“Well.” Artemis’s young voice bounces above me, unworried and unfazed. I don’t care to look to the goddess. “Interesting.”
Deep in my veins, I feel my blood slowly become fire. I know she must be moving toward me, to capture me, restrain me, something.
But I hardly notice. I rise to my feet, wrapped in wrath. My hand moves on a command of its own, jerking forward with knife poised, my body falling after it. I lock eyes with Hippomenes, his taut expression growing closer, until somebody slams into me from the side.
“No!” I scream. I stagger, leaning dangerously close to where Meleager lies, until my legs catch me. I whirl around. Laertes stares at me with those old, dark eyes. Suspicion and sorrow emanate through the wrinkles crowding around them. He shoves me again, harder, but this time toward the woods.
“Go.”
His voice is quiet and breathless, but Artemis hears it all the same. Her huntresses begin to stalk toward me, in haunting unison. I briefly wonder why their weapons aren’t drawn this time, until I remember they have no men left to fight with Meleager dead. Hippomenes and the others will gladly turn me over now. Unless I—
“Go!” His voice grows no louder, but its intensity reverberates through the empty forest. A strangled sob gets stuck halfway to my throat as I glance down at Meleager. Sudden tears, bright and hot, blur him into red. The men stay far from me—especially Hippomenes—as they try to remove themselves from the confrontation.
I stare at each of them, wondering if they’ll do anything to stop the girls moving toward me. Laertes’s face grows urgent, tight and bursting. The lightest touch of a hand grazes my shoulder, and I bolt.
I’m not even certain if it was one of Artemis’s maidens. But my whole being responds, my mind locking one command into place: run. My legs follow suit, tearing into the rugged earth beneath me, the speed that earned me a spot in that damned hunt finally realized.
Over the crashing sounds of my gasping breath and the leaves crunching in my wake, I realize that strangely and miraculously, I don’t hear pursuit. Confused relief seeps in, and I slow my speed by a fraction. I risk one glance over my shoulder, to find that I am alone in these strange woods.
I face forward again, pouring on speed. Alone is a feeling I’d almost let myself forget.
CHAPTER FOUR
Kahina
I watch as Atalanta vanishes from the clearing like one of her arrows. She propels herself away from us, unstoppable and unrelenting. I catch one last glint of her bright hair as she melts into the shadows of the forest, and Artemis lets out a frustrated sigh.
As much as I hate Atalanta, my veins surge and my limbs strain to follow her. I should run, too. My golden knife, strapped at my hip, aches for its missing twin. A part of me wonders why Artemis isn’t demanding pursuit.
Isidora subtly touches my hand, like she’s heard me, and she shoulders her way a little bit in front of me. Two of the remaining three men throw their belongings over their shoulders. Their packs spill and they leave canteens and weapons behind, but they’re smart. Smart enough to run, like Atalanta did.
Except for one. My cousin.
My heart stutters at the sight of him after all these years. Hippomenes stares at Artemis with a fraction of fear. I duck farther behind Nikoleta and Isidora. If he sees me, if that pirate even looks at me . . .
Artemis knows quite well who Hippomenes is. But her eyes are still far-off, studying the empty space Atalanta left behind with narrowed eyes and a tight jaw. I know she wanted her to be hers. Badly.
And I want Atalanta to emerge from the trees and accept Artemis’s offer. Badly.
But she ran away, taking my last chance at redemption with her. Fury reigns in my gut, crowding out any sympathy I felt when that prince crashed into the ground.
Artemis huffs a short sigh and fixes her gaze back on Hippomenes. He hadn’t watched Atalanta as she ran, and he doesn’t seem to care about the man he’s just stabbed beneath him. The sight of him—his sharp jaw and poison-green eyes—is sickening in its familiarity. It’s been two years since I last saw those eyes. Two years since Isidora and the huntresses freed me from Delphi. Two years since the goddess presented me with those sharp, golden blades—the first of many gifts.
“Even for you,” Artemis says to Hippomenes, “This is far. Have you run out of girls to sell to Delphi? Is this why you’re out gallivanting with this traitor?”
