Chapter III #2
The lion being led onto our lawn is enormous; it would tower over me if I stood before it.
Its mane is coarse and matted, deep brown except for a golden patch near its face.
Mud crusts its massive paws, and I shiver as I watch its hooked white claws puncture the dirt with each step.
Its mouth is bound with rope, and an iron collar attached to two long chains is fastened around its neck.
I’m certain that this is the only reason it hasn’t attacked its handlers.
So distracted by the beast am I that I don’t immediately notice the man who trails in breezily behind it, flanked by several more slaves clad in white, who throw flower petals in his wake.
When I finally tear my eyes from the lion to look at him, I start.
It’s the man from our spring feast, the one I saw speaking to my mother.
I have never seen the bastard prince’s father—Ares, the Olympian god of war—but I suspect the prince has inherited his looks from his mortal mother.
His dark hair and brown skin are as I remember, but in proper daylight, I take in more.
The prince is a man of short stature, barely taller than me.
I note that the black cotton tunic he has donned, embroidered with intricate gold thread, is finely made but ill-suited for our island’s tropical climate.
Already, beads of sweat dapple his forehead in a glittering crown.
I imagine he might once have been of a more athletic build, but age has thickened his middle and added a softness around his neck and chin.
As he draws closer, I discern that his eyes are a light brown.
Those eyes study Stheno, Euryale, then me before he turns to address the lion’s handlers.
“Remove its muzzle,” he says in a reedy voice.
My pulse quickens at the same time the two handlers exchange wary looks, then approach the lion slowly from either side.
The lion snarls again, and they pause, uncertain.
It occurs to me that neither of them is willing to get close enough to the beast to remove the ropes binding its mouth shut.
After a moment, the prince makes a sound of irritation.
“Stand aside,” he commands. My whole body seizes as he unsheathes a dagger from his belt and approaches the lion himself. A growl rumbles from deep inside the creature’s throat.
He’s going to be mauled. My fists clench as the prince comes within mere feet of the lion. He’s going to be mauled, and it’s going to be bloody.
The prince first takes the chain serving as the lion’s leash, then stops before the beast. He is much smaller, but somehow he still manages to look down his nose at it.
“Down,” he orders, raising a fist.
I wait for the inevitable violence. To my shock, the lion’s golden eyes seem to flash with understanding. It lowers itself to the ground.
“Be still.” The prince raises his dagger and slowly slices at the ropes so that they fall in a heap.
The now-freed lion only licks its black lips and yawns.
I’m already stunned, but the prince isn’t finished. “Come,” he commands, yanking hard on the lion’s chain.
Slowly, the lion rises again and walks beside the prince in small circles.
After its third lap, the prince faces us again, grinning as he sheathes his dagger.
“Phorcys, great god of the sea.” He stands taller as he addresses my father.
“I am Maheer, mortal son of the god Ares, who is son of the sovereign god-king Zeus. I come to you this day to take one of your daughters for marriage and make her my queen, if it please you. As a token of my respect, I also present to you this gift.” The prince gestures toward the lion still standing behind him.
“I captured this beast from a distant land and trained it myself. It is yours to do with what you wish.”
I steal a glance at my father and don’t miss the way his lips have pursed.
He is doing his best not to let his face betray his thoughts, but I can imagine they are the same as mine.
It would be no small feat, capturing a lion of this size and ferocity, and braver still to teach it obedience.
This prince did not impress me initially; now I wonder if my judgment of him might have been premature.
After a moment of what seems like deliberation, my father stands.
“Prince Maheer, we thank you for this gift.” He is using his deeper, godly voice now, the one that rings with an authority he no longer possesses.
“It would please us for you to wed one of our daughters. All three of them are healthy, of respectable lineage, and fertile.”
I have enough time to resent the fact that my father’s description of us would also aptly describe a trio of nanny goats before he turns to my sisters and me. The smile on his lips is placid, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. I hear the unspoken threat behind it.
Disgrace me, and you will suffer.
My mother nods, and at once, the three of us stand.
