Chapter Thirty-Eight
I watched from inside, angled so that I could see through a tiny crack in the door.
Thalassa’s head was bowed as she stared at the ground.
Xanthus stood beside her. The sneer that slanted his scarred face erased any trace of his former beauty, though his smirk was small compared to that worn by Morsimus, whose eyes glinted and lips twisted tightly.
Yet as tall as her frail frame would let her, Melitta stood before them all.
“What are you doing, old woman?” Morsimus snapped. “Step aside.”
“You will have to go through me to reach my mistress.”
“That will not be a problem. But you offer your life for nothing. Otrera dies tonight. We know what she has planned, what she has coerced the other women to do. She is a traitor to her husband and the gods.”
“She does not betray her gods. Ridding the world of your kind would be a blessing.”
That was the moment I saw how deeply I loved Melitta. I loved her as the mother I had lost. As the sister I had never been blessed with. As the friend I had never truly appreciated.
“Enough games,” Morsimus snapped, striding forward. “If you don’t move now, I will kill you.”
Melitta knew him well enough to know when Morsimus’s words were more than idle threats. Her eyes flickered back to me before she shuffled forward, creating just enough room for me to step into the doorway.
The sight of my raised bow caused the men to erupt with laughter.
“Are you going to shoot us with that child’s toy, woman?” Xanthus was the first to mock me. “That I would pay to see.”
I was tempted to draw and fire my first shot straight into his heart, but I knew once the battle began, there would be no way to stop it. And I needed answers first.
Ignoring Morsimus and the mockery, I looked only at Thalassa.
“Why?” It was all I could say.
Her voice struggled, strangled in the same throat that had already betrayed us.
“They will let the other women go unharmed,” she said. “It is not fair that we should be punished because of you.”
“Because of me? I am trying to free you.” My hand trembled on my bow, not from fear but from anger. “You say they will go unharmed? For how long? Tonight? Tomorrow?”
She kept her head down, yet even in the darkness, her tears glimmered as they fell to the earth.
“I could not do it,” she whispered.
“Then you should have let me.”
I was biding my time as I spoke to her, reading the men.
Morsimus, for once, was steady on his feet, but many were not.
Several struggled to even keep their eyes open, and more than one seemed truly confused as to why he was there.
I did not have enough arrows for them all, so I would need to kill the strongest first. Then perhaps take the knife from Melitta to finish the rest. As for the other men, I only hoped they had headed home before Thalassa had betrayed us and were now lying dead in their beds.
I weighed my actions, still delaying the inevitable, when a cry filled the air. The cry of a young woman, perhaps one as young as Aina. I could not help but laugh. The sound was bitter.
“Not harmed?” I spat at Thalassa. “Is that what you think that sound was? A woman not being hurt?”
Her cheeks paled.
“You coerced us! You started this!” She tried meekly to defend her actions, but I saw Xanthus’s hand gripping hers so tightly her knuckles bulged out of place. “The women did not want to join. They were afraid of you.”
“Afraid of her.” At this, Morsimus laughed again. “Perhaps I should keep you alive then. Break your arms and legs. Cut out your tongue so you can’t start any more rebellions. Show the other bitches here who they really need to be afraid of.”
That was it. I had heard enough. With one swift glance at Melitta, I nodded, then drew and fired the first shot.
It was an arrogant shot. I could have sent that first arrow into Morsimus and ended my own battle then and there, but I wanted him to see.
I wanted him to see who I was and know who I had become while living under his roof.
I wanted him to know that while he had continued to view me as a weak child, I had become a woman he should fear.
The first arrow went into the man on the left of him, the second into the one on his right. Morsimus’s eyes bulged.
“You bitch. You… How…”
“It appears the gods are on my side,” I said.
Four arrows remained. Of the six men who remained standing, three—Morsimus included—were capable of overpowering me.
A spark of hope fluttered inside. If I acted now, I could still win this battle.
And I needed to win. It was not only my life that was at stake.
If any men survived, it was likely their wives would not.
For both my own life and the women’s, I took out another of the stronger men next. Never did my grip falter. Never did my fingers over the quiver find air instead of the slim shaft of whittled wood they were searching for. Although the next death was less clean.
The man was short, as stocky as a bull and charging toward me as if he had the blood of one.
Had he been standing straight, it would have been a perfect shot, but my arrow caught in his shoulder.
He yelled in pain and lunged for me. Yet before I had nocked again, Melitta was there, the fleshing knife in her hand.
Either the man did not see her coming or did not see her as a threat as she jumped into his path and thrust the blade into his belly.
A moment later, he toppled over onto her.
“You have tricked us! You knew she would do this!” Xanthus yanked on Thalassa’s arm before kicking her to the ground.
“No! I told you. I told you she had a bow and had been trained by Hirtus.”
“No, you said she had shot some rabbits. Not that she could do this. You lied to me, you bitch.”
His foot flew into her ribs with such force that her entire body lifted from the ground. But I did not have time to help her. I needed my strength for myself. Some of the men were running, stumbling back toward the village and their homes. Others watched on, dumbfounded.
Morsimus’s eyes shone with darkness as he strode toward me.
“I will make you suffer for this, Otrera.” His teeth gleamed yellow, and for the first time, my hand struggled to find an arrow. By the time I had one between my fingers, Morsimus had smacked my arm, knocking it to the ground. “You will burn with the Titans in Tartarus.”
He struck me again, planning on sending me down with my arrow, but I was prepared. Twisting, I softened my landing with a curve of my back, yet Morsimus did not see the control with which I fell, nor the handful of dirt I scooped from the ground. As he loomed over me, I threw the dirt in his face.
The cloud engulfed his mouth and eyes. Coughing and spluttering, he stepped backward, giving me all the time I needed to ready my weapon.
“I wanted to make you suffer as you did me,” I said. “But this will have to do.”
I fired the shot clean and without hesitation, right through his throat.
Blood gurgled, and Morsimus’s eyes were wide with shock.
I did not see pain register on his face, however, nor anger.
Just confusion. He toppled, not to his knees but backward, as though he were dropping onto the softest bed. The last bed he would ever lie in.
Plumes of dust rose from the impact, and for a moment, I simply stood. I could hear cries around me, both close and those farther away in the village, yet none could reach me. None until her voice.
“Otrera.”