Chapter XXXII
XXXII
The three months after my skirmish with the boy pass with curious speed.
More men certainly come to our island. Some arrive in large parties, others come alone.
I begin to let Stheno and Euryale take the lead in the killings, joining them only when they ask.
Somewhere in that time, I turn eighteen.
The occasion brings little fanfare from Euryale and Stheno, who find the idea of birthdays odd.
For me, though, it is a reminder that, unlike my sisters, my time is not infinite.
I find myself wondering more and more if this is to be my life’s new purpose, if protecting our island alongside my sisters is my destiny.
—
Spring has only just begun the night I’m eating dinner and notice a new ship on the horizon.
By now, the rhythm of what to do in response is like an instinct.
At once, I alert Stheno and Euryale, and we head down to the beach.
We have memorized the steps in our ritual as though it were one of the dances we performed in our previous lives, and now we wait in silence for the ship to moor.
The men disembark with much more discipline than we’re used to.
They row their boats up to the sand, and they don’t acknowledge us as they form a long, tight line.
They are darker-skinned than is typical of our would-be hunters—not quite my complexion, but certainly not pale.
Every one of them turns as two more people disembark.
The first person, a brown-skinned man, must be their leader. He is clean-shaven, well dressed in a tunic dyed deep blue, and other than the slight rumple in his clothes, he looks well rested and clean. My gaze goes to the person trailing behind him, and I pause.
It’s a young woman.
She’s tall, fair-skinned, with short, dark brown hair that I remember was once long, curly, and thick. Her clothes have changed, and she walks with her hazel eyes downcast, but I would recognize my friend anywhere.
It’s Apollonia.
The leader of the crew turns to Apollonia suddenly, as though just remembering she’s there, and mutters something under his breath before grabbing her by the arm and marching her toward us more quickly. I don’t know what to make of the two of them. When they reach us, the man smiles.
“I am Sobekemsaf,” he says in a low bullfrog’s croak. His Greek is clear, albeit slightly accented. “I come from the city of Alexandria, in Egypt. Perhaps you are familiar.”
I am familiar with Alexandria. It’s a wealthy city, in a distant land called Egypt.
Judging by the many rings on his fingers and the many golden necklaces adorning his neck, this man has enjoyed more than his share of that wealth.
I look to Apollonia again. If she were his wife, surely she’d be dressed well, too, but the clothes she wears are plain.
I notice that she doesn’t stand with the rest of the crew, so I still can’t determine what she is to him.
I try to study her face, to discern anything from it that might tell me of her condition.
But her face is a perfect mask; it betrays nothing.
Suddenly, Stheno steps forward. “This island is claimed.” She no longer wastes time with small talk. “Why are you here?”
If her brusqueness offends the man, he makes no show of it.
“You misunderstand,” he says silkily. “I do not want violence, only business.”
Stheno says nothing, but I know my sister well enough to recognize confusion in her face.
Emboldened by her silence, the man called Sobekemsaf goes on.
“The three mysterious women of the lost island are infamous,” he says with a new reverence in his voice.
“Men whisper about the perils here. They say the island is a prize too dangerous to win.” He shrugs.
“But I look at your island and see something else. You are here alone.”
“We have slaves,” says Stheno.
Sobekemsaf arches a brow. “And food?”
“Plenty,” says Stheno immediately. “The island is full of natural produce, meat, and fresh water.”
“And yet.” Sobekemsaf raises a finger. “Your resources remain finite.”
“We have sustained ourselves without issue thus far.” There’s a testiness in Stheno’s voice.
Sobekemsaf gives her a patient look. “Perhaps you have managed it so far, but what about in a decade? Can you be sure that you will always have enough?”
Both my sisters glance at me, and guilt twists in my stomach. As immortals, they do not need to eat, but I do. If our finite resources mattered to anyone, it would be me.
Stheno turns back to Sobekemsaf. “What do you propose?”
“I will bring you all that you need,” he says. “Food, raw materials that the island does not have, and anything else you might want. I am a merchant, and a powerful one. I will be your ally. I ask for only one thing in return.”
At last, we have gotten to the heart of the conversation. Stheno juts her chin. “What is that?”
Something mirthless flashes behind Sobekemsaf’s eyes. “For you to kill my enemies.”
