The Korinniad

by A. K. Caggiano

  The basin had makeshift latrines, high-walled chambers with pots lining the back, and a sheet of polished copper hanging near the entry. A few nymphs were gathered around it, patting a red paste onto their lips and charcoal around their eyes. One woman was retching into a chamber pot while another held back her braids, and a woman with the lower half of a horse was sniffling in a corner while another woman at least two times too tall for the room was hunched over and reassuring her, “He’s an onocentaur, honey, forget about him.”

  Korinna fell lax against the wall and blew out a long breath. Before the tears pricking at the back of her eyes could come, she threw herself at the basins of water and splashed her face. “No way these stupid boys are going to make me cry,” she mumbled through grit teeth at her copper reflection.

  “Tartarus yeah, girl!” A short figure stood next to Korinna, bumping her with ample hips. She was round-faced with expressive eyes and a mass of black ringlets all over her head, and when Korinna turned from the reflection to see her fully, she was surprised to see she gave off almost the same coppery glow her reflection had. “Having a rough night too?”

  This was a goddess, she knew immediately, even though she was at least half a head taller than her. But as long as she didn’t thrust another man at her, she was happy to talk. “Kinda, yeah.”

  “These things are always terrible.” The goddess stuck out her tongue and rolled her eyes. “I’m only here because my mother wants me to meet someone and settle down which sounds great, but all of her suggestions are just so…blech. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we love a god who knows when to bring his girl some flowers and shit, but sometimes you just want someone a little more, you know, visceral?” Korinna cocked her head, eying the crown of orchids and the bright pink chiton she wore. “I just want to meet someone who gives off, like, bat vibes, you know?”

  Korinna did not know, but she nodded like she did.

  “Anyway, what’s your deal?”

  She watched the goddess paint on a dark purple paste over her lips. “Well, I’ve kinda been lying to a lot of people, and it’s starting to catch up to me.”

  “Oh, well, that’s easy to fix.” The goddess turned to her and plucked an orchid out of her crown. She weaved the flower into Korinna’s hair. “Just go tell the truth.”

  “The truth?” Well, that was a novel idea.

  “Yeah.” The goddess’s eyes sparkled back at Korinna’s, and she squinted. “To everybody.”

  Korinna found herself stomping out of the latrines toward the men, prepared to bellow at them again to stop, but was shocked to find them in the exact same positions she’d left them. Erepho’s arms were trembling from holding his kithara, and there was sweat on Calix’s brow. “Wow, okay, I guess those arrows are a little more powerful than I thought. So, listen,”—she pointed to each of them in turn—“Athena sent me to you, Hera sent me to you, and Apollo sent me to you.”

  Andreas moved his head, but only just. “As a companion?”

  Erepho groaned, “To share?”

  Calix blinked sweat out of his eyes. “Three men sharing one woman? That’s the strangest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “You can relax.” Korinna gestured for them to put their arms down. “The gods also assigned an Erote to me who has sort of shot you all with arrows that made you fall in love with…me.”

  The men took this in with growing confusion. “Why?” asked Andreas, “I have been loyal to Athena, she would certainly not aim to deceive me.”

  “Well, as they say, the gods have…” Korinna looked at them all expectantly, waiting for them to finish her thought.

  They chimed in together, a chorus of slightly unsure, but vaguely aware voices, “Enigmatic Methods.”

  “That’s right!” She smiled though it didn’t reach her eyes. “We can try and ask for explanations later, but—”

  “This cannot be so,” Erepho said in a rush, “I know my heart, and it tells me you are the one.”

  Korinna bit her lip. Those arrows sure were good.

  “Truly.” Calix pressed a hand to his chest. “I’ve never been wrong about this before.”

  “Calix, you’ve been working so hard to prepare for the summit, haven’t you? Andreas, I know you’ve been pretty stressed about all the…wars coming to an end. And Erepho, you just put in so much work up on stage, you must be exhausted too, right?”

