Chapter 14 #2
She sounded unnervingly bright. Too bright, considering what was at stake right now.
I didn’t respond.
“That’s fine if you’re the quiet type,” she went on breezily. “I talk enough for the both of us. My mother claims I came out of the womb mid-monologue.”
My lips slid into another reluctant grin.
“You’re definitely going to like me,” she said. “I’m funny.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. I can sense it. Your aura chuckled.”
I sat down beside the wall. My creature followed and nestled into my lap.
“Helena,” I said after a long moment. My voice cracked a little. “My name is Helena.”
“Oh, I know who you are,” Anysa said, her tone dripping with familiarity before she let out a soft, impressed whistle.
“Hard to forget when the High Priestess practically burst a blood vessel announcing you’d be the ruin of us all, and then the king stood up all king-like and basically declared you the crown jewel of Sparta.
You really know how to make an impression. ”
I snorted, another small, unwilling grin tugging at the corner of my mouth. Oddly … there was no jealousy in her voice. Not even a drop. Just amusement and something that felt a little like solidarity.
“How are you feeling about all of this?” I asked, thinking I shouldn’t throw away the chance to have a friendly face around.
“Honestly? I thought they were going to throw me back like a bad fish,” she whispered. “I’m still half convinced it’s a mistake. Any second now the High Priestess is going to burst in and say, ‘Oops, not you—wrong veiled girl!’”
I let out a dry breath. “If she’s dragging anyone out, it’s me. I’m fairly certain she’d light a pyre if it meant getting me out of the palace.”
There was a beat of silence, then her voice again, half laughing.
“Well, if you are going to be the ruin of Sparta, I just hope I’m not standing too close when you’re smitten.
Or smote. I’m never sure which of those is right.
Regardless, you’ve got that look about you …
the kind that leaves wreckage in her wake. ”
I snorted, too loud for the hour, and the creature in my lap stirred, blinking as if I’d disrupted its good dream. It sat up, turned a disgruntled circle, then plopped back down with a sigh.
“I’m glad that I didn’t go with my backup plan to get her to pick me. That obviously wouldn’t have worked.”
I blinked, already amused. “What was your backup plan?”
“I once tried to faint to get the attention of our ephor’s son.
Thought I’d be clever and dab a little belladonna on my tongue to make it convincing, you know, just enough to seem mysterious and frail so I could get him to swoop in and tend to me.
” She sighed. “Turns out, belladonna doesn’t make you faint ‘just a little.’ I passed out mid-curtsy and took the dessert table with me. Face-first into a sesame pie.”
I choked on a laugh, pressing the back of my hand to my mouth to keep it in. Gods, I couldn’t remember the last time someone had made me want to laugh like that.
“A sesame pie?” I echoed, my voice cracking with disbelief. “That’s terrible. I haven’t had that in years. I’d much rather lose the man than the pie.”
She groaned in agreement. “It was such a waste. To make it even worse, he didn’t even notice. He was too busy flirting with the wine steward.”
I shook my head, still smiling, the sound of her voice easing something I hadn’t realized was wound tight inside me. “Remind me never to take medicinal advice from you.”
“When I woke up, I was missing a sandal, my dress was on fire, and I’d bitten my own tongue.” She paused for a moment as if she were picturing it. “But with how fainting went for that girl today, it was a good thing I didn’t try it again.”
I giggled. Louder this time.
“There it is again,” Anysa said, smug with victory. “That sound. You have a sense of humor. This is good.”
I leaned my head back against the wall, the cool stone a balm against my skin.
“Are you at least a little terrified?” I asked softly, surprised at how easily the words slipped out, how quickly I’d started trusting a stranger whose name I barely knew.
“Oh, I am,” she said. “But fear is such a tedious thing, isn’t it? I figure if I’m going to be doomed, I might as well be entertaining on the way down.”
Doomed. That was a good way to describe how I’d feel if I didn’t win. That was how I felt when the High Priestess had rejected me. Like I’d doomed myself and my village.
“We don’t have to be enemies while we go through this, you know,” she said softly. “Even if it feels like we’re supposed to be.”
I was quiet for a breath. Two. The word doomed still lingered like smoke in my lungs.
“I agree,” I said hesitantly.
It came out before I could second-guess it. Before the voice in my head reminded me I was taking no prisoners, and I was going to win no matter what I had to do.
My hand drifted to the small creature still in my lap, its warmth reassuring.
“It’d be easier,” I added, hesitantly. “To do it with a friend.”
Anysa’s voice carried on like a lullaby, melodic and meandering, part nonsense, part comfort. Her words drifted over me in soft waves, until they tangled with my breathing and slowed, slipping into silence as sleep finally claimed her.
I rose on stiff limbs and returned to the bed, the creature curling instinctively against the nest of my chest.
“We should give you a name,” I murmured, tracing my fingertips over its silken fur with absent-minded affection. “Something noble. Or mysterious.”
It blinked up at me, seeming interested.
“Alright … Milo?”
A definite huff.
“Zephyr?”
A disdainful shake of its small head.
I squinted at it. “Fine. Aristophanes?”
It buried its face under my collarbone in what I could only interpret as a dramatic protest.
“Gods,” I muttered.
I let my eyes drift toward the ceiling, then whispered, “Roz.”
The creature stilled.
“Roz,” I said again, smiling now. “It means renowned protector.”
At that, it gave a proud, satisfied little chirp and tucked itself even closer, as though the title had been its idea all along.
I laughed under my breath. “You’re practically the size of a peach pit,” I murmured. “But fine. Roz it is.”
The room was still red. The Trials were still before me.
But I wasn’t alone.
Not entirely.
And that had to be enough … for now.