The Stone Queen

by Winters, Jovee

  No, it was definitely time to leave this place. I was not amongst friends and owed them none of my time.

  Tilting my chin up, I stared haughtily down my nose at all of them. They didn’t know it was more of a shield than anything else. I was devastated, but I would be damned if I showed them.

  “Try this again, Zephinia, and I will speak to the priestesses about what you’ve done.”

  Her nostrils flared.

  Then I looked at the boy, now a man, who I’d once thought my truest friend. “How dare you.” I said the words as quietly as he’d spoken his last word to me.

  He flinched, and though anger tightened the veins in his neck, I sensed a quivering of unease in him.

  “We are through, you and I. Never talk to me again. Never look at me. If I really do speak with gods, do you honestly think it wise to mess with me? Especially if the one whom you believe lingers around me to be the god of war himself?”

  He swallowed hard. “Medusa, I—”

  I held up my hand, silencing him instantly. “Say my name again and you will live to regret it. I am for home. Follow at your own peril.”

  Then sweeping up my skirts, I marched away from them, acting superior and mighty, like I knew something they did not. But they didn’t see how my fingers trembled and how badly my knees knocked. How my heart was threatening to punch a hole through my chest and how I tasted the acrid tang of adrenaline on the back of my tongue.

  They especially did not see the lone tear that slipped from the corner of my left eye. I did not swipe at it, at least not until I knew I was safely away from them and no longer sensed their furious eyes upon my back.

  Only once I was truly alone did I drop to my knees and stare out at the expanse of sea, then I sobbed out my father’s name, crying out to him over and over, begging him to take me away from this terrible land of mortals. Prophecy be damned, I was sick of this world. Sick of these people, and I was tired. So bloody tired I sometimes felt it would be a relief to close my eyes in sleep and never awaken again.

  But Father did not answer me. And worse, I knew if I tarried much longer, Mother’s wrath would rain down on me. She could never know what those brats had done to me, because to know it would be to remind her of my duplicity with Perseus, and rather than receive her empathy, I’d catch her rage too. I was tired of it.

  I was tired of everything.

  Taking one last gulping breath as the salt air dried the last of my tears, I whispered, “Oh, gods, any of you out there who might hear me, please. Please save me. Please fix me. Please let me know happiness again…”

  Perseus

  * * *

  Shaking off Zephinia’s too-soft and oily hands, I snarled at her to go home. She begged me to chase Medusa down and to give her the thrashing she deserved for daring to lie with a god.

  But none of us knew she was doing that. None could say it was true. Rumors were insidious things that often held only a grain of truth. Then I thought about the look upon her face when Zephinia had tossed out the accusation—the hardness in her eyes and the stubborn clench of her jaw—and I knew her well enough to know that this rumor was true. She was sleeping with Ares.

  That bitch!

  All those years, she’d told me she must remain a virgin for the safety of mankind. All those years, I’d begged her for one kiss. Just one kiss, and she would rudely deny my request, reminding me over and over again that she could not. She dare not. But that if she could, it would be with me. All those damned promises she’d made with her beguiling, bright eyes, and I’d fallen for them all hook, line, and sinker.

  She’d lied. And the worst of it was, I’d believed her. I’d never had reason to doubt her. I should have known better. All women were nothing more than lying serpents in the grass.

  Mouth flooding with saliva, I spat by my sandaled foot, nearly striking a passing gentleman. He hissed.

  “Watch yourself, boy, or I’ll beat you to within an inch of your life! Street trash.”

  Clenching my fists into tight balls, I found the desire to smash my knuckles through his face overwhelming. But I knew I would pay dearly for it if I did. The marketplace was bustling with strapping guards, any of whom would give their eyeteeth to finally have a reason to get their hands on me.

  “Sorry,” I growled tersely, then turned on my heel and stalked away. I was going wherever my feet took me, not even paying much mind to where, until I noticed I was at the same beach where Medusa and I had had our last fight.