I have known this moment was coming for days, weeks, but I am still unprepared when it arrives at last. The scorching sun overhead seems to fade, and though the garden is full of people, the only ones I’m aware of now are my sisters, the prince, and myself.
Time seems to slow as Prince Maheer approaches us, looking equal parts assessing and intrigued.
His perfume reaches me first, and when I inhale, I smell something sharp and spiced.
He walks back and forth among us, pensive, and I do my best to stand absolutely still.
I’m intensely conscious of the blades of grass pricking the soles of my feet, of the places where my tunic has grown damp and sticky from sweat.
A single one of my locs suddenly falls from its bun, swinging before my eyes.
I try to tuck it quickly behind my ear, but the movement catches the prince’s attention.
He approaches and looks me over before pinching that loc between his fingers.
“How curious,” he murmurs.
I don’t breathe, I don’t move, and on either side of me, I feel my sisters both stiffen.
All our lives, we have been three parts of one whole.
Now, for the first time, we are being singled out and held apart.
I lower my gaze as the prince continues to study me, and a thousand thoughts fly through my mind like loosed arrows.
What if it’s me? What if the prince picks me for his bride?
What if this is my chance? A chance to leave this island?
What about Stheno and Euryale? What about Theo?
The prince steps back and nods to my father. “I have made my choice.”
Even the garden’s surrounding trees and flowers seem to hold their breath.
“Her.” The prince points to my right, to Euryale. “I choose her.”
The world around me has taken on a strange new haze, but when I turn to look at Euryale, there’s no mistaking the mix of surprise and delight on her face. My mother is pressing a tender hand to her chest, on the verge of joyful tears, but it is my father who looks happiest of all. He’s beaming.
“She is yours,” he says, his voice full of new warmth. To one of his attendants, he says, “Prepare invitations for every god in the Sea Court, the Olympians, too. We will begin plans for a wedding at once, a grand celebration befitting Prince Maheer’s noble lineage.”
Soon to be our joined lineage, I think.
Around me, some of the slaves of our household have broken from their usual discipline to cheer. In seconds, Euryale is surrounded, and I stare at my feet, mostly because I don’t know where else to look. A tight snarl of emotions is knotted in my chest—muddled and contradictory and confusing.
I thought, a mere hour ago, that I wouldn’t care if the prince didn’t choose me.
I thought I’d feel relief when it was all over, when he inevitably picked one of my prettier, immortal sisters.
That doesn’t explain why the sensation burrowing itself beneath my skin feels very much like disappointment.
At once, guilt pricks me. I should be happy for Euryale, I am happy for her, but…
I remember the way the prince looked at me.
I thought, for the briefest moment, that perhaps he’d pick me, that I would be the bride.
Marrying Prince Maheer would have meant leaving my family, but perhaps it would also have given me a chance at the thing I’ve always wanted most of all: to leave this island.
For just one moment, that perpetual fear of my sisters leaving me behind was quelled.
I blink hard, embarrassed to feel more than one tear slide down my cheek, and brush them away quickly. More than anything in this moment, I wish I could find Theo.
I lift my gaze and am surveying the lawn for the easiest way to slip out when I realize that Stheno is still beside me, perfectly silent.
Unlike nearly everyone else in the garden, she isn’t looking at Euryale or the prince, and there is no love or affection in her dark brown eyes.
Instead, her gaze is trained on the lion.
In the midst of the celebration, it seems the beast has been all but forgotten and now lies contently, curled up in the sun like a common cat.
I look from the lion to her, and though she doesn’t acknowledge me, she speaks in a voice only I can hear.
“I’ll be the first to admit I know little about the training of wild beasts.” She says the words aloud, as though she’s musing. “But I do find it curious.”
This catches my attention. “Curious?”
Stheno gestures to the lion. “Prince Maheer has traveled to our island from some distance, almost entirely by sea,” she says.
“I have to imagine that a lion of that size would need substantial amounts of food to remain nourished, far more than a single ship could carry. I don’t think a diet of fish would sate it, either. ”
I frown. I don’t understand what my sister is getting at.
“He couldn’t have butchered all the meat beforehand,” Stheno continues.
