Meleager claps his hands together once, and Peleus jerks awake. A cluster of birds flitters away from the low-hanging branches. “Let’s waste no time getting back to Calydon,” he says tightly. Meleager blinks twice. My nerves tense—his dreams must’ve been worse than usual. “The goddess may not be thrilled that we have slain her beast.”
The woods around us seem to grow darker, even as the sun steadily rises higher and higher through the trees. I hadn’t considered how Artemis might react to the death of her boar. But I hadn’t been the one to kill the beast—none of us had. The fact is enough to settle the roiling in my stomach, and I wish I could tell Meleager. But he’s already sacrificed enough standing up for me and my lies.
“At least we have a hell of a lot of treasure waiting for us from the king,” Laertes mutters. The other men smile at that, and I find myself grinning too. It’ll be nice not to forage for food every single day. Hippomenes’s grin grows particularly feral. I suppose our payment appeals to his pirate roots.
“Let’s get a move on then,” I mutter, leaning down to sling my pack over my shoulder. I move over to Meleager, but not too close. None of the other men move. The sun rises just high enough past a branch that the light cuts brightly and suddenly into my eyes.
And then I realize that the woods are completely silent.
“Missing something, Atalanta?” Hippomenes jerks his head toward the spot I’d just left. The golden knife lays there, forgotten.
I try to laugh as I quickly walk back and pick it up, but it sounds breathy and forced, and too loud for this quiet morning.
“It’s odd,” Hippomenes muses. I glance over to him, while the other men stare back at me, apprehensive. “Such a nice weapon. One you’ve had for years, no? That you’ve kept hidden from us, all these weeks we’ve been traveling and training together?”
I shrug. I do not trust myself to speak.
“Leave her alone,” Meleager says, striding his way toward Hippomenes until their noses nearly touch. “I won’t tell you again.”
My heart throbs with anger and love. These men are all completely ridiculous and self-serving and territorial and overflowing with hubris. And as much as I care for him, Meleager is not excluded from that.
Hippomenes shoves both his arms out from his body in a movement so fast, my eyes hardly register it. Clearly, Meleager hadn’t expected that, and his body is utterly unprepared to take such a blow. He stumbles backward, clumsy and fast, unable to get his feet up under him. I imagine that this prince has never had to deal with such obvious disrespect. Meleager finally comes to a stop when his back hits the boar’s corpse. His chest heaves, and he stares up at Hippomenes with equal parts shock and fury written across his features.
The men all start to rush forward, and my heart races with the fear of whose side they will pick.
“How unbelievably typical.”
A female voice, jarring to my ears after a lifetime in the company of men, makes us all fall still. Hippomenes whirls from Meleager, and they both reach for their waists and draw their blades. I raise the golden knife, strange as it feels. The other men stare at a spot right behind me, and I wheel around.
A girl with wild, dark curls and eyes bluer than the Aegean stares back at me. Her face is regal, but rounded with obvious youth—she’s fifteen, maybe sixteen. As young as she looks, nothing innocent lies in her face or body. Something charged and powerful reverberates through the air. I fight the urge to run behind the men and draw an arrow. Running and fighting from a safe distance, like always.
“Hello, Atalanta,” she says, in a voice too calm and elegant to be human. I hear my pulse in my ears as more girls and nymphs step out of the shadows behind her. How had we not heard them approach?
I don’t take my eyes off the girl in front. The one who knows my name. I see now why the woods were so silent: thronging the group of young maidens like a strange wreath, birds and deer and wolves stare at us.
My breath hitches. Stupidly, I wonder if it’s too late to try and block the Calydonian Boar from her sight. The need to run pulsates through my entire body. I’ve never seen a god before, and of all the ones we might have met . . .
“Lady Artemis,” I whisper, bowing my head. Through my periphery, I watch her slowly walk toward me, and my body braces for impact. Instead, her lithe figure pushes right past me, until she stands before Prince Meleager. She’s over a head shorter than him, but the fear in his eyes matches exactly what I feel.