Artemis means Meleager, whose father had forgotten a vow to honor her in last moon’s harvest festival. I never believed it warranted her creation of the boar, but I owe far too much to say anything.
Hippomenes shoots her a half-smile, and my stomach withers. Nikoleta stands on the other side of me, and I duck my head down and focus on her sandaled feet. Anything but him.
“Your brother keeps me busy,” he replies evenly. I nearly crush my fists as I clench them.
“My brother,” Artemis spits. She takes a step forward, and though her chin only just reaches Hippomenes’s chest, Artemis seems to tower over him. Hippomenes raises his eyebrows down at her, but he swallows visibly as she asks, “You enjoy playing pirate slave-trader for your master, do you?”
Hippomenes’s jaw tightens. “They are not slaves. Oracles are well-respected and well-paid. It’s an honor to serve for the god of Delphi.”
“Apollo trained you well.” Artemis shakes her head at him twice, then swivels hard on her heels. She steps back in line with us. Miraculously, Hippomenes doesn’t glance my way. And if he did, I know my goddess will protect me. She swore to. “I should kill you.”
I hear Nikoleta inhale slowly beside me, her body tensing with the possibility of a fight.
“None of us killed your beast, my Lady,” Hippomenes says. His voice is even, practiced, and detached. “Those who did are already dead”—he kicks a lazy foot in the direction of Meleager, then nods his head toward the thick trees behind him—“or ran far away.”
Artemis crosses her arms. She must know that I threw that knife—she gave them to me, after all. This is just damage control. Hippomenes doesn’t smile exactly, but his eyes crinkle slightly, and he offers an almost-sympathetic shrug.
“And if I die by your hands,” he says. “You know the first place my master will come looking.”
He doesn’t look to me or Nikoleta, but the implication explodes through the clearing. The sunlight darting through the trees feels cold and clammy. I look to Artemis, who stares Hippomenes down with contempt—and an incongruous flash of resignation.
“You have thirty seconds,” she snarls. Hippomenes glances down at Meleager; his features remain unchanged, and he walks in the direction the other men ran. Every step of his is crushingly loud. Broken twigs and fallen leaves crumble in his wake, and Artemis practically vibrates with obvious rage.
I don’t breathe until his silhouette fades into shadow.
There are eight maidens who serve the Lady Artemis, and she looks younger than most of us. Her brilliant blue eyes are more reminiscent of her brother Apollo’s domain—a midday sky—but her skin is iridescent like the moon and stars, and she looks every bit like the forested and cosmic deity she is.
We set up camp about a mile away from the clearing where Meleager lies forgotten. As we set up, a few of the huntresses cut their eyes to me; I see skepticism intermingled with judgment, and a part of me knows it’s not misplaced.
“Kahina.” Artemis speaks without turning to face us. My name drops from her mouth like a stone. She glances over her shoulder at my waist, at the half-empty scabbard. Isidora tenses beside me and steps forward, but Artemis flips a dismissive hand.
“I know it was you who threw that knife.”
“To save Atalanta,” I rush, bolting to my feet. Think, Kahina. What does Artemis want to hear? “I thought—I remembered you speaking of Atalanta, weeks ago. You admire her. And she was going to be killed. I only meant to save her . .
. for you.”
A lie from start to finish. I lack Isidora’s amiability, and Nikoleta’s domineering strength. Artemis turns to face me and tilts her head, and pent-up fear rushes in from a broken dam. My legs go weak, and I fall to my knees. I touch my forehead to the leafy dirt. I grit my teeth—I hate speaking from the ground, but I will do what it takes to make her see that I’m not a traitor. She’s the only thing keeping me safe from her brother.
“Please,” I whisper, but I cannot finish the thought. Please what? There’s no easy defense for me to claim. I’m glad I can’t see the other huntresses, the girls and nymphs I’ve tried so hard to win over for two years. I can’t go back to before. I hear the strained voices of girls in a dark, dark temple.
I can’t go back to before.
