Lysander caught my hand, roughly, and thrust it back at me. "She's not going anywhere. You know that. She's the one, the girl from my dream, and I love her. I know I said we'd marry, but that was before Lenaea. Please try to understand." He looked stricken and miserable.
Something inside me seemed to harden and grow colder at his words. But I wasn't ready to give up, not yet. I crawled down from the sleeping couch and knelt on the floor so I could gaze up at Lysander. I didn't let my smile falter. He wouldn't see my desperation.
"You don't mean that," I said, in a calm and reasonable voice that did not match the way I felt. "Dreams mean nothing. Lenaea's still a stranger, still your father's pawn. Don't let him win now, after fighting against him for so long. Marry me and I'll make you happy. I promise I will."
Lysander refused to meet my eyes. "I can't."
"That's not good enough," I said, the anger showing through my frayed calm. "I love you, Lysander. You made me love you. You can't just change your mind -- you can't just -- you have to give me a reason, something --"
"I don't love you."
The words were a knife in my heart. A small, bewildered sound escaped my lips. Heat rose in my cheeks.
"You're a wonderful girl," Lysander said. "So sweet, so beautiful, so devoted -- you'll always be precious to me, little one. But I don't love you. I'm sorry."
A deep, dark caldera opened in my heart. "What will I do?" I whispered, more to myself than to Lysander. "Whatever will I do?"
"Don't worry," Lysander said. "I'll ask my father to find you a husband, if you'd like. Phidias, for example. He's told me himself how he admires you. You needn't be frightened, little one. I'll always see that you're taken care of."
Every word was salt ground into the wound. I stood up. "I don't want your promises," I cried. "I loved you, I gave up everything for you, and now --"
Lysander sprang up and took me in his arms to comfort me. He wasn't so hard-hearted after all. "Hush," he said. "Hush, now. Someone will hear you." He shot a glance in the direction of his parents' room.
I looked up and, for the first time, I saw that he was weak and afraid. I was hurting, and he cared only that we escape discovery. I frowned. Had he been such a coward all along?
I tore myself from his arms, flung open the door, and ran through the hallway. I didn't care who saw me. Lysander would marry someone else. My life was as good as over. I belonged nowhere and to no one.
"Nyx! Are you feeling better?"
Lenaea stood before me in the hallway. I was in my nightdress, with my tangled hair around my shoulders. She was tall, fresh-faced, and regal. She looked far more like a princess than I. "I was so worried," she said, "when you fell into a swoon last night. And babbling nonsense -- Corinna said you were out of your head with fever."
There was real concern in her expression, but I could not bring myself to like her. I knew Lenaea had not stolen Lysander away from me. She didn't even know I loved him. Still, I wanted to hurt her.
I drew myself up and lifted my chin. "Yes, I'm nearly recovered. I was quite well enough to spend the night with your bridegroom." With that, I brushed past her into my own room and left Nicias' daughter to stare after me.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Corinna found me out on the portico later that morning, where I leaned against the railing and stared out at the bright water. If I shaded my eyes against the dazzle, I could see the dark smudges of other islands on the horizon. Theros was just one pebble in a wider sea.
She came up and brushed my feverish cheek with the back of her hand. "You are still not well. You ought to rest another day or two." I thought I saw pity in her glance.
A haze drifted over the sun and dimmed its brilliance. "Should I stay in bed while Lysander marries that simpering girl?" I snapped. "Should I waste away to nothing, to save you trouble?"
Corinna's eyes widened. I'd never spoken sharply to her before. "You're ill, child, ill with grief. I've seen it before. I promise you will recover, with a little time. A broken heart is rarely fatal."
"What do you know?" I said. My voice cracked on the final word. One of the slaves, on the portico to shake out a wall hanging, stared at us. I scowled back at him until he looked away.
"I know better than you can imagine," Corinna said. When she turned away from me to squint into the sunlight, the network of silvery creases near her eyes deepened until she seemed to grimace in pain.