I glance back at the huntresses, standing in a perfect row. I’ve heard legends—even wanted to join them when I was younger—but they seem almost normal. Eight maidens, ranging in age from about ten to my age, maybe around seventeen or eighteen. They wear short, white chitons, cutting off halfway down their thighs. Leather sandals coil their way up and around their toned calves, and their hair is pulled back into simple braids.
But the huntresses of Artemis are anything but normal. These girls and nymphs are the steadfast companions of one of the pantheon’s fiercest goddesses. Chills race along my skin as they stare right back at me. A silvery glow seems to frame them. All their eyes are cruel, feral, and detached enough to make me keep my hands on my weapon. All of them except one, I realize.
The girl on the end, to my right, stands half-hidden by a bulky girl in front of her. She’s just a few inches out of line. Just enough to make me notice her. She has darker skin than most of them, and her face is too downturned for me to meet her eyes. I stare at her for longer than I should.
“Why would you kill my boar?”
I turn back around, my heart clawing its way up my throat. Meleager swallows visibly, and I walk on trembling legs toward them.
Artemis examines all the men with condescension, her pink lips twisted in a haughty sneer. “Didn’t anyone tell you not to go around slaying my creations?”
It wasn’t any of us, I want to say. But I can imagine how willing she’d be to listen to that story.
“My Lady—I’m so—” Meleager stumbles over his words. Wisely, the other men stay still and silent behind him. My heart clenches. I want to take his fear away, but I can hardly control my own.
“It was her.”
Artemis slides her gaze over to Hippomenes, and he throws a grin back at her. The goddess’s back goes rigid.
Meleager shoves Hippomenes’s shoulder hard and fast, his teeth gritted. “How dare you!”
My pulse, strangely, begins to slow. As Artemis turns toward me, I keep my eyes fixed on Hippomenes. So now he believes me. His sea-green eyes glint with dark humor.
“Did you now?” Artemis asks. She tilts her head, brown curls spilling down her shoulders. I swallow hard, very aware of her huntresses’ eyes burning into my back. There is no answer I could muster up to solve this problem, so I stick with my lies.
“Yes,” I say, surprised at my voice’s own evenness.
Artemis’s lips spread slowly, into something that might have looked like a smile on anybody else. She laughs once, then lilts, “All by yourself?”
“Yes.”
I hear the huntresses behind me whisper, but I can’t make out their words, and I don’t dare turn my back on this goddess. Artemis raises her fingers to her mouth and lets out a sharp whistle. It echoes harshly through the trees, and I raise my hands to my ears, despite myself.
Two wolves trod over from behind me to either side of her. I see Meleager run his hands through his hair, agonized. I’m too scared to move a muscle. Their fur is unnaturally white—silver, rather. And their eyes, that deep blue, match their owner’s precisely.
“That’s impressive,” she says. Though she gives me a compliment, her voice sounds like a knife’s blade. Sharp and unforgiving. “Absolutely stupid, but nonetheless . . . impressive.”
I open my mouth to thank her, then quickly shut it before I can speak. Words were never my strongest weapon and, as usual, they are best le
ft sheathed.
She turns suddenly back to the other men. “The youngest among you slew my beast. The youngest, and the only female among you. But you were ordered—no, hired—by that disgraceful King Oeneus to slay my beast. No?”
Artemis stares icily at all the men. I can’t fathom why the goddess has her back turned to me after I’ve just offered her my head on a stick. Even Artemis cannot seem to accept that I am just another member of this hunt, like Peleus or Laertes, or even Hippomenes. I taste unexpected bitterness on my tongue.
“We did not realize how . . . important this boar was to you,” Meleager stammers. His tan face is unusually pale and desperate. “What—what can we offer instead?”
The goddess grins at that, then stalks over to where the boar lies dead and skinned, flies hovering around its open flesh. She shakes her head, crossing her arms as she swivels back to face us. Or, rather, to face me.
“You could join us.” She says it casually, her voice flat, and my heart drops through my stomach.
I open my mouth, but Meleager beats me to it. “What?” he asks, his strangled voice caught somewhere between a question and an outburst. He strides toward the youthful goddess, his fears apparently forgotten. My mouth still hangs open, but I can’t even form a syllable. I’m not sure I’m even thinking in words or thoughts. I just . . .