The beach seems to chill. Euryale shifts, visibly uncomfortable, and Stheno’s eyes narrow.
“Your enemies?” she asks.
“As I said, I am a merchant,” says Sobekemsaf. “There are many men in the greater world who envy me and despise me and who would seek to ensure my ruin.”
Something familiar prickles my consciousness as I listen to him: In some ways, he reminds me of Prince Maheer.
“I would ask you to help me eliminate those who threaten me,” he says.
“I will send them to your island, with promises of great wealth and fortune, and then you must only do what you already do so well.” He grins, gesturing to the many statues along our shore.
“I will expand my enterprise, and you will have a great share of it. We would help each other.”
I understand clearly what he wants from us.
We are to be his hunting dogs, beasts to sic upon men of his choosing.
There is something particularly distasteful about the proposition, worse even than the men who come to rob and kill us.
My eyes go to Stheno, and the look on her face tells me her thoughts echo mine.
“We appreciate your offer of partnership,” she says carefully, “but we’re not interested. Go.” She waves a hand. “You came to us in good faith. For that, I gift you with your life.”
Sobekemsaf’s face changes slowly. I watch his features rearrange themselves from an expression of oily kindness to one of disgust. He is shorter than my sister, but still manages to look down his nose at her.
“I might have guessed that a woman would lack proper business acumen,” he says with a sniff. “Stay on this island alone, and you’ll be dead in a few years.”
My sister’s eyes flash, and I tense. Sobekemsaf doesn’t know it, but he will be dead by the end of the hour.
Stheno betrays nothing, only shrugs. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” she says. “Please allow me to escort you back to your ship.”
Apollonia has not moved or spoken since he brought her ashore. Now her eyes go wide. She looks between my sisters and me, at our calm demeanors, and somehow I know she knows what’s about to happen. I watch her slowly move away from Sobekemsaf.
“I’ve no need for an escort,” he says gruffly, turning his back on Stheno. He addresses his men. “Return to the ship, we’re going home.”
He makes it two steps before Stheno is upon him, the blade of her knife against his throat. A fat bead of blood trickles from the skin, and the man’s eyes go wide.
“What’s this?” he squawks as he struggles against my sister. “You can’t do this!”
Stheno grins. “Can’t I?”
Sobekemsaf’s men, still in formation, stare between Stheno and their master, transfixed, clearly unsure of what to do.
“Let me go and I’ll give you anything, anything you want!” Sobekemsaf hisses as Stheno lets her blade cut deeper into his skin.
My sister laughs. “You have nothing that I want, merchant.”
“Name your price!” he says desperately. “Every man has a price.”
Stheno cocks her head so that her lips barely graze Sobekemsaf’s ear. She whispers the words, but I hear them.
“Unfortunately for you, I am no man.”
Violence has become a language Stheno speaks fluently. She cuts Sobekemsaf’s throat.
Euryale and I are moving before his body hits the ground.
I charge at the man standing closest to me and turn him to stone with a single look.
The surrounding men scream; several try to run, but I am faster.
The beach fills with the sound of men pleading, and I am no longer ashamed to admit that a part of me relishes that sound.
These men aren’t like the boy; they only wanted to use us.
It reminds me of the way Poseidon only wanted to use me, and I feel that same well-worn rage swell within me like a storm.
My vision begins to focus. I single out my victims one by one, my gaze sweeping across the beach, silencing the wails as each man turns to stone.
Then I pause.
I see a slight figure walking away quickly but carefully: Apollonia.
My feet seem to be moving of their own accord as I trace her footprints down the beach. Stheno and Euryale don’t notice my departure, and soon the collective noises of Sobekemsaf’s doomed men fade in favor of the churning waves and screeching gulls overhead.
“Wait!”
She doesn’t stop her march across the beach, and now there is no mistaking it. There is a slight limp to her step, as though she’s been recently injured.
“Wait!”
Apollonia stops walking. “I’m going to turn around,” she says. “Just promise you’ll get it over with quickly.”
She doesn’t recognize me. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I still am. It’s been months since we last saw each other. It occurs to me that, though we learned much about each other during our time in Athena’s temple, she never knew where I was truly from. She never would have thought to find me here.
“Apollonia,” I say more quietly. “It’s me. Meddy.”
“Meddy?” Apollonia starts, half rotating before thinking better of it.