  Rubbing at my aching chest, I thought of that day. How beautiful she’d been standing there with water soaking through her garments, highlighting every gentle curve and swell of her breasts. How her perfectly tipped nipples poked out at me, begging for my mouth and tongue to bring her satisfaction.

  I would have been the one to show her such pleasures, to show her how wonderful it could be between a man and a woman. And instead, that whore had gone and found it with a god, of all things.

  And damn her to the Underworld for it!

  As I paced back and forth, each step caused the fire in my belly to churn and rage more and more until finally I stopped, tipped my head back, and roared.

  But it was not mere sound that came out of my mouth. No. I was done being ignored. Done being called trash.

  “Zeus, hear me! My name is Perseus. You are my father, and I demand justice. You’ve given me nothing. I’ve asked you for nothing. But now, I ask for this! Give me that woman. Let me break her for daring to lie with your son. Let me avenge your honor! Father!”

  My words were whipped away by the winds. The air was charged with electrical volts of power, and my skin hummed. Something had just happened. Even the tides had changed. Where before, they’d been gently rolling waves, now they were chaotic and angry, pounding the surf like a Cyclops’s angry fist.

  I held my breath, imagining that my father could have no choice but to hear my cries this time. But with each ticking of time’s hand, I grew more and more unsure of myself. What if he’d heard me but still refused to help? Was I really to be all alone in this world, with no father ever to look upon me with pride?

  A snarl slowly took over my features. That damned bastard wasn’t coming. The sinking in my chest and the surety that I was right made me sick and uneasy. The one thing I’d always hoped in, the one thing I’d always thought that in my darkest hour would come to me and not betray me, was Zeus. It was why I’d never cried out to him before, because somewhere deep down, I’d understood that it was my last hand to play.

  “So you are the bastard my brother is so very fond of.”

  The voice was articulate and practically purring. With a start, I twirled toward the sound then simply stood there dumbfounded, gazing at an unfamiliar man.

  He was dressed in a fashion quite unlike anything I’d ever seen before. Rather than wearing the customary tunic of the day, or even a chiton, he wore a dimmer shade of silver cloth that seemed to cover every square inch of him save for his face and hands. He was leaning against a large red rock, his handsome face staring back at me with a calculating smirk. His hair was the golden blond of the sun and his eyes a shade of gray I’d only ever seen right before a terrible storm. And sometimes, I swore but a wave seemed to roll within it. Even the air around him seemed to quiver with the knowledge that whoever this was, he wasn’t human.

  My heart trembled, and a fissure of both surprise and fear pounded me. I suspected I knew who this was. He’d called Zeus “brother” and looked at me almost like a fond uncle might.

  “You’re… you’re—”

  He grinned. “Poseidon, my boy. King of all the waters of the deep.”

  “I thought Thalassa was—“

  The change in him was instant. Where he’d been loose and easy, now he stood ramrod straight, and even his hair had begun to roll like the very waves he controlled.

  “Never speak that bitch’s name to me again!” Poseidon snapped as he pointed at me with one long, manicured finger, and the waves behind us gained in volu
me and strength. The winds howled, and I nearly pissed myself, imagining that one moment of folly might well be my undoing.

  Who did I think I was, talking to a god in that way? Of course Thalassa wasn’t more powerful. She was just a primordial goddess. They’d all lost their powers when the Olympians had taken over. The only true and mighty water god was Poseidon.

  “Forgive me, father of all waters. I… I spoke out of turn. It is only that a… a woman has abused my trust so that I could say such a ridiculous and untrue thing as I did. I… I—” Shaking my head, I continued to stammer my way through an apology before I finally felt he’d relaxed enough for me to ask more. “Why… why have you come, great god Poseidon?”

  His nostrils remained flared, and I could still hear the roar and hum of the waves but not as strongly as before. I swallowed hard then cleared my throat, not looking him directly in the eyes.

  He sniffed. “You’re lucky you’re Zeus’s favorite bastard, or I’d have smitten you for daring to utter such blasphemous lies. Do not do it again, boy.”