The huntresses of Artemis.
I should feel honored—this is more than any Greek maiden could ask for. And I do feel honored, humbled, and a little horrified. I glance over at the huntresses, standing in their perfect row. They look well: toned legs, a silvery glow to their skin, and not a glimmer of fear in their vicious eyes. These girls and nymphs are Artemis’s companions, yes, but their uniformity makes my skin crawl. The goddess is still in charge of them. They go where she goes.
But Artemis is a maiden goddess. The whole point of following her is to avoid men and marriage. I have no desire to marry, but I do have desire. I swallow hard, and something settles in my stomach. I glance back to the goddess, who stares up at Meleager menacingly.
“If she managed to slay the Calydonian Boar, I want her fighting alongside me,” she says evenly, her chin upturned.
“Just a second ago, you were threatening us all for killing your beast!” Meleager shouts back. My heart twists, and I feel more and more sure of my gut. “Now you’re inviting her to join you?”
“I cannot,” I say. My voice is shaky and quiet, but it is enough. The world halts. The huntresses inhale sharply, and I want nothing more than to run from this all. I watch Artemis wheel toward me as dread pools into my stomach. Silence rings in my ears. Artemis’s eyes are pure ice. Shivers chase each other down my arms.
The goddess studies me intently, sizing up her prey. Without taking her eyes off me, she speaks to Meleager: “Princeling. Tell her she will join my huntresses.”
His jaw drops even further. I look over Artemis’s head and lock eyes with him. I can’t believe Artemis thinks he’s my authority. All this time, I’d always had the comfort of believing there was a goddess out there who would see me as equal to any man. And if Artemis cannot view me as such, who could?
When Meleager stays silent, Artemis rolls her eyes and takes another terrifying step close to me. “Atalanta. Do not be stupid. I know what you have endured at the hands of men.” Her voice rings clear and low, and dread pools in my stomach. I fight back a surge of memory. Do not think his name.
She thinks she can win me with that?
Not even close.
“Well,” I say, eyes stinging. “I endure.”
Hippomenes crowds his way into my vision. His eyes are poison—destructive and relentless. Half his face is covered by shadow, and his jawbone quivers with unfettered rage. His thick hands shove against my shoulders, but I catch myself before I fall.
“Do you understand who we’re dealing with?” Hippomenes’s voice is a carnal growl, and a part of me understands that I should be scared too. Not of him, but of the goddess shining through that young, nimble wisp of a girl. It’s jarring enough to even see a female—the fact that she is also divine makes my vision blur.
“But I don’t w—”
“You don’t what?” Hippomenes interrupts, his voice shriller than I’ve ever heard. “We are far past want, Atalanta.”
Meleager opens and shuts his eyes, his chest heaving violently. I want to reach out and steady him. “I will not make you do what you cannot do, Atalanta.” Meleager hardly looks at me, and I know what he means. He understands that how I feel for him is proof enough that I could never join Artemis. And I have no desire to swear myself off to a goddess who thinks she can bait me through trauma.
But her wolves begin to growl, low and menacing, a rumbling noise that makes all the men turn to me with dread. Artemis is more than capable of destruction. If I say no to her offer, we will all be killed.
Hippomenes’s hand moves to his scabbard, and the taut lines of his face tell me he is done waiting. The worst part is, he’s right. It doesn’t matter what I want; this decision is far bigger than me. The morning air is cool, and a breeze against my neck leaves me shivering. I’m drenched in sweat.
“Lady Artemis,” I say, voice ragged. “I didn’t even—” I almost tell her the truth. I didn’t even kill the boar. None of us did. But with Hippomenes’s hands clasping the hilt of his blade so tightly, I realize I have enemies on either side of me. “Is there any other way?”
Artemis’s eyebrows shoot up. Her features are round and almost pleasant with youth, but they still inject my veins with adrenaline. I shift my shoulders, just to make sure my quiver is still strapped to my back.
Though I’m not sure what good my arrows will do against an Olympian.
