Page 8 of A Tribute of Fire

“Quynh and Lia! There you are! We were about to send out the guard to search for you,” our father, King Ephesus, called out from the head of the table. Our mother, Queen Hypatia, sat on the opposite end and beamed at us. Our elder sister, Kallisto, also smiled, pleased that we’d arrived.

My heart twisted in my chest. This would be the last dinner I ever had alone with my family.

And they didn’t even know it.

CHAPTER THREE

I sat down across from Kallisto, who reached over to take my hand and squeezed it. I returned the gesture with all the love I had for her. She was the most incredible sister. She was a lot like Quynh, very sweet, generous, and compassionate. She loved our family dinners. She had never enjoyed bigger social gatherings, preferring the solitude of her chambers over having to converse with strangers.

It must have weighed heavily on her shoulders that she was soon to be queen of Locris. Her betrothed, an Ilionian nobleman named Lykaon, had written to say that he planned to join the selection envoy so that they could finally meet in person.

His imminent arrival unnerved her, but she tried not to show it to anyone and I admired the strength it took to put on a happy face.

My almost sister-in-law, Doria, sat next to Kallisto. Unlike my sister, Doria never tried to conceal her pain or heartache. She was in a perpetual state of mourning for my brother.

My father lifted his cup. “To Haemon.”

We raised ours in response. “To Haemon.”

Every dinner started with a toast to my only brother. Two years ago he had set out to find a new trade route that would allow us to rebuild our kingdom, and he’d never returned.

Doria insisted that he was still alive—that she would know if he were truly dead. But Haemon, like Kallisto and I, was one of theAianteioi. Descendants of Ajax the Lesser, who had committed an unspeakable crime.

Laws had been passed a millennium ago regarding how the Aianteioi were to be treated, protections that we would be afforded. One of them was that we would have to be ransomed if we fell into enemy hands. The goddess would punish those who ignored this rule.

So I knew Haemon wasn’t alive. We would have received word long ago. After seeing what had been done to Locris, no one would dare to risk the goddess’s wrath. He must have drowned at sea.

Haemon and Doria had been betrothed as children, as she was the daughter of one of the Hundred Houses, the nobles of Locris. They had fallen in love the first time they met. I still remembered the way they were with each other—the laughter, the secret touches, the longing in their eyes, the stolen kisses. They had shared an emotional and physical connection despite their marriage being arranged. He had promised to wed her as soon as he returned from his voyage.

They had openly declared their love for one another from the beginning. Saying “I love you” to a romantic partner was an unbreakable bond and commitment. Doria had once told me that saying the words had stitched her soul to Haemon’s in a mystical way she couldn’t properly describe. The goddess punished those who said it lightly, or those who said it but then did not honor their vows and their relationship. Doria and Haemon had meant the words and I knew they would have lived a very happy life together.

It was something else the Ilionians had stolen from me—their blockade and rising tariffs had taken my brother’s life and I would never forgive them for that.

Neither would Doria, who had never moved past her grief. I’d heard a story once that Sasanians burned their dead in a giant pyre and that sometimes wives would join their husbands in the fire rather than live a life without them. I knew that would have been Doria’s choice if it had been offered to her.

She dressed like a widow and had become a shadow of her former self. She had not even been granted the position of wife, which would have afforded her some protections and inheritances. Her family had rejected her, angry that she hadn’t elevated their status by becoming a princess and then queen, furious that she had spoken of her love for Haemon, rendering her unable to marry a different man. So my parents had taken her in, welcoming Doria as another daughter.

We all shared in her sorrow. Haemon had been the light and promise of our family. I could still hear his laughter, as clearly as if he sat at the table now. In the chair next to Doria’s that was always left open for him.

His death had drastically changed all of our lives. Kallisto had been betrothed to the Ilionian prince, but it had been broken because she had to stay in Locris and eventually become queen. The new match with the wealthy Ilionian nobleman had been arranged instead. He would become her prince consort, and their oldest child would be the next ruler of Locris. Her betrothed’s wealth would bring much-needed relief to the kingdom.

And where before there had been possibilities for my life as the youngest sibling, all those options had been taken from me. Someone had to marry the crown prince to create an alliance with our worst enemy, and that lot fell to me.

But I had decided on a new path.

Dinner began, and as always, it was barley flatbread and salted anchovies with a bowl of watery broth. Before I had started training, Demaratus had often joined us for dinner. He had thoroughly enjoyed the very basic food we ate but he would wax nostalgic for the dish he had shared with his fellow soldiers while he’d trained—black broth—which was meat cooked in blood, salt, and vinegar.

It sounded as foul to me as that swill he called wine.

Which he somehow managed to import and used to black out on a daily basis after we’d all eaten together. In fact, it had been at a family dinner much like this one that he had inadvertently set me on my mission. I had learned all I could about the eye of the goddess in Ilion, but I wasn’t sure how I could make it to the Ilionian temple. Being chosen in the selectionwould give me a chance to reach the temple but I knew I would be slaughtered. While I worried over that reality, Demaratus had drunkenly boasted that he could turn anyone into a Daemonian warrior—even a woman.

I had approached him the next day and asked if he would train me. He had too much pride to back down from his claim and he’d taken me on. I assumed that was why he had stayed away from family dinners ever since—he didn’t want to risk lying to my parents.

And I wasn’t sure if my parents were just completely unaware of what I’d been doing every day or if they knew and had decided to keep it to themselves. Now that I was an adult and my betrothal was arranged, my days were my own. My mother would have preferred that I spend my time learning how to run a royal household, weaving in her sitting room with Kallisto, Quynh, and Doria, but I had other plans.

Before Haemon’s death, my mother would have lectured me and insisted I join them. But the last words she had exchanged with Haemon had been angry ones and she’d never forgiven herself. It made her afraid to discipline me or my sisters.

“Is everything ready for the Ilionians’ arrival?” my father asked and I nearly dropped my spoon.

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