sorceress' warning. She'd said I should not speak of my life under the sea. I'd tried to break that taboo, and now I could not take my next breath. Panic clawed at my chest. I felt as I had that first day I'd surfaced, like I might never breathe again. I clutched the rocks for support and said a silent prayer to Poseidon. Nothing happened. Of course -- why should the sea god help me, when I'd turned my back on him and his chosen people? I'd rejected the merfolk in favor of Athena's humans.
Lysander's face swam darkly before my eyes. I didn't want to die. It didn't seem fair, that I should come this close to my dreams only to suffocated because of a careless word. I wanted to live, and make Lysander love me. I wanted to find my own place in a new world.
Suddenly, the pressure eased and I was free. I staggered and gulped mouthfuls of fresh, delicious air. I wanted to shout for joy, but I was too weak for that. With a shuddering sigh, I let go of the rock and stood up straight.
My legs crumpled under me.
Lysander caught me. He swung me up into his arms. "Don't try to talk," he said. "Phidias, come on. We'll take her to my house."
I leaned gratefully against his shoulder. Lysander carried me up from the beach and along the path into the village. His friend trailed behind. As the pain in my throat dimmed and then disappeared, I found the strength to peer around.
It was still early morning, just past dawn, but already the air grew hot. The hard, clear light played across bright white limestone and bare brown earth. Sunshine fell heavily against stone foundations, mud-brick walls, and red clay tiles. Dirt was everywhere, even in the air. I felt it land on my skin and stick to me. For the first time, I missed the clean feel of the sea on my skin.
We passed a well surrounded by young girls drawing water. They stopped their work to stare at us as we passed. Children with dirty faces abandoned their games to scurry alongside Lysander and stare at me. He shooed them away. Their shouts rang sharp and loud through the air. The sound hurt my ears, which were made tender by a lifetime of muted sea-tones.
The dusty road wound through the village and then mounted the hill and curved toward the villa. Lysander carried me up the hill as though I weighed nothing. His house sprawled over the rocky clifftop. I saw marble columns, a patio of gray flagstones, and more than one fountain. It wasn't half so grand as my father's palace, but it was clearly the home of a wealthy man.
"We're nearly there, little one," he murmured into my hair. "My mother will take good care of you, I promise."
I nodded and nestled against his chest. Somehow, even in this strange land, I felt like I'd come home at last.
CHAPTER TEN
Lysander carried me through the gate and into the garden behind the villa. Women scrubbing clothes in wooden buckets looked up in surprise. Lysander pushed through a wooden door and into the hallway. "Mother," he called. "Mother, where are you?"
A girl scurried toward us, a dusty rag in her hand. "The mistress is in her weaving room. Shall I fetch her?"
"No, I'll go to her myself." Lysander brushed by the girl and burst into a room full of chattering women and girls. It reminded me of the tower room where the women gathered in my father's palace. Here, though, they were hard at work. They rolled wool over wooden instruments on their knees and drew it out again in long skeins.
A tall woman with Lysander's eyes and his broad cheekbones set aside her bundle of wool. "What's this, my son?" she asked. "Who is this girl?"
"I found her cast up on the beach, naked and alone," Lysander said. "She can barely stand or even speak."
His mother studied my face. "She's certainly not of this island." She reached out and touched my cheek with cool, soothing fingers. "She's burning up with fever. Quickly, take her to my private chambers." She turned to the other women in the room. "Lydia, Hygeia, come with me."
I nestled against Lysander's
Lysander's face swam darkly before my eyes. I didn't want to die. It didn't seem fair, that I should come this close to my dreams only to suffocated because of a careless word. I wanted to live, and make Lysander love me. I wanted to find my own place in a new world.
Suddenly, the pressure eased and I was free. I staggered and gulped mouthfuls of fresh, delicious air. I wanted to shout for joy, but I was too weak for that. With a shuddering sigh, I let go of the rock and stood up straight.
My legs crumpled under me.
Lysander caught me. He swung me up into his arms. "Don't try to talk," he said. "Phidias, come on. We'll take her to my house."
I leaned gratefully against his shoulder. Lysander carried me up from the beach and along the path into the village. His friend trailed behind. As the pain in my throat dimmed and then disappeared, I found the strength to peer around.
It was still early morning, just past dawn, but already the air grew hot. The hard, clear light played across bright white limestone and bare brown earth. Sunshine fell heavily against stone foundations, mud-brick walls, and red clay tiles. Dirt was everywhere, even in the air. I felt it land on my skin and stick to me. For the first time, I missed the clean feel of the sea on my skin.
We passed a well surrounded by young girls drawing water. They stopped their work to stare at us as we passed. Children with dirty faces abandoned their games to scurry alongside Lysander and stare at me. He shooed them away. Their shouts rang sharp and loud through the air. The sound hurt my ears, which were made tender by a lifetime of muted sea-tones.
The dusty road wound through the village and then mounted the hill and curved toward the villa. Lysander carried me up the hill as though I weighed nothing. His house sprawled over the rocky clifftop. I saw marble columns, a patio of gray flagstones, and more than one fountain. It wasn't half so grand as my father's palace, but it was clearly the home of a wealthy man.
"We're nearly there, little one," he murmured into my hair. "My mother will take good care of you, I promise."
I nodded and nestled against his chest. Somehow, even in this strange land, I felt like I'd come home at last.
CHAPTER TEN
Lysander carried me through the gate and into the garden behind the villa. Women scrubbing clothes in wooden buckets looked up in surprise. Lysander pushed through a wooden door and into the hallway. "Mother," he called. "Mother, where are you?"
A girl scurried toward us, a dusty rag in her hand. "The mistress is in her weaving room. Shall I fetch her?"
"No, I'll go to her myself." Lysander brushed by the girl and burst into a room full of chattering women and girls. It reminded me of the tower room where the women gathered in my father's palace. Here, though, they were hard at work. They rolled wool over wooden instruments on their knees and drew it out again in long skeins.
A tall woman with Lysander's eyes and his broad cheekbones set aside her bundle of wool. "What's this, my son?" she asked. "Who is this girl?"
"I found her cast up on the beach, naked and alone," Lysander said. "She can barely stand or even speak."
His mother studied my face. "She's certainly not of this island." She reached out and touched my cheek with cool, soothing fingers. "She's burning up with fever. Quickly, take her to my private chambers." She turned to the other women in the room. "Lydia, Hygeia, come with me."
I nestled against Lysander's
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