I remembered the boy she'd spoken of, the one she'd loved, and was sorry. I wished I could tell her the truth. "Anyway," I said, "there are things about me --things you can't even --"
Corinna took my hand in hers. She stretched my fingers apart and touched the tender webbing. "Don't try to speak of it, my dear. I see how it hurts you." She cocked her head to one side and smiled. "Besides, I prefer my own imaginings. A child cast up from the sea, with eyes like the deepest water, who cannot speak of her past. . . . " She sighed. "Perhaps I've heard too many tales of gods and centaurs, satyrs and sea nymphs."
Her words made the day brighter, the sky bluer. Someone here, in the upper world, understood who I truly was. How much of my secret had Corinna guessed? I opened my mouth, but she laid her fingers against my lips. "Don't, Nyx. It is not wise to defy the gods. Let us speak no more of it."
Reluctantly, I changed the subject. "Will Lysander marry her, then?"
Corinna nodded. "Nicias and Philemon are setting the terms even now. Lysander wishes to wed soon, within the week. My husband will no doubt agree. He's thrilled by the turn of events, as you can imagine."
"Yes," I whispered. "He would feel that way. And you?"
Corinna wrapped her arms around me. I buried my face in her neck. Her perfume smelled clean and sharp this morning. "Oh, Nyx, I am so sorry to see you hurt," she said. "But whatever happens, you will always be like a daughter to me."
At dinner Lenaea said nothing about our encounter in the hallway, though her lips trembled when she looked my way and her smile grew thin and strained. The dining room was crowded, the air choked with the smell of smoke and bodies. I could hardly breathe. My eyes never left the betrothed couple for more than a few moments. The servants had positioned Lenaea's low couch next to Lysander's, and she clung to him with grim determination all through the meal. She threw him admiring glances up through her lashes, giggling when he whispered into her ear.
"To the young couple," Nicias said. He raised his wine cup. Rust-colored sea nymphs danced gaily around the cup's rim.
"May the gods bless them with many sons," Philemon said. He, too, lifted his cup. "They will wed in less than a week's time. We shall sacrifice my prize bull for the feast, and the entire village will attend. And, as a gift, I will order a house built for the wedded pair." He beamed at his son. "You may choose the site."
After a split-second hesitation, Lysander bowed his head. "Thank you, Father."
"The poets will speak of this wedding for years," Philemon boasted. He didn't look at me. He didn't need to. I could feel him gloating.
Lysander, too, lifted his cup. "To my bride," he said, and smiled shyly at Lenaea. She smiled back and then, when no one was looking, shot me a triumphant glance.
I stared down into the crimson dregs of my wine and wished I were dead.
The next few days passed in a painful blur. Lysander avoided me. When I tried to approach him, he fled. When I watched him, he turned away. Lenaea glared whenever she spotted me. Corinna was too busy with the preparations to pay me any mind. I wandered from room to room, lost and afraid, but all I ever did was get in the way. My mood felt as delicate as the glass perfume bottles on Corinna's dressing table. Every moment I feared my self control might shatter.
The day before the wedding, Corinna asked me to supervise in the kitchen. I was glad to do it. In the crowded room, amid the smoke and noise and bustle, I hid from Lysander and all of the dark thoughts that kept me awake at night. St
ill, no matter how frantically I worked to oversee the chopping of herbs, the tending of fires, and the washing of fruit, I couldn't escape the wedding talk.
"Her dress is by far the loveliest thing I've ever seen," Hygeia said, after a visit to the bride's chambers. "And her jewelry -- oh, her father's given her a necklace of gold, with amber beads, that hangs nearly to her waist." In her excitement, she waved her knife in the air and almost took my nose off.
I stepped back to a safe distance. "Do be careful with that," I said, in an unkind tone.
"Sorry, ma'am." Hygeia set the knife down. It clattered on the stone countertop. "I only wanted to tell you about the dress. Such fine linen, gauzy and floaty as something woven from spider's web, or a dandelion gone to seed. And her so tall, with that fine young figure . . . ."
The other women gathered around to hear about Lenaea's dress, her jewels, and how she intended to wear her hair for the wedding.
