“Daphne, I think you, um,”—Korinna pointed awkwardly at her friend’s belly—“It might be baby time.”
“Do you think?” Daphne’s eyes widened, and she smiled like she was being gifted a puppy on Saturnalia.
Korinna glanced out at the sea of gods and suitor statues, each staring back uselessly. “Yeah, I do.”
All at once, the room burst into, well, pre-life. The gods grabbed their respective suitors and moved their stiff forms to lean against the back wall in the shadows. Aphrodite swarmed them and helped to carry Daphne to the largest table in the shop, and the three rolled her up onto it. The other gods bustled back over to gather around the table, staring down at Daphne, waiting quietly, but this only proved to suddenly worry the woman. “Who are these people again?”
Korinna groaned, “Oh, they’re just, you know, customers.”
“They look sorta glowy.” Daphne squinted at them and then to Korinna. “And so do you.”
“That’s just the labor talking. Okay, guys.” She turned to a third of the Olympians. “What do we do?”
The four sputtered. They weren’t sure, actually, they told her, as childbirth wasn’t any of their fortes.
“Wha—how?” Korinna pointed at Aphrodite. “How do you think she got this way?”
“I’m only on the front end of that.” The goddess shrugged.
Korinna rolled her eyes. “Okay, how about you?”
Hera looked like she’d been mortally wounded. “I mean, I let Eileithyia deal with that.”
“And you two?” Korinna was getting angry.
For the first time, Korinna saw terror well up in Athena’s eyes, and Apollo actually took a step back from the table.
Ready to explode herself, Korinna opened her mouth to scream at them, but then Daphne let out a shriek at another wave of pain, and Korinna forgot her anger. “We can do this. Together.” She’d been to Hades, for crying out loud, how hard could this be?
A whole flock of wrynecks actually flew through the open shutters of the pottery barn, zipped around their heads in a circle, then flew out. No one noticed.
Childbirth, which is typically described as being a beautiful, lovely, wonderful miracle, is actually a messy, painful, terrible miracle. No string of words will adequately describe what went on that evening, nor will any string of cleaners adequately remove the stain from the table Daphne labored on, so an attempt will not be made. All one needs to know is, with the help of four gods, one demigod, and one friend, Daphne managed to survive the ordeal, and Clotho happily spun a brand new thread of life.
And only three vases were broken in the process.
Daphne held the bundle that was her daughter tightly to her chest. Korinna looked down at her, pride swelling in her heart, the fear of the last several hours flushed away completely.
“And what shall you name her?” asked Hera as she reset her crown and pinned back her hair, clearly exhausted from the ordeal.
“She will grow to be the most beautiful mortal,” Aphrodite chuckled, her eyes twinkling down at the baby, “I think it’s clear what her namesake should be.”
“She should be named for her intellect and strength,” Athena corrected her sharply, then her voice softened, “which she will surely have in abundance.”
“She’ll shine like the sun in any endeavor she chooses,” Apollo insisted, “And she should be named thusly.”
“Her name is Elpida,” Daphne cooed, “For hope.”
The gods each took a breath, then one by one, they looked on the baby and managed to contain themselves. It was a perfectly fine name, after all.
“Oh!” Daphne flashed her eyes at Korinna. “I nearly forgot!”
A cold shock chased off the warm fuzzies that had taken her.
“General Archelaus, he came looking for you. He said the gods had chosen you for, well, you know,” she mumbled awkwardly, “But no one knew where you were. There was a search all over town for days.”
“Days? How long was I gone for?”
“Simone,” Daphne choked on the girl’s name, “She offered herself for the sacrifice.”
“She what?” Korinna jumped to her feet. “Why would she do that?” Korinna felt like her brain had broken as she remembered suddenly how full the moon had most recently looked. The sacrifice would be the next morning.
“She’s been sequestered in the temple. I didn’t know what to do, I’m sorry, I just hoped maybe you were here hiding, and you could help me come up with a plan. You’re so good at plans.”