  Slowly, the three began to nod, conceding. All it took was an appeal to their egos. It was ridiculously simple.

  “So, we should just treat the next few hours until the sun comes up as normal. This is just how things are, eh? We can all be friends for now, and then we’ll seek out the gods to settle things.”

  Korinna wasn’t sure if she was good at persuading them, or if it were just that the arrows worked that well, but she didn’t really care as she noticed their eyes softening and their shoulders relaxing. She’d simply come to a decision tonight, and that would be that.

  The men grinned at her, and she tried to smile back. None of them were exactly perfect, but perfection was an abstract concept, that’s what Alanis always said about vases anyway, and this wasn’t so different. And in any case, she couldn’t fail. Then Nikeros would be kicked out of the Erotes, and she didn’t want that on her conscious, even if the lousy Erote was nowhere to be found.

  CHAPTER XXV

  Well, she’d done it. Korinna had successfully navigated what was probably—no, definitely—the worst possible thing that could have happened, and no one died. For that, Nikeros was grateful (if a little blind to the ominous number of wrynecks that wintered on the isle), but he did feel a weird pang in his gut. It was probably the wine, he told himself, pulling another draught from his horn. From the hiding spot he’d managed to eke out amongst the taller trees, he watched the idiot soldier, the self-absorbed prince, and the fucking bard. They were talking, almost like friends, and Korinna looked like she was having a good time. Maybe even a great time. And to top it all off, she might have actually been glowing.

  “Brother!”

  Nikeros caught himself by the edge of the branch on which he had previously been teetering, one fortunate handhold away from splattering on the ground. (Demigods even forget they have wings with enough cognitive impairment. Doubly so if they do not hold their wine well). He managed to stay aloft, but a small amount of his drink sloshed up over the rim and out onto his hand. Now, we all know that normally this isn’t a much bigger deal than a stained tunic and a short cry over spilt wine, but this is Korinna’s timeline we’re talking about.

  The Moirai had been watching their threads untangle happily. Scissors had not been needed (even Atropos admitted she didn’t exactly love shearing a thread too soon), and only a few strings looked like they’d come a bit unraveled. In fact, it seemed very little, in the long run, would come of the odd happenings, and brows had dried of sweat. Even the cat, who Clotho had gotten to name Rutherford after winning two games of boulder-parchment-shears in a row (Lachesis always played parchment, and Atropos always shears), had finally calmed down enough to curl up and take a nap on the youngest sister’s lap.

  But then Lachesis sneezed—space dust is very susceptible to the Ripple Effect, you know—and everything went to absolute shit.

  Anteros landed easily beside Nikeros in the tree, folding his wings back and throwing an arm over his brother’s shoulder. “Well, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Oh? Can’t say the same.” Nikeros heard the cutting edge to his own voice like it was completely foreign. The words tasted bitter and were slurred. Glancing down at his half-empty goblet, he couldn’t recall what serving he was on. He should stop, he thought, so he quickly threw the rest back and dropped the empty goblet to the ground below where it bounced off the back of a centaur.

  “Well, of course.” Anteros took his arm back. “I mean, I earned it.” He mimicked releasing an arrow into the crowd spread out below them.

  He had such a stupid face. “I guess.”

  Anteros clear
ed his throat. “So, uh, how’s it going with that charge Mom gave you? The weird, skinny one?”

  “She’s not—” Nikeros sighed, “It’s fine.” He pointed Korinna out, easy to see from their spot in the trees. “See, she somehow convinced all three of her suitors to get along. Who does that? I’d think the arrows would convince them to kill each other, but they’re getting along.”

  “Maybe they just don’t like her that much.”

  “Impossible,” he answered quickly.

  “Oh?” Anteros raised a brow at him, but Nikeros didn’t see. His eyes were still trained on Korinna. Anteros grunted, “You and I both know how strong those things are, but they’re fleeting. Mortals have to put in the work, and they are not always successful.”

