I woke up a bit cranky from sleeping on the rough wooden raft, but Leo always seemed to find a way to put a smile on my face.
Last night was an absolute whirlwind of emotions, but in the end Leo made me feel reassured that my intense feelings for him were reciprocated. When he kisses me, I feel a sense of love and light that I've never felt before in my life. And if I'm being honest, I just couldn't stay mad at him— even if I wanted to.
It also didn't hurt that Malta was undeniably, breathtakingly gorgeous. Besides the beautiful natural scenery of glittering oceans and limestone rock formations that dotted the coastline, the ancient architecture made me feel like we had just stepped through a time machine. If it hadn't been for the cars and tourists taking pictures with their selfie sticks, I would've had a hard time believing we were in the 21st century. The capital city of Valletta was filled with towering Roman cathedrals and statues dedicated to many historic Roman figures. It was obvious that Catholicism was a major influence on Maltese culture, and I got to see a side of my Roman heritage that wasn't highlighted much on our quest before.
We began the day with a stop at a local street vendor. The aroma of sweet pastries was so intoxicating that we were practically pulled to the colorful food cart by an invisible rope. An elderly woman with warm skin and ample smile lines sat behind the cart, a few strands of gray hair framing her kind face. She looked down at us curiously as we took in the foreign sights and smells.
"You don't look like locals, but you also don't look like the typical tourists," she said with an accent that sounded like multiple dialects blended together. "What brings you two youngsters to Malta?"
"This is just where our magic raft took us!" Leo said cheerily, and I elbowed him roughly in the ribs. "Ouch! What? It's true."
"I see!" The old woman laughed lightheartedly. "Don't give him too much flak, young lady. A man with a good sense of humor is hard to come by these days."
I smiled at her easygoing disposition and pointed to one of the puff pastries she was selling. "Granny, what are these?"
Her eyes widened. "You don't know what a pastizzi is?! You're in for a treat then, children." With surprising dexterity, she tossed a couple of the pastries into a thin wax paper and folded them up expertly. "You must try! Maltese specialty. And mine are much better than that bat-faced Alessia's."
She scowled at an old woman across the street who was also selling pastizzi's from a much more extravagant looking cart. The old woman across the street scowled right back. Leo and I shared a look and stifled laughter.
"Oh, um, we haven't got any money, granny," I said as she offered the pastries, but she just waved her hand at me.
"In Malta, we have a saying. Bil-flus ħadd ma jixtri il-ġenna. It means: you can't buy heaven with money. Seeing smiles on young people's faces is enough payment for me."
"Wow, that's so nice," Leo exclaimed, taking a big bite of his pastizzi. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he hummed approvingly. "Oh, man this is great! Peri, you've gotta try this."
I took a bite of my own pastry, the flaky exterior and creamy ricotta filling coming together in perfect harmony in my mouth. "Oh, granny! Just, wow! Thank you!"
"I'm glad you enjoy," she said with a happy crinkle near her eyes as she gave us a couple of orange glass bottles. "You must wash it down with a couple of Kinnies, it's a soda you can only get here."
The orange soft drinks made my lips pucker, but its bittersweet taste was addicting and the perfect combination with the pastizzis. We thanked the woman profusely for her kindness, but she simply said it was the Maltese way to help two young lovebirds. Leo and I exchanged another look, this one full of confusion. How could she tell so quickly? Was it really that obvious? The old woman laughed with a knowing twinkle in her green eyes, saying something about this being the island of love.
After that, we walked the streets of Valletta hand in hand, taking in the architecture and vibrant culture that practically oozed out of the city's walls. The air was sweet and pure, and there was no shortage of beautiful sights to see. Nobody seemed to mind the golden sword sheathed at my side or the two unaccompanied minors strolling through Roman Cathedrals. It was nice. We could almost pretend like we weren't demigods about to face ancient beings hellbent on bringing the end of the world and instead, we were a couple of teens on a romantic day out in a gorgeous city. Almost.
We took a rest at the Triton Fountain, and it didn't take long for me to realize why it was named that way. Just outside Valletta's city gate sat the fountain, consisting of three bronze Tritons holding up a large basin where water flowed from proudly. I wondered if the mortals knew just how real Poseidon and Amphirite's child was. No, I supposed they didn't see him as anything more than a water fixture to toss euros into. We continued on.
"So who built this?" I asked Leo inside of St. John's Co Cathedral.
"How should I know?" He asked while gawking at the artwork on the curved ceiling.
"I thought this was your tour?" I said with a quirk of my brow.
"Huh? Oh! Uh, yes well of course St. John's Cathedral was built by St. John—"
"The patron saint, St. John, built this place himself with his weak old man arms, huh?"
"You're the one who went to Catholic School! Why don't you tell me who built it then?"
