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January 20 - February 4, 2018
“Well, your mask will be gone soon if you don’t take better care.” “Only to be replaced with another.” “And that one?” “Power. What men like best for themselves and least in their women.” “Then you must marry before your beauty is gone, mustn’t you?”
“Before you make a decision,” he said, “I want you to know that I love you.”
“Calf love doesn’t usually survive amputation, Your Majesty.”
love you,” he said. “You could believe me.”
“Then let us climb the stairs together,”
“When I am actually willing to marry you, I will wear your earrings. Don’t wait for it, Thief.”
“Do I?” Attolia still smiled. “You look a little vulpine yourself.” “Yes, I suppose so.” The two queens sat for a moment in happy agreement.
How cruel of the gods, she thought, to send her a boy she would love without realizing it. How appropriate that the bridegroom she would have chosen to marry be poisoned. Who could contest the justice meted out by the gods?
A liar, she thought, an enemy, a threat. He was brave, a voice inside her said, he was loyal. Not loyal to me, she answered. Not brave on my behalf. Brave and loyal, the voice repeated. A fool, she answered back. A fool and a dead one. She ached with emptiness.
Eugenides looked up at her, and Attolia felt transparent, as if her mask were gone, as if he could see her heart and know that a moment before it had been stopped by grief.
“That’s true, a girl brought me dinner,” Eugenides said thoughtfully. “She was very pretty.” After a pause he added, “And very kind.” Eddis had heard of the conversation between the Thief and Attolia on the relative merits of beauty and kindness. She winced at the intended rebuke, but Attolia only pressed
Attolia snapped, “You have any mistresses and I’ll cut your other hand
She waited until he lifted his head. “We could make a treaty without a marriage.” “No,” he said. “You are sure?” “Yes,” he said.
What a fool to fall in love with someone after she had cut his hand off.
“She’s too precious to give up,” he said.
“I sometimes believe his lies are the truth, but I have never mistaken his truth for a lie. If he needs me to believe him, he has his own way of showing his veracity.”
Attolia smiled. “You make him sound like more trouble than he is worth.” “No,” said Eddis thoughtfully. “Never more than he is worth.”
“And believed in us all your life?” a voice asked, a voice that was a variation in the pressure in his ears. Eugenides shuddered at the gentleness. No, he hadn’t believed. Most of the sacrifices had been for form’s sake, a meaningless ritual to him at the time. “Have I offended the gods?” he asked
“Give him back to me,” she said, “and I will build your altar at the highest point of the city’s acropolis and around it build a temple in which you will be honored so long as Attolia remains.” There was no answer. She sat and waited. “Eugenides.”
“Do you love me?” Eugenides asked without preamble. “Why do you ask?” she answered, and he grimaced in frustration. “Because I need to know,” he said. “I am wearing your earrings,” Attolia offered. “Being willing to marry me is not the same as loving me.”
“Who am I, that you should love me?” “You are My Queen,” said Eugenides. She sat perfectly still, looking at him without moving as his words dropped like water into dry earth. “Do you believe me?” he asked. “Yes,” she answered. “Do you love me?” “Yes.” “I love you.” And she believed him.
