by Morgan Rice
“What is the purpose of this training?” she asked.
“Thanos sent me to you. A gift to make you strong. To give you what you so craved: a chance to learn to fight. To truly fight.”
A shrill of joy erupted in her chest, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe.
“Do you accept, or do I need to tell him that you so respectfully declined?” he asked, a twinkle in his eye.
“I accept. I accept,” she said.
“Well then. If you are ready, let us begin.”
She nodded and turned toward her sword to pick it up.
“No!” Isel said.
Startled, Ceres swiveled around.
“First, you must learn how to die.”
Puzzled, Ceres squinted her eyes.
“Stand in the center of the practice arena,” he said, pointing his sword toward it.
Ceres followed his instructions, and once she had taken her place, he walked a slow circle around her.
“Royal combatlords are expected to behave a certain way,” he said. “When you represent the king, the Empire, a standard of excellence is required of you.”
She nodded.
“There are specific death rituals, and you are expected to die bravely, with no trace of fear, offering yourself to cold-blooded murder.”
“I understand,” she said.
He faced her, his hands clasped behind his back.
“I see a lot of fear in your eyes,” he said. “Your first lesson is to eradicate any traces of vulnerability, of gentleness, and most importantly, of fear from your countenance.”
He stepped closer.
“Your mind is on other things, in other places. When you are with me, no one and no thing else exists anywhere!” he yelled with passion in his voice.
“Yes, Master Isel.”
“To be a contender, as a girl, you must work twice as hard, three times as hard as the men, and if they sense any weakness in you, they will use it against you.”
She nodded, knowing he spoke the truth.
“Your second lesson starts right away, and it is a lesson in strength. You are skinny. You need more muscle,” he said. “Come.”
She followed Isel down to the ocean side and he stopped at the jutting cliffs.
For the first two hours, he had her lift heavy boulders, throw heavy rocks, and climb the steep cliff.
Just when her body begged for her to be done, for the last hour, he compelled her to performed sequences of sprints and push-ups across the sand.
By the end of Ceres’s lesson, her clothes were completely drenched with sweat and her muscles trembled from fatigue, and she could scarcely manage to walk back up to the palace where the other warriors were sparring.
At the top, Master Isel handed her a wooden cup.
“You will drink this every day,” he said. “It is a tonic of ashes—good for strong bones.”
She gulped the foul-tasting drink down, her arms so exhausted she could barely bring the cup to her lips.
“Tomorrow, I will meet you here at dawn to continue your strength training and more,” he said.
Master Isel nodded toward a hefty blonde handmaiden, and the happy girl approached.
“Until tomorrow, Ceres,” he said, walking away into the gardens.
“Please follow me, my lady,” the handmaiden said and started toward the palace.
Ceres didn’t think she could walk another step, but somehow, when she told her legs to move, she managed to follow.
The handmaiden led her into the palace, up four sets of stairs, and toward the western tower. Up at the very top of a spiraling staircase, they walked into a room. The bed sheets were made of silk, the drapes of fine linen, and a bed as wide as it was long stood against the northern wall.
Four dresses were laid out on the bed, two made of the finest silk, and two of soft linen. In front of the fireplace, on top of a white fur rug, stood a tub filed with steaming water, iris petals floating on the surface.
“Master Isel had this food ordered especially for you, my lady,” the handmaiden said.
Her stomach growled when she saw a table covered in meats, fruits, vegetables, barley, beans, and breads. She walked over to it and devoured several mouthfuls of food, washing it down with wine from a golden goblet.
“May I help you undress for the bath, my lady?” the handmaiden asked after Ceres had finished eating.
Ceres felt a sudden rush of shyness come over her. Have someone undress her?
“I…” she balked.
But before she could decline, the handmaiden was tugging the shirt out of Ceres’s pants, and once she was fully undressed, the handmaiden helped Ceres into the tub, the hot water enveloping her, soothing every sore muscle.
The girl proceeded to wash Ceres’s skin with a sponge, and next, she worked on Ceres’s hair, detangling it with a sweet-smelling honeysuckle conditioner, turning Ceres’s hair as smooth as silk.
She climbed out of the tub, and the handmaiden dried her off, after which she rubbed oil into Ceres’s skin. Then the girl applied makeup to Ceres’s face.
“Your dress, my lady,” the handmaiden said, holding up the coral-colored one.
First, she helped Ceres into a white tunic that reached her ankles and covered her shoulders, and then she dressed her in the coral dress, securing it with a golden brooch above each shoulder.
Studying the material, Ceres saw that the fabric was embroidered with golden thread, the pattern reminding her of lilies of the valley.
Finally, the handmaiden braided Ceres’s hair into a partial up-do, and on her head, she placed a thin golden headband in the shape of a wreath.
“You are lovely, if I might say so, my lady,” the handmaiden said with a smile as she stood back, admiring Ceres.
There was a subtle knock at the door, and the handmaiden answered it.