"... St. John sounds about right."
"That's what I thought," Leo said with a howl of laughter.
I gazed up at the angels painted overhead and the intricate gold framework of the arch. Despite its age, it still shined like new, and I felt honored that the Maltese people cared enough to keep it that way. There was no doubt in my mind (or my nose) that it was constructed with Imperial Gold, but I was still baffled by just how much magical metal it was comprised of. I wondered how many Roman demigods had passed through these holy halls before me as my eyes soaked in the history all around us.
"It really is beautiful though, isn't it?" I mused.
"Yeah, I totally agree," Leo said dreamily.
I looked over to see that he wasn't staring up at the ceiling. Instead of on the mural, his eyes were locked onto me. My heart did backflips in my chest as he leaned in to give me a chaste kiss on my lips. It was quick and innocent, but despite the fact that we were literally in a place of worship, my mind ran wild with lewd thoughts. I wished he'd do so much more than give me a peck on the lips, even though there were hordes of tourists around. I began to suspect that I'd always be greedy for more of him. Still, when his lips were on mine, even if for a moment, it was like we were the only two people on the planet.
We pushed through sweaty tourists and locals yammering in Maltese on their bluetooths as the sun rose to its full height in the sky. The climate was hot and dry, like the summers in California. Leo wiggled his fingers from my grasp and wiped his hands on his white shirt.
"Sorry. Sweaty hands," he said with a cute nervous laugh.
"It's okay," I said as I scanned the skies. "Hmm. I thought the Argo would be here by now."
"Yeah, me too honestly. But hey! That just means more quality time together."
"I guess we have a lot of that to make up for, huh?" I said with a coy smile.
"Definitely," he agreed before taking off into a sprint, weaving through irritated tourists in gaudy tropical shirts. "Race ya to the next Cathedral!"
"Hey, no fair!" I laughed and dashed after him.
We entered the Anglican Cathedral of St. Paul, and I couldn't help but feel a bit... underwhelmed. The Maltese limestone pillars were nice, but compared to St. John's it looked more like a government building than anything else. We entertained ourselves by photobombing a few tourists before being shooed out of the cathedral by a grumpy tour guide with a horrible toupee.
For lunch we went back to the raft and filled up on bread, cheese, fruits, and some of Calypso's beef stew that Leo reheated with his fiery palms. We laid on the raft for a while chatting about the city, and Leo told me some ideas he had for Festus and the Argo. Once he started using words like "hydrostatics" and "dynanometer", I zoned out and instead found myself counting the curls on his head. The way the sunlight bounced off of his hair and shined through his long lashes was something I could never tire of.
Eventually, Leo insisted on continuing his tour, even though I pointed out that he was totally unqualified for his position. Undeterred, he dragged me back into the hustle and bustle of the city. Leo managed to convince a couple of Mexican tourists to pay for a couple of round trip ferry tickets so that we could visit the neighboring isle of Gozo. When I tried to thank them in Spanish, it came out more of a "grassy ass" than a "gracías" which greatly amused all three of them.
Gozo was much more rural than Malta, with hillside settlements and more trees dotting the landscape. It was quieter and more peaceful, with a sort of humble charm to it. The people would be described more as the salt of the earth type; more fishermen here than stuffy businessmen like in Malta.
"The Cathedral of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary into Heaven," I read. "Jeez, what a mouthful."
"With a name like that, it better beat St. Paul's Cathedral," Leo said, earning a disapproving look from some tourists.
Boy, did it ever blow St. Paul's out of the water. The Cathedral of the Assumption was large and imposing on the outside, but once we stepped foot inside, my jaw hit the floor. Crystalline chandeliers lining the walls on either side, decorative red silk drapes, and intricately detailed carvings along the structure's entire interior. Paintings of the Virgin Mary were everywhere, but the most notable imagery was the trompe-l'œil painting of the dome. For once, Leo and I were left utterly speechless.
After that, we spent a few hours roaming the countryside. Before either of us realized it, the sun was approaching the horizon. There was still no sign of the Argo, and a part of me started to feel worried about our friends' wellbeing. I hoped that they were safe, wherever they were.
"I guess the Argo isn't coming today," Leo said, sensing my thoughts.
"I guess so," I replied. "What should we do? I really don't want to sleep on that raft again."
"Me either," Leo agreed. "I have an idea, but it's not exactly... legal."
"I won't kill any innocents," I said seriously, "but politicians on the other hand..."
"What?! I was talking about sneaking into a hotel for the night. What— what were you thinking?"
"Never mind, let's just go with your plan."
"Remind me to never take you to D.C." Leo said warily. "Like ever."
We made our way towards the twinkling city lights in search of a hotel room. Little did I know how eventful this night would become.