Orpheus groaned. “That’s impossible.”
“No!” Alena slapped her hand over his mouth, but it was too late.
“Your answer is incorrect.” The sphinx growled and lunged for them.
Alena braced herself to be torn apart, releasing her hold on Orpheus and crossing her arms to shield her face. But the attack never came. Instead, an enchanting and sweet melody met Alena’s ears. She’d never before heard a more engaging tune. She could almost feel the music brushing past her like a living thing. Lowering her arms, she saw that Orpheus was singing. Before she understood what was happening, he’d grabbed her waist, swept her in a wide arc around the sphinx, and was ushering her along the path. The beast howled wildly but didn’t seem capable of pursuing them.
“What? What’s happening?”
Orpheus didn’t answer. He dragged her down the path at a run, still singing like his life depended on it. He didn’t stop running until they’d reached a bright green glade beside a winding stream. Not a hint of bones littered the ground here. He dropped his hold on her and ended his impromptu aria.
Resting his hands on his knees, he gasped for breath. “Zeus, I am not a fan of singing while running at the same time. Let us not practice it again.”
Alena placed her hands on her hips. “No. Let’s not. Next time listen to me and follow my instructions and you won’t have to.”
“Hmm?” He glanced at her in confusion.
“If you hadn’t been such an idiot and answered the riddle incorrectly, we wouldn’t have had to run.”
“Incorrectly? I never answered at all.”
She rolled her eyes. “You said it was impossible. That counted as your answer. Haven’t you studied anything about the sphinx? You only get one chance.”
“Humph. We would never have figured it out anyway.”
“The answer was atree.” She crossed her arms and popped out a hip.
“A tree?”
“‘My death is never mourned.’ Trees in the northern parts of the world die in the winter. They are not mourned because they come back to life in the spring.”
“How do you know that?”
“I read.” She shook her head. “‘My work, taken for granted.’ Trees provide living quarters for animals and lumber for homes and fires, but we never thank them. ‘My legacy is vast.’ Trees give off thousands of seeds. ‘For hundreds of years I’ve toiled beneath the sun, yet I have never done anything at all. I grow, I change, but I am always in the same place.’ This obviously refers to the tree being unable to move independently.”
Orpheus’s mouth dropped open. “What about the part referring to a provider and a thief?”
She sighed. “Trees provide lumber, shade, and fruit, but they steal water and nutrients from the earth. Honestly, Orpheus.” She closed her eyes and gave her head a disappointed shake.
He leaned back and stared at the sky. “Hmm. A tree. Yes, of course it is. It’s so obvious now.”
“Next time let me solve the riddles.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “The sphinx would have likely eaten us anyway.”
She gave him a stern look. “Which brings me to my next question: How did you stop it from eating us at all? What sort of sorcery was that?”
The man rolled his neck on his shoulders and shot her a serious look. “You don’t believe it was a simple barber’s trick?”
“Not a chance. It was magic, as was the spell that kept you alive in the stone room.”
“Youkept me alive in the stone room,” he said seriously.
“You owe me an explanation. How is it you can perform magic? I’m beginning to think you aren’t a common barber at all.”
He sauntered closer to her, his gaze boring into hers. The smirk she thought might never leave his face morphed into a rare and serious expression. “Iam beginning to think you are not so simple as to settle for a simple answer.”
Chapter Four