Ceres looked at herself in the mirror, hardly recognizing herself, her lips stained red, her face dusted with chalk, her eyes darkened with eye makeup. Although she was grateful for the food and the warm bath, she loathed how she looked like the princesses, the very ones she had her entire life hated.
Then she had an idea and turned toward the messenger at the door.
“Will you please tell Thanos I wish to have Anka, the girl who is in prison, for my handmaiden?” Ceres asked.
The messenger bowed.
“I will relay the message,” he said.
The handmaiden closed the door and walked over to where Ceres stood.
“An invitation for you, my lady,” she said with a bow.
Ceres picked the note off the silver platter and unrolled it.
Ceres,
If it pleases you, I would love the honor of your company this afternoon. It would be my greatest joy if you would meet me at the library.
Sincerely,
Thanos
Ceres sat down on the bed and tried to ignore the excitement that hummed through her at the thought of seeing Thanos again—just the two of them—at the library, of all places. She loved to study, and had frequently snuck away from home to read scrolls at the library just twenty minutes from her parents’ house.
I mustn’t feel excited at the thought of seeing Thanos, she commanded herself, the note dropping to her side. If she allowed her affection for him to grow, deceiving him, and then betraying him, would be so very hard to do. And she loved Rexus. How could she even consider such an invitation from the enemy they a few days ago jointly despised?
Accepting Thanos’s invitation was dangerous, too, Ceres knew. Just yesterday the queen had ordered they not see each other outside of practice, and here Thanos was openly defying her command. Had he no fear?
It didn’t seem so.
Had he really agreed to marry Stephania to save her life? Ceres marveled. It was the kindest thing anyone had done for her. Too kind, in fact.
She should tell him it was too much of a sacrifice.
Yes, that was what she would do: accept his invitation and tell him, after whi
ch she would remind him that he had agreed not to see her.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
This will not end well, Ceres thought as she walked down the winding staircase from her room, her handmaiden leading the way. With sweaty hands, and a heart that refused to beat at a reasonable pace, every few seconds, she’d stop and almost turn back to her chamber. There, it was safe. There, Thanos wouldn’t visit her, and she wouldn’t hate herself for accepting his invitation and for being untrue to Rexus.
She stopped at the bottom of the stairwell and peered down the hallway at the dozens of marble columns that lined the passage, the handmaiden continuing on. The ceilings seemed as high as mountaintops, the floor smooth as a lake on a quiet day, and the mural paintings covering the walls depicted former kings, queens, beasts, and nature.
The handmaiden, now several feet in front of Ceres, turned around and waved.
“Well, come on then,” she said. “Or perhaps you are too sore?”
She was sore, yes, but that wasn’t the reason she wasn’t moving. However, she knew she needed to do this so she pulled her shoulders back, took a deep breath, and strode forward.
Once downstairs, the handmaiden led Ceres outside and walked her through the courtyard and to the side of the palace.
They arrived at a separate building, the face of the library having six marble columns. In front was a small fountain with a statue of the queen at the top, the queen’s steely gaze looking down at Ceres.
Even here she is watching, Ceres thought.
“Is there anything else I can do for you before I leave?” the handmaiden said with a smile.
Ceres shook her head and watched as the girl sauntered off.
“Ceres?” she heard behind her.
She turned to see Thanos standing there, a white toga draped around his body, his dark curls combed back neatly. Although more formal-looking than usual, it was a good look for him, Ceres observed. She tried not to like it too much.
“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he said.
“I look…not like me,” she said, twisting her hands into knots.
“You look exactly like you, just a little cleaner,” he said, the slightest look of amusement in his face.
He leaned in and inhaled.
“And you smell good,” he said.
Of all things to notice, she thought, irritated, though she couldn’t stop her heart from beating a little faster.
“Did I not before?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Not as much as a girl,” he said.
“Well, don’t get used to it. In the arena, I’ll still not smell like a girl.”
He laughed heartily, and that made Ceres even more irritated at him.
“Shall we?” he asked, holding his arm out for her to take it.
Without taking his arm, she walked right past him and up the stairs toward the library. She heard him exhaling sharply behind her.
Stepping inside, Ceres gasped when she saw thousands upon thousands of scrolls stacked into wooden shelves on every wall. She had never seen so many writings in one place—the other library she had studied at was much smaller. Oh, how she would love to sit in this room for days and weeks and months and soak up all the knowledge that was in here.
The room was hot, the scent of wood and parchment inundating the musty air, and on the sides, by wooden tables, in between marble pillars, sat scholars dressed in togas, writing. There was a hushed reverence, and Ceres felt giddy to be here.
In the center of the library an elderly man stood at a marble slab, hunched over a scroll as he read. His head was bald, making his large ears more pronounced, and he had penetrating blue eyes that sat over a long, beaky nose.
He looked up and smiled, and immediately, Ceres knew she would like him.
Thanos walked in behind her and placed his hand on the small of her back, heat collecting there as he gently pushed her forward toward the old man.
“Ceres, meet Cosmas,” Thanos said. “He is the royal scholar, among other things.”
“I am honored to meet you,” Ceres said with a nod and a slight curtsy.
