Pandora's Mistake (Fate of Eros #0) (The Fate of Eros Series)

by Black, E. B.

  "I need to get to work," Cithara announced.

  "No," Medy said. "You need your rest."

  Cithara shrugged. "I also need to eat, which I can't do without money."

  "I'll buy your food." Cithara sighed. "Don't lie. You're as poor as I am and you can't make a dime without me giving you business."

  Medy swallowed roughly and wrapped her arms around Cithara. "I'm more afraid of you being hurt. Aren't you scared after what happened? I can't allow something to happen to you again."

  Cithara stroked her hair. "Of course I'm frightened, but what other choice do I have? I must have been destined for this. My dad raped me as a child and it happened again now. It must be my fault if I was violated twice in a life-time."

  Medy pulled away. "Don't say that. It isn't true. I'll sell my body instead of you. I don't care about my virginity anymore."

  Cithara's voice was gentle. "Yes, you do. I want you to be true to yourself. You were lucky enough to be given choices in life and I don't want that to change."

  Tears poured down Medy's cheeks. "You can't do this. It's not fair. I abandoned you when you needed me. I don't deserve to have the things I want anymore."

  Cithara's eyes were far away and sad. "I'm glad you left, actually. You would have been hurt, too, and you might not have been strong enough to make it as I did."

  Medy had a bad feeling about that day. She kept looking over at Cithara to make sure she wasn't about to collapse. She looked frail enough to be carried away by a strong wind. Medy's mother had warned her many times that women who chose to live on the streets suffered for it and "deserved what they got", but all she felt was sorrow that they had to live in such a way.

  A man approached the two women. He smiled and said hello. She could see in his eyes that he recognized her, but Medy couldn't place him. Maybe he was an old customer. Either way, she kept her ignorance to herself.

  He laughed as he looked Medy in the face. "You don't recognize me, do you?"

  "Of course I do. I'll never forget the time-" She had no idea how to finish that sentence, but something in her subconscious triggered alarms. He wasn't one of Cithara's rapists. She was positive the two of them would have recognized him if he was, but he made her uneasy.

  "I think you'd be scared that I'd tell your mother what you are if you truly recognized me."

  Medy's face paled. "What do you mean?"

  "To think, my son almost married you when this entire time he could have had you for just a few coins." He grabbed her left breast.

  Cithara growled and shoved him. With her dark expression and fading bruises, she looked like a creature of the underworld. "Do not touch her without her permission or I'll kill you!"

  Medy held her back, knowing that Cithara was reacting this violently because of the way the men had taken advantage of her.

  He pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow. "Feisty, aren't you? I should have paid first."

  Medy's stomach flipped as recognition hit her. This man was Stynos, Aischylos' father. He looked a lot like his son, except with gray hair and a crooked nose. He gambled with her father regularly and it took the mention of payment for her to recognize him. He always had that same glint in his eye when he spoke of money.

  "You're mistaking me for someone else." The stupid lie slipped out of her mouth effortlessly; she had to do something or he'd tell her father.

  "No, you're the daughter of Phorcys." Stynos smirked. "You forget that my years of betting have given me the ability to smell when someone's lying to me."

  Medy's body went numb.

  Stynos slapped her on the back and Cithara gave him a warning look. "It's not as bad as you think. I'm not going to tell anyone, but you may want to stay at home for the next few days. People are gossiping about you. They say that you think you're prettier than Athena and plan to take over the town as head whore. I hope you're not actually telling people that. It could have horrible consequences."

  Medy gasped. "I would never speak such blasphemies."

  He lifted up both hands. "I'm not here to judge you. Zeus knows that I've done some horrible things for less honorable reasons than making a living."

  Medy's shoulders drooped. "Thank you. If my mother and father found out the truth, I don't know what I'd do."

  Stynos nodded. "But I think you are about to find out."

  "What do you mean?" Medy's heart stopped.

  "Stheno was the one who told me. She might have already let your parents know."

