Chapter XXI #2
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The sun is still shining, but I feel none of its warmth as I stare at my mother. I have a bad feeling, a sense that I am teetering on the edge of some terrible revelation. My mother’s words echo.
My other children.
“What are you talking about?” My voice is barely a whisper. “What other children?”
My mother remains silent for so long that I wonder if she’s even heard me.
“I gave the first three their names,” she finally says, still not looking at me.
“I called them Deino, Enyo, and Pemphredo. They were born strange, with only one shared eye between them, and hair like spiders’ silk.
I cared for all three of them myself; I wouldn’t let anyone else nurse them.
I thought that they would stay with me.” She shivers. “Until she came and took them away.”
“Who, Mama?”
“Echidna was next,” my mother goes on, ignoring me. “And she was a real beauty. The top half of her body was like yours, human, but instead of legs, she had a beautiful blue-green tail. She was marvelous, really.” A smile touches her lips, then fades. “Then she was taken, too.”
I don’t ask my mother questions anymore. I remain silent as she continues.
“The hardest was Ladon.” My mother lowers her voice, and now I hear a tremble in it.
“My sweet boy, my hideous, wonderful, fierce boy-child. Your foolish father thought the Olympians would be merciful with us that time. He thought surely they wouldn’t take our only son.
” She shakes her head. “He didn’t understand what I did: that taking is what the Olympians do best. It’s how they came to power, it’s all they know. ”
“Who took them away, Mama?” I steady my voice as I brace myself. “Who?”
A cold smile touches my mother’s lips. “I did try to tell you, in a way. I told you that after the Gigantomachy, Zeus tasked Athena with removing any perceived threats. He never saw your sisters and brother as children, only as dangerous, and so she took them far from me.” She turns and, for the first time, really looks at me. “Now she’s taken you, too.”
I want to tell her she’s wrong. I think of how Athena looked at me only yesterday, with such fondness.
With her offer for me to serve as an acolyte, she gave me an irreplaceable gift, a chance to leave this island.
But I think about Apollonia again. I think of the way Athena cut her away so easily, despite her loyalty.
I remember a conversation Athena and I had, back on the very first day we met.
My two older sisters are immortal. I am the only one of us three who is not. No one knows why.
And the other children?
Athena’s question confused me at the time because I didn’t understand what she meant.
Now I see that she knew about my other siblings all along.
I think of the way Athena and my mother looked at each other, the mutual enmity I saw in their eyes.
I understand it now, and I can’t reconcile the version of Athena who would take children from their mother with the one the people of Athens adore with such loyalty and fervor.
A single tear slides down my mother’s ancient face.
“I’m sorry, Mama.”
My words seem to break something within my mother. A second tear falls and then a third. Soon, she’s crying uncontrollably. I can do nothing as her wails grow louder, keener, more desperate. I know that I am hearing the sound of true grief.
“D-don’t go back to h-her,” my mother says between sobs. “The O-Olympians are not to be t-t-trusted. They’ll ruin you.”
More than anything, I wish Stheno or Euryale were here to tell me what to do. When my mother stops crying, I put an arm around her. “You should rest,” I say to her gently. “Come on. I’ll help you to your bedchamber. We’ll get you something to drink.”
My mother looks up at me. When our gazes meet, I find that hers is dull, lost.
“Wine?” she murmurs. “Will you get me some wine?”
“Yes, Mama. I’ll get you some wine.”
She nods. Together, we make our way up the dunes and back into the palace.
By the time I’ve put my mother to bed, I’m exhausted.
It isn’t the first time I’ve had to do it, but something about this time has been particularly draining.
I watched as my mother’s eyes slowly closed, watched as she tossed fitfully for a few minutes before going still.
In her bedchamber’s silence, the things she told me echoed over and over in my mind, like some terrible refrain.
I had more siblings. Other sisters. A brother.
If Athena wasn’t who she purported to be, did that mean everything I’d built in Athens was a lie, too?
That possibility is so terrible, I bury it at once.
I’m still mulling over my mother’s words when a voice I recognize pulls me from my thoughts.
“Meddy?”
I look up, and a surge of relief fills me when I find two familiar faces. Euryale and Stheno are both standing at the other end of the hall. Within seconds, they are upon me, wrapping their arms around me.
“Meddy!” Even Stheno has forsaken her usual reserve. “We didn’t know you were back!”
