Another hour or two later, the last beams of sunlight were disappearing over the hill country to the west. They caught the light of color-stained glassblown lamps, vases, and sculptures lined along the open windows of the castle’s west wing. But to Echo, Dionysus, and herself, Medusa was now the finest work of art.

  Her eyes followed her hands, watching the flow of the robes tumbling down her arms as she turned them. The gown itself was clasped at the shoulder by a pair of overlapping golden Epsilons, the Greek sideways letter-M’s like a royal seal of brand placement. The fabric of the chest fanned out from there, curling up in rings beneath her neck like row after row of necklaces. The high-waisted belt below it was a braided rope of some plush scarlet fabric, threaded between the links of a thin-linked copper chain; the braid unraveled below that to pour down to her feet like a waterfall. The rest of the gown stopped just above her ankles, bouncing with every step.

  From the looms of fabrics they’d had, the gleam of the greenish-blues and bluish-greens had called to her. Long, wavy lines trailed left to right as they poured down her frame, criss-crossing into so many almond shapes, ranging from finger-lengths to a forearm’s. The almonds were arranged in patterns by color, from a matte velvety navy blue, to the silken sheen of silvery mint. The shawl pouring over her shoulders was translucent, the dyes naturally fading from a deep green to white and almost clear.

  “This is …so glamorous,” she hushed the words, as if one more decibel might distract from this moment.

  “((So glamorous,))” Echo repeated, keeping pace next to her to keep taking it in. Medusa reveled in it. Sometimes having her own personal echo chamber was just what she needed.

  “See, what’d I tell you?” Dionysus gloated, clutching proudly at the sides of his robes. “Euripides & Eumendedes aren't just tailors - they're visionaries. It's like watching an act of creation. I'm so glad I got those two on tap.”

  “Oh yeah, you must've really pulled some strings to get– Hah! Pulled some strings!” She laughed, for perhaps the fiftieth time that night, even as it dried out her throat. Dionysus' laugh came along for the ride.

  “Hey, of course - you're a goddess, for god’s sake! You deserve it.”

  She grinned shamelessly, her lower lip rising over most of her teeth, brimming with satisfaction. But she felt like she ought to say something to keep that topic going.

  “I definitely wasn't raised this way - at least not this much,” she reflected. “I mean, yeah, my parents were island sea gods, but my dad's never really known what to do with people. Really gentle spirit, though. Good with animals. And my mom - well the rumors are true. Yep! She's the Kraken! Tentacled sea serpent, bigger than most ships… See, when she's good, she's good! When people treat her right, we get good tradewinds, beach weather in the dead of winter, fish flock to the shallows… but if she feels disrespected by somenne, & that gives mortals a bad name? Uuufff! Storm season, ship-sinking, fish-famine! And then it's up to me to talk her back down again for everyone else's sake!”

  Somewhere near the end of that, she realized how much she'd just devolved from a pampered maiden to a snapping, sneering monster-woman slashing at the air. But not the same way as her mother, she reassured herself.

  “...good llllord!” Dionysus exclaimed ironically. “I wish I could’ve stopped that story halfway through at the good part! There was so much potential, it just… I’m sorry.” He had stirred his hands in the air as if looking for some insight to give her, but he settled for sympathy, somberly meeting her eyes.

  She kept his gaze for a few seconds, grateful to have someone who could look her in the eye and not flinch (or die). But she felt the need to clarify: “not that, I mean I’m making it sound all black-and-white; my mother’s a passionate woman, and she really cares what people think of her.”

  “No no, hey, I’ve had to tell people the same thing myself before,” Dionysus was quick to ease her. “I’ve got stories about my aunts and uncles. I’ve gotta do the damage control with the presses after eeeevery incident. What can I say? Olympus is not full of people-persons. But somebody’s gotta clean up their messes, eh?”

  Medusa was quickly losing the desire to keep walking. This felt like a stand-still conversation. “Yeah! Like before I started stepping in, she could barely hold a whole conversation with anyone without going off on them. But I started playing the mediator, and I just go back and forth between them and the people until we got a good deal for everyone. No one has to know she was threatening them with me.”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “...Hm,” Dionysus muttered, staring off pensively with a knuckle to his lips. “I always heard people credit your sister with that. And, I have to say, I am so sorry for your loss. No immortal should ever have to bury family.”

