I drew Bronte back from him as Adrasteia rushed forward.
“My apologies, Your Excellency,” said the nymph. “I’ll take them away now.”
“I’ll gladly go,” Bronte growled, marching to the threshold. “I cannot stand the sight of him.”
“You just met me,” Zeus said, feigning offense.
I shook my head at him, my own frustration rising. “Rhea saved you and hid you away so you wouldn’t become your father, but you’re just like him.” Too tired to contend with him any longer, I let out a disheartened sigh. “The oracles were right. You are a Boy God.”
Zeus sank back and rested a hand over his chest as though I had kicked him too. I joined my sister at the cave’s entrance, and we followed the guards out.
“I am not my father!” a squeaky voice cried.
I glanced back to see Zeus just outside his cave, his hands balled into fists. “I am Zeus! You shall not forget my name!”
“I will remember you as the biggest disappointment in history,” I called back. “Your name will sink away in the sands of time.”
Adrasteia grabbed me by the arm and dragged me into the woods. “You and your sister should show the gods more respect.”
“We respect those who are worthy,” Bronte retorted.
“Respect isn’t inherited,” I added.
Adrasteia loosened her grip on me. “Stavra spoke in such a way. She did herself no favors.”
“Our mother understood more than most people,” I said.
“Yes, but she always revered the gods.”
I had no argument for that.
Our party continued downhill in silence, Bronte stomping her feet and swaying her arms widely. I trapped my own temper in my throat, swallowing a frustrated scream that I would have rather expelled into the darkness closing in around us.
After returning to camp, with a few hours of night left, the tribe had led us to a tent and ordered us to stay there overnight. Bronte bundled herself into a bedroll and slept, but Theo and I discussed our predicament into the early hours of the morning.
“Tell me again what he said,” Theo whispered.
“He won’t stand up to his father,” I said. “He simply refused.”
“You said his name is Zeus?” Theo thought hard. “I’ve never heard of him. Rhea hid his existence well.”
“He isn’t eager to change that. He’s terrified of his father.” I rubbed my tired eyes and tried not to think about the intimacy of sitting so close to this man at such an hour. It was hardly romantic with my sister asleep beside us and two guards posted outside. Still, the closeness of Theo’s warm body was enticing.
“You didn’t tell Zeus about my mother?” he asked, lying on his back.
“I saw no point after he showed no sympathy for my sister’s capture. He’s a sheltered, spoiled coward.”
“He’s lost his way.”
“That would imply he was ever on the correct path.” I could not understand why fate would choose someone so unworthy to usurp Cronus, and to rule in his stead.
“You’re thinking,” Theo remarked.
I hugged my knees to my chest. “I’m always thinking.”
“We shouldn’t discount Zeus so quickly. He may need time to consider your offer. A Titan cannot be contained by a cave forever.”
“Or we might have wasted our time coming here,” I muttered.
Theo scratched his scruffy chin. “Do you always dismiss people so readily?”
“The gods aren’t people.”
“Perhaps that’s where you’re most mistaken,” Theo said, his voice gentle. “They’re just as mortal as you and me.”
“Except they’re immortal.”
“If Zeus was mortal, would you overlook his weaknesses?”
“I don’t know.” I rubbed my eyes again and fought off a yawn. “It doesn’t really matter what I think. The tribe is sending us away in a few hours, and Zeus won’t hear from us again.”
Bronte rolled over with a dreamy murmur. I tugged her wool blanket up to her chin and rearranged the bottom to cover her feet. The star mark on her heel made me ache for Cleora. Mother used to say it took a minimum of three stars to form a constellation. Take one away, and the connection between them was lost. Missing Cleora felt like that, like losing part of what made me whole. Part of what made me me.
“It may be worth a try to request an audience with Zeus again,” Theo remarked. “For your sister’s sake.”
“For my sister’s sake or for your mother’s?”
His whisper coarsened. “I won’t stop until she’s free.”