Korinna absolutely did not feel like she was good at plans at all.
She turned to flee, but Hera’s voice stopped her, “Mortal, where do you think you’re going?”
“I have to help her!”
“Not without choosing.”
Korinna looked to where the goddess had gestured. The three suitors’ frozen forms were shrouded in darkness against the far wall, but they were there, waiting. She glanced back to Nikeros once, his face twisted in fear and concern, and her eyes started to burn. “Get Daphne back home safely, okay?” He squinted at her, a sort of realization coming over his face. As he opened his mouth, she stopped him. “Just promise me you’ll help her.”
When Nikeros nodded, Korinna looked back to the gods. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
“What does that mean?” Apollo threw up his hands.
Korinna took a deep breath. This was the right decision, she knew deep down, not in her churning gut, or even in her overwrought brain, but in her heart. It would be so easy to just point to one of the three, any one of them, and say “him.” It was much harder to do what she was about to do, and yet it didn’t seem hard at all.
“I choose none of them.” She turned and fled out the door. Korinna was free.
The gods were left in the pottery barn absolutely baffled, jaws hanging open. Daphne blinked around at their glowing figures, then looked down to her new daughter and chuckled, “I have a feeling this is very awkward, but I can’t put my finger on why.”
“Now what are we going to do?” Apollo glared at Aphrodite as if this were her fault.
The goddess of love did not, however, falter, and only glared back at him.
“I think it’s fairly certain she would have chosen Calix.” Hera rolled her eyes. “So Theodotus belongs to me.”
“Hardly!” Athena spat back at her, “You are as wrong as you are arrogant!”
“Mortals.” The sun god rolled his eyes. “So incredibly selfish, the lot of them!”
Nikeros watched the gods argue, but he didn’t really see them. His mind was racing, a clear thought incapable of catching up. There was something like satisfaction swimming around his brain, but also panic. Anger was there too, and it was sort of loud, but relief managed to hold it back. Erotes, being demigods, are driven by a carnal desire to fulfill their purpose on Gaia, as established. They have feelings, of course, but rarely so many at one time, and when the chief feeling amongst the others isn’t aspiration, then it can get rather confusing—especially when that demigod is half human.
Even without wine to cloud up his brain, Nikeros forgot yet again that he had wings, and he too ran out the door.
CHAPTER XL
Korinna was fast—she’d been running her whole life, after all—but Nikeros was still a demigod. He caught up with her on the dirt path well before she’d made it into town. Zafolas had been plunged into darkness, and no one was about save for the crickets and a solemn breeze. When she heard the gravel being kicked up behind her, she stopped, knowing exactly who it was. “You said you’d help Daphne.”
“I will.” He skidded to a stop. “Just come back inside.”
“I can’t.” She turned to him and shook her head. “Look, I’m really sorry, but Simone needs me.”
“What, do you think you’re going to do? Just trade places with her?”
Korinna nodded. It sounded worse when he said it, but it was all she could think of.
“There’s got to be another way.”
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Korinna couldn’t look directly at him. There was another way, but it involved making at least one of the gods happy enough to help her out by picking their suitor, and she couldn’t do that, not when she didn’t love any of them.
Nikeros was clearly thinking the same thing. “Just come back in and choose somebody. Any one of them can get your friend out of this. We’ll figure it out together.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Yeah, it is,” he pressed, “Just point out the one and you’re done!”
“Niko, you don’t understand. I don’t…” She couldn’t finish, her gaze trailing on the ground.
“Don’t what?”
Biting her lip, Korinna wobbled back and forth on her toes. “I don’t really like any of them.”
“That’s not true.” He tried to catch her eye, but she was avoiding him like it was a new skill she’d mastered.
“Yes, it is.” She folded her arms across her chest. How the Tartarus was he so sure anyway?
