Romanowski and Rosemary

30. The nymph of Elis

Julian

The sun had just risen by the horizon, casting its orange rays across the rugged Greek landscape as our horse-drawn carriage trundled along the dusty road. The air was thick with the scent of sun-baked earth and wildflowers, a heady perfume that filled my senses.

Beside me, Althea gazed out at the passing scenery, her striking beauty illuminated by the sun's rays.

Our journey had been long, with her sleeping peacefully in the majority of it, given she got so little sleep the night before. But as we neared our destination, a sense of anticipation hung within me.

Clearly she had no clue what I had planned, as she talked non-stop, the eagerness bubbling off her since the time I'd told her we were going to explore a part of Greece. She had been scribbling in her book now and then, asking me questions, which I heartily answered.

I was careful not to mention anything relating to her recent trauma; she appeared so happy, and... full of life.

But today, the place I was taking her to would put every speculation about her to an end.

I was going to prove that she wasn't a mortal from my world.

It's for your own safety, Mila... I wondered as I glanced at her excited face.

The road wound through olive groves, their gnarled branches reaching towards the heavens like supplicants in prayer. The rhythmic clop of the horses' hooves and the creaking of the carriage wheels provided a steady cadence to our journey, a soothing counterpoint to the buzzing of cicadas in the trees.

"It's been so long since I've been in this part of Greece," I mused. "The land here seems to hold the weight of history, of countless lives lived and lost." She looked on, eyes scanning the horizon.

As we ventured further, the landscape shifted, revealing rolling hills carpeted with vibrant wildflowers. The rising sun painted the sky in hues of orange, yellow, and blue, a breathtaking spectacle that seemed to mirror the beauty and complexity of Althea herself.

"It's almost as if the gods themselves have laid out this tapestry of colours," she remarked, her voice filled with awe.

I chuckled. "Perhaps they have," I said. "After all, we are in the land of the gods, are we not?"

Our conversation drifted, touching upon the myths and legends that had shaped this ancient land. I regaled Althea with tales of heroes and villains in the Greek myths, of love and betrayal, of triumphs and tragedies. She, in turn, heard in amazement, her sky-like eyes keen, as if they were thirsty for knowledge.

She was definitely not a mere woman who turned into a writer in my palace.

Because almost everything I told appeared new to her, as if she found a treasure. I tried my hardest to not give in and tell why I'd bring her here. I needed her to enjoy the city first.

As the day grew with the sun at its peak, we reached the outskirts of our destination, a city that had been in my mind ever since I had doubts that Althea wasn't a human.

The imposing walls of the ancient city rose before us, a testament to the power and ingenuity of its builders.

"Elis," I announced, my eyes fixated on her. "Home to the Temple of Apollo, one of the most sacred sites in all of Greece."

Althea's eyes widened in joy, a smile that never lessened. And that was the first point I caught.

She had no memory of the fact that she'd mentioned Elis on the first day in my palace. When she, so nervous, but defiantly, told that she came from a lost village near Elis. And that had been a motivation for her to be a writer.