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“A random girl?”
“Not . . . exactly.” I thought about trying to explain my background, decided it would wreck the hell out of any credibility I had, and vetoed it. “My mother was the previous heir, who’d run away to get married,” I said instead, because it was true.
Mother, in desperation, her power almost depleted, had finally gone to the only source of godly energy le
ft in the world: the well of it that had been gifted by Apollo to his seers at Delphi all those centuries ago, and was still in use by the Pythian Court. She had glamoured herself and been taken in as an initiate, quickly rising through the ranks. She’d eventually been named the heir, something which she hadn’t wanted, out of fear that it would draw the attention of the Spartoi, some demigod sons of Ares that he’d left behind.
They’d been hunting her ever since the great battle that had exiled their father, and they’d particularly been watching the court. They knew she’d show up eventually, and it hadn’t taken them long to realize who the new heir actually was. They’d come after her, intent on avenging their father and forcing down the barrier holding him and the other gods back, but she’d eluded them with the help of my bumbling, kind of crazy, but occasionally brilliant father. Only to end up being killed by Fat Tony, some years later.
Life . . . was weird.
“I inherited some of her abilities,” I added. “And the power came to me.”
“And the girl? The rogue heir?”
“She died.”
“Good.” Gertie was emphatic. “And the rest of the court?” Because, yeah, there should have been plenty of other people to help me, shouldn’t there?
“Some of the fey, specifically Aeslinn, king of the Svarestri, are working with the gods,” I told her. “He wants to bring them back because his people basically ruled Faerie when the gods were here. They’ve fallen in stature since then, and they’re salty about it.”
Gertie looked confused.
“They don’t like it,” I translated, because my slang was a century too early. “They told the other acolytes that Ares would be back soon, one way or the other, and would kill them all unless they helped. So they started trying to get that”—I pointed to the Tears—“and shift him through the barrier.”
“And what happened to them?”
I didn’t say anything.
I didn’t kill Myra, the former heir, although you could argue that I helped. But the acolytes were a different story. I saw them now, pretty girls with hate-filled faces, pushed by their families to excel, to be the next Pythia, to gain their clans wealth and status and power. They’d been ripe for Apollo’s offer: be the one to bring me through and rule at my side for eternity.
It had started an all-out war that left one of them dead at another’s hands, and one imprisoned by the Circle. But I’d had to kill the rest. I still saw them in my dreams sometimes, nightmare visions that left me sitting up in bed, panting and wanting to scream.
I guessed I’d dream about Lizzie now, too.
There was no mirror in sight, so I don’t know what was on my face, but I felt Gertie’s arm go around my shoulder in a motherly embrace. “It has been difficult, hasn’t it?”
I didn’t trust myself to speak; I only nodded.
“And now you’ve dealt with the old acolytes, except for Jo. But that’s left you with what? A court full of little girls and half-trained initiates?”
I nodded again.
“And you’ve been compensating by using this?”
She picked up the little bottle, and for a moment, I thought she was going to relent, that she was actually going to give it to me.
But then it went in the pocket of her dressing gown, and she looked at me sternly. “I understand the temptation. Likely not as well as you, but we’ve all felt it. It makes you feel indomitable, able to take on the world—for a while. But it exerts a terrible price.”
“So does dying!” I snarled, because she still didn’t get it. “I told you—I don’t have a choice!”
“Oh, but you do, dear girl. Most emphatically.”
“What?” I looked at her in confusion.
“I’ve broken a dozen rules in the last little while; why not one more?” She pulled me to my feet. “Your problem isn’t a lack of power, Cassie. It’s the opposite. You’ve been using raw power to compensate for a lack of technique. We’re going to fix that.”
“How?” I stared at her. “Don’t you think I’ve tried?”
