My breath hitches. Phelix keeps moving forward, but I stay where I am, standing on shaking legs. Atalanta scans the crowd, and doesn’t even stop as her gray eyes pass over me. She’s here. She’s here.
I should be glad she doesn’t recognize me. It makes my job easier, right? But the corners of my eyes sting. I don’t know what I’m feeling. I just know I’ve never felt so . . . much before. Hatred, numbness, and a million things no word could pin down. I watch Phelix lean closer to his sister, whispering some introduction. I can hear nothing, but I see that her mouth stays firmly shut. She drinks him in, and I can tell she’s trying to look fierce. But there’s an innocent curiosity within her lingering gaze, something I can sense from yards away.
I hear Iasus’s voice—kind, but taut with tension—as he faces the Arkadians. “At long last, we have found her. After years of searching, I am pleased to bring our princess back home. Princess Atalanta!”
The gathered crowd erupts into cheers, but it’s clear they don’t understand the weight that name carries. Not the way Artemis and her huntresses knew and feared her. Their faces are easily contented, and if they knew what this girl was capable of, they would have hidden. I glance back at her, my blood still simmering. Atalanta looks utterly unhinged as she takes in the spectacle; she’s a wild animal, born and raised. Princess. I laugh bitterly, but it’s swallowed up by the applause.
Nora approaches Iasus, and they share a small smile. But when she leans in to whisper in his ear, his eyes flick from Phelix to me. My heart slows. His eyes are gray like his daughter’s, and he nods to Nora carefully.
“Atalanta has had a long journey,” he proclaims loudly. “We will adjourn to the palace, and will see you all later this evening for a celebratory feast!”
The crowd cheers again, and slowly disperses, casting curious glances at Atalanta as they leave. She still hasn’t said a word, and stands firmly by her father. The warrior looks entirely out of place in civilization. Phelix stands awkwardly beside her. Before now, all I saw in him were his similarities to her. But now, seeing them side-by-side, the differences are obvious. They share that daunting height and gold-tinted hair, but Phelix’s features are more rounded. Even without a smile across his lips, he manages to look passive, maybe even pleasant. His sister looks downright murderous.
“Excuse me,” Iasus says, and stupidly, I glance to him. “You, ah, can come with us.” Iasus says this with a strained and confused smile, clearly not wanting to make a scene. Phelix shrugs at me. Atalanta doesn’t even glance in my direction; she’s swiveling around, as if noticing the thick trees and cascading hills for the first time. Her lips are slightly parted, as if in awe.
I grit my teeth. It’s all her fault, this is all her fault. I briefly but seriously consider running away and forging a new life alongside the forest animals. But with the way Iasus and Nora are regarding me, I know I’m trapped. I was sent here. Surely, Artemis has not sent me to my own death. I cling to that scrap of logic, and sighing internally, brace myself as I walk slowly toward them.
Iasus tilts his head. “Nora tells me you are my messenger,” he begins. Now that we are alone, his voice has lost much of its easy warmth. “I have never had one. Yet, the information about the arrival you gave her was correct.”
I stare at him, then Nora, and to Phelix, my mouth open but unspeaking. I don’t even know how to begin to explain it—the power still within me. What do they want to hear? I ask myself desperately. But there’s the curse again—I know all the answers to all the questions but mine. Atalanta looks over to me, her gaze landing on me without recognition.
I know rationally that there was no way she could have seen me. If she knew that I was the only reason she could stand before all these people and have a crown thrown on her head . . . I rip my gaze from hers. It hurts too much.
“Perhaps we should continue this conversation inside,” Nora suggests, frowning.
“Yes, indeed,” Iasus agrees, relief and confusion warring on his face. Atalanta stays silent, still casually regarding me. I don’t look at her, but I feel her gaze like a living thing writhing along my skin. I detest the sensation as much as I do her. “Come along.”
Begrudgingly, I follow Nora and Iasus as they walk up the marble steps and through the massive doorway. Atalanta falters beneath us, and Phelix has to coax her to follow. She nods quickly, as if she’s the servant around here.