I realize my breaths are heaving sobs. Someone pushes my shoulder, flipping me onto my back. I stare up, blinking back flowing tears, and see the silhouette of Artemis above me, framed by the constellations and moonlight soaring across the horizon. She is a goddess. I should have obeyed, I should have obeyed, I should have—
“Get up,” she mutters. I can’t move. Artemis jerks her head, and the nymph Kassandra grabs me and pulls me to my feet. I think I hear Isidora cry for her to stop, but all I see is Artemis, her delicate features twisted and cruel. I make myself meet her eyes. “We saved you.”
The words leave me senseless with panic.
“And you . . . allowed . . . my boar to be murdered.”
Nikoleta straightens. “Arte—”
“What was your job?” Artemis yells to me. Even Nikoleta winces. “Tell me!”
I clench my jaw hard. “Not to let them touch your boar,” I manage.
She nods emphatically. “Excellent memory. And yet, Kahina, you thought you should save Atalanta.”
“Because you like her,” I groan. My vision swims with fire and darkness. “You like her.”
“But she was not your mission.” Artemis clenches her jaw. She has pity and frustration in her eyes. “King Oeneus was meant to understand me, and now my boar is dead. Do you understand?
I shrug helplessly, horror overcoming me. I should’ve killed Atalanta. I should’ve stabbed her myself.
“You’ll leave at dawn,” she spits. Terror washes over me.
“And go where?” Isidora demands, moving daringly close to Artemis. Her voice is piercing. Artemis’s eyes glow bright with anger. She glances at Isidora for a few moments, studying the dark tresses that spiral down her back, the amber tint to her eyes.
“You should be glad,” Artemis tells her. “Kahina will go to Arkadia.”
A distant memory fires in my mind: Isidora, Nikoleta, and I gathered over the fire of one of our camps on one of our hunts, splitting a hunk of deer meat. Isidora had told us of a place called Arkadia, nestled into the middle of the mountainous Peloponnese. It had been her home, and she spoke of it with the proud sort of love that a home breeds—but she left it years ago to be a huntress, and never told us why.
Isidora’s mouth hangs open, and her eyes grow unfocused, locked on some forgotten horizon. Nikoleta glances uneasily between Isidora and Artemis. “And why, exactly, is Kahina going there? Alone?”
“My brother,” Artemis mutters, for at least the twentieth time today. She focuses her attention back on the bonfire, as if those two words are a complete explanation.
Nikoleta groans an exhale and heaves herself down onto a fallen log. Her hair is the color of trampled dust, and it hangs straight and thick down her shoulders. “Apollo’s temple?”
Artemis cuts a glance at her. “My brother’s influence is spreading too far. He needs to be stopped. One damn temple of his is too many. Until he changes how he runs Delphi—” She glances at the sky, her brother’s domain. “You saw how many girls he has. How many he uses to spout his ridiculous prophecies.”
Nikoleta stares at the flames without speaking. Behind her, Isidora’s cheeks are red enough to see in the dim firelight. Her hands twitch an anxious rhythm across her thighs. “Some other temple of his, then. Not Arkadia’s.”
“You know it has to be this one, Isidora.” If I’m not mistaken, the goddess sounds almost apologetic. She doesn’t look to me as she says, “I need to know my huntresses are loyal.”
My brain leaps desperately from word to word, trying to figure out what I must do to regain her favor. This hunt is the only thing between me and Apollo, the only thing between me and returning home to Corinth, and now I can have neither. I’ve killed her beast—I know this, and I cannot change it. I feel Artemis examining me, maybe trying hard to find any sign of disloyalty. I do my best to meet her eyes, and the iciness melts slightly.
The goddess lets out a tired sigh. “Besides, if Hippomenes tells my brother that you’re still with us, it’s safest that you go somewhere far from here.”
I stare at her, not knowing if I should plead to stay or thank her. I glance at all the girls pretending not to listen to us, standing on the fringes of the bonfire. I wonder if they feel sorry for me. I wonder if they’ll miss me, or even want me to come back.