“You’re lying.” His tone had fallen flat. “You are in love. Erotes know these things about mortals, remember?”
Korinna felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach. Right, that was how. But was he really so stupid?
She tapped her foot in the dirt and gazed out across the fields. They had been planted, but for now lay bare under sallow moonlight. It didn’t matter what happened, the villagers would never wait to see—they wanted action, and they wanted blood. “You really want me to pick one of them, don’t you?”
Nikeros nodded slowly, as if there could not be a thing more obvious in the world. “I want you to pick,”—he hesitated, the word coming out strangely—“someone.”
She frowned; he had no idea what he was saying.
The wind picked up around them, and there was a tug at her hair, the orchid slipping out from where it had been tucked by the goddess at the party with such good advice. She watched it float down onto the dirt between them before it was swept up in another gust and disappeared into the night. “Look, you’re not going to get kicked out of the Erotes, okay? I told Aphrodite the truth about everything. You’ll get another chance after me.”
“What?” He screwed up his face, waving his hands. “I don’t care about that.”
“I promise, I tried, and I didn’t want you to fail or anything, but honestly, Niko? You’re better than those other Erotes, okay? You’re so much kinder and more thoughtful and braver, and—” Her voice caught in her throat, and she shook her head. “I’m just sorry I let you down.”
“But I didn’t fail.” He looked very confused. “You’re glowing. You’re in love. So just go point out the guy, and—”
“Just stop it!” She stomped a foot, yelling, “It’s hopeless, okay?”
“Nothing is hopeless, Korinna. Love is a many splendored—”
“Gods!” Korinna rolled her eyes, feeling them burn. “Don’t start that again!”
“It’s true!” He was yelling now too. It was better this way. “Not that I’m particularly surprised you don’t believe me.”
She lowered her voice, taking a deep breath. It was working. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You just—you’re impossible, you know that?” He threw his hands up. “I thought I had it figured out, but no, even when you’re glowing, you still insist you’re not in love. Somehow you’re resisting the strongest force on all of Gaia! I guess I did fail, but this was a task I never could have completed. Because you won’t let me. You just don’t care, do you?”
Korinna blinked away the stinging in her eyes, steadying her voice before she spoke, “I guess not.”
He looked like he might yell again, then paused. “You just don’t…you don’t have feelings for anyone, do you?”
She stared back at the boy, holding her face as stoically as possible. It ached.
“Gods, you don’t!” He laughed at himself, looking out at the empty fields in awe. “I must actually be a terrible Erote if I can’t even figure out that the love you’re feeling is only for yourself.”
Korinna snorted. Her chest felt as though it had been stabbed, but her brain pinged to life. It was brilliant. “That’s right,” she croaked out, “So you should probably just get out of here. I’m a lost cause.”
He looked at her incredulously, but she only raised her eyebrows at him. He hesitated in the middle of the road. “Fine.”
She sighed, “Fine.”
Nikeros raised his voice, “Fine!”
Korinna balled her fists and shouted, “Fine!”
They both turned and flew away from one another into the night.
What an idiot.
Which one?
Does it matter?
No, I guess not.
Korinna would have said she couldn’t fucking believe it, but then again it was exactly what she’d been expecting all along. She stood at the edge of the pit—yes, that pit.
The sacrifice was going to be beautiful. They had built a platform for this, and it was actually pretty good craftsmanship, she thought, peering down into the darkness beyond its edge. The whole village had shown up, dressed in their best chitons and with powders caked all over their faces. Some of the younger girls in town had made a crown of flowers for Korinna that she wanted to refuse to wear—being as unappetizing as possible was at the top of her priorities once she hit the bottom of the pit—but she couldn’t stand the disappointment on their faces. They’d even so graciously decorated the ties about her wrists with little pink and white blossoms. The whole thing was rather aesthetically pleasing if one ignored the whole virgin sacrifice thing.
