He stood like a man holding the line against something no one else could see.
And I … I walked away from him like I hadn’t just left a piece of myself behind.
Chapter22
The wall was cool against my cheek, and I pressed closer, like I might melt into the stone and disappear for just a moment. The moon hung low outside the window, casting its light across the floor tiles, but the voice through the crack made the night bearable.
“I swear to the gods, if she corrects the angle of my wrist one more time, I will stab myself with my spoon and go down in a blaze of improperly buttered maza,” exclaimed Anysa.
I bit back a laugh. “I’m not sure that will be very effective.”
“It’s worth a try. That or I’m going to go back to the belladonna plan.”
I smiled even though she couldn’t see me. I’d never had a real friend before, but I’d found one in this strange new world I’d been thrown into. We were rivals, but Anysa never made it feel that way. A week had passed since the first Trial, and we’d been in queen training from dawn to dusk since then. Memorializing the day’s events through the wall had become somewhat of a tradition, even if the stone floor was the opposite of comfortable.
I shifted, adjusting my weight, and for a breath,hisface flickered behind my eyes. Rain-slicked hair. That unreadable stare. The way he hadn’t looked away when I should have.
The way he’d touched me.
I shoved it down,hard.
There was no room for that now. No room for mistakes.
I was here for Amyklai. For the people starving, dying … praying I’d win.
Nothing would happen again.
I wouldn’t let it.
Anysa sighed dramatically. “Today I also learned how to nod at a Mycenaean envoy without accidentally agreeing to marry him. I’m counting that as progress.”
“Impressive. I mastered holding a wine pitcher. It’s quite the feat, I’ll have you know.”
“A noble accomplishment.” She tapped a rhythm on the wall. “Tell me, did your tutor also remind you that swallowing olive pits is unbecoming of a queen?”
“Only after I choked on one.”
That got a full laugh from her, the kind that echoed in the stone like a blessing. Tomorrow was the second Trial, so laughter was in scarce supply as the seconds ticked by. After the first Trial, I wasn’t sure if I feared failure more than I feared embarrassing myself again.
Anysa always did that, tore a hole in the heaviness and let the light in. Even now, when the palace felt like a trap poised to spring shut around us.
Roz leapt onto my lap with its usual grace and curled into a tight ball with a soft, satisfied-sounding squeak. I scratched its fur in greeting, wondering what it did all day before it came to my room.
“Did you see the dignitary from Delphi today?” Anysa asked. “He sneezed into his hand and then reached out for Chloé’s hand to kiss it.”
I choked on a laugh, pressing a hand over my mouth to muffle it.“No,”I hissed through my fingers, half horrified, half delighted. “Tell me you’re not lying.”
“Please. She’ll probably turn it into a power move. ‘It’s a sign of my divinity,’” she said, dropping her voice into a breathy imitation of Chloé’s voice.
Chloé was still parading around like she was a prize mare. She walked like she already wore the crown. Worse, she treated the rest of us like we were ornamental rocks in her royal garden—there to be looked at, maybe stepped on. She was all sweet smiles when the instructors were watching, and smug little digs the moment their backs were turned.
She seemed to have a particular aversion to me, judging by the full glass of wine she’d spilled down my chiton yesterday, or the foot she happened to jut out to trip me as I walked by the day before.
I snorted at the truth in Anysa’s comment. “Shehasmentioned her bloodline descends from Apollo several times now. For some reason she’s not scared of Menelaus striking her down because of it.”
“Pssh. It’s because half the court thinks they’re descended from Apollo. Apparently, he got around back in the day, without leaving his descendants any of his power. I’m surprised Apollo hasn’t returned and demanded everyone prove paternity, with how many so-called descendants he seems to have.”
I laughed, then added, “She corrected my pronunciation ofSpartaat dinner. Loudly. I appreciated it. I didn’t know it was possible to say it wrong.”