I edged away, choking on the thick smoke that clouded the air. The smell of fire singed my throat. How could I listen to their talk without bursting into tears?
I sank my fingers deep into the fleshy bread dough, lifted it up, and pounded it down against the countertop. Wheat flour flew up into the air and settled down again, coating my pale arms with a layer of pale brown.
"Here, let me do that," Lydia said. "You needn't dirty your hands, ma'am."
"I don't mind," I said.
It was true. The sun filtered through the leaves of an olive tree, crept through the kitchen window, and made dappled shadows on my arms. The dough felt like warm flesh under my hands. I found some small comfort in the rhythmic motion of the work.
Still, before the dough went into the oven, a few drops of water fell into it. No one saw but me. Tomorrow, the guests -- and perhaps even the bride and groom -- would swallow my tears with their bread.
I hoped they would taste bitter on Lysander's tongue.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The day of the wedding dawned clear and hot. I had enough pride left to wear my finest tunic and the jewelry Corinna had given me. I wanted to look my best. Maybe Lysander would glance over at me and feel some small twinge of regret. I could barely lift my arms to slip the tunic over my head. I felt as if I dressed to attend my own funeral.
At Corinna's side, I walked slowly to Athena's temple. Dust swirled about my feet with every step and settled on my sandals. The oppressive heat weighed me down until each step was an effort. But the blazing sun kept no one away. The whole town gathered for the wedding. Phidias waved to me from the crowd. I lifted my hand in greeting, but I could not return his excited grin.
We gathered before the altar and the statue of Athena. The marble statue loomed above even Lysander and his bride. The air of formal ceremony reminded me of Thetis' wedding. Tears came to my eyes, tears of loss. At that moment I missed Thetis so badly I could hardly stand up. Now, after all that had happened, I knew that my sister had not abandoned me. She had only married the man she loved, as I so deeply wished I could do now. As I would never do, I realized.
Corinna found my hand with her own and gave me a comforting squeeze. I squeezed back. At least I had one ally on Theros. I knew Corinna cared about me. Still, Corinna couldn't hide her joy at seeing her son's wedding ceremony.
Lenaea was radiantly lovely. Lysander's face lit up when he looked at her. How it hurt me to see his expression! He was more handsome than ever. I remembered how he'd looked that first stormy evening. I felt as if years had passed since that night at sea.
A lifetime had passed.
A young boy led in the sacrificial bull. A priestess came forward holding a gleaming blade. I watched as she began the sacrifice. As the bull fell to his knees, as his scarlet blood spilled from the wound in his neck, I could almost feel the knife on my own throat. I gasped for breath and brought my hand to my neck as if I expected my fingers to come away stained with blood. My knees buckled and I saw darkness at the edges of my vision.
Corinna put her arms around my waist. I leaned heavily against her and closed my eyes, unable to watch.
Corinna and the household slaves had transformed the dining room. Long tables groaned under the weight of bread and wine and roasted meat. The room smelled of food and close-packed bodies, some of them none too clean.
Lysander perched on a high couch with his new wife. He hadn't spoken to me since the night I'd crept into his room. Philemon told a bawdy joke, and the crowd roared with laughter. Lenaea blushed. No doubt she was thinking of tonight, their wedding night. The image of the newlyweds lying together made my stomach ache.
I sat in a dark corner, out of sight, drinking from a cup of strong red wine. I was beginning to feel dizzy from the wine; I had never drunk more than a few sips of the watered drink that came with dinner. I wanted to run away to my room, or go outside away from the party, but I couldn't seem to look away from Lysander and his bride. I watched them with a kind of fascinated horror, hoping perhaps for some sign that Lysander regretted his choice. I saw nothing, nothing but a young couple very much in love.
The musicians struck up a tune on their hardwood pipes and pan flutes. The old man playing the lyre began to sing. His voice was deep and low and soothing. He sang of a hero, long ago, who had left his homeland in search of adventure. I blinked back tears when the hero returned at last to his wife and son. I could imagine no such happy ending for myself.
"Will you dance with me, Nyx?"