  Her soul drifted from her body. She gazed down at herself as if she were looking into the eyes of a stranger. It made sense. Her mother was the type of woman who would make up a lie about her blaspheming the gods to explain her crazy behavior.

  "I have to go." Her stomach lurched.

  He swung his purse in front of her face. "What about me? I have some good coin here and you may need it."

  She shoved him and ran down the street, blinded by all but her impending doom. She knocked people over and kicked up dust as she raced towards her destination.

  Maybe it wasn't too late. She was providing for her family. They'd understand if she explained herself to them.

  Her diaphragm was spasming and her chest was sore by the time she arrived in front of her house. There, on the lawn, lay all the stuff she owned thrown haphazardly on the ground.

  She ran up to the front door and yanked on the handle. Locked, the door didn't budge. She pounded on the wood. "Let me in!"

  Her parents had to forgive her. Her mother wasn't the type to abandon someone she loved, regardless of what kind of gossip she spread. Besides, they needed her money. They'd been living off it for months. Her heart thudded. Something was wrong; they should have opened the door and tried to talk to her by now.

  Her mother peeked out at her through a curtain. Tears were pouring down her face and her left cheek had been bruised. Only one person would have touched her in such a way: Phorcys must have hit her.

  "Mom, let me in." Medy's throat felt sore from screaming and crying.

  Her mother's mouth drooped as she looked down and shook her head. Medy saw the fear in her eyes. Phorcys must have threatened to kill her and her sisters if they let Medy into the house. A knot welled up in her stomach. Phorcys commanded them to behave respectably even though he was the idiot of the town. He probably thought it was her ruining his reputation. Medy was tired of being blamed.

  "Please." She fell to her knees. "You can't do this to me. I'm your daughter. I'll protect you from Dad if he tries to hit you again. Just let me in!"

  Ceto's face hardened and she shut the curtain, turning her back on her daughter.

  "I'll provide for you better than Dad can. Don't abandon me! I did this for you!"

  Medy's screams became unintelligible as she clawed at the door. Her chest was tight and she couldn't breathe. Her family didn't care about her anymore and no matter how much she begged, it wasn't going to change.

  Her tears blinded her as she packed a few of her possessions. Most of these things she wouldn't need while living on the streets. Besides, she couldn't carry them all and she didn't want to return later.

  She felt the neighbors' eyes on her and even caught one of the slaves staring as she tended the garden outside the house she lived in. The shame of being a whore burned through her body and settled in her cheeks. She had lost everything because of it and wished never to sell herself again, but if she wanted to live, she didn't have a choice.

  She took longer to pack than she thought she would. The sun was starting to set once she finished. She heard stories about girls getting stuck on the streets after dark. Some of them got stabbed and others were raped. She wrapped a cloak around her body protectively and then swung her pack over her shoulder.

  She could have waited around the yard for her parents to open the door. They'd have to leave eventually to go gambling or fetch some water, but she didn't want to be stuck on the streets until the next morning. She needed somewhere to sleep and the only place she had to go to was the
brothel.

  As Medy walked, she thanked the gods for Cithara. She was the only true family she had left. The girl would never judge her, regardless of what choices she made in life.

  She stuck to the shadows, trying to sneak past the dirty men with swords hanging from their belts as she neared the agora. They chuckled when they spotted her, some even making faces at her. She picked up her pace when a large group of drunk men spotted her. They yelled,"Run faster!" She fled.

  The walk to the brothel felt like it took an eternity, but that was partly because the depression was weighing her down. She was exhausted by the time she arrived.

  Cithara was standing out front with a few other girls. She took one look at Medy and charged towards her with her arms open. They embraced each other.

  "What's the matter?" Cithara asked.

  Sobs convulsed Medy's vocal cords. She was barely able to choke the words out. "My parents kicked me out of the house."

  Medy could have said more about what had happened, but even though she hadn't spoken the words, Cithara understood the whole thing.

  "I'm so sorry." She stroked Medy's hair. Her voice was just a whisper. "This was all my idea. It's my fault this happened to you."

