Chapter Ninety-Two
We had been traveling back home for almost half a day when Althea appeared from the front of the group, galloping up beside us, Safak at her side.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
“Some of the young women were riding ahead,” Althea replied, now riding parallel to me. “They say there are people on the road ahead.”
“People?”
“A small group,” Safak replied. “Maybe twenty. We believe they are men, but we cannot tell. I am happy to ride ahead. Put together a small scouting party to ensure there is no threat.”
Safak was only young, but she had already birthed a child and was now putting herself forward as a leader. It was difficult not to admire her.
“Only twenty? I do not believe there is any threat to us,” I said. “You and your friends are to stay with the rest of us, but thank you.”
Safak lingered, however, as if she was waiting to be dismissed. Althea’s gaze fixed on my mine before she threw a fleeting glance across to the other two women.
“Otrera, perhaps you and I can use this opportunity to discuss how things progressed with the Gargareans?” she said. Althea’s tone was clipped, indicative of her desire for privacy.
Sotiria gestured to Safak, motioning that they should move on, but before they could adjust their pace to take leave, I shook my head.
“No, stay. Both of you. It is right that you should hear this. The others will find out soon enough.”
Sotiria’s gaze shifted instantly to my belly, though Althea’s expression was one of deep concern.
“You wish to do this now?” she said.
“I think it will be easiest.”
“For whom?”
I heard her terseness but ignored it. Telling the women of my impending marriage took more courage than anticipated, and a small group such as this was far easier.
Hopefully, I could get my wish and the rest of the Amazons would learn of my fate with no need for a grand announcement.
Still, I drew a deep breath in before I began.
“Upon our return, there is to be a change in Themiscyra. I cannot tell you the details of the matter, for I do not know them fully, but I am to be wed.”
“To whom? Hirtus?” The excitement lifted Safak’s voice as she looked at me in astonishment. “No, of course. To Cleon. You intend to join our tribes?”
“No, I do not. The arrangement we share with the Gargareans will be exactly as it has been. Children, fighting, and pleasure if you should so desire. But there will be no marriages between us. Not for me and not for you.”
“Then who are you to wed?” Sotiria spoke quietly.
Up ahead, a flock of birds took to the sky, passing in front of the sun, momentarily casting a shadow on the earth.
I held a deep breath. Was it wise to tell them when I had yet to confirm the matter with my future spouse?
Perhaps not. But then I suspected the god knew that his union to the Amazons went beyond our matrimony.
“Ares,” I said.
Silence followed my announcement. The thundering hooves continued, as did the chattering of the Amazons around us, but in our small cluster of four, not a single breath was taken.
“Ares, the god?” Sotiria said finally.
“The same.”
“Ares wishes to make you his wife?” Safak repeated.
“He does.”
Her hand covered her mouth as she continued to gape, wide-eyed, like a fish caught in a net. Such a sight would have brought me to laughter had it not been for Sotiria’s look of consternation, so deep it almost rivaled Althea’s.
“And the women? You wish them to know?” she said.
“I think it is better they know beforehand,” I replied.
She nodded, this time exchanging a look with Althea instead.
“Safak,” I said, shifting the tone in my voice and indicating the conversation had ended. “You should ride back with your friends. Thank you again for telling us about the men ahead. Be sure to keep me posted if anything changes.”
Safak nodded while offering me one last look of disbelief before she tightened her grip on the horse’s mane and dropped back into the fold.
It was a moment before Althea spoke.
“Why would you share such news with her?” she asked, the anger spitting from her eyes. “She is young. She has not yet lived long enough to hold her tongue. All the women will know the news before we even break for water.”
I kept my eyes forward as I rode, but I did not need to respond. Sotiria did that for me.
“You did that deliberately, didn’t you?”
I did not want to endure the women’s stares when they heard of my betrothal.
That was why I told them in such a manner.
But before long, the chattering among my Amazons was so animated I did not doubt the news had passed to them all.
I hoped that the dramatics would have died down before I was required to face them as a group, but in my desperation to relieve myself of the news, I had not anticipated the strength of the midday sun.
Before long, both horses and humans required fresh water.
“When we stop to drink, I will go downstream,” I said to Althea. “I would like it if you stood guard. Say I do not wish to be disturbed.”