I walk faster as we make our way through the wide expanse of the palace’s main entry rooms, wanting to put as much distance between myself and Atalanta as possible. Iasus leads us to the long, dark, wooden dining table and sprawls into the head chair. Nora sits beside him, a gesture I find shocking and somehow refreshing. Phelix, Atalanta, and I stay standing, until he motions for us to sit opposite Nora.
Atalanta takes the seat closest to her father, and I awkwardly slide into the chair to her left, positive she can feel the waves of hatred I’ve sent pouring her way. Phelix sits on my other side, staring hard at his sister, maybe examining her to find any similarities. They share the same hard-set jaw, but his dark eyes are wide-open and perceptive, where hers are pale and guarded. Iasus leans forward, bracing his sturdy arms on the table. His mouth draws into a tight, thin line. The warm king I’d seen outside begins to melt away. He glances at us all in turn, until his eyes lock on mine. His face isn’t cruel, but his voice is. “Who are you?”
I will stick to the truth for as long as I am allowed. “Kahina,” I reply steadily.
“And, Kahina, why are you here?” he shoots back. I swallow. Atalanta twirls a strand of her golden hair, unconcerned.
“To work,” I reply, considerably less steadily. I fear the voice inside me could easily spit out the truth of Artemis’s instructions, or how I’m the one responsible for the fact that Arkadia even has a princess. But I focus on my words until my jaw quivers, and I still speak the truth; I am here to work. A partial truth, at least.
“Hmm.”
Nora chooses this moment to intervene. “She’s terrible in the kitchens.”
“Thank you,” I mutter. “Thank you for that.” Beside me, Atalanta is either laughing softly or choking. I don’t look to confirm.
“But,” Nora continues, glaring at me. “Phelix seems to think she’s good in the stables.”
“The stables?” Iasus asks. He stares at the ceiling for a moment. “By Zeus, what would the Arkadians say?” I can’t help but glance to Nora. Do the Arkadians talk of her relationship with him? I think I can sense Atalanta tense beside me, but the moment passes quickly. “No, that won’t do. I’m quite afraid I have more servants than I know what to do with.”
He’s going to tell me to leave. It’s a little relieving, but mostly terrifying—I have to complete my task, or I’ve got no chance of getting back to the Hunt. No chance of safety from Apollo.
“But we do have a new arrival,” he says, his voice airing on conspiracy. My nerves sing. “And as princess, she is permitted to hire on any servants she chooses.” He gestures to me with a gracious flip of his hand, as if offering me as a trophy to Atalanta. Servant? I recoil. She turns over her shoulder to study me.
“How old are you?” she asks. It’s the first time I’ve heard her voice. It’s smoother than I’d imagined, but still low and tentative.
My throat closes up, but when she arches an eyebrow condescendingly, I spit out, “Eighteen.”
“And I’m seventeen,” she says, then glances at her hands. “I think.” I narrow my eyes, and she glances back at her father. “I could have a . . . what are they called? Lieutenants?”
“You mean a handmaiden?” Nora asks, somewhat incredulously. Atalanta nods. Iasus opens his mouth to speak, but I stand up, my chair scraping loudly in the cavernous room.
“No!” I exclaim. They all glance up at me, surprised. “Look, I’m fine with the stables. Really! Or maybe I’ll go see if any of the other Arkadians need help.”
<
br /> Iasus leans back, and crosses his arms. “With everyone back, we have more than enough people to take care of the stables. The Arkadians cannot hire on help, not with the harvests as they are. And my daughter wants you for a handmaiden.”
Iasus delivers the last sentence like a killing blow, as if it’s the ultimate tipping point. I want to laugh. His daughter is precisely what makes me want to leave this place. Iasus’s face softens, and he touches my shoulders gently. “Kahina, please. Stay for a while—my daughter needs the companionship and knowledge of a young woman her age, after her . . . past.”
An unseen tension threads between him and Atalanta, strong enough that I know Nora and Phelix must feel it as well. I think of the bitter winds approaching, and the idyllic valley the estate is nestled within. Phelix, and even Nora, who were so quick to trust me. Somehow, maybe, they can outweigh the frustration Atalanta brings. I glance over to Phelix, and he gives me a small smile. He hasn’t spoken or been spoken to at all.