  "Don't say that. I didn't have to agree to it. Besides, this whole thing has taught me who will really be there for me when I need them."

  Cithara smiled. "You're the closest thing to a sister I have, which is why I refuse to let you stay in the brothel your first night on the streets. It's uncomfortable and you're scared. It will be easier to adjust to the changes slowly." She pulled away and grabbed Medy's hand. "I know a place you can go for the night."

  Medy's eyes widened, her heart lightening a little. "Really?"

  "Yes," Cithara said. "It has a nice straw bed for you to sleep in, too. It's Bartholomew's room at the temple."

  Medy gasped. "Isn't that inappropriate? He's your boyfriend and I'm a woman."

  Cithara rolled her eyes. "I'm not one of the nobility. Just because a man and woman sleep in the same room doesn't mean they're having sex. You'd never do that to me. Besides, I've been meaning to have the two of you meet for a while, although I was hoping it would be under better circumstances."

  "If only my parents would think so highly of me."

  Cithara laughed. "There's one catch, though. You have to be as quiet as possible. Although I know you won't sleep with Bartholomew, the priestesses don't believe that. If they find out the truth, they'll hang both you and Bartholomew for blasphemy. There's no sex allowed in the virgin goddess Athena's temple. Bartholomew and I don't even hold hands while we're inside it."

  Medy dug her feet into the ground. "Maybe I shouldn't go then."

  Cithara yanked on her arm. "No, I've snuck in there a ton of times. They won't figure it out unless you do something stupid. They don't like to go into the slave quarters because they view it as beneath them. It's just one night; you'll be gone before they notice."

  Medy thought about it a moment, tempted. Tonight might be the last night of her life where she got to stay in a beautiful place. Not to mention, she had always looked up to Athena and it would be fitting to begin her new life under the goddess' roof.

  "Okay," Medy agreed.

  They traveled to the temple. Medy had never been this close to it before. She had always wanted to visit, but it wasn't open to the public. Taking in its beauty, Medy admired the white marble and statues decorating the outside.

  They tiptoed towards a side door rather than the main entrance and looked both ways to make sure no one was around. Cithara tapped her fist in a certain rhythm as she knocked. It must have been a secret signal.

  A tan young man opened it wearing a huge smile. His black hair shone in the moonlight. "I didn't know you were coming to visit me tonight."

  He raced out the door and grabbed Cithara by the waist, kissing her so passionately that Medy blushed. She had seen Cithara do sexual things with men, but none of them had felt this intimate. She now saw love behind the act, something she'd never seen her father or mother share. Suddenly, she understood why poems were written for lovers. She shook her head, most of those verses ended in tragedy. Pleasure was how men tricked women into being owned by them.

  Cithara pulled away and gestured towards Medy. "As much as I like seeing you, I actually came over because my friend needs a place to stay."

  Bartholomew looked over at Medy for the first time, his eyebrows raised. "Oh?"

  Cithara nodded. "Medy, this is Bartholomew. Bartholomew, Medy."

  She shook his hand shyly, but he smiled at her warmly.

  "I've heard so much about you," he said.

  "Really?" Medy asked.

  He nodded his head. "Follow me."

  Cithara excused herself, saying that the other prostitutes were waiting for her back at the brothel. This would have frightened Medy if Bartholomew wasn't so welcoming. He chatted to her quietly as he led her down a few hallways in the direction of his room. She smiled and whispered, "Thanks for everything."

  He opened the door to his room and Medy followed. She jumped when something shifted in the hay, thinking it was a rat. Instead, she saw a man who was so quiet she hadn't noticed him at first. He looked amused at her surprise.

  "This is Horius," Bartholomew introduced. "He works at the temple as well. He's mute."

  He winked at Medy and she giggled. He had the kind of smile that someone could only have if they were a child at heart. It made her want to get to know him better.

  "He witnessed something that he wasn't supposed to," Bartholomew continued. "So they chopped off his tongue."

