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future among such people. “Tsk. Now look what you’ve done, torn the pearls loose and mussed your curls. I’ll have to start all over.”
    “But Clytemnestra can’t marry a monster!” I protested.
    “Oh, hush,” Ione said calmly, taking up the comb again. “Prince Tantalus never harmed anyone, and as for the stories about his father and uncle—I’m sure they’re only stories. Do you think your royal parents would give their darling girl to Mykenae if the tales were true?
    “Of course, you won’t have that problem, little bird,” she went on. “As our queen-to-be, you’ll pick yourself a good husband.”
    “Husband?” This time I jerked my head so suddenly that my hair got tangled in the comb and I gave a little yelp of pain before I added, “I don’t want a husband!”
And after hearing you talk, I
definitely
don’t want a Mykenaean,
I thought.
    “
Don’t
isn’t the same as
won’t.
” Ione chuckled knowingly as she picked up the pearls.
             
    It was a splendid, lavish feast intended to impress Lord Thyestes’s ambassador so that when he went home he’d tell his master all about Sparta’s wealth and power. The tables creaked under the weight of platters filled with stewed rabbit and mutton, broiled fish, crackling loaves of barley bread, round white cheeses, fresh salads decorated with mint and parsley, even the special treat of roasted venison. Mounds of almonds and slabs of honeycomb were offered to our guest in dishes that had come all the way from Crete. I loved their beautifully painted patterns of fish, dolphins, and big-eyed octopi.
    Midway through the feast, my father made the ceremonial announcement about my sister’s betrothal. Because she was the center of attention, Clytemnestra sat in a place of honor, between our parents, and glowed with pleasure when the Spartan nobles raised their voices in congratulations so loud they made the oil lamps flicker.
    If my sister truly wanted to leave Sparta right away, Lord Thyestes’s ambassador shared her eagerness. I was seated at Mother’s left, so I had no trouble hearing when he leaned forward from his place beside Father and said, “Great lady, when can I tell Lord Thyestes to expect your noble daughter’s arrival?”
    Mother offered him a sweet smile. “Not for two years, at the very least. She’s still too much of a child for marriage. I know that a young princess is often raised in her future husband’s house, so she can learn her new people’s ways, but if she’s
too
young, she might become so homesick that she won’t be able to think of anything except her family.”
    “With all respect, great lady,” the ambassador said, bowing to my mother just a little bit, “Prince Tantalus will be her family.”
    I saw Mother’s face harden until she looked like an image of the goddess Artemis just before she sends an arrow through some unlucky mortal’s heart. Her voice was icy when she replied, “With all my
royal
respect to your master, we who rule Sparta never employ messengers who think they can instruct a queen.”
    The Mykenaean turned pale. His apology was coldly formal, and Mother accepted it just as coldly. It took my father’s hearty laugh to break the awkward mood and restore the banquet’s festivity.
    I wondered how disappointed my sister would be when she found out she’d have to spend two more years with us. I hoped she wouldn’t feel that this was my fault too.

          5          
    MY MOTHER’S PAST
    The day after the banquet, I decided that I’d lost enough training time. I didn’t want Glaucus to think that I’d given up my desire to learn a warrior’s skills, so I bound my foot with extra cloth and slipped out of the palace to join my brothers. The gods be thanked, there was a big uproar at the gates as the ambassador left us. No one in the crowd noticed me, and Ione had quit being my watchdog.
    When I reached the training ground, Glaucus was alone. And he didn’t look