Nikeros only squinted back at her.
“Oh, no,” she whispered, “did that knock your last bit of sense out of you?”
He shook his head. “It’s just no one has really ever asked before. None of my charges, I mean.”
Korinna frowned. He had added that last part a little too quickly. And he still hadn’t answered.
She opened her mouth to tell him that exactly, but suddenly became aware of how close they were, barely room for the breeze that swept down the alley to pass between them. The lanterns rattled against one another overhead, and Korinna felt a shiver crawl up her back as Nikeros looked down at her, the colorful shadows shifting all around. Her throat went dry, and she thought if she could find a way to both run and stay absolutely still at the same time, she would.
Oh, no. What do you think you’re doing?
What do you mean?
What do you mean, what do I mean? You know exactly what I mean!
I’m just telling the story, all right?
I thought the story was supposed to be about the three suitors? What happened to them, huh?
Well, I guess we can get back to them.
“There you are!”
An old woman’s voice erupted down the alley, rattling all the patrons, though most of all Nikeros. Skin creased with age and sun, hair gray and coarse, she wore a shawl draped over her arms and held together with knobby knuckles at her neck. Nikeros stared at her wide-eyed, as she barreled toward him.
“You’re late! Days behind!”
He was no longer in danger of knocking into the lanterns as she dragged him to the back of the alley, doubled over, by the ear. They came out on a residential road where the woman released him, ignoring the apology he was trying to stutter through, and shouted, “What would your mother say about this?"
“Hera.” Nikeros was already bent at the waist, but he bowed his head. “Apologies. We were held up by—”
“No matter!” The old woman’s eyes twinkled as the corner of her mouth twitched upward, but soon fell back into place. “They're getting ready to set sail for the summit, and now you'll just have to go along too.”
Korinna looked on her with awe, but also confusion. She never would have recognized the queen of the gods like this.
“And you.” Hera’s eyes fell on Korinna, and the mortal suddenly saw the flicker of exactly what she was up against. “You’ve got a prince to marry.”
CHAPTER XVII
The aged woman Nikeros had called Hera, queen of the gods, was significantly stronger than she looked. She gave them both little shoves that effectively made them run down to the docks, all the while mumbling about someone named Theodotus and how if she lost this time she’d never hear the end of it. The harbor was as bustling as the bazaar, but with an offensiveness to it, the working men’s voices gruffer as they threw cargo and swears at one another from the bobbing ships down to the pier. Fish carts and body odor defeated the briny air, and the sun glistening off the water, the white stone, and the furled sails was blinding.
Korinna found herself being pushed toward the largest of the ships, towering over the others at the dock’s end. Crewmen scurried by carrying cargo on board and taking orders from a small group of nobles, identifiable by their dress and the awning under which they sat. Only nobles sat when everyone else was this busy.
There was a line of villagers snaking its way down the dock to the royal party. Each patron seemed to have something to offer, goods or services to sell, and were called up in turn to a man with a long scroll in hand. He was evaluating them and sending them onto the ship with a purse of coins or away much to the vendor’s ire. It was amusing to watch until Korinna realized she was suddenly part of the line.
“What are we doing?”
“Look there.” Hera grabbed her chin with one firm hand and pointed it toward the royals. “That’s the prince, your perfect match.”
"Which one?" Of the royals, there were three men with garishly dyed robes and golden adornments. From their apparent ages and their reluctance to do much, she assumed they were the princes, as she knew Theopopolis had three, and that the young woman with them, petite and wearing at least one more layer of clothing than she needed, was likely the family’s only princess.
“That one, the one in blue.” The prince to which Hera pointed had skin a deep olive with hair lightened by the sun. He lazed in his seat, a foot slung over one of the arms, and laughed with one of his brothers revealing a particularly nice set of teeth. Well, he had that on Klaudios, she thought. But then a woman walked up to him, and, to Korinna’s shock, kissed the prince right on his mouth.
