“Look after my wayward niece,” Circe said to Atalanta. “She will need all the help she can get.” Dimly, I noted this was the first time she’d acknowledged Atalanta since her rejection.
Infuriated beyond speech, I ran out of the darkened house and into the false cheer of sunlight, so bright it felt like an obscenity. By now it was nearly afternoon. Circe’s mutated beasts and half-finished experiments cast strange shadows over the earth, but they fled at the advent of my wailing, giving way before a creature far more terrible than them.
I fell to my knees, wet ground soaking through my skirts. To know that Circe had been given apotheosis while I had to wait was an insult that could not be borne. Never again would I call myself a priestess of Hekate or perform her rites. I was done with the gods, I decided. Let Hekate’s altars grow thick with dust. My mother had abandoned me, so now I abandoned her.
And at the end of my life, when Hekate came to offer the elixir of apotheosis, I would tear it from her hands and drink it down. I would become a goddess and tell them all exactly what I thought of them.
Strong arms gathered me up, lifting me into the air. I thrashed and kicked, fearing that Circe or one of her nymphs had come to drag me back into her lair. But the arms only held tighter. Gradually, I realized that we were moving in the direction of the sea, away from Circe’s house.
I looked up to see the face of Atalanta, her gaze fixed on the horizon as she carried me tenderly back to the ship.
36
Atalanta
Once we were safely aboard theArgo, I bundled Medea away to a spot on the deck near the folded sails, where there was some measure of privacy. I held her as she wept, tears staining the front of my tunic. There was nothing I could offer her but my presence. Fortunately, it seemed to be enough.
Her weeping eased eventually, though I continued to hold her. My arm went numb; I ignored it. Distantly I heard Jason shout an order to the rowers and felt theArgojolt into motion. The slap of oars on water took us farther and farther from that island of half-formed creatures and their beautiful, dangerous mistress. I remembered Circe’s proposal—share my bed—and a finger of fire ran down my spine. Pushing this from my mind, I considered the twining intrigues of the Heliades and thanked Artemis Far-Shooter that I had no human family.
Eventually Medea’s breathing smoothed into sleep. Her chest rose and fell against mine. Exhausted after Circe’s island, I found myself drifting off as well, lulled by the familiar rocking of the ship.
When I woke, it was nighttime. My arms were still around Medea, as if my body did not want to let her go. The stars glowed in the sky, and the creak of the ship’s wooden hull was the only sound.
In my arms, Medea shifted. She’d turned over in her sleep sothat her back was to my belly and she was spooned against me, which worked quite well because I was so much taller than her. My chin rested on the top of her black curls, and we looked up at the stars together.
“Why do you always want to sleep outside?” she asked, turning to look at me. “Why don’t we find a space belowdecks, where the dew won’t settle on our skin?”
“I like the stars,” I said, thinking of nights in the bears’ den. When I was little, I would disentangle myself from the mass of cubs to crawl toward that sliver of sparkling darkness until the mother bear called me back with a grunt.
Medea scoffed. “Spoken like a true bear.”
It is difficult to convey how these words affected me, cracking open my heart and mending it all at once. I felt seen into the innermost recesses of my soul, no part left out and none found wanting.
“I suppose there’s something to be said for the view,” Medea added, snuggling closer.
“You could go below, if you wanted,” I hazarded.
“And fall asleep surrounded by all those snoring, farting men? No thank you. Being with you is far better.”
Warmth spread through my belly like wine. It took me a moment to recognize its source:Being with you is far better.
In the morning, she and I watched together as light came back into the world.
“When I first saw you on that beach in Colchis,” Medea said, “I did not expect to share sunrises with you.”
“I did. It’s unavoidable on the open sea.” I glanced at Medea, tracing the details of her face. “What I didn’t expect was that I would enjoy them so much.”
She lay back down, but I continued to stare into the gradually increasing light of morning. Further sleep eluded me. A terrible thought had taken up residence in my mind: that Procris, seeingme here, would not be pleased with how very much I’d come to enjoy Medea’s company.
The spear clattered against the mast, its sharp tip catching the wood before falling limply to the deck. A few of the crew hung around, watching idly but making no comment.
“Whoa, Medea!” Jason called, raising his hands in an exaggerated gesture as he approached. “Be careful, I wouldn’t want to see you hurt.”
Medea brightened at Jason’s appearance—much to my dismay. “Iambeing careful,” she told him, eyes demurely lowered. When Jason was with Medea, I found myself wishing to be anywhere else.
Ordinarily I would have stalked away, either to take a shift on the rowing deck or to find a quiet corner until they were done speaking. But Medea still held my spear and I did not want to leave without it.
“I trust that your trip to Circe’s island went well?” Jason said, as if it had been an ordinary family visit and not Medea’s only chance to expiate the pollution she had taken upon herself in order to save him.
