Alena believed him. He’d paled, and his knees were shaking. Escaping the palace had drained him.
“Orpheus, you have been called a cheater, a bastard, a louse charmer. Don’t you think dragon charmer is more fitting? After all, your ancestor Medea once sang a dragon to sleep to help her lover. Won’t you do the same for yours?”
“Oh, we’re not—” Alena stopped short when Orpheus gave her an injured look. “We’re not ready. He’s too tired.”
“I’m afraid we’re out of time,” Isis said. “If we are to have any hope of saving the lives that grow inside you, we must leave now.”
“Lives?” Alena shook her head.
Orpheus was staring at her, lips parted.
“I am the goddess of life,” Isis said. “And I see three burning candles within you. Three bright lights.”
Alena could not believe what she was hearing. She placed her hands on her abdomen, then looked to Orpheus for an explanation.
He turned to Isis. “I am strong enough for this. How do we get there?”
“Simply touch the stone and it will take you home.” Isis extended her hand to them.
Orpheus reached for Alena, and she slid her fingers into his. She must be dreaming. All this would fade with the sunrise. People didn’t talk to goddesses or travel by stone. But when she laid her fingers on the tree, the darkness seemed to wrap tighter around her, like a black blanket that squeezed out the light. When it unwrapped again, Isis was gone and they stood in the middle of an empty field.
And stared into the golden eyes of what appeared to be a very moody black dragon.
Chapter Twelve
Orpheus gazed into the face of the golden-eyed dragon, his knees trembling from either weakness or fear. The beast’s hide was black and as impervious to damage as a crocodile’s, with scales beginning behind its horned temples and running the length of its bony body. Each of its razor-sharp teeth was as long as Orpheus was tall and could no doubt shred him in an instant. That seemed to be the dragon’s general plan as it reared and glared at its prey. A golden heart shone inside its chest as if the gods had lit him internally like a lantern.
For a moment Orpheus was frozen in fear, hypnotized by the rising of its head and clacking of its claws. Would the fire in its heart spray out of its mouth and fry him to a crisp? The nostrils flared as the beast assessed him, its intelligent eyes narrowing. If nothing else, it was majestic. A majestic, beautiful beast that would soon eat him.
“Orpheus, sing!” Alena commanded desperately.
He glanced back at her. Three lights. Isis had seen three lights. He couldn’t die today. He had a family to protect and a woman he must make his wife. And if the goddess could be believed, three future children to raise. He’d do better than his father. He swore he would.
“Orpheus!” Alena screamed again.
The dragon’s lungs glowed behind its scales, filling with fire. The mouth opened.
Orpheus began to sing. The melody the magic gave to him was ancient, and he could imagine his ancestor Medea singing the same song, the life of her lover Jason on her mind just as Alena filled his thoughts now. With every last bit of strength he had, he poured himself into that song, beseeching the dragon to back away, to lie down, to fall asleep.
It was difficult work. Orpheus broke out in a drenching sweat, his knees turning to water under him. But he did not stop. He sang until his chest ached.
The dragon’s teeth clanked shut. The fire in its chest cooled. Orpheus watched in wonder as the terrifying beast circled like a dog, then lay down, curling in on itself, its great eyes drooping and then closing fully. Orpheus reached behind him and took Alena’s hand. His voice soared as he led her around the creature.
Golden gates appeared in what had been an empty field. Beyond the gates rose a breathtakingly beautiful display of flowers and trees: the Garden of the Hesperides. He pushed against the gates and found them locked. Still singing, he looked back at Alena.
She searched the ground, gouging the earth with the toe of her sandal, then digging like an animal with her fingers. Her plan became clear when she lifted a worm from the soil. “It worked with the sand dollar.”
Orpheus swayed with fatigue. There would be no kiss for luck this time. He could not stop singing or the dragon might wake. He heard her whisper the incantation and then saw her turn a skeleton key in the lock of the gate. A jiggle, a crank, and a push and they were inside.
As soon as the gate was closed behind them, the key became a worm again, and Alena dropped it onto the soft earth. Orpheus stopped singing. His knees gave out, and he fell face-first into a patch of marigolds.
“Orpheus!” Alena rolled him over and shook his shoulders.
It had been days, maybe longer, since they last ate or drank anything other than cursed water or rotting fruit. He needed to… He needed to…
“We made it,” he mumbled, glancing at Alena, whose beautiful face was suddenly twisted with worry. “I told you all we had to do was survive.”
Epilogue