Nikoleta and Isidora’s voices fall soft, and the three of them take a few steps backward. They speak with the goddess, their voices soft and imploring—fighting for my sake, as they’ve been fighting since the day they found me. Something in my stomach unravels. I won’t have them grovel for me. This is my battle.
If Artemis doubts my loyalty, I will show it to her tenfold. I will go to Arkadia, and do whatever she tells me. And with a little luck, I’ll be back alongside the huntresses soon, and I will learn to hunt with one knife. I grab its hilt and clear my throat, cutting Isidora off mid-sentence. I stare into Artemis’s wary eyes.
“Tell me what I must do.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Atalanta
Adrenaline still courses through every vein, and my limbs feel feather-light. It’s what I imagine flying must be like. I know my legs will pay for this later. My limbs are swift, but my mind has never weighed heavier. A sudden fear—a jolting shock, really—hits me as soon as the thick Calydonian woods give way to sun-dried hills. I don’t dare slow down, but I know I’ve become a target here in these sparse, rolling lands.
At least I can see behind me. I risk a glance back to the woods, my neck straining as untethered speed carries me forward. Nobody breaks through the tree line—not yet. Huntresses, Hippomenes. The whole world wraps me into it, tightly smothering out everything within me besides a cold, far-reaching fear.
It’s as if the last two years never happened. I’m fifteen again, and it’s the first time I was fast. I’d always been a quick girl, raised to keep up or be left behind. But it wasn’t until that day that I had learned exactly how to become fast.
I make myself sprint as far as the next patch of trees. I slow to a run, to a jog, to a walk. And I collapse to my knees.
My dreams are a haggard haze of men’s voices. At first, I think I can make out different ones: Hippomenes, Meleager, the hunters. But in the end, they’re all the same.
Atalanta, he says. It’s a demand. A question, an offer, a condemnation—all at once. A figure takes shape, bending dust and shadow. I start to run, building up speed, but his voice is always right behind me, persistent and undying.
Atalanta, Atalanta, Atalanta. My legs turn to lead.
After four more sunrises drag themselves above the horizon, I see a person. I can just make out a dusty path carved upward along a mountain, jutting to the sky like it intends to touch it. My legs ache, but I make myself move toward the solitary figure, climbing up the mountain.
It’s not him I want to reach, but the road. My lips are cracked and dry, and my stomach roils with a savage hunger. I hadn’t been prepared to run off completely alone, with nothing more than the quiver on my back. I’ll need supplies if I’m going to survive on my own—just as I did for two years before meeting Meleager.
&nb
sp; A sudden flash of his wide smile and dimpled cheeks forces me to stop. The aching in my legs spreads through my whole body—my mind, my heart. I shut my eyes tight to the glaring sun. A warm gust of wind moves through my tangled hair. The knotted mess fell out of its braid days ago.
The road, Atalanta. Just make it to the road.
When I left for the Calydonian Hunt, I had every intention of returning victorious or dying with my bow primed. I didn’t pack more than a canteen and a few weeks’ worth of provisions, and now they’re laying forgotten somewhere in the Calydonian forest. I grit my teeth and open my eyes to the bright light. The man is farther along now, and I realize just how far up the road leads.
A whole cluster of soaring mountains surges behind the one he treks up. More movement catches my eye; as the man I’ve been watching disappears around the bend, a whole slew of men emerges from the road behind him.
Now, curiosity surges alongside my need. I walk faster, throwing my hood across my head so it’s not absolutely overt that I’m a girl traveling alone.
Soon enough, the rugged earth beneath gives way to a paved, compact road. I let the group of men go ahead of me. I don’t want to invite any attention, and as the road slopes up and up, I don’t get any.
A rumble of noise swells as I climb higher. The pace of the men before me grows slow and labored. I pass them soon enough, though even my breath starts coming quicker. I focus my gaze straight up and ahead. Eventually, my mind dims back to the steady, toneless hum that’s reigned since the day I ran.
Why had I ever believed that men could change? That they wouldn’t hurt me, take everything from me, as soon as they realize I won’t be who they want? I clench my fists as I remember how even Artemis had looked to Meleager, thinking he could make up my mind for me.
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