And, slowly, reality bent to give it to me.
The little green snake’s body expanded outward, quickly fillingmy hands. Legs sprouted from its torso, terminating in claws. A red ruff sprang up from the arch of its long neck.
A dragon stood before me, blinking in stupefaction.
He was about the size of a dog, with a long, narrow body like a weasel, though I sensed he was young and would grow larger yet. He possessed a crest of red and gold and, most significantly, the ability to fly, a skill of Qulhan dragons that had been lost to their Greek brethren.
I squealed and clapped my hands. Chalciope would be delighted.
The dragon followed me through the palace, trotting faithfully at my side. He did not snap back to his original shape as cheaper transformations did, and he seemed to enjoy having feet; perhaps being a dragon was an improvement over being a little green snake.
Chalciope opened her door, then stifled a scream when she saw what stood at my side. “What isthat?!”
“A dragon!” I replied brightly, ruffling his crest affectionately. “I made him myself. His name is Xanthippus.” It meant “yellow horse” in the language of the Greeks, for his scales were the buttery glow of ancient coins. I liked the way it sounded.
“Medea!” Chalciope’s voice was shrill. “You cannot have a dragon in the palace.”
My joy receded. I’d thought Chalciope would be so awestruck by the gift that she would forget her melancholy, not pepper me with admonishments like bronze-tipped arrows.
“He’s my new pet,” I explained. “I made him, and I’m going to raise him. I... I thought we could raise him together,” I added wistfully, imagining the three of us dancing in a meadow.
Xanthippus leaned forward to sniff Chalciope, and she recoiled with a shriek.
“What will Father say?” she fretted, chewing her lip. “At least bring that thing to the stables, Medea.”
With that she shut the door, leaving me and Xanthippus alone.
Chalciope’s rejection stung, but my hurt was soon overtaken by the joy I felt in the company of Xanthippus.
How delightful it was watching him discover the world, sniffing plants and taking to the sky. I doted on him as if he were my own child, feeding him delicacies from my plate and scratching his chin until he rolled on his belly like a puppy. I pressed my forehead to his, basking in the simple, ineffable feeling of love.
“Someday we will fly away from here in a chariot made of gold,” I whispered to Xanthippus. “You’ll take me to a new kingdom, and I’ll marry a handsome prince and never return to this awful place again.” A childish wish, but a solace nonetheless. A brief idyll of happiness, like sunlight falling through a break in the clouds.
Until the day Xanthippus did not appear in response to my summons.
He must be distracted,I told myself,or sleeping.But the stable hands all shook their heads when asked if they had seen him recently, and I could find no trace of him in our old haunts.
By evening, I was hysterical. It was then that Zaidar, captain of the palace guard, came to my rooms, lifting his helmet to wipe the nervous sweat from his brow. When I saw Zaidar, I wept even harder, because I knew that he would only come himself if something truly terrible had happened.
“Please follow me, Princess,” he said, not meeting my eyes.
Zaidar led me down to the bowels of the palace, into the long, dim hallways of the dungeons. He opened one of the doors, and inthe wedge of torchlight, I saw the Golden Fleece glittering faintly from the hook it hung upon. And then I saw Xanthippus.
My friend blinked at the sudden illumination, taking to his feet and calling out a greeting. I went to throw my arms around him but flinched back when I saw the collar fastened around his throat.
My beautiful Xanthippus, his neck enclosed in iron.
I should have known. I should have seen this coming. My father wanted a Minotaur of his own, a pet monster to glorify his name and guard his treasure. Now, at last, he had one.
And I’d given it to him, all unwitting. I thought I was out of tears, but I began weeping again, feeling as trapped as Xanthippus. I could cast a charm to remove the collar from the dragon’s neck, but doing so would doom us both. Xanthippus would be dragged back to this prison, and I’d be accused of trying to steal the Golden Fleece. Aeetes had executed people for less.
My magic wasn’t an escape. It never had been. It was only another reason to control me.
“Your father ordered food and water brought to the beast,” Zaidar assured me. “It will not suffer.”
“That is not enough,” I said, voice quavering. “It’s not just food and water he needs, it’s freedom too.” Xanthippus needed to wander through the forest and snake across the sky, not stay shackled here to the dark earth. He would die a slow, lingering death if he did.
Zaidar would not look at me. “The king has spoken. The dragon will remain here to guard the Golden Fleece.”