Simone hadn’t understood when the door to her cell had been unlocked, disturbed from what Korinna could only assume was a prayer, but realization crawled all over her face when she saw her friend. Korinna only offered her a weak smile, happy to see the priestess pulled out of the room, but the dread settled in instantly when she was shut up alone in her place. At least General Archelaus had gotten some pleasure out of locking her up in the temple to prepare. Korinna spent exactly zero time praying, though the thought had crossed her mind. She could call out to Ares or Hades or even Aphrodite if she were so bold, but the right words never came in the short hour or so before Eos ushered dawn—and her doom—into Zafolas.
The high priest was saying something to the crowd, but Korinna wasn’t listening. It was all nonsense anyway, and if the gods were listening (which she figured they weren’t) they’d probably feel the same way she did about all of it: just a bunch of ruckus over nothing. The plants would grow, or they wouldn’t, despite what happened to her or any other virgin they tossed down to whatever lurked at the bottom of the pit, but there really wasn’t any reasoning with an angry mob that had been told for lifetimes that this was the only way. It would take a miracle to change their minds, and those had all been wasted on barrels of wine and shapeshifting.
Korinna leaned back toward one of the guards standing behind her. He wore a slightly upturned lip that seemed to say he was ready to pounce on her if she ran off, and his build told her she’d be caught. But she wasn’t planning on that. “Any idea what’s actually down there?”
He narrowed his eyes but said nothing.
“Come on, man, you’ve done this before, you must have some idea,” she whispered more harshly, “It’s minotaurshit to expect me to go in totally blind.”
“They say it’s got the mane of a lion,” came a voice from her other side, “And the claws too.”
“I heard it’s got the body of a lion,” replied the first man in low tones, “And fangs as long as your forearm.”
“No, no, it’s got a lion’s tail,” hissed a third voice, “I saw it once. Just the tail, I mean.”
Korinna snorted, “So, it’s just, like, a whole lion down there? Who eats once a year and controls the weather?”
“It speaks!” spat out the first voice, then reigned himself back in more quietly, “In a garbled wail but like a human from one of its three heads.”
“Oh, not again with the multiple fucking heads.”
“And six arms,” said the guard, “for pulling off limbs.”
Just as Korinna began to regret asking, the priest announced that they would all pray.
Together the villagers bowed their heads and raised their palms skyward, but Korinna just stared out at them. She really wished they’d just get on with it at this point; it was getting quite boring. She glanced up at the sky, brilliantly blue that day. It was as nice a morning as you could get for a sacrifice, not a cloud in sight, nor anything winged.
Then a hand grabbed her roughly about the upper arm, and her heart shot into her throat. Her body fought back as she was thrust toward the corner of the dais that jutted out over the pit, but the two men proved to be much stronger and had her teetering on the edge despite her resisting. So much for any bonding she thought they’d just done.
A cheer rose up from the crowd, loud and rumbling, but it was drowned out by the sound of blood rushing past her ears as she was pushed right to the edge. She stared down into the black abyss below, and then, with the tiniest shove to her back, she fell.
CHAPTER XLI
Everything hurt. Her shoulder, her back, her left and right little toes. Korinna opened her eyes and spat out the dirt that had made its way into her mouth while her face was smashed against the ground. Rolling onto her back with a wince, she could see only a pinprick of light floating somewhere far above her. How far down she’d fallen seemed impossible without breaking everything hard and soft inside her, but here she was, alive, and as she wiggled up onto her knees, apparently still able to get around.
Of course her wrists were still tied behind her back, so it was quite the chore getting to her feet, but once she did, her other senses came to her much more clearly. There was a faint sound from somewhere above, far off cheering, but it was barely distinguishable from what a breeze in the forest would sound like, and as she took a few steps into the darkness, it fell away. There was also a sort of plunking from somewhere, water dripping slowly into a pool and echoing out hollowly into the cavern. Wherever she was now, it was vast.
The Korinniad Page 22