  My pulse sped up, and all I could think about was that he’d said I was Zeus’s favorite son. Was it true? But it must be true, otherwise why would such a great and mighty god as Poseidon bother to show himself to me?

  I tried to hide my smile, but it was impossible.

  “Now. Who is this devil woman who’s got you all atwitter, my boy?” he asked kindly, just like a loving uncle should.

  “Medusa, they call her. She is winged. And beautiful to behold. But she’s got the soul of Hades running through her veins.”

  His brows twitched. “Oh my. Why, that is quite dark, isn’t it? And what sort of vengeance do you want for her? Or more to the point, why? Even winged mortals are allowed their—”

  “She’s soiled herself by lying with Ares even while she vowed a vow of chastity to Athena. She makes fools of you all.”

  His face went deadly serious, and he had a look in his eyes that, for just a moment, gave me pause. I thought of Medusa and me as children. How she’d been the only female ever to befriend me with no ulterior motive other than to be my very best and truest friend. I’d loved her instantly.

  I hardened my jaw and steeled my nerve. My fists clenched into tight balls that caused my knuckles to turn bone white. But then she’d gone and become like all the rest of them. Calculating. Cruel. A liar.

  I snarled. “I seek to avenge my father’s honor.”

  “Surely it is not Zeus’s honor that needs avenging, my boy, but rather my poor niece’s. The crimes of which you accuse this Medusa are very grave. Very grave indeed. I will need to see this girl for myself so that I might weigh her sins and determine justice.”

  Suddenly I did not feel well. I clutched at my stomach. “What will you do to her?”

  He lifted a brow. Standing there as he was, with the wind riffling through his golden locks and his blazing blue eyes staring down upon me like heated suns, he looked so foreign and terrifying. How could Medusa stand to be touched by one of them? How could she endure those freakish eyes caressing her body? Did she moan for it? Beg for it? Promise him her heart, her soul, her world?

  Fire spread through my bones at the notion that she would so easily sell herself that way. I could have given her the world. Instead, she’d settled for nothing more than a dick who would tire of her just as quickly as Zeus tired of his lovers. And I should know. I was a product of that lust.

  My upper lip curled back like a dog’s, and I glared at the thing that could be my salvation but that was also the one thing I’d come to despise most. I hated the lordly gods and goddesses, the vain and petty beings who toyed and played with our lives as though we were naught more than their personal playthings.

  “What would you have me do, Perseus?” he asked, his voice deep and full of cultured grit.

  “Give her to me. Make her love me again. Make her mine. Make her forget all about Ares and his enormous… ego.”

  Poseidon snorted. “Ego, eh? Well, I do like you, my boy. Tell you what… I’ll grant you that wish. You are Zeus’s child, after all. Simply show her to me, and then, all that you’ve ever wanted will be yours.”

  All thoughts of hating the gods vanished in an instant, and a flood of joy and happiness raged through my body. I didn’t realize what I was about until I was suddenly spilling into his arms and hugging him hard, choking back the lump in my throat even as hot tears spilled down my cheeks.

  She would be mine. She would want me again. And then I would make her pay for all her transgressions. All the humiliations she’d heaped upon me. For making me the butt of countless jokes amongst the boys in town. But once the punishments were through, then I would love her. Then I would treat her as the queen she was, as my queen. But a queen must respect her king, and I was that. I was king.

  “She will return to temple in the morning,” I hastily instructed Poseidon.

  He pursed his lips. “Good. Then I will await you here. Until then, Nephew. Dream of your glorious future.”

  Then the god of all seas was gone, and all I could do was laugh. Laugh and laugh and laugh until I had no voice left.

  Soon I would have her. Soon she would be mine.

  Chapter 13

  Ares

  Reaching over, I stroked the side of her cheek. It was night, and soon we would sleep together, but tonight I wanted more. Not simply her body, which had in recent weeks become a source of immense fascination to me. No, rather I wished for her heart. I wanted to know more of the female who was coming to mean the entire world to me.

