Read Online Quiver by Stephanie Spinner - Free Book Online

father’s announcement, which came promptly after his third glass of wine.

NINETEEN
    I took the news calmly. “Tomorrow?” I echoed, wiping my hands daintily on my chiton. We were eating goat. “Good. A run will be welcome.” As far as I knew, my father was ignorant of my predawn excursions.
    “Mataios tells me you have been riding,” he said.
    “Have you?” Nephele looked at me wide-eyed. She was the kind of soft, fluttery woman who feared all four-legged creatures but kittens.
    “I hope you don’t mind,” I replied. “It is very diverting.”
    “Not at all.” I watched him drink, wondering if he thought of my mother when he heard of my affection for horses. I hoped so. For a moment I seethed with dark, vengeful thoughts.
    “I am sure the race tomorrow will be diverting also,” he said. “Particularly as you know your suitor. Or so he claims.”
    “Oh? Who is he?”
    “Cepheus. He says he was on the Hunt with you.”
    “Cepheus!” I nearly spat out my food.
    “You do know him, then.”
    Well enough, I thought with dislike, seeing his close-set eyes and perpetual sneer. “Why has he come forward?” I demanded.
    “He says he loves you,” said my father, smiling at my loss of composure. “Can he be lying?”
    “Why would he lie?” asked Nephele.
    “He hates me!” I said. “When his friend Ancaeus was killed on the Hunt, Cepheus held me responsible.”
    “Then why would he want to marry you?” inquired my father.
    “Perhaps he is deranged,” I said. “Ancaeus’ death may have pushed him into madness. Grief drives people to extremes,” I added pointedly, “as you know.”
    My father blinked. Otherwise ignoring the reference to my mother, he said, “He seems rational enough. Most definitely in his right mind. Healthy, too.” He cocked his head. “He looks as strong as a bull.”
    You are disgusting, I thought. “Crazed or sane, it makes no difference,” I said, rising. “The man is slow on his feet.”
    I went back to my chamber and wept.

TWENTY
    I ran the next morning. When I was deep in the forest, at my rough shrine, I made an offering and prayed. I asked Artemis to watch over me. I dedicated the race to her. I requested a merciful death for Cepheus. Then I ended my prayer as I always did, with the words “I am yours.”
    Apollo:
A small wager, sister?
    Artemis:
We both know she’ll win.
    Apollo:
True. Too bad victory comes at such a price.
    Artemis:
Her decision.
    Apollo:
She made it because of you.
    Artemis:
You sent her the dreams.
    Apollo:
Have you no mercy? She’s in a terrible predicament!
    Artemis:
She can handle it. If she couldn’t, I’d still have my ivory quiver, wouldn’t I?
    The course was short, about sixteen acres. It began far below the walls, at the point where the ground leveled, and followed the narrow footpath that encircled the palace. My father had taken the trouble to have the path widened, smoothed, and spread with sand, niceties that surprised me. Perhaps he imagined many such races.
    May the gods forbid it, I thought.
    I wore a short chiton, and now I tucked the small horn vial of poison inside my belt. Entella had told me the stuff was deadly and swift. “The faster the better,” I had said, wishing the morning were over.
    A small crowd waited near the course—guards, servants, and a few others I had come to know, like Mataios, Perifanos, and Pistos. Entella was there with little Agnos and Galini, the daughters who helped her in the kitchen. My father and Nephele had not yet arrived, though chairs had been set out for them.
    I remembered Cepheus’ characteristic expression as somewhere between a glower and a sneer, but when he saw me, he simply stared, and kept on staring as I came down the hill. He left his companions, four well-oiled, muscular young men, to join me near the track.
    “Greetings, Atalanta,” he said loudly, fixing me with his dark, close-set eyes. He looked unusually clean, I thought, but then the last time I had seen him he