Forged by Fate

for the two years of their marriage, until her brothers had come and stolen her back to Sparta. For lives afterwards, she hadn’t been able to even smell lamb stew without her stomach turning into knots. If it hadn’t been for Theseus…

She rubbed her chest, over her heart, trying to dispel the ache of his loss. Another husband who had loved her more than she deserved. Thinking of Paris was preferable, but with Adam sitting across the table, she didn’t dare.

You’re not eating.

She nearly bit her tongue in surprise, but she brought a piece of the lamb to her mouth and swallowed before she could taste it. You were saying?

Adam’s eyes narrowed, but the stone in them had softened to storm clouds, and she could feel his concern. You can’t afford not to eat with a baby in your womb, Eve. Is there something wrong with the lamb? I didn’t think you could suffer from cravings or morning sickness.

It doesn’t have anything to do with the baby. Except it had, once. A baby she had born for Theseus, and lost. How many hours had she spent on her knees, praying to Michael to let her keep her child? She’d even made offerings to Poseidon and Aphrodite, Hera and Zeus, desperate enough to beg even for their intercession. For nothing. False gods, and worthless angels. How did anyone ever convince themselves of faith?

“Are you all right, Abby?” Garrit asked, frowning. “You look a bit gray.”

She forced a smile. “Just fine, Garrit. I bit my tongue, that’s all.”

You’re lying.

Eve didn’t look at Adam, but kept the smile on her face until Garrit went back to listening to her mother. Something about how she wished they would purchase a summer home in England, so she would be able to see her grandson when he was born.

Eve?

The way he said her name brought Paris to her mind, and she latched onto the memory to chase away the sorrow. Paris, at least, had never fed her lamb. Not that he hadn’t sacrificed enough of them to Aphrodite.

Adam was smiling at Mia as he poured her another glass of wine. He’d done the same for her, once, at a banquet in Sparta. She could still see the lines of Paris in his face. The curve of his ears, the straightness of his nose, the strength of his jaw. He had changed, of course, skin color, face shape, the rise of his cheekbones and the color of his hair, but the essentials stayed the same.

He turned to look at her, his forehead furrowing in the same place hers did. A wrinkle between the eyebrows that could have been her own. She realized she was staring and looked away, focusing on the napkin in her lap, but he was already in her head. Gentle, but present, like a lazy day in a hammock with an insect buzzing in your ear.

Paris? He asked. What about Paris?

It had been sloppy to let her mind wander, but it had been that or cry with old grief, and at least the scene these memories could make would go unnoticed.

Nothing, she said, even though he wouldn’t believe her.

There was a long silence, while he listened and she tried not to think about it. It didn’t work. It never did. Not thinking of something inevitably brought it to mind, even if all that came was the thread of reminder. Not Paris. Not Troy. Not Helen. Not Theseus. Oh God, please, not Theseus. Not Helen. Not Troy. Not Paris.

You knew me?

Mia was talking about the car she was going to buy, asking her father what he thought. She turned to Adam, asking him if he agreed. Somehow he managed to have the right answer, though Eve could feel his mind churning with the memories slipping through the cracks of her consciousness. Paris, holding her in a dark room. The whites of his eyes had been the only thing she could see, but she would have known his touch anywhere. The warmth of his hands against her skin, one palm pressed against her cheek, turning her face to his.

Helen, he said.

The wineglass in Adam’s hand slipped and spilled, the red liquid crawling across the table to her plate, staining the linens the way blood had once stained the fields of Troy. She stared at it, to keep from meeting his eyes. Watching it draw closer and closer. She couldn’t bring herself to stop it.

“Merde!” Garrit blotted it with his napkin, and shot Adam a dark look.

“Forgive me,” Adam said, mopping up the spill on his half of the table. He cleared his throat, and did not so much as glance in her direction. “A shame to have wasted a cup of such a good vintage, too. The wine your family makes is exceptional, Garrit. Is there any way I might buy a case?”

“Oh! Yes!” Mia said. “That would be perfect! It isn’t as though Abby can drink wine now, anyway.”

Eve closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, emptying her mind as she exhaled. She could feel the baby, and let its consciousness fill her thoughts, crowding everything else out.

“Of course,” Garrit answered through his teeth. “I’ll see what we have in the cellar after dinner.”

“I think I need to go lay down,” Eve mumbled.

And then she fled.

Chapter Thirty-five: Creation

A short and easy climb brought Eve to the vantage point with a view of the entire valley, the Garden at its far edge. The stone precipice sheltered them from the heat of the sun during the day, as well as the rain.

The largest of the lions, the male with the dark shaggy mane, followed her with one long leap. She leaned against his tawny body, sitting cross-legged on the sun-warmed stone and frowned at the Garden.

“Why haven’t they acted yet?”

The lion chuffed beside her, but she knew it didn’t understand more than her frustration. She scratched behind its ear until it purred. Reu had been growing more anxious about leaving her alone with each passing day, but the angels still flocked around the Garden without entering it, and so he had taken the other lions of the pride with him to hunt. Eri, the male, never left her side, and Tzofi, the female who had given them the rabbit that first day, followed Reu wherever he went.

It had been nearly seven days since they had met the lions and she had resolved to find a way to train them. Seven days spent learning to master fire and beast. That it had only taken a week to convince the lions they were best served as their friends made her uneasy. Maybe because it added truth to some of what Adam had told her about how they were meant to rule.

She sighed. Eri painted her arm with his rough tongue, and purred loudly. That was always his answer to her apprehension. Grooming reinforced the bonds of the pride. It was affection and promise and companionship. She threaded her fingers into his mane and let the lion’s confidence leach into her mind. If she was meant to lead, she would do so, but it would not be the way Adam had shown her.

Of course, none of it mattered until the others found them. And none would until the angels drove them from the Garden into the wild. Reu had already begun to anticipate the arrival of the others. They collected wood and roots for burning, as well as the dung of the animals. The dung of the elephant worked especially well for their fires. He patiently skinned every kill and scraped the hide clean before stretching it to dry and cure. Eve had shaped several bone needles for stitching the hides together to make clothing and blankets using the gut. They dried meat as well, so there would be enough food for everyone until the others learned to hunt.

She grimaced. If it hadn’t been for the lions, Reu might very well have starved by now, leaving her no choice but to watch. She still wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse that she was assured of her own survival. Neither one of them liked having to kill to eat, but they were a long way from the nut-bearing trees of the Garden, and the closest thing to fruit trees they had found were berry bushes. She had made salads from greens and other grasses, but they were bitter and tough.

Movement caught her eye, and she looked back to the Garden. A rainbow of angels had risen into the sky and from this distance she thought she could make out the stark bright white of Michael’s wings as they flared, and