Chapter 2

Back at the War Palace, my mother summoned me to her inner chamber.

She poured a cup of watered divine wine and pushed it toward me.

Such a small gesture. Some stupid corner of my heart still noticed.

"At least you knew better than to fight Eudora in public."

I didn't touch the cup.

"You told all of Olympus I'm worthless."

"Don't be dramatic."

"By dawn, every temple on the mountain will know my own mother thinks I'm not fit to marry into a decent house. Have you thought about what happens to me after that?"

Her lips tightened.

"Eudora lost her mother. Her father doesn't want her. You were born divine. You have a father. You have a palace mortal kings would kill for. She gets a little, and you can't stand it?"

A little.

I lived in the room she didn't want. Wore the robes she discarded. Ate what the servants remembered to bring after clearing Eudora's tray.

When I was ten, I heard my mother tell the steward:

"Eudora has no one. Don't let her go without. Ianthe can have less."

No order in that palace was ever carried out more thoroughly.

The gifts my father sent from distant temples all went to Eudora's room. Anything she glanced at twice became forbidden to me. On her eighteenth birthday, my mother left a war council early to host her banquet, hired musicians, lit a hundred oil lamps.

For mine, I sat by an unlit hearth, waiting from daylight until the moon set.

All I got was a messenger.

A wax tablet with one line.

Don't cause me trouble.

My mother's heart had room for armies, for city-states, for the orphan girl.

And I spent my entire childhood trying to make myself smaller, just to fit into whatever space she had left.

"The matter with Leandros is settled," she said. "Stop thinking about him."

"I don't want to marry Leandros."

"Then you should be pleased."

She unfolded a marriage proposal. A minor divine house's seal marked the wax.

"Damon guards the northern storehouses. Compliant. No ambition. Marry him. You'll tend the household flame and do what you can."

I read the terms.

Residence within my mother's territory.

Husband swears loyalty to her.

My share of tributes, still controlled by her steward.

Not one thing was mine to decide.

"No."

She looked up.

"I won't marry. Father hasn't even seen this."

Her palm cracked across my face.

I hit the corner of a carved chest, pain stealing my breath.

"Your father is beyond the western sea. By the time he returns, the heralds will have announced it."

"Announcing it doesn't mean I agreed."

"But it's enough to teach you what happens if you embarrass me again."

I turned and left. I wouldn't let her see me cry again.

Back in my room, Mirine brought snow from the mountain icehouse, wrapped it in linen, and pressed it gently to my face.

She had raised me. A spring nymph serving in the War Palace. The only person in that building who never made me feel like kindness came with a price.

"She hit you?" Her voice broke. "You're her own child."

I closed my eyes.

Mirine pulled a small package from her robes.

"Hecate's messenger brought it. He said it had to go directly into your hands."

Inside the linen was a pomegranate-shaped garnet brooch.

Dark silver leaves cradled a deep red stone.

I recognized the craftsmanship.

Three winters ago, in Hecate's temple, I held a dead boy's hand and sat with him for hours, until he stopped begging to be sent back to the battlefield.

A man in a black cloak had waited nearby the entire time. He never rushed me.

Later, he asked my name.

After that, Hades came to that temple often.

When I talked about the dead, he listened. He never asked me to stop hearing them.

Beneath the brooch was a folded piece of parchment.

I heard what happened at the banquet. If you still wish to see me, send your answer with the messenger. I will wait for you to choose.

I held the stone until it grew warm in my palm.

Then I borrowed a pen from Mirine.

Come.

Over the next few days, the palace filled with garlands for Eudora's engagement.

Mirine watched servants carry chest after chest past my door.

"Your grandmother's gold jewelry. The embroidered cloak. The silver cups your father sent from the islands."

She turned, shaking with anger.

"All of it into Eudora's room."

Once, I would have chased after them, begged them to leave me even one thing.

Now, I just tucked the garnet brooch inside my collar and kept waiting.

On the seventh morning, the steward came for me.

I had barely stepped into the council hall when a painted clay cup shattered against the wall beside my head.

My mother stood over a pile of ruined fabric.

"Apologize to your sister."