  Horius nodded his head and shrugged. He pointed to his mouth and opened it to show her, but Medy shielded her eyes. "No, I don't need to see it."

  They didn't have much for dinner, but they shared what little bread and cheese they had. She was grateful for it because she got insomnia whenever she went to bed hungry.

  She had never slept in a pile of hay before, but found the arrangement more comfortable than she expected. She was frightened by the idea of insects hidden inside crawling over her; she'd heard too many stories of bed bugs and lice in hay. The temple didn't take care of their servants well, but they were healthier and cleaner than most in Athens. It didn't seem as bad as sleeping in the brothel on the stone floor.

  She stretched her legs. Staying limber would be difficult, cramped that way every night.

  The candles were extinguished. She heard Bartholomew and Horius breathing heavily as they fell asleep. Medy tried to join them, but she was too anxious to rest. Her life had been turned upside down. She kept imagining herself dying of hunger on the streets every time she closed her eyes. She remembered her mother once spitting on a prostitute who was sick on the side of the road. Would that happen to her?

  She got up, lit a candle that she found, and covered the flame. She was afraid she'd wake someone with her actions, but they continued to snore. She walked out the door, even though she knew it was risky.

  The little flame reflected red against the gold that decorated the building. She gasped as she gazed at all the beautiful images carved into the marble. She recognized Poseidon and Pandora, Zeus and Prometheus.

  She probably shouldn't have wandered this far, but she was addicted to the beauty. She felt like a mortal who had just broken into Mount Olympus–too humble to walk on such holy ground.

  She turned a corner and saw a large statue of Athena. The ceiling was higher than any she'd been under before and Athena's head brushed the top of it. Medy collapsed to one knee. Athena stared down at her, covered in white glory from the marble she had been carved out of. This was her hero. She looked so powerful that it moved Medy.

  She wondered whether this was a life-size replica or not. She heard that the gods looked like humans, but were much taller than them.

  This was a sign. In the morning, she needed to ask the goddess for advice. She had enough drachmas left to buy a humble sacrifice. It would pay for a dove and Athena would grant her the
fearlessness and wisdom she needed to move on. Just standing in the same room with her statue was inspiring.

  Feet shuffled behind her, causing her to jump and spin around. She grabbed her heart, expecting screaming men holding swords to burst through the shadows. She had been caught and Cithara's boyfriend could be killed. She'd just have to lie-say she broke in by herself, so that no one else would be punished. If she had been more patient, maybe Bartholomew would have let her peek into this room in the morning.

  When no one emerged, she held her candle towards the corners of the room where the darkness was most thick. "Who's there?"

  No one answered and her heart slowed. She allowed her tense muscles to relax. It must have been a mouse. Virgin priestesses and soldiers didn't like to sneak up on people in the dark. They viewed themselves as worshippers and warriors of the light.

  This was her cue to leave. She turned around to admire the statue once more and blew it a kiss goodbye. Her breath caught in her throat. She wished she could see the goddess in person just once. She didn't deserve such an honor, but knew she'd never be the same again if it happened to her.

  An arm wrapped around her waist and a hand covered her mouth. She tried to scream as she struggled, but every noise she made was muffled. She was lifted from the ground, kicking and punching as a male body pressed into her back. Her face was shoved against the floor and her legs parted. Her body ached as her bones cracked under the pressure of being smooshed against the hard floor.

  Had one of the servants noticed her? They didn't seem like the kind of people who would attack someone. Maybe a criminal had broken inside. But he seemed too strong to be just one human. Who was this and what did he want from her? Was she going to die?

  He lifted her dress and immediately tears flowed down her face. No, he couldn't possibly want that. She refused to give it up to a stranger. She beat her fists against the floor and tried to crawl away. She deserved to keep this one thing after all she'd lost.

  The smell of the sea overwhelmed her and made it hard to breathe. He was pinning her down so tightly that she couldn't move forward. His skin was slick and covered in sand. It tingled where he touched her as power radiated off him. Much taller than a normal man would be, he could crush her with his bare hands.