear the soft rustle of her wings and the gentle slide of the snakes twining together.
“Cassandra?”
I liked the way she said my name, the way it took its time against her tongue. “Mmm?”
“Where’s your veil?” she asked again.
The wind vanished, suddenly. I opened my eyes to see the dark tunnel that led to her cozy bedroom, then closed them again. What a depressing way to be carried into her bed—with a sore foot and soaked to the skin.
“It’s in the pack,” I said, struggling against my own sadness. This wasn’t how I’d planned any of it. “Sorry. If I’d known it’d rain…” I’d probably have grabbed an oiled cloak, or left early and slept in the temple, the way I’d done that very first night. It would’ve been worth it.
“I’ll light the fire,” she said. “It’ll be cool enough for it, today, I think. What a strange storm.”
Fuck you, Zeus, I thought as she set me down gently. My feet squelched inside my sandals and my skin crawled. “I’m pretty muddy.”
“Wait here,” she said. “The ground is flat. There’s a chair just behind you, but there’s some rugs if you move far, so be careful.”
The blurs around me were mostly browns and greys. I could still remember the beautiful details carved into the bookshelves, the colourful spines of the books and the nest she’d slept in. I stayed where she’d set me, frustrated at how the plan had changed.
She returned right as I was thinking seriously about sitting down and crying.
I braced myself against my own disappointment.
She was a brown, green, and red blur, her wings tucked behind her.
I heard the sound of water before I could make out that she was holding something.
A large bowl. Larger than I would have tried to carry.
She sat it before me, going down on one knee.
“I’ll get these,” she told me, working on the ties of my sandals. “I expect they’d be hard to do without much vision.”
Knots weren’t the worst problem I had to face when I couldn’t see. “You don’t have to,” I objected, the guilt writhing in me like a hydra whose head had just been cut off. “I’m sorry. This wasn’t my plan at all.”
“It’s no bother. I’ve needed to spend some time inside anyway. I usually wait until the weather forces me to, and it looks like today’s one such day.” She moved to my other leg. “Anyway, it’s not the first time I’ve had a little mud in here and won’t be the last.”
I let out a huff. “It’s the first time I’m responsible.”
“Will it be the last?”
My heart squeezed suddenly in my chest. One of her hands coiled around my calf. She looked up at me. I couldn’t make out the details of her expression but the snakes of her hair rose and fanned around her head as if she were underwater. “I hope not,” I admitted.
“I hope not, too,” she offered, the words a gentle beacon of hope.
I reached out, my fingers aching with cold.
One of the snakes, just a thick green streamer to my poor vision, coiled around my finger.
Its angular jaw rubbed against my fingertip and the warmth and ache in my belly grew, almost uncomfortable in its intensity.
Another snake wrapped around my wrist, and then another.
Her fingers were moving on the laces again, her head down.
Did she realize what her…hair…was doing?
“I’ve got clothes you can borrow,” she said, easing this sandal carefully off my foot. “We’ll get you cleaned up, then see if that’s broken.”
“It’s not.” I’d done it enough times to know.
“Well and good,” she agreed. “But I’ll check it all the same.”
“Wait.” As I said it, the snakes withdrew hurriedly. Maybe she hadn’t been aware?
I reached for my pack, drawing out my veil. “I should rinse this first while the water is clean.” She offered a hand and I passed it over. “It’s fragile,” I warned, though I didn’t really think it was.
“Most things are, compared to me,” she said, without any bitterness or even amusement. Just a simple statement of fact. “I’ll be gentle.”
My mouth went dry as my mind skipped ahead to all the possibilities in those words.
“So why did you come?” she asked, the sound of water falling back into the basin a bright counterpoint to the curiosity in her words.
She knew the answer. She was just fishing. I flicked my hair over my shoulder, making it splat dramatically. “To seduce you, of course. How am I doing?”
“Oh, I was already seduced,” she said, just as flippantly. “So why did you really come?”
She thought I was joking. I had to correct her, otherwise that belief would permeate everything. I only had two weeks. I didn’t have time for misunderstandings.
“I really got up before dawn to bring you breakfast and meet your crows,” I admitted.
“I’m truly worried about you, because you’ll be vulnerable while you sleep.
I also want to spend more time with you, and flirt with you, and see if you’ll keep flirting back.
I was hoping I’d get to kiss you today.” At least. But I didn’t add that.
“Perseus isn’t exactly an excuse, but he’s definitely not the full reason.
” I blew out a breath, putting my hands on my hips.
“Unfortunately, none of this is working as intended.”
“How had you intended for it to work?” she asked, the words low.
She was excited, and that made the warmth in my belly grow even brighter.
I drew in a deep breath, enjoying the sensation, as intense as it was.
“First, we’d laugh and flirt. Maybe you’d hold me while I patted your crows.
I’d stand up on my toes and look you in the eye and whisper, ‘you’re enchanting.
’” I was spoilt for choice in compliments, but that word felt right to me.
“Depending on your response, which unfortunately I can’t see, I had a variety of options. ”
“I’m…enchanting?” she asked.
Some of the worry eased. She wasn’t used to being complimented yet. I’d fix that. “Can you think of a better word?”
She pressed the veil into my hand. “From your lips?” she asked.
I hummed in pleasure at the suggestion in those words.
Medusa stood and I gently wrung the extra moisture from the veil, taking care not to twist it too hard.
“I’ll light the fire,” she murmured. “Should I drape it over the chair? There are some sharp pieces, I’m afraid.”
I let her take it back. The chair looked like a brown mass to my eyes. A bright green cushion held my veil before she knelt by the fire.
“Can I clean up a little?” I asked her.
“Be my guest.” She waved a hand toward the bowl. Again, I could make out the vague shape and size of it, but not the depth of the water. “Can you see it?”
I knelt, mindful of putting pressure on my sore toe, and washed my face first. She probably wouldn’t have a comb.
My hair was going to be a wreck. There wasn’t much I could do about that, except pack one to bring tomorrow.
I did the best I could to get clean, working top down.
The cheerful crackle of flames came from nearby, and a few moments later I smelled the hint of smoke.
“Here.” I looked up to see a wall of red held before me. One of her robes. “It’ll be a little big for you,” she said, “but it’s dry and warmer than what you have. I’ll spread yours here.”
Promises, promises.