Curses of Olympus (The Olympus Trilogy #2)

7. Medusa

7

MEDUSA

M edusa marvels at the large bubble that encases herself and the hippocamp. This is not how she expected the stone to work, but she doesn’t care. She’s just happy that it does work.

It is impossible to be sure where they are heading, but Medusa has developed a calm trust in her steed to take care of her. The most important direction is whichever one carries her away from the Sea Temple.

Who knows how many hours they have been on the move? But she has fallen asleep at least once along the way, that much is certain.

Her stomach rumbles loudly as she tries to ignore the hollow emptiness of hunger. Without knowing how long she and Coral have been traveling it is hard to say when the food situation will become critical. Does she have any other option other than to continue on their current path?

A light-headed fog is teasing at the corners of her mind. She would give almost anything for food, even the drugged food back at the Sea Temple. But Medusa would prefer a slow death from hunger than being back in Poseidon’s clutches.

At least he didn’t win.

Without warning, the hippocamp makes to ascend, their depth in the water shortening rapidly until Medusa can make out the silhouette of a ship on the surface. Her stomach turns to a ball of hot lead as she imagines who could be aboard. Will this put her right back in the hands of the Pantheon? Is it possibly that her situation is about to go from bad to worse?

Coral seems to have a mind of her own, however, and ignores any attempt to slow their trajectory.

I really hope she knows what she is doing. This shall not break me.

Night air slaps Medusa in the face as she and Coral break the surface of the water, the magic bubble bursting from around her. She gasps as fresh air fills her lungs. She had not realized how artificial the oxygen in the bubble felt until now; she had just been happy to be breathing.

A piercing sound fills the air, and Medusa throws her hands over her ears with a shout before realizing it is Coral’s whinny. She has never heard one above water. It is hauntingly beautiful and ear shattering.

Lanterns rush to the front of the ship, and shouts carry across the water, barely audible over the sea waves rocking her and the hippocamp back and forth.

“Get me a dinghy NOW!” a voice bellows, one Medusa would know anywhere. Cadmus. His voice has haunted her ever since he was willing to risk his life for her. For Psyche. Since Psyche hinted that he might even care for both of them.

Medusa’s heart soars, and tears fill her eyes as she breathes a sigh of relief and waits for Cadmus to reach her through the tumultuous waves.

Coral swims them closer, closing the gap between them, and Cadmus pulls Medusa into the small vessel, clinging her to him in a tight embrace before awkwardly dropping his arms.

Turning back to Coral, Medusa scratches under the hippocamp’s chin. “You really did know where to go, huh?” she asks affectionately.

With a gentle bump of her head, Pearl says goodbye and disappears beneath the surface of the water.

The short ride in the boat back to the ship is full of awkward silence. What would she even say?

Strong arms reach over the side of the ship as an Allegiance crew member hoists the dinghy from the water, and Medusa is pulled over the edge into Alec’s arms. He sobs openly, and she cannot hold back her own tears that she had yet to realize were even building. Not only does she have a family now, it is one that will fight for her.

In the safe embrace of her uncle, everything from the Sea Temple catches up to her. They would have killed her this time. Medusa is certain of it.

“Hey, kiddo, it’s alright. We’ve got you. You’re safe now.” Alec pats the back of her head to soothe her.

A small tap on Medusa’s shoulder startles her, and she turns around expecting to find Cadmus again, but her heart stops and the world tilts off its axis when Medusa sees Psyche. Reaching out and taking Medusa’s hands, Psyche laces their fingers together while staring into her eyes.

“You were supposed to wait for us,” Psyche says softly. Her tone is lacking the judgement and accusation that Medusa expected, and the relief is so potent it almost brings her to tears again.

“I was going to, but the situation…” Medusa struggles to find the right words. “It escalated. And I needed to get out of there. If I stayed any longer, they would have killed me.”

Psyche nods, but her eyes narrow when the moon peeks from behind the clouds and the discolored parts of Medusa’s skin become visible. Bruises, so many bruises. Her snakes shudder beneath her hood.

“The fucking bastard,” Cadmus seethes behind Psyche. “I don’t care if he is a god; I am going to rip him apart with my bare hands.”

Medusa grits her teeth. “You’re going to have to get in line.”

B elow deck, Medusa could cry in relief when her body meets the soft bed in the ship cabin. She is grateful for the quiet space away from prying eyes while she desperately regains her bearings. She could feel every eye on her, and while none of those gazes held the fear that some once might have, their concern, pity, and curiosity nonetheless crawl across Medusa’s skin like insects.

Here, with no one besides Psyche, Medusa can finally breathe. Cadmus will likely join them soon, and she is grateful to have a moment alone with Psyche before she has to confront whatever his feelings are for her… and what hers are for him.

She looks at the goddess who is watching her carefully in the lantern light, and a thought steals her breath away.

My world will never again be complete without this woman.

The notion is terrifying, especially given the state of affairs in Olympus.

What will she do if something were to happen to Psyche? How is Medusa supposed to walk this tightrope of love and terror?

Perhaps Psyche and Cadmus would be safer if Medusa had remained at the Sea Temple. Should she leave them, and the rebels, to keep them safe? Preemptively cleave her heart in two now to avoid a fatal blow later?