“Uh, are we looking at the same guy?" Korinna took Hera’s hand off her chin and blinked back at her.
“Prince Calix, the one on the right.” The woman settled into the prince’s lap.
Korinna balked, “The one who just kissed,”—before she could confirm, another woman came up and kissed him as well, perhaps even more deeply than the first—“two different ladies?”
Hera nodded. "Oh, yeah, those are his wives."
"Wives?" Korinna gawked while a third woman came up behind him and began to rub his shoulders.
"All three of them, yes."
Korinna couldn't figure out what exactly to say, it was all so ridiculous, and she only managed to stammer, her mouth falling open. Hera's suitor was a prince which was shooting too high as it was, but he had no less than three wives already!
Nikeros found the words for her. "Forgive me, Hera, but it’s just…is it not already, a bit…”
“He’s already married!” Korinna finally found her voice, stating the obvious.
"Yes, exactly." The old woman was grinning maniacally, rubbing her hands together.
“Am I missing something?” Korinna looked from the goddess to the Erote. “I must be missing something.”
Then the old woman sighed thoughtfully, placing an arm around Korinna’s shoulder and turning her back toward where the royals sat. “Prince Calix has managed to convince three women to marry him, so you know one thing to be absolutely true: he is very good at being a husband.” Korinna didn’t think that that was at all what she was supposed to glean from the situation, especially as she watched one of the women rub his chest while he squeezed the waist of another. “Trust me, my dear, he's a very good husband to his wives. Is he faithful? Well, by definition, no, but also yes! And he is kind and generous and loving, and you're overlooking the most important part."
Unless he had three of something else, she had no idea what she could be missing.
"Look at the wives."
They were beautiful, of course, in well-fitting chitons of bright colors, their hair done just so, their faces painted perfectly, but then she noticed something else. Despite that they hung on the same man and instinctively she thought that should mean jealousy would abound, they were all smiling. "They look…happy?"
"Exactly!” Hera clapped. “And do you know why? They don't have to deal with him every night! Calix doesn’t need all three of them all the time. These women, they have their freedom.”
Korinna thought about this for a long moment. If she were just looking for a convenient way out rather than trying to find something as ridiculous as true love, Prince Calix certainly qualified as convenient. He was wealthy and powerful too, and it just made good sense, or at least that’s what Simone would probably say. As she thought it over, she realized they had moved up quite a bit further in the line. “So, uh, what’s the plan here?”
"Ah, of course,” Hera sniffed, “We’ll have to improvise a bit since you’re so late and you screwed up my whole meet-cute already, but I’ve come up with something else! You will pose as an adviser to Prince Calix from Dorinth."
"An adviser?" The wind had been knocked from her sails. “I don’t even know anything about Dorinth.” They were edging closer to the head of the line as the guards were more rapidly turning everyone away, and she felt her insides flip.
"Nikeros should be able to
help you with everything you’d need to know about the place."
Korinna gave the demigod a wearied look, and to her surprise, instead of him simply nodding encouragingly at her, he turned to Hera. "Um, Your Majesty, if I might make a tiny suggestion."
She raised an eyebrow. "You might."
"Well, Korinna is not without her own talents. Perhaps it would be more prudent to play to her skills than have her pose as an adviser to a place she’s never been."
"Her skills?" Hera looked her over, eying her muddied chiton. "What, making a mess of herself?"
"She's actually an exceptional artist." Korinna felt her face go wine red, and she opened her mouth to contradict, but he covered it with a quick hand. “And she’s exceedingly humble about it.”
"An artist?" Hera pouted, then smiled deviously. "Perhaps you'll offer to paint him in the nude?"
Korinna felt herself waver, pulling Nikeros’s hand away from her face. "I've never painted a naked man in person before."
"You or him, whatever." Hera winked. "The summit is poised to be momentous, there will surely be poets and sculptors clambering to get on that boat to commemorate the occasion. I don't know if it will work, Erote."
Nikeros grinned. "With my arrows, I think we've got a good shot."
