Circe waded toward the shore. “Very well; it’s a better idea than the field.”
Isis swam toward her, the sun sparkling on her darker skin. “We should go before they wonder where we are.” She stepped, dripping, onto the beach and pulled her dress over her head. Circe did the same.
“Go on ahead.” Medea dipped lower in the water. “I want to soak for a few more minutes. I have an ache in my muscles from the magic.”
“You haven’t overexerted yourself? Do you need healing?” Circe raised her wand.
“No, I’ll be fine. Just a moment in the coolness.”
They waved their goodbyes and followed the path away from the lake toward their cottage home. Medea sighed in relief. She’d wanted time alone since they’d performed the spell.Finallyshe could allow herself to think about the dragon. The beast was certainly monstrous with smooth obsidian scales that reminded her of waterworn stone. Although its massive teeth were deadly and prominent, she’d connected with its eyes. Warm golden eyes that sparked with curiosity and intelligence. Her reaction to the Guardian at the Gate was confusing to say the least. Yes, she’d feared the dragon at first. But now that she thought back to her encounter, it hadn’t growled or snapped or charged after her. It wasn’t fear that made her heart pound now but curiosity.
Leaning back, she allowed her body to float to the surface, the cool water licking her sides. She stared at the branches that arched over the pond. The sun shone through the bright green leaves, warming her skin. The waterfall’s rhythmic patter lulled her into pure serenity.
In a blink, two eyes the color of warm honey appeared among the leaves above her, a stranger perched in the branches. A man. Watching her.
A scream tore from her throat. Medea’s body caved, sinking into the water with a splash. She kicked violently, swimming to shore as fast as she could. But by the time she’d sprung onto the sandy beach of the pool, pulled on her dress, and reached for her wand in her sleeve pocket, the man was gone.
“Show yourself!” Was she mad or had she actually seen the stranger? Definitely not a nymph, not with his size or his human complexion. What was the spell to reveal what was hidden? She couldn’t remember it. Couldn’t remember anything.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” a deep voice said from the trees.
She searched the branches, but there was nothing there.
“I want to talk.”
“Show yourself,” she demanded again.
“Lower your wand.”
She did as he asked. The man appeared again in the same tree she’d seen him in before, one second gone, the next there. He simply blinked into existence.
“What manner of creature are you?” she asked. She thought he looked like an oversized cat the way he crouched in the branches, his tunic open at the chest.
A strange, tightly coiled tension began low in her abdomen. She’d never seen anything like him. His skin was even darker than Isis’s, and it created a stunning presence against the bright blue sky and green tree. She thought she might like to watch him for the rest of the day, perhaps paint his likeness. Having known no other man but her father, she desperately wanted to study the way his muscles might stretch and bunch when he moved.
“I’m coming down.”
With her body reacting so strangely to the man, all she could muster was a nod. Two dark wings unfolded from his back, not gossamer like the nymphs who were common in the garden but webbed like a bat’s with black scales that reflected gold in the sun. She’d seen that color before. Gilded obsidian. Her mind blanked again as he floated from his perch to the sand in front of her.
“Oh.” The sound came from deep inside Medea’s throat. Without even thinking about the repercussions, she reached for his wing, longing to touch it, then stopped herself, her hand floating in the air between them. Quickly she retracted it, resting her fingers instead on her stomach.
“Who are you?” she asked. “How is it you came to be in the garden?”
“I came to ask you the same question.”
She took a step back, turning her chin away but keeping her eyes on him. “Ilivehere. It is you who are new to this place.”
He laughed. “I most certainly am not new.” He tipped his head. “Although I don’t usually come here specifically. I grant you that.”
“I’ve never seen you before,” she said defensively. “And I was born in this place and have lived here my entire life.”
“You were born in the garden?” One eyebrow peaked, and she was enchanted by the way the corner of his mouth elevated with it.
She nodded. “Yes. Of course. Outsiders are not allowed. Unless you are a god? A friend of Hera’s?” She took another step away from him. Strangers were unheard of in the garden, and anyone powerful enough to get in was someone to be feared.
“I am not a god.” He paced around her.
He stalked around her like a lithe predator. How distracting he was when he walked, and the sunlight kissed his skin. Her stomach did a funny little flip. She inhaled deeply in response to the feeling and was rewarded with a full breath of his scent: fresh-cut wood, ginger root, and a hint of woodsmoke. Intoxicating! She caught herself leaning toward him before she remembered her good sense.