I sigh a little, realizing that if I leave, Nikoleta and Isidora will have no idea where to find me again. I glance from Phelix back to Iasus. I nod once, my blood still simmering in my veins. “I will try.”
He beams, and beckons between me and his daughter. “Excellent. Get acquainted. Perhaps show her around the grounds? Nora, work on ensuring her suite is set up. Come with me, Phelix.” And with one final, cautious glance at Atalanta, as if he’s making sure she’s actually here, the king strides out into the courtyard. Phelix follows, several steps behind.
Nora’s eyes are fixed on the doorway Iasus left from. I clear my throat. “Uh, he does know I only arrived a day ago, right?”
The older woman shakes her head, shrugging. “He’s got the mind of a warrior, not a scholar. You’ll figure it out. Go explore.” She pauses, glancing upstairs at the rooms for nobility. “Besides, I need at least another hour to fix up your suite, princess.”
Nora starts to walk away, and guilt pools with every step she takes “Nora!” I call after her. “I’m sorry for lying.”
She turns back, her graying hair shifting over her shoulders. Guilt shifts into fear as Nora levels my gaze. “Iasus is too trusting. Maybe you are just looking for work, but that doesn’t change the fact that you knew precisely when he would return.”
“I was only guessing!” I answer feebly. It sounds weak, even to me.
She narrows her eyes. “I’ll be watching you, Kahina.” Like an afterthought, she bows slightly to Atalanta. Nora stares at her for a long beat. “Nice to have you back, princess.”
Atalanta nods, clearly confused. We watch as Nora makes her way up the stairs, into the open upper story of the palace. When she disappears down a hallway, Atalanta turns to me. I take a step back instinctively. She’s a good three or four inches taller than me, and the muscle cording her body makes it clear she was raised a warrior. Still, she’s undeniably female. Though she’s only in a simple tunic, I know once she’s in the dyed and folded dresses of nobility, she’ll get married off in no time at all, saving her whole damn estate. I wonder if she’s been made aware of her role.
She twists her lips, searching for something to say. I cross my arms. I’ll never bow like Nora did.
“I’m Atalanta,” she announces finally.
“I had no idea,” I deadpan back. Her face, all high cheekbones and sprinkled freckles, falls slightly. Good. I push my way past her, leading back to the front door. “Come on,” I tell her, without turning around. “Time for a tour.”
It only takes about fifteen minutes for me to get totally lost. We’re somewhere in the outskirts of the property, but I’ve pushed us past the tree line too far to remember which way we came from. But I’m not going to admit it to her. I wrack my brain for any of Lady Artemis’s navigation skills. Unfortunately, almost all of them rely on the nighttime constellations, and I am not spending six hours out here with Atalanta.
Atalanta either doesn’t know or care that I’ve gotten us lost. Her mouth is continuously unhinged; she’s enthralled by the nature and beauty that I have to admit is beyond impressive. She kneels down to study the bottom of an enormous oak tree, tracing the winding roots that poke above the rich earth. I roll my eyes. I almost prefer the feral beast that broke out of the wagon.
I want to grab her shoulders and tell her everything. That I’m a huntress of Artemis. That it was me who saved her sorry life. That this is my reward for it. But I don’t even want to imagine how much controversy that would cause; if Iasus, or anyone, knew that Arkadia was harboring a banished huntress with dangerous ties to Delphi? I’d be executed on the spot.
Still, that might be a better deal than being lost in the wilderness with a girl who won’t stop admiring every flower and bird we come across. I hadn’t expected that a warrior famed for her ruthlessness would be so distractible. I sigh in frustration, leaning against a tree trunk. Atalanta stands, plucking a pink wildflower from the ground. It’s one of the stragglers—the air already has a harshness indicative of a cold winter ahead. She twirls the stem around her palm until it snaps. Atalanta lets the petals fall to the earth as she asks, “When were you planning on telling me we’re lost?”
“I—”
She laughs. “Kahina. It’s fine. You just arrived here, like me.”
