‘I laughwithyou, it is different.’
‘Is it now?’
‘Yes. I only laugh when you also know that you are being ridiculous.’
‘I am never ridiculous.’
‘The Lady Athena favours your family. She is invested in your wellbeing. Of course you feel her watching you occasionally.’
‘Hmmm.’ She has shaken me loose now; her teasing has brought me back to the best version of myself. I have forgotten my worry. I am distracted by her cavernous eyes. I could spend endless days in them, but that would be time away from her mouth. I take my weight to my knees. ‘And what of you, worm? Do you watch me occasionally?’
She moves beneath me, tipping her head, baring her throat to me, inviting. ‘I watch you always.’
My hand drifts up her body. She is cool to my touch, and I watch, fascinated, as her skin rises in bumps to meet my fingertips. I rarely get her like this, prone before me in the daylight. In the initial hush of our first shared twilights, we grew accustomed to the new proximity. I put aside the voraciousness of my longing in the face of her uncertainty. Here she is not the fierce guardian of Poseidon’s kingdom – she is a girl far from home.
She had never slept in a bed, never had her hair combed with oils, or her feet rubbed with pumice. She is a goddess and has no need of such mortal attentions, but I wish to give her a life of pleasure in exchange for the one of freedom she has granted me. I do all of this and more. It is intoxicating, tending to her. Gentling and brushing until she is soft, so soft, downy as clouds, rolling out before me, stretching luxuriously, sinking into my blankets. I crawl up her body and fold her into me, grazing constellations with my teeth across her shoulders, and am gratified by her contented mews.
And so we go on. Lips and tongues sharing secrets, laughter pressed between sighs. Our hands are careful, as this is all new terrain, uncharted territory for us both. Above all else, it is so sweet to hold and be held. I do not wake crying and sweating any more. I place my hippos at my window, and they watch over us as we sleep.
On the morning of my twenty-first birthday, I am summoned to the throne room. The palace is empty and peaceful as we walk through; the Nile flooded early this year. There will beno festivities for me today. I am increasingly encouraged to remain away from public events and Phineus is thrust forward in my place. I am being gently washed away, with my father and his advisors readying the court for my absence; I am indifferent. I catch Ceto’s hand in mine as we cross the antechambers, taking the long way via the kitchens. I pull figs to pieces and feed them to her as we pass behind columns. She licks my fingers attentively, before taking them once more. We separate as we pass the pool in the centre court; the fish whisper a warning behind us.
My father and mother have become more themselves, as I have, in the years that have passed. My father bumbles more. He is never without a full cup, the same buzzing manner, flashing his poisonous rump in warning but never daring to sting. The thick pads of my mother’s caracal paws have hardened. She is more bloodthirsty, more ravenous; she was promised a delicious platter and dinner has been delayed.
‘Andromeda. Happy birthday, my girl,’ she says as she kisses my cheeks.
I kiss my father. ‘Yes, yes, happy birthday, girl.’
They look at each other. I stand and wait. The throne room feels large today, I am in it so rarely now and it is usually so filled with bodies. My own suddenly feels small and vulnerable. My father gestures then and I hear footsteps.
‘It has been decided that you are to be examined,’ he says.
‘Examined?’ I scan the room.
‘It has been five years, girl. This is not normal.’
The two men walking towards me have the easy demeanours of those who have been told that they have easy demeanours. I do not trust these kinds of men. A cold, plunging horror descends.I am in the central pool again, my linen stuckto my bare skin, I am a child and I am not protected.But Ceto stands before me. Her coral knives are a pair today and she points them directly at the advancing strangers.
‘Not a fucking chance.’
They stop abruptly and hold up their hands in instant surrender. This is unanticipated.
‘Gods, nymph!’ my father barks. ‘They will not harm her. They are physicians. Men of medicine and healing.’
I look towards my mother, sat implacably, so far away, so removed.
‘Mama?’
She does not address me, her attention is all on the tips of Ceto’s knives.
‘If your master ever wishes to marry, I am sure he would consent to this.’
But it is not Poseidon’s consent that Ceto cares for. ‘Meda?’
I weigh my options. My heart beats the rhythm to our riverside dance. I cannot deny that I am tempted by her blades. But my mother is right; Poseidon would consent and calling the sea god to confirm this is not beyond my mother.She is determined to give me the world. It does not matter that I do not want it.I think again of that night, the set of her mouth and shoulders, the volume of her voice. She sits straight and tall, the image of a ruler. If my mother were a man, she could wrest Mount Olympus from the hands of Zeus himself. As a woman, she will never be satisfied.
‘All right. But Ceto will accompany me.’ I do not bother to look at my parents, to seek their approval or dismissal.
Back in my apartments I undress. My mouth is bitter that this is the first time that she will see me naked. We have been careful with each other, averting our eyes when dressing; shehas taken to wearing mykalasiris. She keeps her eyes locked on mine now and I walk into the chambers of her gaze, cocoon myself in their comforting dark. The medicine men step forward, but she raises her knives again. ‘Stop.’