“Why didn’t you offer to buy her from Decimus?”
“The same reason you didn’t offer to buy Cleora from the Almighty: What price would you put on a soul?”
His breaths grew faint as he drifted off. I wished I had brought back better news, but Zeus wasn’t the Titan we needed. Just as Cronus had despised his lustful father, dethroned him, and then went on to emulate Uranus in every way, so would Zeus fail to emancipate us from the oppressive appetites of another Titan ruler.
Noises outside startled me. Footsteps leaving. Our guards? I could no longer see their shadows outside the tent.
I slowly reached for my spear.
A moment later, someone slipped inside the tent. A masked warrior crept between Theo and me. She raised her sword over him, preparing to stab down. I swept my spear out and blocked her strike.
“You,” she growled.
“Leave him be, Euboea,” I said, identifying her voice. “He’s just a man.”
“That’s more than enough reason to kill him.”
Normally, I might agree, but Theo was more tolerable than most. “Adrasteia put him under my care. You want him, you’ll have to challenge me first.”
“Don’t pretend to be noble,” Euboea snapped. “Your mother never would have threatened our tribe by bringing a soldier into camp. You’re nothing like her.”
“All you need to know about me is that I will spear you straight through the heart if you cut so much as one hair off Theo’s head.”
Euboea withdrew her sword. “You’re not worth the time it would take me to clean your entrails off my blade.” She stormed out, throwing the flap closed behind her.
I lowered my spear, my heart thudding so hard it echoed in the soles of my feet. I pushed my hair out of my face and caught Theo staring.
“How long have you been awake?” I asked.
“Long enough.”
“Were you going to let her chop your head off?”
“I thought you might.”
“The sun will rise soon,” I said, turning over. “You’ve wasted your chance to sleep.”
“It was worth it to hear you threaten her.”
“I’m glad your near demise amuses you.”
“I count myself fortunate that I’m not your enemy, Althea,” he said, chuckling to himself. His compliment bore too much resemblance to mockery.
“Next time, I’ll let her skewer you,” I grumbled.
He laughed, and his whole body shook. I tossed my pillow at him, striking him directly in the head. He took it in his arms, cradling it to his chest, then rolled over to sleep. I rested my head in the crook of my arm, too annoyed to ask for my pillow back.
Theo began to hum to himself, that same lullaby I had heard him sing on the boat. Again, his melodic voice stilled my restless mind. But as sleep finally began to come over me, the night tucked itself away; dawn began to claim her daily ascension to glory, and the noises of the camp rose with her.
Adrasteia yanked open the tent flap. Theo sat up quickly, his eyes alert like he had never fallen asleep.
“We’ve prepared a meal for you before you go,” said the nymph.
“Would you please petition Zeus to see us again?” Theo asked.
“His request to send you away is final,” Adrasteia replied. “The chieftains of the tribe agree, you cannot stay. Come. Eat breakfast.”
Bronte sat up blearily, her tawny hai
r a mess around her sleep-scrunched face. “Did someone mention breakfast?”
The three of us got up and lumbered out. We weren’t in a rush to leave, and we wouldn’t turn down food. We hadn’t eaten a proper meal in a while.
Dew glistened in the grass under a blue sky awash with vaporous clouds. The camp consisted of little more than tent peaks and a few pathways vanishing into the trees. The only wooden structure was a small school with an outside play area. The rest were tents set together in groups. Women everywhere, all wearing velos, had started their usual routines. Huntresses prepared bows and arrows, tanners prepped animal skins, beekeepers collected honey from the hives, and an ironsmith hammered away. A pair of shepherds waved goodbye to Adrasteia and left to tend to their flock.
Euboea waited with Adrasteia.
“Back so soon?” I asked Euboea.
Her cheeks pinkened.
Adrasteia raised a slim brow. “Euboea will take you to breakfast, then I’ll escort you to your boat.”
Euboea stepped forward to bind Theo’s wrists in front of him. She wrapped more cords around his feet, leaving enough slack for him to shuffle walk, but just barely.
