Page 39 of Heroines of Olympus

“Good morning,” Psyche replies with a warm smile. “I was hoping you would have a day or two to settle in before anything urgent came up. I hate the idea of you being here alone.”

So there it is. They expect Medusa to wait behind.

“There’s no way I’m staying here. I don’t know how I can help, but I can.” Medusa hopes her tone is as firm as she is intending. The thought of siting here while they go off and put themselves in danger is excruciating.

Psyche does not look surprised and says, “I had a feeling that would be your attitude on this matter. I can’t say Alec and Issi will agree, but also can’t say I don’t see where you’re coming from and would feel the same way. I’m going to discuss the plan so far with them in an hour, after I can fill you in and we can put our heads together and see what we think will be your best shot at being able to be useful enough that we can justify risking you being discovered. It’s a tall order, but we will do our best and hope the Fates are smiling upon our wishes.”

* * *

Medusa sliderher fingers through the rough, short mane of a newborn foal. The Stable master, Philip, was extremely welcoming to her and took her through introducing her to each horse. He noticed that the horses all took to her immediately and even noted that they were less restless when she was there. Upon this discovery, he proclaimed she was welcome in the stables any time, day or night, for he not only enjoyed her company, but it made his job that much easier. She had a good-hearted laugh at that and felt some of the stone that had been forming around her heart for so long begin the slow process of chipping away.

Psyche is discussing the possibility of Medusa going with the Allegiance and she spent the time in the stables sitting in the hay. Waiting is tedious, so she has spent most of it in here, the animals helping to calm her anxious mind. She plays out the scenario in her mind over and over.

Medusa can picture it so easily, Psyche talking to Isadora.

“Issi, she wants to help. And think of how useful she could be.”

“She’s a liability, Psyche, and you know it.”

“And you also know that in the blink of an eye, she can eliminate an enemy threat.”

A rustle of hay pulls Medusa from her daydream, and Psyche stands before her.

Before Medusa can get up, Psyche drops into the hay next to her and also pets the foal, giving him concentrated scratches on his forehead and behind his ears as he tilts his head in delight.

“The plan is complicated,” Psyche begins. “We are taking a small group and one of our mid-sized, stealthy ships. We will infiltrate the gala, slip away and find where the nymphs are being kept, and then hopefully free them and lead them to the awaiting ship and be gone before the last note from the orchestra.”

“Infiltrate? Do you mean sneak in unobserved or go incognito and present yourselves as guests?” Medusa asks.

“Ideally, a mix of both. We would like to have a few people going in pretending to be wealthy buyers - we have our ways of getting an invitation - and being loud and noticeable, drawing attention away from the dark corners the rest of the group will be slipping into. The ‘buyers’ will keep an eye on things while everyone else is finding the nymphs and guiding them out to the awaiting ship. If all goes according to plan, the ‘buyers’ will disappear in the chaos once everyone is ready to start the auction and discovers their ‘merchandise’ is missing.”

Medusa takes a moment to mull over the plan and tries to find an opportunity to insert herself that will not slow them down and be a detriment to the entire operation. She wants to help, but is not selfish enough to want to do so at the expense of the entire Allegiance. Her gut is telling Medusa she should be there.. Are the Fates guiding her? Or is it just her anxiety?

“I suggested to Issi that you be with the group that is finding and freeing the nymphs. They are going to be terrified and you have a way of adding a calming presence amongst the innocent and vulnerable. The ignorant few aside, it’s easy to feel safe with you,” Psyche tells her earnestly, stroking the forehead of the foal as she speaks as if to emphasize her point with an example sitting right in front of them.

Psyche actually convinced them to let her go. But not as a weapon? Medusa was certain the only way she could have been an asset was to be a deadly one.

“Besides,” Psyche adds. “Alec said he doubted we could stop you from going and wouldn’t want you anywhere other than by his side.”

Medusa is stunned by this assessment of her. Even before that day in the garden with Poseidon, after Nikolas’ passing, so few kind words were directed her way. It can be a shock to the system to have someone believe in you again.

Doubt comes charging back in with force, extinguishing the glimmer of optimism expeditiously.

Psyche is only being this kind because Medusa serves a purpose to their cause. It is a mirage. One that will fall away and reveal the empty wasteland that was always there to begin with.

* * *

It turnsout they will leave the next day and Medusa and Psyche spend the afternoon hastily making preparations, which include trips to both the tailor and the armory. The former to select attire for the gala, and the latter to collect what weapons they will want with them.

The tailor is full of beautiful dresses. It comprises three connected buildings and is only steps away from the armory. The entrance, at the first building, opens to a room with staple clothing of all types, sizes, and colors. There are tunics, robes, pants, undergarments, everything that someone might need for the day-to-day. The second, has leather armor, the padding to wear underneath, and boots. The last building, somewhat smaller than the others and tucked farther back, is their destination for this quest.

Elegant garments fill the room. Silken fabric and beads sparkle in the sunlight filtering into the window. One dress catches Medusa’s eye but is beyond impractical, so she focuses her attention on something that will fit in but not stand out.

Medusa lands on a dark green dress and black cloak to match her hood. The dress looks like it is made from a green metallic liquid that drapes and tucks in ways that are flattering on her generous curves but not restrictive. One side has a high slit that allows for freer movement but is low enough that she can conceal a dagger under the folds of fabric at her hip. The neckline is one-sided and comes up over her left shoulder.

She runs her hands over her exposed scales. This will not do.

As if reading her mind, Psyche speaks up. “The thought process is to play up the reptilian parts of your appearance to pass them off as a costume for the event.” The final piece to her ensemble was a bronze mask that covered the top half of her face and had horns that extended out past the edges of her hood.

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