Page 35 of A Crown of Hopes and Sorrows

Epiphany blushed, and her lips gaped. Valerian’s cheeks warmed also, and he swept his napkin off the table and into his lap. Sappho’s eyes darted between the two of them. “I see,” she said. “Hmm… you all have come bringing stories for me as well. This makes me so happy. A good story is what I live for. I’m a poet, after all. I thrive on the nectar of heartbreak and”—she pressed a kiss to Phaon’s cheek, who smirked at her—“romance. On that note…” She clapped her hands three times. “Welcome to my island. Let me not hold up the pleasures for you any longer.”

The music began again, a man pattered drums, another person strummed that bright, chirpy stringed-instrument. A woman rose to her feet and sang, her voice blending in with the melody. A flutist started as dozens of servants walked in, placing dishes on the table in front of us.

A servant placed a roasted pig in the center. Others set out breads, jams, three different soups that swirled their spicy smells out into the air, trays of vegetables and grilled fruits, two platters of seasoned rice.

“Did you know we were coming?” I asked.

Sappho laughed. “No, my dear. We are night creatures here.” She tangled in against Phaon again. “You just arrived for our large meal of the day.”

I nodded and accepted food dished out onto my plate as another servant poured wine into my glass that was so heady it perfumed the air. The room heated with all the bodies pressing into it, the music gaining volume.

“Now, sit back,” Sappho said, “enjoy your dinner and some other pleasures I offer.”

She clapped again, and servants blew out candles; the smoke joined the spicy, rich scents of the food. The melody picked up pace and dancers swept into the room. They wore shimmering ebony tops that exposed the skin of their décolleté and stomach. Jewels and beaded strands decorated the top and the belt around their hips where fabric split into different directions, the smooth flesh of their thighs peeking through.

The women swayed to the music, their arms tangling, flesh gliding together. They brushed their fingers over the other dancer’s cheeks, allowing their hands to skim each other’s forms, tease along their breasts, and tangle into the fabric at their hips.

Valerian’s eyes widened, and he dropped his attention to his plate where he picked at his food. Epiphany stared, her face turning a deep crimson. I elbowed her, and she coughed before picking up her wineglass and taking a long swallow.

“So,” I said over the music, shifting to Sappho, my voice coming dry. “Is this how you get people to tell you things? Distract them, so that they drink too much strong wine.” I nodded at my glass. “And then shock them into letting their guards down?”

Sappho smirked and popped a grape into her mouth, chewing before answering me. “Ah, but you’re a clever one. It won’t work on you, then, will it?”

“It will not.”

She snagged another bite and then draped back against Phaon, who tucked an arm around her. “I’ve found it to be extremely effective. Even with gods. Give them something to talk about—something unseemly for a human woman—and you’ll be amazed at the secrets you hear.”

“Is this how you got your reputation as a witch, or do you actually practice magic?”

The dancers continued their undulations, and Valerian bowed over his plate like he wished to sink into the floor and disappear. Sappho leaned in across the table, the bracelets along her arms clattering together. “Let me tell you something I’ve learned.”

My heart picked up, and I draped my hand over my dress where my knives rested. “What’s that?”

“Men”—she allowed the word to hang in the air for a moment—“who fear intelligent, capable women, call those they cannot control a ‘witch’ to dissuade others from seeing her light.” She leaned back again, crossing her legs, the draping material of her dress puddling around her. “I’ve been called far worse. Witch is actually one of my favorite insults. Because it acknowledges two things about me.”

“What’s that?” I said before taking a swallow of my wine.

“That I have power and that people fear me.”

“Is that what you wish, to be feared?”

She shrugged. “You tell me, Artemis.” She curled her voice over my name like it held secrets in it. “She who desires to find out if she holds the powers of the gods. Do you wish to be feared?”

I pressed my lips together. “I wish to be respected.”

The dancers’ bracelets clattered as they moved, ringing in time with the music. “Are those not the same things in a way?” Sappho said.

“I don’t think so.”

She cocked up an eyebrow. “Interesting.” She clapped her hands, and the women stopped dancing. “A beautiful job, my dears. That’s enough for tonight, though. Wonderful. Weren’t they wonderful, Phaon?”

Phaon bobbed her head. “Yes. Lovely as always.”

Sappho snapped, and attendants lit the candles, illuminating the rippling silks of the room again. Valerian fiddled his hands over his meal, his eyes glued to his plate. Epiphany sighed and pressed her fingers into her cushion. Her shoulders hunched, and she weaved towards me.

“Are you all right?” I whispered.

“Yes, I’m f...” Her words blurred together, and she swayed, falling against me.