“This way,” she said.
We followed her across the grassy clearing to the mess hall, which operated under a tent filled with benches and tables. Our table was set at the edge of the area. A porridge of wild rice and short grains was slopped onto plates and served to us by two girls. The odd food smelled of honey and almonds. Other members of the camp lined up to collect their meals. Nearby, a table full of younger girls took turns staring at Theo and whispering. Traditionally, back home, men dined separately from women and children, who ate after the men had had their fill. The lack of males, even among the children, baffled me.
“Where are the boys?” I asked, then added jokingly, “Or did every mother only give birth to girls?”
A flash of pain flew across Euboea’s face. “I had a boy once.”
“Where is he?” Bronte asked.
“He’s with his father.” Euboea tilted up her chin, masking her hurt. “When I came to Crete, I gave him up.”
“What about the other mothers with male children?” I asked.
“They left them behind too. When a pregnant woman gave birth to a boy here, Ida made arrangements to place the infant in a home elsewhere. That hasn’t happened in quite some time. As you know, no men live here, and no woman with child has joined us in almost three years.”
Bronte set down her spoon. “The mothers cannot keep their babies?”
“Those babies will grow into boys, then into men, and men don’t belong on Crete.” Euboea sent a glare at Theo, then waved at our plates. “Eat. Or I will take you to your boat hungry.”
Though the porridge smelled good, my stomach was too unsettled to eat much.
Theo tried to lift his spoon to his mouth, but the bindings around his hands made it too challenging, and his grip kept slipping. He didn’t sigh or grunt or offer any noise of complaint. He simply tried, again and again, without success.
“Here,” I said, “let me.”
“I can do it.”
“I recall you doing me a kindness by retying my mask for me. Let me repay you.”
Taking his spoon, I dipped it in the porridge and fed him a bite. His beard framed his lips, showing off their pink softness. I tried not to think about them as I scooped him food in manageable bites. The women watched us closely. I doubt I could have convinced a single one of them that Theo wasn’t my man, but I wasn’t about to let him starve, no matter what impression this gave them.
Bronte cleared her plate, then finished mine. After I served Theo his last bite, she noticed a bit of food on his beard and wiped it off.
“Neither of you deserves to be Stavra Lambros’s daughter,” Euboea muttered.
Bronte played with her necklace and whispered in my ear, loud enough for Euboea to overhear, “Don’t let her bother you. She’s a sour sow.”
Euboea pushed to her feet. “Time to go. This sow has better things to do than watch you.”
As I followed her out of the mess hall, I noticed a familiar burn mark on the back of her neck.
“You were tagged?” I asked.
She cast a glare over her shoulder. “We all bear scars from our past lives, some visible, some not.”
She led us out of camp and past a large enclosed tent erected around twin brick smokestacks. A woman came out the door, and I glimpsed inside. Within the greenhouse were rows and rows of low-growing, little red flowers.
“Poppies?” I asked.
“The tribe must have a taste for opium,” Theo replied.
Adrasteia and several armed guards met us at a wide pathway.
“Zeus asked me to give you this.” She offered me a ring made of string, red and braided, the workmanship simple. “He wanted you to have something to remember him by.”
“Oh, I won’t soon forget him,” I replied, each word dripping with derision. “Tell him thank you, but I don’t want it.”
“Don’t look down upon him,” Adrasteia implored. “Zeus has never known another life. Ida and I have been Rhea’s loyal servants since our apprenticeship ended with Mnemosyne, goddess of memory, when she became a councilor to the Almighty. We watched as child after child of Rhea’s was taken away, as she grew brokenhearted, a shell of the goddess to whom we first gave our allegiance. When Rhea told us her plan to come to Crete and birth her sixth child in secret, we accompanied her and hid the sound of Zeus’s wails by banging our swords against our shields. We acquired another newborn boy from a slave trader, and Rhea took that child to her husband, leaving Zeus with us to raise and protect. We’ve done our best to teach him about the world, but he’s still learning.”
