Serpent and Stone

Chapter 20

My stomach coiled into knots. I nearly snatched my hand away from his. I only managed to stop myself because I knew it would only cause him to suspect me more. As it was, my whole body stiffened and I stumbled awkwardly. Perseus frowned, able to feel it as my hand squeezed his tighter. I scrambled to say something to explain myself.

"It's too dangerous," I muttered quickly. "The paths are completely impassable. No one should try to make that climb."

I have, the shadow in my mind whispered. Every time I killed someone with this curse of mine, I carried the stone bodies to rest at the peak of the mountain. There they will remain, undisturbed and unaltered, for eternity.

To my dread, Perseus' frown only deepened.

"Your description of the peak made it sound like you've been there."

I bit my tongue harshly, nearly drawing blood. I was an idiot. Why could I not think properly at a moment like this?

"Yes," I replied haltingly. "Well, I only went once a very long time ago, and I nearly died doing it. For a blind man, it's out of the question. It's far too dangerous for someone like you."

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wished I could pull them back in and make them vanish from the world. Perseus immediately stiffened. He straightened his posture as his expression turned shadowy and somber. He still held onto my hand, as he needed it for guidance, but I watched with despair and regret as he pulled away from me in his mind.

We continued the rest of the walk back in heavy silence. Internally, I cursed myself with every blasphemous word I could think of. If I had only explained to him gently that the mountain was too dangerous for him to climb, none of this would have happened. But, no. Instead my traitorous tongue had flooded with words that were cruel and heartless. 'For someone like you' I had said. Perseus said nothing, but I could read the lines of his face. I saw how those words slashed him like a knife, how much pain and anguish they cause. I might as well have told him that his blindness made him completely weak and powerless to do anything. I might as well have told him he was nothing now that he'd lost his sight.

I searched for the right words to say to apologize, but I was tongue-tied. Every attempt I thought of sounded wrong. I was terrified of trying to explain myself to him and in doing so make the situation worse.

We reached the temple and I let go of Perseus' hand. He pointedly avoided me and made his way toward his bed. As soon as he sat on the bed, he reached for the loom at his bedside, clutching it as if it was an anchor in a storm. He began to weave, the back and forth of the loom seeming to distract him from his thoughts.

I stood at the entrance still, awkwardly frozen in place. Part of me was tempted to leave him be, to avoid the painful conversation that awaited me. But the other part of me, the part that refused to be a coward, won.

I slowly made my way toward Perseus as he furiously wove on the loom. I made my footsteps loud enough for him to hear me approaching. He refused to look up or even pause in his work. He continued weaving undeterred. Bracing myself, I sat down on the stool next to his bedside.

"Perseus-"

"Don't apologize," he snapped. His gaze hardened, his mouth pressed into a flat line. "You have nothing to apologize for. I'm the one who's mad at you when I'm really angry at myself. What you said was the harsh truth, a truth I needed to hear. You aren't the source of my anger. I just... don't have the will to contain my temper right now." He took a deep inhale. "You should go to bed, Andromeda. I'll get ahold of myself by the morning."

"No," I said stubbornly. "I'm not going anywhere until you talk about this."

"Talk about what?" he replied harshly. "What's there to talk about? I'm blind. I'm completely crippled. I can't even eat or drink without your help, and I need to hold your hand just to walk around, like I'm a child. I'm just deluding myself by training to fight with you. I'll never be able to fight again. No one will take a blind soldier into their army. No one ever heard of a blind man defeating a monster. I'm worthless now. I might as well give up."

I remained silent after his outburst, giving him a few moments to calm his breath. He had a right to his anger, to his hatred. The world had taken something from him, and it had changed everything. In Perseus' eyes, he had lost everything.

"Your weaving is beautiful," I said softly. "Even if you can't see it. And if you'd never even tried to learn the art, I never would have had the chance to appreciate that beauty." I hesitated, then reached out and placed my hand on his. He paused in his work, but still stared determinedly at the ground. "Your future may change. It may be entirely different than what you expected, what you dreamed of." I squeezed his hand. "But never, ever think that that means your life is not worthy. Because it is, and it will be. What matters is not whether you are bathed in glory or if you are mired in mediocrity. None of that matters to me." Too much, I was starting to say too much. I couldn't stop myself. "You are what matters, no matter the state of you. That is the only measure of your worth. Would you think any less of me if I could no longer walk or speak?"

Perseus tensed. "No, of course not—"

"And that is how I feel about you as well," I said insistently. "Anyone who thinks otherwise— they are the ones who are unworthy of you."

I stopped there, forcing myself to be quiet. I had said too much, revealed too much, but although my stomach clenched with nervousness I couldn't bring myself to care. It needed to be said. It was what Perseus needed to hear, and I was already incapable of denying him the things he needed.

Slowly, he lifted his eyes from the ground. Of course, he could only look toward my general direction, and yet his gaze was piercing, full of some emotion that I could hardly name. He squeezed my hand back, a comforting pressure.

"I will try to believe that," he said after a moment, his voice rough with feeling. "I don't know if I'll ever see myself the way you do. But the least I can do is promise you I will try. I will try for you."

I blinked back sudden tears even as I smiled at him, as I laced our fingers together. "Then that is all I ask."