Kryptic ↟ Deimos

twenty: korinthian night

POUNDING RAIN AND rough seas delay the Adrestia from arriving before dusk, but when they dock, Barnabas gives the men a night to themselves. Many of the crew are at the porneion for the night and Kassandra returns to the Akrokorinth to have more time with the orphan girl, Phoibe after their awry talk. Lesya spends her last night in Korinth beneath the awning on top of Anthousa's villa alone, listening to the rain and watching lightning streak against the dark sky. A bright flash illuminates a dark figure pulling itself up onto the roof. "What are you doing here?" Lesya asks. The outline of his physique is unmistakable.

Deimos nears the lanterns lining the perimeter of the pallet of pillows —he is soaked. Water drips from his matted hair, his dark grey chiton is almost black. His lack of armor is surprising. "I–" he starts, but then shakes his head. "Heard you and my sister were giving the Monger trouble." They'd sent him across the Gulf of Korinth shortly after the Monger had left Phokis after hearing rumors —insurance Kassandra and their estranged weapon would be dispatched.

"He's dead," Leysa informs him, though he likely already knows that. Korinth may be free of the Monger's terror, but Cult spies still crawl over the streets. Fitting for a city with no morals, to begin with. He'd report back with the news and tell them his sister had already fled.

"A knife in the dark?" He asks, having seen his sister and Lesya's handiwork on display in the theater while making his way to the villa. A public execution would not have been as clean, and the streets would likely still be in an uproar.

Wish I coulda been there to watch Deimos break your neck, he'd told the Eagle Bearer and watch him smite this traitorous whore. Lesya's expression hardens as she nods. "Kassandra's choice." Kass had sided with the Spartan, Brasidas, over Anthousa. "I wanted him strung up in the theatre." That earns her a dry laugh from Deimos as he shakes the water from his hands. It did not matter if she called herself Leysa now, a streak of cruelty would also lay within.

She and the Monger had never gotten along —not since he threatened to bring her to his andron to teach her a lesson and she'd broken his nose. Deimos almost had the man's head after he struck her across the face. Lesya shudders, the things he had done to some of the hetaerae still makes her skin crawl. She tosses Deimos a linen blanket and he pats his arms and legs dry ­then tousles it through his ornamented hair.

He lays the wet linen aside and moves closer to Lesya, eyes blazing with warmth. "I killed Chrysis too," she says, tone flat, emotionless. The Cult already received word of that too —Deimos had been there when the masked man stormed across the center of the chamber and hurled down a bloody and torn scrap of fabric. Chrysis was found in the woods, the Cultist announced, the wolves ripped most the meat from her bones. They hadn't been able to say how she died, but Lesya wears a grim smile. "Slit her throat, the bitch deserved it."

Deimos lips twist into a smile, his eyes tracing the lines of her face —softened by the firelight. "She did, didn't she?" Chrysis had fed them lies for ages, warped their worldview, and helped forge them both into weapons. There is a scratch on her cheek from the Monger's warehouse and Deimos cannot stop himself from reaching out and running his thumb over the slim, bumpy line. His thumb drops down, tracing over her lips.

Lesya's eyes slip shut —she leans toward him. Months could pass but it never felt that way when they were back together. "Deimos," she murmurs. Soft and warm breaths dance over her parted lips, his nose brushing against hers. She wants him, but her heart is so tired. Lesya presses her hand against his chest but does not push him away. "We can't keep playing this game." Eventually, they will get caught. Either by the Cult or Kassandra, and Lesya dreads losing the small budding friendship between her and the Eagle Bearer. And yet, this is Deimos, he knows her better than anyone in the Hellas.