Chapter 3

I move into the chambers Aethon assigns. Finer furniture. Warm food. The charcoal doesn't smoke anymore.

Not honour. Just a new piece on the board. Visible pieces attract hungry hands.

Basileia moves first. She invites me to a private dinner at the Heraion. Wine, figs, soft conversation. She asks about my family, my childhood. Smiles at everything I say.

"You're young. The court can be lonely. If you ever need guidance — my door is open."

I thank her. I smile back.

I eat nothing she offers.

A few weeks later, one of Aethon's women — Ione — falls pregnant.

She's low-born, quiet, kind. Nobody important. But Aethon wants this child. He doubles her guard and has the physicians check on her every morning.

The court notices. Everyone starts paying attention to Ione.

Basileia most of all.

In the old tradition, a woman carrying a divine heir must undergo a purification rite before the birth. Sacred water, blessed herbs, prayers to Eileithyia. The highest-ranking woman in the household is supposed to prepare the basin.

That's Basileia.

She prepares everything herself. Selects the herbs. Blesses the water. Then she asks me to carry the basin to Ione's chambers.

"You've been so attentive to her, Eirene. It would mean a great deal coming from you."

She never does favours without reason. But I can't refuse. I'm nobody.

I bring the basin to Ione. She smiles, pale but grateful.

"Thank you, Eirene."

"Let the physician test the water before you use it. Just to be safe."

On my way out, my fingers brush the rim of the basin.

Cold. Deep cold. Under the nail, up the bone. Hecate's blood — my mother's gift. Every woman in our line carries it. Touch something that will harm, and your fingers go cold.

Poison.

That night, Ione bleeds.

Chaos. The physician on his knees. Aethon in the high seat, face like stone.

Basileia beside him. Dabbing her eyes. Louder in her grief than anyone.

"A sacred rite — how could it go wrong?"

"My Queen, the water contained a toxin. Someone added it after the blessing."

Guards search every chamber. In mine, beneath my bed — a vial of the same poison.

Kleon drops to her knees.

"Mercy, my lord! She made me hide it! She said if Ione had a son, you'd never look at her again!"

Every word rehearsed. Every pause placed.

Aethon looks at me. Whatever warmth was growing — gone.

"I want to hear you speak."

I stand with my head bowed. "I never did this."

Basileia sighs. "You're young. Jealousy is natural. Confess — I'll beg for mercy."

When they pinned it on my mother, the Queen sat in that exact spot. Wearing that exact face.

A servant from the market is dragged in. "She paid me for the poison. Said the stronger the better."

Vial. Kleon. The servant. Three witnesses.

The noose tightens.

"Take her back. She'll wait for judgement."

Hands close on my wrists.

As they drag me out, the physician calls: "The herbs too! The bundle used in the blessing — those weren't purification herbs. Prolonged contact with the skin causes bleeding on its own!"

The registry lists who supplied the herbs: Areia Pyrrhia. She'd been asked to gather them from her family's estate — a favour for the Queen.

Areia. Lord Pyrrhios' daughter. Ares' blood. Hot-tempered, blunt, no patience for scheming.

The last woman who'd bother poisoning sacred herbs. Exactly why Basileia picked her.

I understand now. This wasn't sudden. She saw through me long ago and waited to take us both at once.

If Ione loses the child — I'm the poisoner. Areia supplied the weapon.

Wind cuts through the corridor.

Mother. Have I been outplayed?