I flattened my lips. “He has the luxury of setting himself apart.”
“His life is not without sacrifice. Ida and I have tried to be mothers to him, but we’re not his blood. Rhea cannot risk visiting him more than once every few years, so she sends him maidens to keep him company. They satiate his need for affection, but he longs for his kin.”
“Mmm,” Bronte replied, unimpressed. “He cannot hide forever.”
“Perhaps, but it’s my duty to protect him for as long as possible.” Adrasteia gestured down the path. “The beach is this way.”
I was so turned around from entering camp blindfolded the night before that I was astonished to discover we were a short walk to our boat. The guards heaved it down to the water, then undid Theo’s bindings and returned his weapons. He got into the boat first to stabilize it.
“Farewell, Althea and Bronte,” Adrasteia said. “It was good to meet Stavra’s daughters. I wish it had been under different circumstances.”
“You said you two were colleagues,” Bronte stated. “What did you mean?”
Adrasteia stood in the sea as the waves crashed around her. “Ida and I used to live alone on this island until Stavra began bringing women that she had helped to escape from their homes. In exchange for swearing an oath that they would never leave here, we let them stay.”
“Our mother helped all these women?” I asked.
“All of the original members of the tribe,” Adrasteia replied. “Stavra and Tassos moved the refugees together.”
Bronte and I shared a look of astonishment. “You knew our father?” I asked.
“Tassos was your mother’s most vital ally. His death was a great loss for us all.” Adrasteia’s wispy lashes lowered to her cheeks. “Because of them, you were permitted to stay here as long as you have. Please repay us by never telling a single soul about the tribe or Zeus.”
“I swear,” I said sincerely.
“I swear,” Bronte agreed.
Theo rested his hand on his sword, a common sign of good faith among soldiers. “You have my silence as well.”
Adrasteia smiled her gratitude. “May Gaea guide you to your next destination, wherever that may be.”
Bronte and I climbed into the boat with Theo, and the guard pushe
d us off. Theo took up the oars, and then hesitated.
“What’s our destination?” he asked.
“Home, I suppose,” Bronte murmured.
I wasn’t ready to leave the island yet, or to spend another few days nauseated at sea, or to return to Thessaly, but I doubted I could convince the tribe to let us stay.
Bronte laid her hand over mine. “We’ll find another way to Cleora,” she said.
I had already come up with another way. It’s what I should have done all along—trade my freedom for hers—but I couldn’t tell Bronte, or she would try to dissuade me.
Theo rowed us out to sea, then threw open the sail and tripled our speed. The isle shrank away, and our short time there began to feel like a dream. The farther we sailed, the more Bronte and I slumped into each other, listening together to the tumbling, clamorous sea.
“I don’t understand,” she said, her voice rife with disappointment. “The oracles told us to find Zeus, and Prometheus says, ‘We are never defeated unless we give up.’ Why did the oracles send us here, only for the Boy God to send us away?”
Tears welled up behind my eyes, blurring my view of the glittering waves. I wished I knew.
11
At the height of noon, we sailed through a grouping of alabaster islands. Rocks jutted out of the shallower water, the stone splinters resembling shards of broken bones. Only smaller watercraft could navigate these channels without running aground. Theo stayed vigilant at the sail. With little foliage and rocky beaches, the isles appeared uninhabited and untamed.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“The fastest current north to Thessaly takes us farther west, toward the coastline, through Oceanid Passage,” Theo replied. “Not many boats venture through these waters. They aren’t for deep-sea-going vessels.”
A rock scraped along the hull below the surface. Theo quickly lowered the sail and handed oars to Bronte and me.
“We need to row,” he said. “Navigation will be easier.”
He stationed himself at the stern, and each of us took a side. We rowed while he steered through the treacherous rocks. Beached ships testified to how swiftly things could go wrong.
Wings of Fury Page 12