  Candlelight flickered, lighting up the room in soft tones of goldenrod yellow.

  Medusa turned, dressed only in her nightshift. It wasn’t transparent like Dite’s always had been. And to be sure, she did not have the body that Aphrodite had. No one did. But hers was beautiful in a way Aphrodite’s never had been.

  Aphrodite had the pinnacle of female perfection. Medusa was the pinnacle of perfection to me, which was something altogether different. More slender through her hips and thighs and with more width around her chest and slightly softer arms, all of which I enjoyed cuddling at night.

  I watched the roll of candlelight flicker across the contours of her face, mesmerized by the play of shadow and light and wishing I could move my fingers as freely across her smooth satin skin as the flame glow did.

  She nibbled her lower lip, aware—no doubt—of my forceful look. Medusa looked young and so innocent, and my soul quivered because I knew I should not be here with her. For weeks, I’d been telling myself the same thing—it never ended well when mortals involved themselves with gods. Not that I had any intention of ever harming her, but her prophecy of doom was never far from my thoughts.

  I wished I knew more about it, but she didn’t seem to know near as much as I’d have liked either. Being with her was a risk but one I couldn’t seem to care as much about as I should.

  “Ares?” she asked softly. “What is the matter? I sense your heavy thoughts tonight.”

  I shook my head, my heart so full that I felt I might burst from the pressure of it. So many warring emotions sailed through me, but uppermost was desperation. To know her. To know all of her.

  Again I studied the unique lines of her face. The slight pointiness of her chin, the razor-sharp slashes of her high cheekbones. If I broke down the parts, she wasn’t classically beautiful. There was an almost avian quality to her features, especially in her nose. It was a strong nose for a female, with a slight bump in its bridge. But when the parts were taken together, there was something enticingly exotic about them all. No doubt it was part of her primordial heritage. She was a throwback to a different era.

  “You’re beautiful,” I murmured, meaning those words with every fiber of my being.

  She gasped, and the rush of blood crept up her swan’s neck and settled in her cheeks. No words escaped her lips, but her lashes fluttered like a moth’s wings upon the delicate skin of her pale cheeks. That was when I noticed that the circles beneath her eyes
were darker than usual.

  I frowned. “You’ve not been sleeping well. Perhaps I should not—”

  She held up her hand. “No, Ares. I sleep very well in your… arms.” The last word came out a breathy whisper, and she glanced shyly down for half a second before looking back at me. “But… but that does not answer my previous question. Why are you so heavy?”

  She had the right of it. I was heavy. I had been for weeks, in fact. Slumping into the edge of her bed, I slid my arms between my legs, letting them almost dangle, and shook my head. I was so tired of feeling so much. So tired of the questions, of the constant games on Olympus. How could I explain to her that when I came here, to her room, her bed, and lay in her arms that I felt whole and full again? At least for a little while.

  Not even knowing how to start that conversation, I sighed heavily. “I… I wish company tonight, little bird. My mind is restless, and yours is the voice I wish to hear. Does that… does that bother you?”

  My pulse thundered like horses’ hooves in my ears. My stomach ached. If she said it did bother her, I would leave. Leave and never return. Because things were getting far deeper than they should have. When I’d first come to her, it had merely been to kill off the fascination inside of me. But rather than that, I found myself growing ever more desperate to learn all I could about her. Her likes. Her loves. What made her tick.

  The rustling of her skirt caught my attention. When I looked back at her, she was nearly kneeling between my legs. Her brown eyes, so deep and dark, almost seemed to glitter like a god’s in the night.

  Her mauve-tinted lips were parted, and she was breathing deeply. The room was full of tension. My palms ached, and the need to take her and make her mine was a burning, consuming thing. All I wanted to do was grab her, roll atop her, and make love to her until the sun rose.

  But she and I had never even kissed. And I knew without asking that she was a virgin. I’d sensed it that first night when we’d lain together. The tension in her body, how her breaths would quicken when my forearm would even brush against the side of her breast.