Alithea

Chapter VII: Into Phokis

"Alithea, wake up, wake up!" came a desperate voice.

The first thing Alithea noticed was that the floor was moving underneath her. She mustered all her strength and filled her lungs with air, only to realize that she was being dragged down a hallway, someone's arms hooked under hers. And it was really, really warm. She squeezed her eyes and furrowed her brow, trying to ground herself, and she let out a groan.

"Good, welcome back," Perseus said, stumbling in front of her. He was steadying himself against the walls, a great blinding fire behind him. She was suddenly dropped and she hit the back of her head against the floor, sending a shimmer of stars and pain across her vision, but she picked herself up. She realized the person who had been dragging her was an equally disoriented Leander.

"Run!" Perseus barked.

"Wait!" Alithea rushed back into her room to gather her only irreplaceable belonging—the coin purse from Hermes. She tied it onto her belt and ran out to see the boys coughing from the fire. "Let's go!" she commanded, and followed Leander down the stairs, with Perseus making up the rear.

The three of them stumbled out of the inn and to the stable where they had left the horses. Terror filled Alithea once again, from escaping death to facing the dreaded riding beasts. Somehow, Perseus managed to get the two horses to kneel, making it easier for the drugged men and Alithea to mount the horses. She got on in front of Perseus again, hiking her dress up to her thighs to ride like Perseus promised she would—one leg on each side.

"Please...hold the reins," he groaned, and then she felt his arm snake around her waist and his head drop onto her shoulder. He kicked the horse and they lurched forward into a canter, Leander following next to them, slumped over on his mount.

Alithea held the reins like they tethered her on this earth, terrified that the expert horseman was incapacitated and that she was in some sort of charge of the beast.

After about fifteen minutes of riding, they had successfully left the city and the flaming inn.

"Perse—Perseus," Leander called miserably, "We need to stop for a moment."

"Perseus, I don't know how to stop," Alithea said behind her. Her hands had gone numb from how tightly she was holding onto the reins. Wordlessly, Perseus trailed his warm hands down Alithea's arms and enveloped her fists, pulling the reigns back gently. The intimacy of this touch sent raging gooseflesh up Alithea's arms and set her cheeks ablaze, which she was grateful he could not see.

When the horses stopped, the two men slid off their horses, Leander stumbling but finding purchase on a rock. He steadied himself against it and suddenly retched into the grass next to it, vomiting up an absurd amount. Alithea looked away.

"Excellent plan, Leander," Perseus applauded, then retched the contents of his stomach off the side of the road, though, mercifully, it was less intense than his brothers.

Alithea dismounted the horse ungracefully, stumbling backwards unsteadily.

"Gods, that bastard," Perseus growled, spitting. He grabbed the waterskin and rinsed his mouth.

"Did you know him?" Leander asked, getting up. As Perseus handed him the waterskin, he nodded.

"Well, knew of him. I'd heard news of a killer innkeeper back in Megara. I think we made fast work of him though."

That's when images of the flames and the brothers on fire burned in her memory. "And—and you two—and the flames—how..." The enormity of what she had just witnessed, of what had just happened to her, crashed down on her shoulders and she fell to her knees, sobbing. She had nearly been strangled to death, such violence as she had never experienced on her tiny island. She clutched her bruised throat, weeping and shaking in the fear that caught up to her. And her companions, whom she had only known for a few days and yet had begun to appreciate their presence, had almost been torn apart in front of her.