  “I know that.” He watched as Korinna playfully poked at Andreas’s chest and the goliath man revealed his scar to the others who oo’d and ahh’d over it. She laughed, and he could hear it in his mind. “But she has put in the work. She can have any of them she wants.”

  “Well, at least you managed to get her to fall in love with one of them.”

  Nikeros felt that pang again in his gut. He wasn’t sure before, maybe it had only been the effect of Aphrodite’s palace, or the excitement of the Theopopian bazaar, or even the particularly breathtaking sunset on the beach that had falsely made Korinna appear as though love was being ushered into her heart, but Anteros’s admittance to seeing the aura around her confirmed it. She had, somehow, managed to actually fall in love. He shook his head. “She’s just trying to survive a sacrifice, you know.”

  “What?” Anteros’s laughter pulled him out of his trance. “You’re drunk.”

  “I am not,” he insisted, lunging at his brother and nearly falling from the tree again.

  “Oh, yeah, okay.” Anteros helped steady him on the branch.

  “Fine. I might be drunk, but at least I’m not an asshole.”

  “What? Where is that coming from?”

  “You know exactly where. Here!” He gestured to the entire basin, only managing to not fall again by Anteros holding him in place.

  The Erote stared back at his brother, realization slowly climbing on his face. “So, you do resent me.”

  “Stealing my idea? Yeah!”

  “You couldn’t have pulled it off.” Anteros rolled his eyes. “You were fresh out of the academy, you didn’t even have a plan.”

  “I didn’t need a plan, I had a brother.” He glared back at him, feeling the anger fully for the first time. Korinna had been right. She was right about everything.

  “That was like two whole years ago.” Anteros gestured down to the party. “This thing took time. Secret meetings between the two of them in the midst of war zones. You think you could have handled that?”

  Nikeros wanted to scream. He wanted to punch Anteros in his stupid face. He wanted to fly away from the whole thing. But instead, he just sighed, “You could have at least given me a little credit. Especially after that Athenian girl.”

  Anteros looked back at him, his face losing its hard edge. The Erotes are stewards of love, this is true: they study it, they foster it in the hearts of others, and they indeed love it. But, and this is either a very funny or very sad fact depending on if you’re in a comedy or a tragedy, Erotes very infrequently feel it. They think they feel love, sure, and they think they understand it, as if anyone could, but somewhere deep down in most Erotes is a more carnal desire, as with most creatures born of two gods, to fulfill their role, to complete the tasks they were put on Gaia to complete, and that is what rules their hearts. There have been stories about those who overcome this carnal desire to succeed in the face of true love, of course, but those are the exceptions, and, well, this story isn’t about Anteros.

  “Looks like your charge might have picked her suitor.”

  Korinna was sidling up to Erepho. The man was telling some story, probably half true, and they were all listening. Nikeros had a feeling she might pick him for convenience's sake. She had never given off that telltale glow of love around Andreas, and he knew that she wasn’t really practical enough to want to be someone’s fourth wife no matter how convincing Hera might have been. Korinna was looking for love no matter what she said. He could see it in her eyes, and he could feel it in her heart. He might not be the best Erote, but he hadn’t been lying when he told her he would know, divinely, when she was in love. And Korinna was.

  “Looks like you might finally succeed.”

  Anteros’s words should have made him happy, ecstatic even. It was what he always wanted, to successfully convince two mortals to pledge their time on Gaia and beyond to one another, to not have to shamefully return to his father’s home and risk an attempt on his life by his stepmother, to fulfill the purpose he thought had always been his own, but for reasons unknown, his heart suddenly ached in a way he never thought possible. This was even worse than when he caught Rhodea and Himneros together in his own bed.

  “That is,”—Anteros lowered his voice and leaned in close to his brother—“Unless you don’t think that’s the right one.”