As the light bounces off of Psyche’s dark lips and disappears into her raven hair, Medusa already knows it is too late for that.

“Promise me something?” Psyche asks, her voice strained with vulnerability.

Medusa takes Psyche’s hand and squeezes. “Anything.”

“Don’t be a martyr again.”

Medusa baulks, but Psyche continues.

“I know you think you did it to keep me safe, but you have to know what that was like for me. To not have a single ounce of strength and have to watch the person I love sacrifice themselves. I thought I’d lost you, and it nearly killed me.”

Pulling Psyche into a soft embrace, Medusa breathes in the goddess’s jasmine scent. “I’m sorry. It was the only way out I could think of to keep you safe. I would rather experience the Sea Temple a hundred times over rather than know you are being harmed. I will always put you first.”

The door slowly opens, and Cadmus tentatively pokes his head in. “Can I come in?” he asks softly.

Psyche nods, and his frame fills the small doorway as he steps inside.

He walks over to the chair beside the bed and takes a seat, weighing his words. “I figured the three of us should talk.”

Cadmus looks to Medusa, who merely shrugs in response, and he takes that as permission to continue.

“I know you and I didn’t get off on the right foot, and I do not place any blame there; it was more than justified. I know you and Psyche are close, but I’d like to think you and I have also become close.”

Medusa raises her eyebrows but motions for him to go on.

“Let’s put the cards on the table. This is ridiculous—dancing around feelings based on past prejudices and initial interpretations, when what we have here could be beautiful.”

All of the air leaves Medusa’s body, and she looks to Psyche while her brain tries to scramble over what Cadmus said.

Psyche gently places a hand on Medusa’s shoulder. “Like I told you in the Oasis, my darling. That man loves you every bit as much as I do. And if I didn’t think you felt the same, I would tell him to fuck off.”

They both love me?

Medusa picks at the bedspread with her fingers, refusing to look at either of them.

Everyone seems to be making assumptions about how she feels, not bothering to give her a moment to breathe and figure it out for herself.

Is that true, though? Didn’t I know this all along? It was right in front of me, but I was too absorbed into my own world to see it. And can I blame them for bringing this to me now? Life is short, and Allegiance lifespans risk being even shorter.

It never occurred to her that a dynamic could be found for the three of them together. How did she not see it sooner? Committed relationships with multiple partners are not common in Olympus, but they are certainly not unheard of.

Lifting her chin, Medusa looks at Psyche, then Cadmus. If this all comes crashing down around them as a mistake, so be it.

She murmurs, “Falling in love with you, Psyche, was easy. I might have resisted, but it happened so quickly whether I liked it or not.” She takes Psyche’s hands in hers, and Psyche gives them a gentle squeeze.

Medusa then turns to Cadmus and sinks her gaze into his.

“Cadmus, I don’t blame myself for being hesitant to trust you at first, but I do regret not thawing to you sooner,” she says. “When Psyche said you could be trusted, that should have been enough for me. I knew I loved you when I saw how far you were willing to go for Psyche. I never imagined that it could be reciprocated.”

Psyche reaches for Cadmus’s hand. Pride plasters across her face, and she shines more brightly than the moon.

Medusa’s heart swells when Cadmus laces his fingers through hers. She pulls at his hand, and he stands up from the chair and climbs into the bed as Psyche situates herself in between them.

Psyche rolls onto her side so she is facing Medusa, and the goddess pulls Medusa’s face to her own, drawing her into a deep kiss. Medusa’s soul sings in response as her body comes alive.

Running her hand down Psyche’s side, Medusa slightly startles when her hand finds Cadmus’s hand already on Psyche’s hip. She almost flinches at the contact, but he twines their fingers together.

Psyche softly sighs at the kisses he trails across her shoulder. When Cadmus’s lips reach her neck, his face is inches away from Medusa’s, and they lock eyes.

With only a second of hesitation, Medusa leans toward Cadmus, bringing her mouth to his. She expects his kiss to be much rougher than those she shares with Psyche, aggressive and charged, but it is soft and tenderly full of restraint.

Medusa’s pulse races when he lets out a low groan of satisfaction, as if he has been dreaming about kissing her.

Psyche cradles the back of Medusa’s neck beneath her hood, and Medusa feels her serpents slither around Psyche’s fingers. Cadmus brings a hand to Medusa’s hip and the gesture, the feel of his broad extremities on her body, immediately take her back to the Sea Temple.

Bile rises sharply in Medusa’s throat, and she fumbles backward on the bed, aggressively rubbing the spot where Cadmus’s hand had been, as if she can scrub away his touch. Jagged breaths slice through Medusa as she spirals.

I won’t let them touch me. They will have to kill me first.

Psyche takes Medusa’s hand, and before Medusa can recoil from the touch, still trapped in her memories, they are in the Oasis.

Medusa blinks rapidly and turns her back to Psyche—and Cadmus—to focus on the horizon and let it ground her. The sky is dark like it has been occasionally, but it isn’t because of the time of day in the Oasis. It is stormy, brooding. The kind of sky that will either calm into nothing or escalate into a colossal disaster.

Despite the ominous tone, the Oasis brings Medusa’s heart rate back to normal, and the cacophony of thoughts finally dies down. She is safe.