“Really.” The goddess rolled her eyes, then snapped her fingers, and Nikeros was suddenly laden with a chest in his hands and a satchel strapped over his shoulder, though somehow no one about them seemed to notice their appearance. Korinna felt a familiar heat on her body as well, the stains disappearing from her chiton, and when she reached up to her hair, she felt it piled high in tight braids, a paintbrush fastened amongst them to hold them in place.
The tradesman before them had just been denied access to the ship, and he was storming away, calling on the gods to strike them down as he went, but Hera wasn’t paying attention. The man who had been conducting the interviews began to roll up his scroll, and in a nasally voice addressed the rest of them, “All positions have been filled!”
Nikeros fumbled at Korinna’s side, steadying the chest on his shoulder and one hand. Just as she began to ask what they were going to do, the demigod gave her a knowing look and held a small cylinder up to his mouth and blew.
Prince Calix could be heard gasping from across the dock. He shot to his feet, knocking one of his wives from his lap as he sprinted up to the line of guards that separated the royals from the riffraff. His eyes fell on Korinna, full of admiration, wonder, and lust. “We must make room,” he breathed, “for one more.”
CHAPTER XVIII
Prince Calix was many things. He was very sure of himself, which was quite attractive, but he was also very sure of himself, which was, in a word, not. The prince was also at least moderately handsome, particularly powerful, and extremely wealthy which were all in his favor as far as Korinna was concerned. He led her about the ship on a whirlwind, making sure to point out the things he, or at least his father, owned. Hera had disappeared, but had left the crate and bag for Nikeros to drag around, and he followed Korinna obediently through the ship. It was a massive place full of narrow passages and dark hideaways that Calix tried to coax her into, but she successfully evaded his cajoling until finally he brought her to a place he affectionately called the war room.
It was a large space below deck, guarded outside by armored soldiers from what Korinna could only assume would be sea monsters. Inside stood an octagonal table stacked with maps and a small basket of tiny clay figures. Calix had the brilliant idea for Korinna to sketch him and his brothers while they were inside, and each took aggressive stances over the table as if they were planning an enlightened attack when really they were discussing in what light they looked best.
Korinna had no choice but oblige, so she had Nikeros open the trunk, hopeful Hera had included something she could use. When her eyes fell on the scrolls, nubs of soot and chalk, pigments, and brushes, the sounds from the room fell away. She feared touching them as if they might disappear, a cruel illusion concocted by a slighted goddess or a dream she’d come up with after being beamed with a rock from The Thing’s cave.
Finally she managed to wrap her fingers around a scroll, lifting it up to her face and unraveling the clean, blank parchment. It was particularly smooth and fine, and the torchlight inside the war room cast a warm, enticing glow across it. She breathed in its earthy scent, a happy sigh escaping her lips. Maybe this, she thought, was love.
When she opened her eyes again, Nikeros was staring at her over the edge of the scroll. She froze under the look he was giving her, like he was about to laugh, and then glowered at him before turning back to the boys. “All right, all right, choose your poses.”
The sketching went on for some time, and though she was perfectly happy to continue on forever, the princes certainly started to complain about cramping. Eager to see her work, Calix called the session to an end. Korinna was quick to roll the scroll back up. “You can see my best pieces at the end of the summit.” She offered Calix a wink, something she wasn’t sure she was doing right as she felt her entire face contort oddly around her eye and her mouth was probably too involved in the whole thing, but it seemed to work. The prince looked on her like she was a gift from the gods, which wasn’t entirely inaccurate, and ushered her out.
“It will be a glorious summit,” he told her as they walked along the edge of the deck. In the sky, the Hesperides were pulling their curtain down over the sun at the ocean’s horizon, all orange and purple and hazy. “My sister will wed the prince of Dorinth, and then perhaps when we return to Theopopolis there will be another wedding in our future.”