Phidias' eyes were gentle and hopeful, like the eyes of a puppy begging to be picked up. "I will," I said, with a trembling smile.
I stood up and slipped off my sandals. The tile was cool under the soles of my feet. I gave Phidias my hand. He led me to the center of the room. At first I was clumsy, hobbled by the pain in my feet and legs. Pain lanced through my shins and the long bones in my thighs. Every step was like walking on needles. I gulped back the sobs that rose in my throat. Under the sea I had danced with grace and skill, but here on land I felt stiff and clumsy. I worried that all eyes were on me, and that the audience snickered at my efforts.
The wine and the lingering heat combined to blur my vision. My head spun. I closed my eyes. After a time, I felt the music catch me up and whirl me around. Suddenly it was as if the sea had closed in around me. The water stroked my cheek. It bore me up until I was light as a scrap of seaweed. I swayed with the music, my head thrown back in ecstatic abandon. I danced for Lysander. I danced for Father and Thetis. I danced for everything I'd lost, and everything I could never have.
I no longer felt the least bit of pain. I was somewhere else -- in another world, where nothing could reach me and no one could hurt me. I danced.
The music slowed, then faded. I opened my eyes.
I was alone in the center of the floor. Everyone stared at me, their mouths half open with amazement. Even Lysander couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from me, although his bride clutched his arm and whispered urgently in his ear.
Phidias stepped forward to take my arm. "That was astonishing. Just now -- dancing like that -- you barely looked human." He seemed awed, and there was a fire in his eyes I had never seen before.
Glancing around, I saw his expression mirrored on every face. Already the whispers fluttered around the room. I shook Phidias' hand from my arm and ran. He called my name, but I didn't look back.
I fled down the hall and out onto the patio, then down the winding path. I hadn't paused to slide on my sandals. Sharp stones sliced the soles of my feet. I didn't care -- nothing could make the pain worse. I just wanted to put distance between myself and every human on Theros, especially Lysander.
I made my way down to the beach. I needed time alone, time to think. I found myself on my favorite rocky spit of land, the promontory that jutting out into the water. The sea nestled right up against the stone and the patchy grass. Here I could get very close to the water, close enough so the brine smell of it stung my nose, w
ithout danger from the gently breaking waves.
I threw myself down on the rock and buried my face in my arms.
What was I to do?
My days at the villa were limited. Philemon hated me, I made Lysander uneasy, and Lenaea would always see me as a threat to her happiness. Her first request, as a new wife, would no doubt have something to do with me. Only Corinna cared for me now, and her pleas might not save me.
Phidias was a kind person and a good friend. He would make a fine husband to some girl of Theros. Yet when I thought of life with him, I couldn't bear it. I did not love Phidias. I couldn't stand the thought of living in the village, in a house with a floor of bare earth. I would look out each morning at the villa on the hill. My hands would grow rough with work. My back would ache as badly as my legs.
Lenaea would parade through the market square each day in her fine dresses and her gold jewelry, and I -- King Nereus' daughter -- would stand in the dust and watch her pass. Lysander would come to visit Phidias, sometimes, or I would see him on the beach loading his ships. I would see his clear brow, his dark eyes, the smile that melted my knees, and I would hate him.
I wished I'd never seen Lysander, never met the sea sorceress, never drunk her vile potion. I wished I'd never left the sea. I wanted to rest my head on Father's shoulder or ask Thetis to massage my caudal fin. I even yearned to go into the tower room again and sit listening to the familiar music of chatter and gossip and idle bickering.
It was too late. I'd made my choice.
I'd given up my beautiful star-scaled tail. In its place I had a pair of ugly human legs that never ceased to cause me pain. The sea was poison to me now. Its waters could scald the skin from my bones.
I lifted my head. Was that the answer?
I stood up. Half a dozen baby steps took me to the smooth, flat rock on the edge of the water. In the evening light, the sea shone like a plate of polished silver -- so lovely, so harmless in appearance, so deliciously tempting. I could see all the way down to the sandy bottom. Even a foot from the rocks, the water stood deeper than I was tall.
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