“But then, Apollon and I would never have been born.”
“Yes, of course, and we wouldn’t trade you. It does not mean he does not resent the lord of Helion, Artemis. Besides, it is difficult being an Oracle. He sees pain in the future, and death, and tragedy, and cannot always grasp whence such things come. So he becomes overly cautious, afraid of every turn in fortune, as if they might result in his fears.”
“You don’t believe his visions?”
“I did not say that. I just think we have to live as we must. One cannot thrive while in constant fear of the future.”
One could not live in constant fear at all, no matter the source, Artemis suspected. But she hesitated. This was her own grandfather she might dishonor … “Helios already negotiates with Atlas. Should they form an alliance, Atlas’s trade terms with Koios might not still hold.”
Phoebe stiffened, then withdrew her arm from Artemis’s. “What do you suggest, child?” The woman kept her gaze on the moon, not looking at her.
“If you allow your husband to hold you back, you may lose an opportunity that might never again present itself. This war changes the whole of the Thalassa, and we cannot go back to how things were. There is only forward, Grandmother.”
At her words, Phoebe wrapped her hands over her arms, as if intent to hold in emotions too powerful for her chest. It seemed even elder Titans were not immune to the ravages of the heart. To choose between a loved one and the future must have torn her apart, but naught Artemis had said was a lie. The war would resolve itself, one way or another, and the only question would be which Titans came out ahead and which came out worse than they had been before.
A soft moan escaped her grandmother. “I must think on it before I confront him.”
Grandfather was stubborn, Artemis knew. Because of his visions, he always thought himself right, more informed than those around him. He would not cave easily, if at all. However this played out, Sardeis would suffer for it.
In the predawn darkness, Artemis sat in Aidos’s chamber while the other girl recited Phrygian poetry. Already her stomach chittered at her, demanded she beg her cousin for another taste of Ambrosia. She shouldn’t be so bold …
Shouldn’t, but a person didn’t always do what she should.
“You don’t happen to have any more?” Artemis asked when Aidos finished a stanza.
“Poems?” Aidos asked, quirking a mischievous brow.
“Ambrosia,” Artemis whispered.
Aidos blew out a breath and shook her head. “Believe me, if I did, I’d have brought it out already.” She twirled a finger around her locks. “I’ve heard talk that the eldest of the Titans, those who have had the most Ambrosia, have Pneumatikoi that makes them like gods.”
Artemis snorted. “We’re not gods. They may bleed ichor, but their shit still reeks the same.”
“Will we bleed ichor one day too?”
Not if Atlas continued to hoard the Ambrosia. Not if the other Titans failed to reclaim Hesperides Island or at least force Atlas into equitable distribution.
Maybe Aidos saw the look on her face. “No. You don’t think we might be left … mortal?”
“I don’t know. It seems unthinkable, to be honest. I imagine if it ever came to that, the remaining Titans would throw everything they had at Atlas. To do aught less is to embrace death.” She hesitated. “But that might still only ensure Ambrosia for those in power. For Titan daughters like us …”
“Oh, they call me a Nymph these days,” Aidos admitted, and Artemis winced. It meant not enough Pneumatikoi had presented in Aidos. Titan girls relegated to such status were considered good for little more than marriage alliances and breeding. That Aidos, after being named a Nymph, would share even a drop of Ambrosia—knowing it would prove harder and harder for her to get—bespoke a kindness Artemis wasn’t sure she even knew how to repay.
Hardly knowing what else to say, she reached over and drew the other woman into an embrace. “Grandmother will work something out. She knows what is at stake for those like us.”
It was two days later, and Artemis’s head throbbed like a Cyclops had stepped on it. A night’s indulgence in Phoenikian wine came with a cost, even for a Titan. Which made the slobbering oaf banging the gong outside her door all the more offensive.
When she opened the door she found Apollon. No gong, so apparently he’d raised such racket with naught save fist on wood.
“What in the vile mists of Akhlys do you want?” she demanded.
“We must have gotten through to Grandmother, for Grandfather has left the city. Word is he and Phoebe had quite the boisterous argument last night.”
Ah. Well, Artemis had been far too drunk to have noticed an army marching through her own chambers, much less to have heard an altercation across the palace.
“She has agreed to an alliance with Helios!” Apollon blurted. From the look on his face, he clearly thought his words in the court had somehow led to this, rather than Artemis’s private conversation with Grandmother beneath the moon. “We must return to Father and report our success.”
Artemis gnawed on her lip a moment. Well, for better or worse, she had wrought this. She had driven the wedge between her grandparents, and now, because of her, the war would come here for certain. But maybe, just maybe, Nymphs like Aidos would get their share, thanks to Phoebe.
And once more, Father would heap the praise for it upon Artemis’s twin.
25
Pandora
201 Golden Age
A half dozen of Tethys’s biremes had surrounded Ogygia, but still, Kronos had slipped through the Titan’s fingers. Oh, Pandora had heard her Telkhines had boarded and sunk one of Kronos’s ships while her war bands engaged in bloody slaughter of those on the island.
But neither Prometheus nor Kronos had been found, and Tethys had dared not leave Thebes unattended for long. Pandora had pled to
