Chapter Ninety-Nine
Had I ever doubted my choice of name for my firstborn, such doubt was erased when she first laid eyes upon a horse.
We left the chamber to bid the army farewell.
A king had come to us in need, and a battle was waiting to be fought, but rather than leading the women myself, it was Iphinone who took charge. She was home.
Hippolyte was no longer the newborn I had given birth to. During the few hours in my chamber, she had grown so greatly that she could pull herself up and walk and now sat proudly on my hip.
“I have never been in the presence of a god’s child,” Althea said as she waved a hand at Hippolyte, who grabbed it tightly and giggled at her own action.
“I do not believe any of us have,” I said.
“It is a marvel, is it not?”
I did not reply. Every child was a miracle. I had known that from the day I had lost my first one. Were she half god or not, I would have loved her the same.
Every warrior leaving to fight was dressed in the armor that Boryana had designed and perfected, which included tight leather caps to hold their hair in place.
On the lower half of their bodies, they wore loose attire reminiscent of the leather garment Melitta had fashioned for Aina all those years before.
Each woman was recognizable as an yet an individual in her own right, from the weapons they held to the tattoos on their arms and the horses they rode.
As we waved them off, Hippolyte was babbling away in syllables and then words.
Whole words. Like horse and mother and fight. She was the child of a god.
“Come, let me take you to meet the finest horse of them all,” I said.
I had never considered Erebus’s age when he and I had met.
He was the stallion, the one who protected the herd.
Yet as he stood there, his muzzle showing the first flecks of gray, I wondered if Ares’s offer to lengthen our lives extended to the horses too, for they were as deeply as any of us could be. He more than any other.
“Can I ride?”
That was the first sentence Hippolyte spoke.
Can I ride? I did not feel that it was so much a question of permission but of her own ability.
Could she ride? Could she do what she had just seen the women around her do with such ease?
I walked to Erebus’s side and placed my daughter on his back.
Not a hint of fear graced Hippolyte’s face as she gripped his mane with her legs barely stretching wide enough to cover his back.
I watched until the midday sun was high above us as they rode together in wide circles around the stadium that Ares had created.
Seeing Erebus respond to another with such ease would, at any other time, have caused a stirring of jealousy within me.
But there was no jealousy here. Just love.
Love for the child I had created. The child I had been given.
“I did not believe I had been gone so long,” Ares said, his voice startling me from my thoughts.
“Ares, my god.” I bowed deeply, though my gesture brought only a deep laugh from him.
“I think we are past such things, are we not?” he said, then slipped his hand around my waist to plant a firm kiss on my lips.
The act was unexpected though not unwelcome.
Still, when he drew away from me, I cast my eyes back to Hippolyte.
She had now kicked Erebus into a gallop, her legs long enough to reach the top of his belly.
“Hippolyte. A fitting name.”
“Yes, I believe it is. And in case you fear my fidelity, there is no doubt as to the lineage of the child,” I told him as we watched her. “She has the body of a six-year-old and is barely a day.”
“It is the way of so many gods,” Ares replied. “Even when they are centuries old, they are barely children.” A wistful gaze crossed his expression before he continued. “Does it sadden you? Do you feel you have been stolen of her youth, the way you would not have been with a fully mortal child?”
I shook my head, scarcely needing to consider an answer. “With her, I will gain so much more than I have lost. This way, we will be able to head out together more and sooner. To ride. To hunt. To fight.”
“Yes, yes, indeed.” Ares’s eyes twinkled with a smile. “Which reminds me, we should see how she is with a sword.”
“A sword already? Wooden?”
There were young children among the Amazons who had learned to hold a wooden sword as soon as they were strong enough, but Hippolyte was barely a day old.
“She is half god, my love. She will take the metal.”
My love. He had let the words trip so easily from his lips, yet I felt hollow beneath my breastbone. Did he expect me to respond with such a declaration so soon? What if I did not? Then what? I was still lost in my rumination when Ares strode into the stadium, brandishing a sword.
“Hippolyte, come.”
Upon the sound of her father’s voice, Hippolyte clenched her legs around Erebus and swerved swiftly, drawing to a halt beside him.
The tunic that had been well past her knees when she mounted was now midthigh. Her growth was slowing but still rapid. I expected her to be taller than I was by the time night fell.
“Here.” Ares handed her a metal sword drawn from his own scabbard. “It is time to battle, my child.”
“I am to fight you?” she said.
“You are.”
I watched on, my hand across my mouth, my heart in my throat as Ares swung at my daughter again and again.
But each time, Hippolyte evaded his strike.
She was swift and nimble on her feet. She rolled, ducked, and twirled out of the way of his blade at a speed I could only have dreamed of.
At one point, she flipped, landing perfectly at Ares’s side, and she was fast enough to almost land a blow.
I saw the god’s eyes widen in surprise before a flicker of satisfaction lit his face.
“I think that is all I have time for, Hippolyte. Why don’t you take a bow and arrow and practice on some of the targets?”
Taking the god’s advice, Hippolyte moved to the other side of the stadium where the weapons had been arranged. Ares walked to me.
“We have done well,” he said, a smile still toying on his lips. “She is a great fighter indeed.”
“She is something special.”
I watched as she took a bow and fired her first shot into the center of a target. I was about to congratulate her when Ares leaned in, his breath hot against my ear.
“I think perhaps it is time we create some more,” he said.