  Nikeros sat up a little straighter, the branch bobbing under his movement.

  “I mean, maybe there’s someone better, maybe not, but that guy?”

  Erepho flipped his hair away from his eyes just for it to fall back in front of them and drank in the laughter that the others were showering on him. He was such a prick. “He is a prick.”

  Anteros was nodding emphatically. “I can see that. But look around, brother, there are countless other men here, and any one of them could be a better match. I mean, who picked out those morons anyway? The gods? Do they really know better than an Erote?”

  “None of them even seemed remotely concerned with love,” Nikeros slurred, suddenly liking his brother a whole lot more. In fact, he’d forgotten why he was so mad at him in the first place.

  Anteros dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “You could surely pick out a much better match.” The Erote revealed an arrow from his own quiver, thrusting it at his brother. “Go on.”

  Nikeros took the arrow, looking it over. It wasn’t like the ones he typically used, bright red and angular, but he was kind of seeing double anyway. Materializing his bow in his hands, he notched up the arrow and moved it over the crowd. There were a lot of people down there. But who was worthy of Korinna?

  He thought, for a passing second, he should just shoot himself, then he suddenly broke down into laughter. That was ridiculous. It was completely unethical, not that it wasn’t exactly what the other Erotes would do. He glared at Anteros, angry again, who was asking him what in Tartarus was so funny. “You’re a jerk.”

  Anteros rolled his eyes. “I know, I know, but focus, man, you’re trying to screw up—I mean, fix this girl’s life here!”

  “Screw up,” Nikeros huffed and leveled his bow at the crowd again. There were mortals, monsters, even gods, but the tip of his arrow eventually fell on Prince Leon and Princess Phille. The two were cuddled up under an arbor of fine purple flowers, wrapped in each other’s arms, and looked positively in love. “I should screw up that.” He readied the arrow.

  “Whoa, now.” Anteros grabbed onto Nikeros’s arm but was thrown off.

  “I should,” Nikeros said as if he were convincing himself, “It would serve you right if I just pegged Leon. Korinna would like him too. Two cyclops, one stake.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.” Anteros curled a lip and leaned back. “You don’t have it in you.”

  Nikeros glanced back at the lovers. It would be an awful thing to do, downright evil, and all for what? He didn’t need the credit for their love, their love was enough. And he didn’t need to throw Korinna off from the path her heart was taking. He might want to but—

  “Hey guys!”

  Nikeros jumped, and the arrow was loosed. It zipped over the crowd, and he threw his arm out to stop it, but only threw off his already shoddy balance and plummeted from the tree. (He forgot to remember he had those wings). Nikero
s slammed into the ground with a thud.

  Ignoring the pain, he scrambled to his feet. There was a commotion, but he couldn’t see above anyone’s heads from the ground. The memory of his wings came back then, and he propelled himself skyward to hover beside Anteros whose jaw hung open in shock. Potheros was there too, no idea what he had just set in motion with a simple greeting.

  There, in the midst of the partygoers, was Korinna, her suitors gathered around in stunned silence as she was being dipped and kissed fully and passionately on the lips by Princess Phille.

  CHAPTER XXVI

  Korinna was frozen, dangling there in the arms of a girl she didn’t even expect capable of holding her up. Princess Phille was kissing her—really kissing her—and, for Sappho’s sake, it was impressive.

  When the princess pulled back, she was saying something, but Korinna could hear nothing but the blood rushing past her ears. She thought perhaps she’d been turned to stone, but the feeling started to come back to her limbs, and she finally managed to blink. “What is happening?”

  Phille pulled her back to her feet. “Quickly, we must run away together.”

  The suitors looked even more confused than she felt. There were internal struggles, surely, going on in their heads that she could not begin to grasp, but so long as they managed to not throttle the princess for Korinna’s affection, she considered it a win.

  Prince Leon showed up then, out of breath and aghast. “Phille, what is the meaning of this?”