  Medusa remember she was supposed to be playing her sister Euryale. Medusa had died half a year ago now. She’d gotten the luckiest jailbreak from the underworld, but that made her an outlaw from…well, the gods and whoever might side with them by default. She hurried to sadden her brow as if mourning someone else’s death instead of her own.

  “Medusa was… well, she sounded like what I’d want more gods to be like,” Dionysus found himself saying, suddenly enthused. “The world doesn’t need more wrath and punishments! Not for…petty squabbles, and… getting offended by passing comments. That’s not stable. See, that's what people misunderstand about ruling, it's not just about doing things to people, it's about what you promise not to do to them. Lines you’d never cross. If it’s in the name of keeping the peace among your people, that should mean not disturbing the peace yourself!” The words had tumbled out of him like a kettle bubbling out the spout, from someplace less light than she’d seen him be until now.

  “Right?” Medusa egged him on, eager to see someone else naming what’s wrong in the world. “If I could give my people that tropical paradise and just keep it good, I would!”

  “You know what?...” he answered, then slowed down as if he’d gotten ahead of himself. His eyes were searching somewhere in the middle distance, his mouth holding itself shut til he knew where he’d stand. “...I’d like to help you make that happen.”

  Medusa paced around to be in front of him, prying for some hint in his face. “...mmmmake what happen?”

  “I’d like to subsidize your paradise,” he proposed, as if tasting a dish and offering her the plate. “It would have been good enough to hand the isle of Seriphos over to someone harmless. But a property like that belongs in the hands of someone with vision! Someone who’s already familiar with the locals, and familiar to the locals. Someone who could plan ahead for an eternity. I could direct traffic from every sector of the economies of this rising empire and make it a capital in the world of men, a gem amidst the seas. Your people would want for nothing. They would be wanted for everything.” He spoke like every sentence stirred something inside his chest that swept more of his breath away.

  Medusa’s mind began exploring this alternate world. She had grown up when it was a land of mostly subsistence fishermen, treading water in life as if they would never know if they'd have enough. She had been proud to have talked her parents into making their lives easier, bringing every rarity of the depths into their reach; she talked them through every step of the way as they found uses for every skin, kelp, shell, and bone. They weren't rich, but they had plenty. It just never lasted for a season before her parents took it away with a vengeance. Now she turned and looked down the halls as if she could see through the walls to the marvels she had seen tonight. She may be stuck as a monster who’d turned dozens of them to stone on accident, and that might happen again…but maybe she could buy their love back.

  “Oh I'd love that for them,” she practically exhaled the words. “I’d love that. …but how?”

  “I’d like to tell you now - but I haven’t talked to people about it yet,” he hurried to say. “I’ll have my people draw up a contract. We have time to iron out the kinks…if you’ll be staying with us a bit longer,” he ended, invitingly.

  Medusa could feel the word “yes” wanting to launch itself out of her throat. But she was a diplomat, as he had just reminded her. “I'll have to talk to my people, see if I can sell them on it,” she said tactfully. “We'll get a hold of yours - by the looks of it, you have people everywhere.”

  A single sharp laugh popped out of him, surprising himself. “Hoh! You make me sound like some spooky shadow government! But yes, word gets around. Here, I’ll make sure you get one of the cushier rooms tonight. Just follow the blue lines in the rugs until you get there. Code-word for first class tonight is ‘plush.’”

  Medusa found herself suddenly aware of how much she longed for the comforts of a home. Not another straw mattress with her spare outfit as a blanket. Not another abandoned shack or cloak-tent hung over a branch. The promise of pillows seemed to drain the weight from her shoulders.

  “Ugh! That sounds heavenly!” she groaned with relief. “We’ve been on-foot for weeks out here! It’s been a lot less hospitable than I expected.”

  “Well - you’ll always have a home here,” Dionysus comforted her, proud to be able to offer it. “Now, I’ll give you some time to think about our offer. I’ll see what captains of industry I can sit down at a table by tomorrow at dinner. Stay someplace conspicuous so my people can find you then.”

  “Awww, you have to go?” She pleaded, only half-jokingly.

  “Hey, what's the point of inviting hundreds of people over if you can't say hello? Well - it's been a pleasure, Euryale. Help yourself to…everything. You’ve earned it.” He ended with a deep bow that left one loose sleeve nearly grazing the floor; but he kept his eyes on her. With a gleam in his eye and a glow in his cheeks, he turned like a dancer and swayed around the corner, where he exclaimed at the sight of the next person lucky enough to meet him.