‘The golden spindles from which it is made flourish in winter. I will make you more.’
I take it. The jar is solid, made from a smooth green stone. I remove the stopper. The liquid inside is pungent and bilious. I recoil.
‘How do I know it is not poison?’
She snatches it from me, growling with impatience, and takes a deliberate swig. She swallows it, raises her eyebrows.Satisfied?
I nod. Even immortals are weakened bypharmaka– it is why such witchcraft is so feared by the gods. It is seen as dirty, unjust and unsanctioned, a greedy clawing at unnatural power. I pocket the jar.
‘Good. Now, I would speak with my sister.’ She looks at me expectantly. She thinks Ceto more likely to answer my call than hers.
‘Ceto?’
She is at my side in moments, slipping out of the water, droplets clinging to her more than to Amphitrite, who is already dry and white as bone.
‘So? Are you … well acquainted?’
‘Yes, yes, we’re bosom friends.’ Amphitrite glances between us. ‘You should not come home.’
She does not take care with the pronouncement, dumpsit mercilessly at Ceto’s feet and is unmoved by the way her sister blinks rapidly, her mask fluttering with her lashes like a fan.
‘Why?’
‘Don’t be foolish,’ she snaps. ‘If you return less frequently, he will ask fewer questions. And the others … the longer this goes on the harder it will be for you.’ Her jaw clenches once. ‘You do not have to take my advice. When this is over and I am queen, then … but for now. You should not come home.’
She does not say goodbye. She is that savage scraping creature still. The cold centre flame of her eyes burns in my direction once more. Then she dives gracefully into the water and is gone.
I sit among the reeds and Ceto unfolds beside me, legs trailing in the water next to mine. What I have learned lingers and I follow the thought aloud.
‘You said you and your sisters are not friends.’
‘We are not.’
‘You did not say that they mistreat you. Because of me.’ I search her face for answers.
‘We have precious little reason to trust each other, and I am the least trusted.’
‘Because of the Cetus.’
‘Yes.’
‘But you … you cannot hurt them? You cannot fight back?’
‘No.’
‘Why?’
‘My master’s orders.’
The day has warmed, the air already near to scorching,the wind only fanning the heat. I dip my hands into the cool water, splash my wrists, the back of my neck.
‘I do not understand. He favours you – you serve him loyally. Why would he order you into impotence?’
‘I am stronger than my sisters. It would not be a fair fight.’
‘So you are to do nothing?’
Her lips twist and she is uncommonly vulnerable. It is almost unbearable and yet beneath my rage, there is a quivering, a baby bird trapped beneath my ribs. She is like this with no one else. Only me.
