Atalanta

Part 11

• Y/N •

For the first time in months, I fall asleep easily.

As soon as my head hits the pillow, I am gone; swept away in black, inky darkness which transcends all my worries. This is the closest definition I have found to paradise – until earlier tonight, held by Jimin's arms. Drawing my legs higher, I curl further into my mattress.

Although I am cursed, I cannot help but be hopeful. Perhaps this is human folly again – but oh, how lovely it is to dream.

I do not know what time I wake. Come to think of it, I am not sure if I wake at all. It is my room, yes but nothing in it seems right. Shadows dance on the walls, contorting the boundaries of objects and I blink, unease rising in the depth of my stomach.

A shape steps from the darkness.

I nearly scream; the sound hovers halfway to my lips before I catch myself – clasping both hands over my mouth, I prevent the noise from escaping. The slim shape comes to a stop in a perfect circle of light. This is what convinces me I am dreaming. There was no moon tonight in the real world.

When the woman looks my way, I note with shock the bright silver of her gaze. "Y/N."

Her voice sends a wave of recognition through me.

It is her. The voice which has haunted my dreams, tortured my waking hours for well over a year – it is the voice I belong to and, realizing this, I begin to shake in my bed.

I do not mean to. Truly, I do not.

"Get out." I clutch at my sheets. Surveying the room, I note the breeze blowing in from the window. "Please – just leave me alone. Leave us alone!"

Artemis tilts her head, gaze sharp and assessing. "Foolish girl." Her tone is calm. "Be careful what you wish for, mortal. I shall ignore your wish this once, but do not presume to know more than I do again."

"Oh?" I snap, finally finding my courage. It courses strong through my veins. "You used me," I say, fixing the goddess with my steeliest gaze. "You came to me, pretending to be a savior and instead, you sharpened me into a sword."

The goddess stares. "Do you know, my dear, why I offer woman protection?" Her gaze is harsh. It darkens when I do not respond. "I was young, even by your standards, when I went to my father and begged him for my virtue. Again, do you know why?"

Mutely, I shake my head no.

"It was because of men." Artemis' jaw tightens. "Men like your former betrothed. Men like the ones that you raced. Men who seek to conquer, to win, to boast and brag about those they have sullied. These are the men I sent to you; they are the men who inevitably fell upon your sword. Look at me," she demands, and I do. "Look at me and tell me they did not deserve it."

My heart pounds against my ribs, staring back at the fiery goddess. It is strange, since I have always considered the moon to be a cool, detached beauty – but right now, her gaze is ravenous. Artemis is also the goddess of contradictions.

"I cannot say they were innocent," I whisper, meeting her gaze. "But now, neither am I."

An odd expression crosses Artemis' face. She seems almost pitying. "For that, I am sorry," she whispers. Gently, she lowers her head. "I may have misjudged."

The room goes still.

In my entire life, I have never heard of a goddess apologizing.

Artemis does not move. I notice the moon has now disappeared. By some magic, it seems we are no longer dreaming. "Your prince is at my temple," she murmurs. "Save him. You are released from your debt."

The goddess disappears.

I stare for a moment before coming to my senses and kicking the covers aside. "Jimin," I gasp, throwing open the door to stumble into the hall. My feet slip on the surface, racing the corridors until I find the doorway I seek.

"Nurse!" I yell, banging hard on her door. "Nurse – please! Come quickly!"

It takes her a moment to answer – and then a few more for my babbling to make sense – but soon she is following, black bag in hand as we sprint from the palace. I have searched all year for Artemis' temple to no avail, but tonight the location presents itself easily. It is barely a few feet inside the garden I spot it, recognizing the thin columns and trembling vines.

I skid to a stop at its entrance, searching frantically for the scene from my nightmare. "Jimin!" I gasp, darting forward.

My knees hit the ground, reaching out for his body – stopping just short, afraid of making things worse. My nurse enters the temple. "Out, child," she demands, shooing me sideways. "Out, this is no place for you."

Part of me agrees but another, larger part cannot bear to be parted. Jimin lies slumped in a pool of his own blood, face dirtied and marred by the beating he took. His nose is broken, that much is certain – I can see tears in his clothing, a bloodied wound to his head. Fingers shaking, I clasp both hands over my mouth and try not to be sick.

Vision blurred, I watch my nurse kneel beside him. She takes his hand, checking his vitals and I exhale when I see Jimin's chest rise and fall. Still, it looks bad – blood coats his skin, pale as the cold marble beneath him.

"Is he – will he," I blurt, choking off at the thought.

"Live?" she murmurs, listening to his heartbeat and nodding. "I believe he will. He was lucky, this one – head wound is nasty, but it seems oddly far along in its healing. The luck of the gods, I suppose," she mutters, pushing hair from Jimin's forehead.

"Or the goddesses," I agree.

Clucking her tongue, the nurse returns to her work. "What are you waiting for?" she asks, sitting back on her heels. "Go and fetch the guards, princess. I cannot drag him all the way back the palace myself."

I nod, stepping away, but my feet falter beneath me. I do not want to leave – but I must, I affirm. I must get Jimin help; I must trust he will be fine. As I leave the temple, a strange glint of gold catches my eye.

For some reason, I slow. It is what appears to be a pin, stuck in the ground. As I bend, the significance of this finding presents itself to me. It is, indeed, a pin and what is more – I recognize the owner. The insignia is of the noble household of Kratos, the heir to which is none other than my former betrothed, Menelaus. Eyes widening, my head whips towards the temple.

It was Menelaus who followed Jimin into the gardens. It was Menelaus who attacked him, beating Jimin and leaving him to die in the dirt. Hand curling around the pin, I slowly stand.

Fury pounds my veins, rendering my vision a deep, scarlet red. Instead of fear, I feel anger. Instead of sorrow, I am livid. He will pay, I decide, striding into the palace.

Wherever Menelaus is – I will find him, and he will pay.