He brayed and showed his teeth but eventually found his courage and managed to swallow it. His gut and throat undulated, and she worried he might spit it out. That would be unfortunate. She didn’t have enough herbs with her to make another mash. Praise Zeus, he managed to eat it all.
The change happened quickly. All the hair on the donkey’s back dropped off, and he stood straight up. His nose receded into his face, the bottom of his legs transformed into sandals, and before Alena could thank or curse the gods that his clothing had transformed with him, Orpheus was again standing before her, fully human. He rubbed his back with both hands and fixed her with an accusatory stare. But when he opened his mouth, only a bleat came out.
He gasped.
“I promise you, that isn’t intentional. I was joking before. Give it a moment.” Alena laughed softly.
After clearing his throat, Orpheus managed to say, “It’s about time!”
“I was tempted not to change you back at all.” Alena stood from her spot next to the tree.
“That’s not funny.” He grabbed her by the shoulders, his eyes narrowing on her face. “Tell me the truth. You didn’t need to wait, did you? That excuse about the water needing to move through my system was all a lie.”
“What makes you think so?”
“No water has left me, woman. In fact, I rather need to void myself at this very moment.”
She shrugged and pointed toward the wall. “But look how close we are to the next challenge. We could never have traveled that fast on foot.”
He scoffed. “You used me!”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she rolled her eyes at him. “Gods, don’t I know what that feels like.”
He grunted defensively. “I did not use you that night or ever. I rather cared for you. It was you who refused me after those harpies embarrassed you, remember?”
“Because you lied to me. We kissed. We did…things. I told you stories I’d never told anyone.” She whispered the last part as if someone might hear her, her cheeks warming as she said the words.
“I didn’t lie. I simply allowed you to believe a lie. There’s a difference.”
She snorted.
“I admit that I knew you thought I was an archon and did not correct your misconception. I apologize for that.”
She glared at him out of the corner of her eye. “How big of you.”
“But you should admit that, had you known the truth about me, you would never have spent time with me. You, Alena, are an elitist.”
She scoffed in denial, but internally the accusation made her pause. It had all started with his hair—his beautiful, natural hair. That’s what had caught her attention on the ship. Very few men wore their hair the way he did. Most shaved to keep vermin at bay. His hair was his own, not a wig. She’d thought he must be a man of wealth and importance to have kept his own hair. Hers was natural as well, but she had magic to thank for that. It had never occurred to her that his might be the product of magic as well. The dark waves had been and still were a delight and fascination to her.
So when three crew members had suggested his wealth came from his station as a magistrate of Athens, an archon, she’d believed it. He’d captivated her with his Greek complexion and fine garb, and they’d talked late into the night for the entire voyage.
“It was humiliating.” She remembered the way the old women had looked at her when she’d admitted who she thought he was. They’d corrected her in the most public way and made her feel like a harlot for arriving to the feast on his arm. “I might have given you a chance if I’d known the truth.” But even as she said it, she knew it was a lie. New to Alexandria, she’d wanted to get to know people who could help her position, not cut her hair.
“Hmm. I’m sorry you were embarrassed, and I should have told you the truth about my occupation, but nothing else was a lie. What I told you about my father was true—he did not agree with me leaving Athens. He thought my coming to Egypt was a sin. And what you told me about your mother’s death—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
He placed his hand on her shoulder and, with his other, swept her into his arms.
“What are you doing?”
“I wasn’t using you, Alena. And as for your comment when we were in the stone room about the other woman you saw coming out of my abode, I have not and will never be interested in her. She loiters around my shop. That is all. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the moment I met you on that fated vessel. As for the feast, I would have told you the truth if those ancient biddies hadn’t poisoned you against me. I allowed the rumor that I was an archon to persist because it was a distraction, an explanation for my wealth that kept my magic a secret. If you’d only forgive me—”
“What? What would happen if I forgave you?” She searched his face. There was so much there in his expression, so much pain and longing. He was sorry; she could tell that with certainty. And his regret seemed genuine. But could she trust his intentions were pure?
Before she could take another breath, he kissed her. At first her body stiffened in resistance to the unexpected affection. She arched against his arm in a half-hearted attempt to pull away. But the longer his lips pressed against hers, the more impossible it became to fight the kiss. She tilted her head and trailed her fingers up his neck, threading them into the hair behind his ears. Parting her lips, she let him in. Into her mouth, into her heart again.
The kiss ignited a delicious heat that traveled from her lips to her toes. It warmed her and wooed her. She’d spent many long nights cursing Orpheus as a liar and scoundrel, but this kiss didn’t lie. She found it impossible to maintain the walls she’d erected against him. It was too difficult. Chances were that her life would end today or tomorrow. She didn’t have the energy to waste on hating him any longer. Not when his touch made her heart beat for what seemed like the first time since the last time they’d kissed.