Althea quirked an eyebrow. “How long do you intend to avoid them?”
“As long as it takes them to stop looking at me like that,” I replied.
Up ahead, groups who had already stopped by a stream were huddled together and staring pointedly in my direction.
“We should not drink here,” I said, turning my attention away from the Amazons to study the landscape. “The ravine is too steep. We cannot see the road above us.”
Althea surveyed our surroundings in a similar fashion before she spoke.
“It is the same road we saw from farther back with one small group of people upon it who are likely still miles away,” she replied.
“I do not think we need to be concerned. Besides, the horses need water. I will tell the women to be swift. Those who finish first can head up and take watch. We will not be here for long.”
For a moment, I considered forcing the matter and insisting we leave, but I dismissed the feeling as nerves about my impending union and the questioning I would soon be forced to endure.
As Althea dismounted, she stationed her horse across the path and allowed me time to make my way farther downstream.
The barrier was easily penetrable, but I had hoped she would act as a deterrent or at the very least allow me a chance to see who was coming.
As expected, it did not take long.
I had barely filled my flask when a figure marched toward me. Rather than approaching with a sense of awe or intrigue, the way I had expected the women to, she wore an expression of absolute fury.
“Is it true? Is it true you are to wed Ares?”
I had seen little of Thalassa during our time with the Gargareans, though I knew she had focused her attention solely on the betterment of her swordsmanship.
Frivolity had not been part of her agenda.
She wanted a name for herself as an , a future of honor that obscured all the shame of her past actions.
And from what I heard of her fights, she was well on her way.
“So you have heard?” I said, the tension clawing me from within.
“Yes, I heard it. I heard it from Boryana, who had heard it from Safak, who supposedly heard it from the queen herself. So is it true? Is it true that you are to marry Ares?”
I reached down to the water to fill my flask. The small stream tumbled over a series of rocks, each miniature waterfall creating a pitch of its own. I would have liked to have remained there, absorbed in its sound for longer, but Thalassa’s shadow loomed over me.
Slowly, I stood and turned to face her.
“Yes. Ares proposed marriage. To provide me with heirs.”
“And you accepted?”
“Not yet, but my intention is to do so upon our return to Themiscyra.”
Rather than expressing disbelief or delight, Thalassa remained fixed in her fury.
“And this is how you thought I should find out? Through thirdhand gossip?”
With my flask full, I took a long sip, feeling the cold slip down into my throat.
“There was nothing to gain by telling you before now. Not before I was certain of my decision.”
“Me and the other Amazons, you mean?” Her words were short and sharp, as if the air between them had been punctured by a blade. “This is because of Melitta, is it not? All these years and all I have done for you, and you still hold it against me.”
“How dare you?” My fists twitched for my knife.
I had never fought one of my women in earnest, and I did not intend for that day to be the first, but neither had I ever expected to hear Melitta’s name roll from Thalassa’s tongue.
“You were told with the rest of the Amazons in the manner I felt best as your queen.”
“Of course. Queen. But I knew you before. I knew you when you were nothing but a weak-willed wife.”
Her words were meant to sting, and perhaps once they would have, but those days were gone.
“You are angry. I see that, but you are not alone in learning this news now. Althea was the only woman who knew of the proposal.”
Thalassa stepped closer, and she spoke in a hiss.
“I held your secret,” she said. “I held the most precious secret of your child, and you could not even trust me with this?”
“It was not about trust. It was about my mind. About not wanting to compete with the opinions of others while I decided on my answer.”
“And Damaris? Damaris who has hung on your every word, who has loved you with her heart and soul from the first day she saw you, you do not think that she deserved something more than the whispers of women you barely know?”
“Barely know?” Again came that ripple of anger. “These women are our sisters.”
“And we were sisters before them! You owed this to your sisters from Ninniya, those who stood beside you from the very beginning, when there was no hope or glory to be seen.”
Did I? Perhaps she was right. As Thalassa spoke, I wondered if I had been too hasty, too desperate to unburden myself of the secret, too keen to avoid the eyes of the Amazons as I told them.
“Thalassa, I—”
I cannot say for certain what words I intended to offer, whether I would have apologized or tried to make her understand. For in the moment I went to speak, an arrow flew through the air and struck her in the heart.