I don’t like that she’s laughing. I don’t like that she’s lumped the two of us together, as if we’re anything alike. I march indignantly in the direction I’m most certain is correct, only to hear more laughter. I freeze, wheeling on her. She only smiles, like we’re sharing a joke. Atalanta points behind her. “It’s this way.”
“How would you know?” I snap.
She clearly doesn’t care that I’m furious. I realize her braid is still perfect, still precisely how it was the last time I saw her. She shrugs. “I was raised by hunters. They taught me much about the world and its turnings.”
“So you don’t remember your father?”
I don’t know why I asked. That traitorous curiosity again, I guess. Atalanta winces, looking down at her callused feet. “No. I must have been . . . very young. I don’t remember anything from before the hunters.”
Her face goes blank for a moment, but she shakes her head once. “They raised me. Taught me everything I know. Until I . . . left.”
I sense she’s not telling me everything, but I don’t care. I know the rest of her story. Her athleticism became so renowned that Prince Meleager asked her to join the hunt for the Calydonian Boar, and I certainly know how that hunt ended.
“My father found me at Delphi,” she continues, and I notice her fingertips are stained pink from the flower petals. “I knew it was him, right away. I can’t believe he found me, after so many years.” She smiles, incredulous. “He apparently heard my description and thought it was worth a shot to see if I was her. And here I am.”
“Is it nice?” I find myself asking. “To find your family?”
Her voice softens. “Very.”
The ache in my chest expands, and I stretch my hands over my heart, willing it away. The pain is a familiar one: return to my family and risk my recapture. Stay with my friends and Artemis, and gain her protection. Now I have neither, and Corinth has never felt further away. Atalanta gets to be with her father and have a home where she is known and loved. Jealousy courses through my veins, and it is so much worse than hate.
The light through the branches turns rich with gold. The trees are turning gold, too; others show hues of red and orange. The leaves are fire, and soon they’ll burn themselves away. And in that bitter cold, I’ll be here—trapped between envy and rage, suffocating in her overwhelming presence. Unless I can find a way to ruin Phelix’s temple. Atalanta offers me a smile, but I don’t bother returning it.
“Home is this way,” she says, and turns around. I hate what she has done to me, but this is perhaps the worst of all—that she can say home and know exactly where she’s going.
CHAPTER NINE
Atalanta
I stay quiet for most of my tour of Arkadia. Kahina clearly doesn’t seem to be talkative either—paranoia lingers at the fringe of my thoughts. Have I insulted her somehow? Maybe I shouldn’t have asked her to be a handmaiden. I hardly understand what that even means.
Arkadia is beautiful, in most aspects. The main palace is modest, and much smaller than Meleager’s in Calydon. Still, it glitters in a way that’s too similar to the temples of Delphi. After a lifetime hunting in thick forests, the soaring, open sky above me leaves me breathless. Mountains fringe the distance, and straggling flowers shoot up in the grass and dirt. Rows of olive trees line most of the flat, main area of the polis, though they seem thin and fruitless.
My mind is at war against itself. Shock, lingering grief, and nerves all fight for attention, but I keep my jaw clenched shut. King Iasus—Father, I have to remind myself—traveled for weeks to find me, and to bring me back. I can’t have him think he made a mistake.
I cut a sidelong glance at Kahina as I lead us back to Father’s palace. She keeps her brown eyes focused straight ahead, but I get the sense that she knows I’m looking at her. I clear my throat, but I’m not sure what to say—in my whole life, I’ve hardly spent more than five or ten minutes in the company of another woman. I want to speak to her, but I know I’ll mess it up. I’ve already stared too long. I focus ahead, pushing through a cluster of olive trees. I hold the branches back for Kahina, but she still won’t meet my eyes. Her hair is shorter and coarser than mine, tied behind her neck in a tight bun. She wears a long, white chiton that hangs almost down to her ankles. Suddenly self-conscious, I pull down the hem of mine, which only cuts halfway down my thighs.
Once the palace is in sight, Kahina stops abruptly. “Well. There’s your palace. Enjoy your suite.”
Outrun the Wind Page 8
