“Or the goat herders?” Euryale finished, her shout of laughter filling the night air.
###
Ariston watched her run along the beach, her glorious hair swirling about her in the ocean breeze. Her blue-green eyes peered at him, and she laughed as she took his hand.
“My love?” she murmured.
He looked at their hands.
Medusa… She was his lady – a beloved and loyal wife. With each breath, the strength of their love filled him.
She ran into the waves, her hand slipping from his.
“Ariston?” she voice was soft, her tone desperate. Her face changed then, startling him. Her eyes widened and her smile faded.
The sun vanished. The sky grew dim, then black and grey.
When he reached for her, she was gone – swallowed by a dark mist. A sharp pain twisted his heart, his lungs gasped for air… He called to her, the sound echoing eerily through th
e fog. But there was no answer. And no matter how hard he searched, he could not find her.
Medusa screamed hoarsely. The sound, weighted with real terror and despair, forced him upright.
He woke, heart pounding, dripping sweat. The images lingered, vividly. His hands trembled, rubbing over his face and through his hair. The sound of her cries echoed yet.
Need clawed his chest, followed by pain – such raw pain.
It felt real. He’d loved her… needed her so – body and soul. And he’d lost her to something or someone.
A dream, nothing more. Yet he felt no reassurance.
Sleep was lost to him. He would not revisit such things. Standing on unsteady legs, he breathed deeply of the chill morning air. Just a dream.
His eyes adjusted to the dim light, the moon glinting off the shaft of his spear. Clasping its solid weight within his fist offered him some sense of security. With shield in hand, he slipped from the long house.
His eyes narrowed, tracing the dim horizon. All was peaceful, yet he was not.
Damn the Persians for not making landfall, for he hungered for a fight. Restlessness seized him. He would run until he could think of her no more, run until the fear gripping him eased.
Sunrise found him still running, legs leaden. But the fatigue of his body did nothing for the ache in his chest.
It was as if all he’d dreamt was real. Never had he experienced such joy…or felt so unsettled, so troubled.
Once returned to the guards’ house to wash, he splashed handfuls of icy water over his face. With a wince, he submerged his head and shoulders in its clear depths.
It helped.
But waiting for her, pacing the path between his home and hers, only resurrected his anxiety. He longed to see her, yet he dreaded it all the same. He would know that she was well and safe. But would seeing her force him to accept that the longing in his heart extended beyond the confines of his dream?
He busied himself, sharpening his spear until the tip of the doru was razor sharp, cleaning his helmet, and mending the seam of his cloak. When he had nothing left to occupy him, he paced.
The winds lifted, growing stronger with each passing moment.
At last he heard her approach and turned to greet her, too eagerly. She headed towards him, blue eyes sparkling above her veils.
He nodded quickly and turned his gaze from her.
She was indeed well, easing his worry while tempting his soul. Her veils offered no buffer to his heart, the whisper of her smile was a shadow through its gossamer fall – enticing him all the more.