Artemis’s smile cuts sharper than a knife. “Take a wild guess.”
I exhale, and try to make myself agree to her terms. Meleager cannot die, especially not for me. I attempt to muster some sympathy for the other men. Laertes’s young son, Odysseus. He needs to see his father again. Peleus is neither cruel nor kind to me. But Hippomenes? I find it hard to resign myself to servitude for his safety.
For once, all the men see me. They stare at me, eyes wide and pleading, obvious fear stretching their faces and straining their muscles. It’s strange, intoxicating, wonderful, and horrifying. The world tilts, and no matter what I say, I know it will not right itself.
“I am not known for my patience, huntress,” Artemis says, soft and gentle, as if she’s speaking only to me. As if she cares for anything other than how well I can aim a bow or how fast I can move my legs.
“I’m not sure I’m entirely qualified to be your huntress, my Lady.” I scarcely believe the sound of my own voice. Purposefully, I train my eyes on hers. It’s less obvious than glancing at the prince.
If I were truly doing this for him, I would agree to her terms, sign my life away, and save him. But I am not doing this for him. If I love him—and I think I might—then I am ineligible to accept Artemis’s offer. Even if I did not, this is not how I want to join her: backed into a corner, taunted with my worst memories, in front of men and maidens with no regard for my heart. I’m terrified, but I feel no regret, even as the faint hum of bows being primed hums through the clearing.
“Are you saying no, Atalanta?” The goddess’s blue eyes are equal parts amused and shocked.
Hippomenes laughs, but it sounds desperate and disbelieving. “My gods, Atalanta. So this is how we die, then? Over your stupid pride?”
I start to reach for my bow. “No one said anything about dying.”
“Meleager, tell her!” Hippomenes roars. Artemis’s lips slide into a grin, and as she raises her own bow, she shakes her head. She looks wholly unsurprised.
I keep my eyes locked on the goddess. I don’t intend to sign away my life quite so easily. Still, Meleager’s heaving breaths are a burden on my ears, just as they reaffirm that there is no way I
can join Artemis. Not if just the sound of him makes me still.
“I won’t do it,” Meleager says, voice catching. Hippomenes growls, but I don’t dare move one muscle. “I could never convince her.”
The goddess’s blue eyes land on me, and the huntresses behind her stand in an unwavering, repetitive row of white tunics, gleaming weapons, and proud eyes. But their bodies are painted in obedience, in everything from their place behind Artemis to their precise positions beside each other, every maiden practiced and perfect.
Hippomenes drags out a haggard breath. At first, I think he’s preparing for the onslaught of battling divine forces, but then his voice rings out from behind me.
“Then I’ll give her a reason to.”
Before he moves, a roaring hollowness empties my head, and it’s as if I can see Hippomenes’s hands, his sword, his poisonous glare—all pointed at Meleager—before I turn around.
Before I can stop him.
I make out the faintest sliver of Artemis’s smile as I twist my body around, posture and meticulous stillness forgotten. Meleager doesn’t scream, but he groans an exhale, and the first thing I see is red. And then my eyes stick on the hilt of Hippomenes’s knife—buried so deeply in Meleager’s core that the blade is hidden. My ears ring, and my hand acts before anything else. It bolts straight for the knife that caused all of this. I raise it, primed to strike, my mind collapsing all the while. Hippomenes yanks out his knife, blindingly scarlet, and his eyes grow full with fear.
Hippomenes says, “Atalanta.”
I hear his voice halfway. It’s low and toneless, and I can’t tell what he means to say. I don’t care what he means to say. I let my gaze flick down to the dusty earth below and wish I hadn’t. Meleager fights still—his chest seizing, his dark eyes flitting wildly. But a slow trail of blood leaks out of the corner of his mouth, a sign I’ve seen enough to know he’s already gone.
My breath hitches. I feel sharp pain arc through me as I crash to my knees. My vision blurs, the huntresses and hunters and morning sun all crowding around me. I grip the hilt of the knife hard until my vision can clear. Meleager’s eyes are frozen, his mouth still hanging open with words unsaid.
Outrun the Wind Page 3
