Sparkling Ivy

33

Sirce sucked in a breath, tilting her head. "I don't understand?"

Alcmene smirked and crossed her arms. "What is there to understand?"

The princess rubbed her arm, heartbeat pulsing in her throat. She couldn't hide the fear in her blue eyes as she managed, "Xenia is the god of guests - isn't she everywhere? Doesn't she watch over the entire realm?"

The goddess rolled her eyes, teeth poking out from her lip. "She does. But it doesn't mean she gives a damn about a tiny little island. There have been no heroes that ventured here. Callkis doesn't peak her interest."

"Then why did you take me here?" Sirce scrunched her fingers into her nightdress. Sweat dripped down her palms as she stared blankly at her Patron.

To her surprise Alcmene swept close, eyes glowing in the gloom. The princess inhaled sharply as the goddess pursed her lips and thrust a hand out behind her. Her voice was smooth as silk as she breathed, "There are no limits here, Sirce. Xenia doesn't bother to hold sway over this land."

"Then who does?" Sirce hunched her shoulders, brow furrowed. She half expected Alcmene to claim this strange place was her own little haven. It would have made more sense than what she did reply.

"Andriel. Andriel does."

A chill ran down her spine. Sirce's mouth dropped open. What? She stood there speechless, waiting for Alcmene to say it was a joke, that of course she was the true patron of Callkis. The princess shook her head as the silence drew out and Alcmene maintained her stony disposition. The goddess twisted her mouth. "You're surprised."

"Yes." Sirce rubbed her neck, eyes darting. Andriel. This...this is all Andriel's.

"You look like an oracle has announced your death, girl."

Sirce shook her head, dry laughter tearing her lips. "The god of victory owns this island. I guess he owns the Sparkling Ivy too. My death is imminent."

Alcmene ran her fingers through her curls as she began to pace across the tiles, dress glittering like a dewy spiderweb. Sirce stood motionless, eyes reflecting back the village outside. The memory once coy, now curdled her stomach like bad goat's milk.

The neat villas, the prim gardens and picturesque flocks of bleating sheep...all under the keen eyes of Andriel Brave. So different from his domains on the mainland. The very muttering of the god's name brought forth visions of wide fields and muscled horsemen, long bronze spears, bows large as eagles, simple wooden houses surrounded by children armed with daggers and strong blood.

What could he want with Callkis? From what Sirce had seen they were not a courageous people. Just cheerless and stony-eyed.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sirce couldn't stop the glare from breaking out upon her face.

"You wouldn't have come." Alcmene folded her arms behind her back, gaze fixed on the ashen fire pit. "You would have fled."

"Maybe. If I knew who ran this place." The princess chuckled harshly, pressing fingers to her temples. She could feel the hopeless rage bubbling in her chest. I could have gone somewhere sure. Somewhere safe.

Her voice cut like broken glass. "The Sparkling Ivy is one of his toys, isn't it?"

"Of course."

Sirce wrung her hands, eyes stinging. "How am I meant to get it? If you don't remember Andriel is the god of victory. Besides, I don't even know what I'm looking for."

Alcmene let out a short sigh. She leaned against a pillar with the care of a daydreamer and fiddled with the flowing fabric of her gown. "I wouldn't have taken you here if it was a fool's chance. I am not one to waste."

"What's your plan, then?"

The goddess grinned and tapped her nails against the stone. "Andriel has grown lazy with this gift."

Sirce's throat bobbed. That eerie stillness settled between them again. Like the very earth had grown quiet just to listen in on them. The princess held Alcmene's gaze hopefully.

The goddess continued, "He thinks we have forgotten. Mortals have. But not me. And now, nor you."

"You think it will be unguarded?" Sirce rolled her shoulders back, sick with anticipation.

"Not unguarded," Alcmene hissed. "But no mortal disciples from what I know of this place. The priests in his temple are old or timid. There is no blood here but human."

Sirce shuddered as the cool gaze of her Patron fell on her. She wet her lips, fingers trembling by her side. "So it will just be me and Atalanta."

"If all goes to plan, yes."

The princess nodded, insides still somersaulting. "If all goes to plan."

Alcmene jutted out her chin and stalked past her. She didn't look back as she said, "Don't worry girl. I'll let you have some peace for a few days."

"Then what?" Sirce clenched her fists, nightdress blowing in the hot breeze.

The goddess paused. She turned her head just enough for an eye to glint in the starlight. The edge of her lips quirked as she breathed, "Then we work."

Before the princess could answer she was gone, body dissolved in emerald light. Then we work. She could hardly wait.

Sirce stood in the darkness, all of Alcmene's words circling round and round. Never in a million years could she have guessed Andriel Brave resided over this tiny speck of the world. Had she known she would have come more prepared.

She knew the god well; victory did not smile upon her. He struck her down again and again and again. Like a relentless hound Andriel had pursued her alongside Ixion. "I will make him pay for it."

Dawn was on the cusp of raising its rosy head when Sirce slipped back into the bedroom. Atalanta was still sound asleep, hand reaching across the mattress for the absent princess. Sirce smiled and quietly padded across the floor, toes flexed like a lioness.

The quiet here was softer, pillowed by the huntress's shallow breaths. Sirce stopped before the bed, eyes raking over Atalanta. She was wearing a light smile, eyelids fluttering with dreams. If Sirce closed her eyes she could still feel the shift the boat, hear the crash of waves against a hull. Never thought I'd miss the sea.

A warmth spread through her chest as Sirce leaned down and gently kissed the girl's forehead. With graceful limbs she slid onto the mattress and pulled Atalanta back into her arms. The princess smiled, breathing in the rich sweetness of Atalanta's hair.

She pulled the furs back up and laid her head deep into the pillow, eyes heavy. No doubt there was grave trouble coming their way. Perhaps death, a curse, maybe even monsters.

It didn't matter. Not until their days of peace were over.