“Even Aphrodite herself would have hid her face in shame were she to stand beside you.”
“You flatter me, Your Majesty,” I murmured, trying to sound charming since I’d scarcely spoken to the man the entire night.
He leaned in, his voice dropping to something conspiratorial. “Flatter? Hardly. That goddess was always nothing but a jealous little bitch.” His smile sharpened. “We were all better off once I cast her out.”
My eyes widened, a dozen questions leaping to my tongue—but before I could voice even one of them, a loud grunt, grotesque in its pleasure, tore through the music and shattered my spiraling thoughts.
Damos had finished, evidently.
I reached for my goblet with careful fingers, trying to ignore Hetairis’s gaze as she walked into my eyesight and leaned against the wall for a moment. A second later another noble pulled her into his chest …
“My beauty,” Menelaus murmured beside me, his voice thick with wine and pride. “Are you ready?”
My head turned toward him slowly. “Ready?” I echoed.
He smiled like my confusion was … charming. “It’s time.”
That didn’t answer anything. Time for what?
My thoughts scrambled as I flipped through Nomiki’s list from yesterday. First, I would enter the room. Then the dancing and the feast and then—
The dancers stilled mid-spin, their limbs suspended in air like they too had forgotten what came next as the High Priestess glided into the room, coming to a halt beneath a statue of Menelaus.
My pulse ticked faster. The next part. Of course.
Thesacrifice.
That was the final item of the night, wasn’t it? A sacrifice meant to bless our union, a tradition, just like the wine and the dancing. I wasn’t sure why there had to be a sacrifice at all though if the only god we were allowed to pay tribute to was sitting next to me.
I swallowed hard, my gaze drifting to the gleaming altar beneath the statue’s feet.
What poor creature would meet its end tonight? A lamb, maybe. Or a goat. A milk cow, if they were feeling particularly grand. It would be a waste no matter what. Such a beast could feed half a village. And I doubted Menelaus would care either way.
Footsteps rang out in harsh rhythm, each one echoing against the marble floor. I straightened instinctively, my eyes locking on the two guards striding toward the center of the room who were dragging something between them.
At first, I couldn’t make out what it was, just a slumped form swaying limply.
A streak of red caught the torchlight, vivid and copper-bright, spilling across a bare shoulder like it had been brushed there by mistake.
My stomach dropped. I leaned forward, unblinking, every part of me suddenly ice. That wasn’t a cloth, or a banner. It wasn’t a trick of the firelight. Iknewthat hair.
I whirled toward Menelaus, the beginnings of a question rising in my throat, but he only sipped his wine, the corner of his mouth twitching upward like he was enjoying himself. I looked back as the girl shifted.
A tremor ran through her limbs as her head lifted, slow and dragging like it weighed more than the rest of her body combined. Wide eyes met mine.
“Anysa.” Her name slipped from my lips, hoarse and horrified, as if saying it could undo what I was seeing. My legs moved before my thoughts could catch up. I stood, swaying slightly, the paint on my skin suddenly suffocating. “What is this?” I asked, my voice too loud. “Is she to be sacrificed?”
The music faltered and a few heads turned. But the king didn’t even flinch.
Menelaus lifted his goblet in a lazy arc, lounging back like this was the most natural thing in the world. “She was the runner-up,” he said. “It is her privilege to offer herself in honor of our union. For Sparta.”
I blinked. “Privilege?”
“She volunteered,” Menelaus said casually, as if announcing the weather. “Or at least, she agreed.”
The words didn’t land at first. They floated, nonsense and noise … until they pierced.
Volunteered.Agreed.
