Page 38 of Heroines of Olympus

Alec bursts into the room, alarm on his face, and everyone’s attention snaps to him.

“They’ve got her, Issi! We have to go get her!”

Medusa is eager to know who would evoke so much emotion from him, terrified it will be someone close to him, her heart already breaking for him, knowing the answer will not be a good one.

Isadora walks over, puts her arm around Alec’s burly shoulders, and turns him away from everyone, whispering something to him as his shoulders heave and he struggles to find his breath.

Is he crying?

He composes himself and turns to address the council once more.

“Hestia was sending me her weekly transmission when it was interrupted. Her last words were, ‘They found me out.’”

The people around the table gasp, Medusa included. Hestia is secretly working for the Allegiance. Their cause may have hope after all if multiple gods are siding with them.

A man in the middle of the table asks, “How solid is this intel? How do we know this isn’t a trap, and she hasn’t been playing us all along?”

“It’s solid, Devid, you know it is,” Isadora bites out, not allowing the seeds of doubt to be sown for even a moment.

Isadora addresses the rest of them again. “I know this news is shocking and we have little time to put a plan into place. We must continue our current course of action until we have any intel about where they are keeping her. This news also means that more than we know has been compromised. This plan may go south, but we can’t just sit by and let them do it, anyway. The risk is always worth it when the alternative is the permanent black mark on our souls that comes with the knowledge that we did nothing.”

The fire in Isadora’s voice is unmistakable. Everyone at the table nods in agreement. Not a single person hesitates or blanches at the thought of the cost and it inspires Medusa to declare to herself in that moment that she will do whatever is necessary to aid them in this mission and any others.

“Planning must resume,” Isadora continues, handing lists of assignments to the different people at the table. She directs people to assess the readiness of whatever they handle, asks the smiths and armorer to do a thorough weapon inventory, the captain to see how soon his ships can be ready to sail, and so on until all tasks are assigned. The council members head out to begin preparations, and the only people remaining in the room are Medusa, Psyche, and Alec.

“I’m glad to have you here, Lyra. Your parents would be so proud if they could see you,” Alec says to her with a warm smile. He opens his arms for a hug but waits until Medusa does the same to step in and closes his arms around her. She breathes in the scent of him and gets a citrus smell that has a hint of cinnamon to it.

When they separate, Medusa grasps his bicep and looks him in the eye, doing her best to convey the sincerity in her heart. “I am so sorry to hear about Hestia. I don’t know what she means to you, but she is clearly someone you care about deeply, so I hope we can locate her swiftly and get her to safety.”

“Thank you” Alec squeezes Medusa’s hand in return, as he hangs his head and wipes his hand across his face. “She means the world to me. I… love her.”

The declaration cleaves Medusa’s heart in two as puts herself in her uncle’s position, imagining how it would feel to have someone she loves ripped away.

The three of them leave the Council Room and walk the short distance to the lounge near Medusa’s room. There is nothing that can be done immediately to help get ready to leave, so they stay together until the late hours of the night talking. At one point, Psyche slips away for a moment and returns with a sweet wine that has the most refreshing flavor, which she informs Medusa, comes from a unique concoction crafted by Dionysus using pomegranate, elderflower, and a secret ingredient that when asked, he simply declares it proprietary and that the matter closed.

Needing a moment of brevity, and eager to learn more about her parents, Medusa spends the evening lounging on the sofa with Psyche listening to Alec tell funny stories about all the shenanigans he and Medusa’s father would get into growing up. With her head on one arm of the couch, Psyche’s on the other, and their feet in each other’s laps, they listen, drink, and giggle until it is time for bed.

23

MEDUSA

The next morning, Medusa wakes up and lays awake in bed, staring at the ceiling as if it will suddenly provide her with answers. She spent the night before tossing and turning while trying to think of how she could best be useful for the upcoming mission. Are they going to insist that she stay here on the island? Why can no one tell her how she is so important?

Stretching her arms and getting out of bed, Medusa walks over to her mirror, ignoring the robe for a moment, allowing the air to caress her skin. She leaves her hood off as well, allowing her serpents full access to the world. They slither around and Medusa tries to focus on them. Can they be more than just a curse?

She picks up hints of emotions - happiness, and curiosity. And maybe some sadness. Cool scales slide along her neck and she reaches up, gently running a fingertip along the top of its head. It lets out a long, low, non-threatening hum and Medusa smiles. Her reptilian gold eyes catch her attention in the mirror and her heart drops. What does it matter whattheyfeel, whatshefeels? No one is going to see past the monstrous exterior to care about the person underneath. Sure, the people here are being kind to her, but that is only because they need her. As soon as this is over, should she live through it, Medusa will probably end up exiled to another island. At least maybe then it will not be adorned with the evidence of her sins, like the last one.

Returning her attention back to the window, the bay is bustling with activity as preparations are heavily underway. Medusa wonders how soon they will leave and hopes they will include her. It is risky to do this, but she cannot stay here and do nothing.

The warm cloth rubs against her skin as she gives herself a quick mediocre cleaning in the washbasin. The baths are not as appealing now that they are overrun with the memories of the altercation. In the dresser, Medusa finds fresh clothes and puts them on. The soft linen of the pants and shirt is gentle on her skin. The material is light and breezy, causing it to flutter in the constant breeze of the Isle that is now flowing into her room from the large window.

As she leaves to search for breakfast, Medusa finds Psyche waiting in the lounge, sitting on the sofa with a tray of food on a cart in front of her. Have they tasked Psyche with chaperoning her, monitoring her?

Medusa sits down beside Psyche, who squeezes her hand. “Good morning.”

Unlike in the Oasis, where her senses are diminished, this touch is tangible, real. It never fails to give her goosebumps and butterflies simultaneously. Medusa doubts she will ever get used to it, but this is exhilarating, even if it is torturous at the same time.

She can almost pretend that when they touch and Psyche gasps, that Psyche is feeling the same jolt, can almost pretend that the look of shock is not Psyche reacting to how horrible it feels to touch Medusa’s scaly skin. Almost.

---