Serpent and Stone

Chapter 24

I stayed in bed resting for the rest of the day. It truly was what I needed after the scorpion's attack. My body felt drained, as if I had fought a great battle with something inside me. I drifted in and out of sleep several times, feeling a little bit stronger each time I woke. My snakes rested lazily atop my head, sluggish and content.

When I awoke the next morning, I felt back to my regular self again. I rose slowly, blinking against the sunlight filtering in from the temple entrance. I glanced about, my gaze landing on Perseus. That would be half a lie- my gaze was automatically drawn to him, like a moth is drawn to a flame. I did not want to look away.

He sat across the chamber on a wooden chair, the loom against his knee as his fingers nimbly worked the shuttle back and forth. He wove the threads with expert precision, as if they simply obeyed his will on their own.

Trying not to make too much noise, I stood from the bed and made my way to stand behind his shoulder. Nevertheless, I could tell he heard me, his head turning slightly and his lips forming a smile as I approached. His hearing was much more sensitive now, and it was difficult to sneak up on him.

"What are you making?" I asked with genuine curiosity.

He smiled. "A dress. It's for you."

I blinked at him. "For me?"

"It's going to be a gift," he said. "For... for all you've done for me. A token of my gratitude."

I stiffened, dread swirling like a storm in my stomach. The words that he left unsaid were clear as day. For when we must say goodbye, he meant. For when my ship returns and I leave. A parting gift.

I quickly averted my gaze from him, refusing to allow myself to reveal the deep regret and sadness his departure brought for me. I didn't want to burden him with it.

But he was right. Two months had already passed, and his ship would be returning soon. My lips pressed together into a grim line. I knew what that meant. It meant Perseus leaving, and his men hunting me. Well, I did not intend to let them succeed. I would hide myself away in a place they would never find me, until they gave up their search. I would even leave the island if I had to, sailing away on a makeshift boat with nothing but my regrets and the hope that my father would guide my ship.

Whatever happened, I would have to say goodbye to Perseus, sooner or later. You should try to get used to the idea now, I chided myself sternly. It may help to dull the pain later.

I took a deep breath, somehow finding the strength to keep my voice steady. "I wish to give you a gift as well," I told him. "To show my appreciation."

He paused his weaving, an expression of curiosity and excitement stirring his features as he half turned around to face me. Despite myself, I couldn't help the smile that crossed my own face in response. "Oh?" he asked, arching a mischievous brow. "And what is this gift?"

"It's a surprise," I announced, feigning nonchalance. I enjoyed this little game of surprises. "You will see it tonight."

I turned and strode away before he could ask anything more. I wanted to be alone for a while. Alone with my thoughts, my fears, and the impending grip of my loneliness.

When the sunlight faded and the darkness of night claimed the sky, I lightly placed a hand on Perseus' shoulder.

"Your gift," I said softly. "I can show it to you now."

He smiled, a soft, heartbreaking smile, and I took his hand, leading him outside of the temple into the thicket of the forest.

"Now I'm very curious," he said as I continued to guide him through the trees, making sure there was nothing to make him trip or stumble. I saw a new excitement dawn in his pale eyes, a hungry curiosity. He was intrigued, and he followed close behind me. "Where are you taking me?" His voice held a tone of impatience, though when I looked back at him a wide grin spread across his face.

"I can't spoil the surprise," I said. I tugged on his hand, forcing him to stumble after me. "You'll have to trust me."

A soft breeze drifted in from the ocean, ruffling the branches of the cypress trees. I kept hold of Perseus' hand, keeping a fast pace but leading him carefully around any roots or rocks. The moon was full up above, so even in the darkness I could see our surroundings. It was beautiful, a bright white eye illuminating the silent forest around us, making the ocean sparkle just beyond the edge of the trees. I turned back to glance at Perseus, feeling a pang in my chest that he couldn't see it.

When we started to get close, I stopped abruptly, causing him to nearly knock into me. He laughed, a sound that made my stomach flutter, as I held his shoulder to steady him.

"Be absolutely silent," I whispered in his ear. "We're almost there."

He nodded and made a motion pretending to lock his lips. Satisfied that he'd follow my instructions, I grabbed his hand again and led him toward the edge of the small meadow. I stopped us behind a thick copse of ferns, kneeling so that we were hidden from view.

Perseus was quiet, his eyes looking in my direction, excitement and curiosity both clear on his face. I could feel my own anticipation rising, unable to wait any longer to surprise him. I peeked through the ferns and sure enough there they were; the dryads, beautiful spirits of the forest, were beginning to emerge from their trees.

It was a ritual that my mother showed me so many years ago that it seemed more like a dream than a memory. I couldn't have been any older than six years old. Back then it had been my mother who had mysteriously dragged me through the forest, refusing to ruin the surprise, and me laughing in excitement while I closed my eyes. Every full moon, the island's dryads awoke from their peaceful slumber to congregate and sing together here, in this very meadow. My mother used to take me here to see them at every full moon, the two of us hiding and listening to the enchanting music of the forest spirits. I hadn't gone since she died- the thought of going by myself, without her, had been too painful.

Seeing them now, I felt like I was a little girl again, seeing the beauty and magic for the first time. The dryads were tall and sinuous, with unnaturally long fingers and limbs, as if they too had sprouted up like shoots from the ground. Their eyes were the dark, earthy colors of the soil, their hair the golden-orange color of amber. They each had perfect oval faces with features as delicate and alluring as flower petals, their skin a light, elegant green. The dryads giggled girlishly and spoke amongst each other in their language as they emerged from their trees. Unable to share my excitement out loud with Perseus, lest the dryads hear me, I wordlessly squeezed his hand.

Once all of the dryads had gathered, they began to sing. One of the spirits started the melody on her own, her voice as clear and beautiful as a silver bell. Then the others joined in, until it was a chorus of the loveliest, most entrancing music humans could ever know. The melody was sweet, yet haunting and melancholic. It rose and fell in soft waves and swift winds, twisting in ways I hadn't even thought possible, certainly not for human voices.

Drawing my eyes away from the beautiful spirits, I turned to look at Perseus. He'd closed his eyes, but I could see that he was taken in by the music as well. He looked serene, peaceful, his handsome face relaxing as the music made us both forget our worries. I forgot who I was, what I was, the snakes in my hair. All I knew was the beauty of the dryads' song, the full moon in the sky, and Perseus' hand in mine. I squeezed his hand again, and this time he squeezed back.

I was so lost in the bubble of my happiness, I didn't notice something was wrong until the piercing scream cut through the dryad's song. I whipped around to see what had happened and instantly froze.

One of the dryads had spotted me.