“Athena let me come home to visit,” I say, still holding on to her. Her locs tickle my cheek, and I blink hard as I realize how long it’s been since I felt that particular sensation. She pulls back so that she and Euryale can look at me.
“We’re so glad you’re home,” Euryale says, beaming.
“Come.” At once, Stheno has gone back to her usual self. “We’re going to deal with your hair, immediately.”
—
By “deal” with my hair, I learn that Stheno means wash it.
I start to object when she and Euryale guide me to a basin, but when they lean me over it and pour the cool water on my head, whatever words I intended to say vanish.
I close my eyes, relishing the feel of their nails scratching all the hard-to-reach places on my scalp.
I love so much about the temple, but this kind of care is something I have missed about home.
Once they’ve finished washing it, Stheno directs me to a stool where she and Euryale begin the task of separating my locs into sections.
She pinches one between her fingers and sighs.
“Honestly, Meddy, do Athenians even use rose oil for their hair?”
I give Stheno a noncommittal sort of reply. She grumbles, then continues her work.
“Tell us more about Athens, Meddy,” Euryale says as she massages my scalp. “What’s it like?”
I want to tell my sisters about everything—Hermes, the acolyte tests, the chariot races during Panathenaia. There’s so much, I don’t even know where to start. At the same time, something else rises to the forefront of my mind.
“Stheno, Eury, I need to talk to you about something, something I learned about while I was in Athens. It’s called…intercourse.”
The effect is instant. Stheno nearly drops the bottle of rose oil she’s been holding, while Euryale’s hands go still on my scalp. When neither of them says anything, I rise from the chair to look at both of them.
“Well?”
Stheno looks to Euryale, lips pursed. “I did tell you this would happen.”
“You knew?” I can’t pretend to hide my hurt. “You knew about it, and you didn’t tell me?”
“We tried, Meddy!” Euryale’s voice has gone up in pitch, the way it always does when she’s nervous. “We really did, we just…never could find the right time.”
“What about when I started my monthly blood?” I accuse. “Why not then?”
“You still seemed so young,” Euryale says. She looks to be on the verge of tears. “We didn’t think you were ready, and there really was no need yet—”
“We were trying to protect you,” Stheno adds. “We thought it was the right thing to do.”
I bite back a laugh. Those words are only a slight deviation from the very words I said to Euryale when justifying why I’d tried to stop her marriage to Maheer.
“Meddy.” Euryale’s voice is softer. “I’m sorry.”
“We’re sorry,” Stheno amends. “We should have told you about it sooner. We shouldn’t have let you go to Athens without that kind of knowledge. You were bound to find out, but it should have been from us.”
A part of me wants to stay mad at my sisters, but the truth is I’ve already forgiven them. We stand in silence for a few more seconds before Stheno speaks.
“If you have any questions for us, anything you don’t already know,” she says, “you can ask us now.”
There’s already one question on the tip of my tongue, though I don’t know if I should ask it. In the end, curiosity gets the better of me, and I do.
“Have either of you…well, done it?”
“Meddy!” Euryale’s eyes go wide. “That’s a personal question!”
I note that she did not say no.
“I haven’t,” says Stheno calmly. “It’s not something I’ve ever had much interest in, to be honest with you.” We both turn to Euryale, who’s gone uncharacteristically quiet. After a moment, Stheno rolls her eyes.
“If you don’t tell her, I’ll—”
“Once!” Euryale says quickly. When Stheno’s eyes narrow, she shifts her weight. “Twice. Four or five times at most. She was a very pretty forest nymph who came to several of Mother and Father’s feasts.” Euryale looks peeved. “In my defense, this island can be incredibly dull.”
I blink. Athena had only spoken of intercourse as something that happens between a man and a woman, but the idea of it being something that could happen between two women is equally intriguing.
I nod, then sit back in my chair to let them continue.
I don’t say it, but a part of me is relieved.
I didn’t realize how much I’d missed the easiness of being with my sisters.
I knew, when I left for Athens, that I would miss seeing them, but it’s the small things, too—the sound of Euryale’s voice when she’s exasperated, the way she and Stheno bicker.
Euryale begins to twist my locs, and I feel a pleasant, familiar drowsiness. I close my eyes.
“Now that we’ve satisfied your curiosity.” I detect a hint of amusement in Stheno’s voice. “Do tell us more about Athens, before Euryale drowns in a puddle of embarrassment.”
“Please,” Euryale adds.