It’s still as though she’s talking to herself.
“It would have spoiled before it could be consumed. Livestock might work, but then you’d have to bring additional food to keep them fat, which takes up precious cargo space and produces waste.
” For the first time, my sister turns to look at me directly.
“But if you had another source of food for your pet, if you brought more slaves than you’d ever need…
” She shrugs. “I suppose there’s little difference between a trained lion and a well-fed one. ”
The insinuation behind my sister’s words takes root, and my blood runs cold. “Stheno.” My voice trembles more than I want it to. “You’re not saying that Prince Maheer…?”
“Do you want to know the surest way to assess the measure of a man?” Stheno blinks, unnervingly calm. “You look at those who serve him.” She leans in. “So, look.”
I obey, albeit slowly. It doesn’t take long for me to pick out the prince’s slaves.
While everyone else on the lawn is smiling and clearly at ease, they are gathered close together like pack animals.
Most of them are warily eyeing the prince, but a few of them steal glances at the resting lion.
I realize now that I’d been so taken by Prince Maheer’s impressive entrance that I hadn’t bothered to pay attention to those who entered with him.
The most fortunate of the prince’s slaves bear shallow cuts and crudely dressed wounds; others sport more grievous injuries—a gouged eye, nubbed fingers, and missing limbs. I turn to Stheno, horrified.
“I thought he’d trained that lion,” I whisper. “I…I believed him.”
“Of course you did,” Stheno says. She doesn’t sound surprised. “Prince Maheer is a man with power, and men with power are always the first to be believed.”
I shake my head. “Stheno, what kind of man could do something like that?”
“A cruel one,” she says simply. “Then again, I’ve learned that most men are cruel. Some are just better at hiding it.”
A new thought grips me, blade-sharp and acute. “Do you think the prince would be cruel to Eury?”
The look Stheno gives me then is worse than any spoken answer. Just an hour ago, I was grateful for my eldest sister’s natural candor. Now I wish I didn’t see the truth in her eyes. Fresh tears well in my own. This time when they fall, I don’t bother to wipe them.
“There has to be something we can do,” I whisper. “Can’t we stop the marriage?”
Stheno shakes her head. “The prince has selected his bride, and Father has accepted his choice.”
“Euryale didn’t accept it!”
Stheno’s expression hardens. “Nor would she be permitted to. Euryale is a woman.”
We both look to our father then. He’s standing with Prince Maheer, shaking his hand and looking supremely pleased. I know then that my sister is right.
“Prince Maheer may be mortal, but he is also a son of Ares, and a grandson of Zeus himself,” says Stheno.
“Euryale’s marriage to him represents an opportunity to significantly elevate our family’s standing.
Father won’t relinquish that opportunity willingly.
” For the first time, her expression turns wary.
“Nor will he abide anyone who threatens it.”
Our father didn’t say a word to us before the prince’s arrival about the conduct he expected from us because he didn’t have to.
My sisters and I have seen who my father can be when he loses his temper.
I flinch. Jeopardizing Euryale’s marriage to Prince Maheer almost certainly risks provoking my father’s wrath, but…
“There has to be something we can do,” I repeat. “Marriage is a lifelong commitment, permanent.”
Stheno arches a brow. “Euryale and I are immortal, Meddy. For us, nothing is permanent.”
The words smart more than they should. Stheno doesn’t often remind me of my mortality. As if she realizes what she’s inadvertently done, she softens her expression.
“At best, she will only have to be his wife for the duration of his life,” she says more gently. “It won’t be like Father and Mother. It won’t be forever.”
“What about after?” I ask quietly. “What happens after he dies? Will Eury be free then?”
Again, Stheno’s somber expression is answer enough.
I hold her gaze. “She’s our sister.”
Something behind Stheno’s eyes gives, and for a moment I see the pain I know she must see in mine. Just as quickly, it’s gone. “She was our sister,” she corrects me flatly. “Now she is Prince Maheer’s bride-to-be.”
Then, without another word, my sister rises, gathers the delicate folds of her lavender tunic, and leaves me in the garden.