“The honor is mine, my dear,” the old man replied, his smile widening as he took her hand.
“What other sorts of things?” Ceres asked.
Thanos rested a hand on Cosmas’s shoulder, his eyes filled with tenderness.
“Counselor, teacher, friend, father,” he said.
The old man gasped a laugh and nodded.
“Father, yes.”
Cosmas rolled up the scroll in front of him, but even though Ceres itched to know what was written on it, she didn’t quite dare to ask to read it, thinking it might not be acceptable.
“You would never have known it, but you should have seen Thanos when he arrived at the castle,” he said in a voice that sounded like it might crack any second. “He was such a scrawny little thing, one would never have thought he would grow up to look like a god.”
Ceres laughed. Thanos stepped behind the old man and tapped his ear. Ceres nodded, realizing the man was hard of hearing.
“Thanos may have told you, but he lost his parents when he was but a babe. Such nice folks they were,” Cosmas said, shaking his head, his lips tilting downward.
“I’m sorry to hear,” Ceres said, glancing at Thanos, but Thanos said nothing.
The old man picked up the scroll, but before he could put it away, curiosity overcame Ceres, and she pushed her hesitation aside.
“May I read it?” she asked, forcing her voice to be louder than usual so Cosmas would hear her.
Thanos’s eyes widened, and he had a look of disbelief on his face.
“What?” Ceres asked, feeling a little embarrassed from his stare.
“I guess…I just assumed you couldn’t read,” he said.
“Well, you assumed wrong,” she retorted. “I love studying everything I can get my hands on.”
Cosmas laughed and winked at her.
“Although this isn’t the largest library in Delos, it is the oldest and carries the writings of the greatest philosophers and some of the best scholars in the world,” Cosmas said. “You are more than welcome to study anything in here.”
“Thank you,” Ceres said, letting her eyes scan the scrolls. “I could live in this place.”
“Hold on,” Thanos said, his eyes narrowing, his expression filled with skepticism. “What is it you have you studied, exactly?”
“Mathematics, astronomy, physics, geometry, geography, physiology, and medicine, among other things,” Ceres said.
Thanos nodded, a look of wonder, and perhaps even a look of pride in his eyes, Ceres saw.
“Thanos, why don’t you give the dear a tour of the rest of the library, and we can study when you return?” Cosmas said.
“Would you like to see it?” Thanos asked.
“Of course,” Ceres replied, bubbles of excitement rising within at the thought.
Thanos offered his arm again, but just like before, she sauntered right past him, not taking it. He rolled his eyes.
First Thanos took her to the study room, then a lecture hall and a meeting room, before finally showing her out to the library gardens.
They walked in silence on the stone path, past statues of gods and goddesses, manicured bushes, vine-covered pillars, and endless beds of brightly colored flowers. A gentle breeze delighted her face, the scent of roses stirring into the air.
At the back of her mind, she remembered there was something she had planned to say to Thanos, but with him here, she couldn’t seem to recall what it was.
“I must admit, I was quite shocked when you started to list off all the philosophies you had studied,” Thanos said. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you at first.”
“Well, in your defense, most commoners aren’t schooled, and most royals think they know everything about everyone, so how could you have known?” she said.
He chuckled at the jibe.
“I’ll be the first to admit I am ignorant in many things,”
he said.
She glanced at him sideways. Was he pretending to be humble? She couldn’t tell.
“How did you become learned?” he asked, clasping his hands behind his back as he walked.
“My father’s best friend was a scholar, and the scholar would let me sneak into the library and read. And more often than not he would even sit down with me and teach me,” she said.
“I’m glad there are some reasonable men out there, encouraging women to study,” he said.
Ceres glanced at him again, trying to assess if he were being genuine in his remark or not, thinking he couldn’t possibly be.
“Cosmas is one of those men. If you would like, I could have him continue to tutor you.”
Ceres was unable to repress an ear-to-ear smile.
“I would like that. I would love that,” she said.
They walked on a while longer until they came to a half-circle of marble pillars. Thanos bid her to sit on the stone bench, and after she sat down, he sat next to her. When she saw the city and the sea beyond, she sighed, for it was so beautiful.
“I didn’t realize your parents died when you were young,” Ceres said.
He looked out across the city, his nose wrinkling slightly.
“I don’t remember them, although I have heard quite a few stories about them from Cosmas.”
He paused and pressed a hand next to hers, resting on the bench, their pinky fingers touching.
She couldn’t help but notice how her stomach fluttered.
“I do often wonder what they were like, and especially what it would be like to have the love of a mother,” he said.
“How did they die?” she asked, her voice soft.
“It’s uncertain, but Cosmas thinks someone murdered them.”
“How horrible!” Ceres exclaimed, placing her hand atop his without thinking.
Realizing what she had done, she was about to pull her hand away, but Thanos grabbed it before she could and held it tight.
They sat like that for a moment that seemed to span eternity, hearts beating strong, breaths ceased.
She would not look into his eyes, she told herself, for she knew if she did, something would happen. Something terrible. Something wonderful.