He certainly was forward, and Korinna found herself trapped between him and the deck’s railing, glancing over his shoulder at Nikeros who was doing his best impression of someone searching the sky for gulls. “Perhaps,” she squeaked out, then added a bit more dreadfully, “Another indeed.”
“In the meantime, I hope you will accompany me to the far side of the island.”
If that was some euphemism, Korinna wasn’t fond of it. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The summit is taking place on a spit of unconquered land in the bay between Theopopolis and Dorinth.” He motioned out to the ocean, and Korinna could see a bump on the horizon. “My sister’s wedding is the main event, of course, a grand ceremony our parents will be proud of, but I dare say an even greater celebration will be taking place deep in the wilds of the island in three days. A celebration for those of us who crave something more unruly.” He had gotten very close to her, trapping her between his arms as he gripped the ship’s railing against her back.
“Oh.” Korinna nodded. “You want me to go to a party with you?”
The prince had been eying her satyrishly but was thrown by her bluntness. “Yes?”
“Well, that sounds great.” She feigned a yawn which quickly turned into something genuine. She ducked under his arm. “In just a couple nights, right?” He was perplexed at how she’d snaked away from him, but that was one of the benefits of being too skinny. “Got it! I will definitely meet you there, bud.” And with her thumb up and a smile, she turned and hurried away.
When she finally found herself in the tiny hold on the ship that fit just her, Nikeros, and the crate, sleep was heavy in her eyes, but her mind was racing. She climbed up into the upper hammock strung between beams on either end of the hold. She had composed art, even been encouraged to do so, on fine materials, and she had been paid for it. The quartermaster of the ship, who hadn’t been pleased when Calix insisted she and Nikeros join them, had reluctantly given her a sack of gold for her services. She had yet to count it, but it was far heavier than any she’d ever felt before. She could scarcely believe her luck to suddenly be laden with more than enough drachma to charter a boat off Zafolas or, better yet, to run off once they returned to Theopopolis, never thinking back on her terrible little island village or the pit ever again.
From beneath her, she heard Nikeros settling down into his own
hammock. Of course, that was her only problem. She hesitantly spoke into the quiet of the hold, “Hey, Niko, what would you do if you weren’t an Erote?”
“Uh,” he almost laughed, “I don’t know what you mean.”
She nibbled on a fingernail, thinking about what the other Erotes had said. Maybe they’d been lying about this being Nikeros’s last chance—they did seem at least a bit manipulative—but she’d feel better knowing he had a backup plan, just in case. Of course, she couldn’t say any of that. “What if your fate had been different?” When he didn’t respond, she went on with a groan, speaking quickly, “I mean, sometimes I wonder what would have happened if my mother hadn’t died, or if my father would have married her. Stuff like that.”
“Oh.” Nikeros shifted in the hammock below. “I suppose I would be living with my father instead.”
Korinna didn’t move for fear she’d break him of his thought. “Your father?”
“Well, you’ll find this out sooner or later, so I may as well tell you that my father is actually King Tyrinium.”
“Have I heard that name before?”
“Of Dorinth.”
Korinna peered up at the ceiling of the hold. “You mean—” She grabbed the edge of the hammock suddenly and stuck her head out to see him, her hair falling in her face.
“Yes,” he said, nodding up at her, “The one headed to the summit right now.”
Korinna stared down at him, his arms folded behind his head nonchalantly. She wasn’t sure exactly what to say. “Small Gaia, I guess.”
“Very.”
Korinna laid back into the hammock, and they were both quiet for a few moments while she considered the meaning of all this. Nikeros’s family was joining Calix’s by way of a wedding. Calix’s sister, Princess Phille, was to wed the Dorinthian prince at the summit. Technically Nikeros was a prince of Dorinth. Suddenly Korinna felt her whole body flush, a mix of nausea and anger crashing over her, then it pulled away to be replaced by dread as she flipped her head over the side of the hammock once more, nearly tumbling out of it. “Oh my gods, are you the prince Phille is marrying?”
The Korinniad Page 10