I pushed back from the table and stood, resisting the urge to sigh out loud. I crossed the room and unlatched the door, my mother's eyes still tracking my every movement.
Outside stood Perikles—Perry to everyone who liked him—bouncing slightly on his heels, clearly in a good mood.
"Hey, Hec," he said cheerfully. "Ready to become a living weapon?"
My best friend Perry. My only friend (if you didn't count Meowphistopheles). He thought all of this was very exciting. Since he was still seventeen, he wouldn't be selecting a class this year. For now, he was just here to escort the doomed.
I stepped aside to let him in. "Your funeral voice needs work."
He winked. "Been practising that line all morning."
Behind me, my mother hadn't moved.
"Good afternoon, High Priestess Kalliope," Perry added, smiling brightly.
She gave him a barely perceptible nod. "Perikles."
It wasn't like she disliked him. This was just how she was. Or maybe she did dislike him—it was always hard to tell with her.
As he stepped into the room he looked up at the black cat lounging on top of the bookshelf. "Hey, Phisto. Your fur's looking nice and shiny today! What's your secret? And…" He leaned in, gave an exaggerated sniff. "Perfume too? Smells expensive!"
Meowphistopheles cracked open one eye, yawned, and flicked his tail like he was debating whether Perry deserved a response. Then he closed his eye and went back to his nap.
Perry grinned proudly and pointed a thumb at himself. "He likes me."
"He must like you a lot," I said. "He even opened an eye. That's more than most people get."
"What can I say?" Perry shrugged, all confidence and charm. "I have a way with people, and animals love me."
"If you're quite finished courting favor with the cat and basking in your own brilliance," my mother said coolly, "I assume you are here to escort my daughter?"
Perry straightened, all mockery vanishing in an instant. "Of course, High Priestess."
"Very well. Make sure she doesn't get into trouble. And make sure she's not late. Knowing her, she'd be late to her own Class Selection."
What in Erotokomos's luscious locks was that supposed to mean? I'm never late! I always arrive exactly at the moment I intend to. If this on occasion happened to be slightly after the time everyone else agreed on, that's not my fault! That's on them!
"Late?" I said, affronted. "I'm never—"
Perry just smiled and gave my shoulder a squeeze. "Of course, High Priestess, I'll make sure of it."
"Good," my mother said. "With your help, she just might make it in time."
Then she turned to me. "Go now. Your father and I will see you there."
***
We hadn't even left my street when Perry nudged me with his elbow. "So, have you actually decided yet?"
"Of course," I said. "I'm going to pick something completely irresponsible and shame the entire Sisterhood. I was thinking [Goat Herder], though I have given considerable thought to [Dung Witch]."
He laughed, then gave me a sideways glance. "Seriously, though."
I exhaled slowly. "My mother still wants me to pick [Katarologa]. In fact everyone wants me to pick [Katarologa]. So… I think I'll just go with that."
"You sound very excited."
I shrugged. "You know me, I love being told what to do."
Perry snorted and shook his head. "Yeah, that sounds like you alright."
As we walked on and rounded the bend we noticed some commotion in the field. It appeared that a single man was being attacked by six others. While they attacked, the man simply stood and laughed.
I'd recognize that shrill laugh anywhere. Fucking Menandros.
The son of Archon Menekrates. Piece of shit bully. Thought he was untouchable—which, to be fair, he kind of was. Literally, thanks to his ridiculously powerful barrier. Figuratively, thanks to daddy dearest.
He stood shirtless in the middle of the field (of course he did), while six flunkies hurled everything they had at him—arrows, swords, even a musket that sounded suspiciously like one of my father's. The shots rang out with sharp, familiar cracks.
A shimmering golden barrier flared each time something hit him, flickering like sunlight off still water. Not a scratch on him. He just stood there, smirking. What kind of fucking loser smirks?
"Oh look," Perry muttered. "He's decided to grace the common folk with a demonstration."
"Don't stare," I whispered. "It only encourages him."
But it was too late. He'd seen us.
"Well, well, well," Menandros called. "If it isn't the High Priestess's heir, and her pathetic little attendant."
Perry's shoulders stiffened beside me. I felt the irritation crawl up my spine—the familiar, almost irresistible urge of wanting to punch Menandros in the face.
"Tell me, does she let you shine her sandals too, or is that above your station?" Menandros went on. Then his eyes slid to me, slow and leering. "Hecate. You really ought to stop dragging that stray around. You could spend your afternoons with me instead."
That sleazy son of a bitch had some nerve insulting Perry like that. I told myself to let it go. To stay quiet. Normally my self-control was unmatched, legendary, really, though for some inexplicable reason, it chose that exact moment to falter. The gods truly work in mysterious ways.
"Hecate, don't," Perry whispered.
I stopped, cupped my hands around my mouth, and shouted: "Hey, Menandros. Go fuck yourself."
That caught him by surprise. His big stupid eyes bulged like they were about to pop out.
"I'd rather spend my afternoons kissing a frog than suffer the agony of looking at your mangled face for even a second."
He touched his cheek in reflex, like he wasn't entirely sure it wasn't mangled. "I'm not—"
"Relax," I said. "No one blames you for what the gods did to your face. I'm sure it wasn't punishment for your personality. Besides, some girls are into disfigurement. Just not this one."
He looked properly embarrassed now. One hand still hovering near his cheek, like he was trying to physically shield himself from the words.
His lackeys stood frozen, staring at me, unable to comprehend what they were witnessing. One of them even lowered his sword.
I tilted my head, smiling sweetly. "You know, for someone who talks so much shit, you sure go quiet when someone talks back."
I glanced at Perry, who hadn't moved, still tense beside me.
"Funny thing is, Perry doesn't need to run his mouth to prove his worth. People actually like him. Can't say the same for you—unless your little sycophants count, and I'm not convinced they do."
The flunkies shifted uncomfortably.
I gave Menandros a cheerful wave. "Adio, Menandros!"
And just like that, we walked on.
Perry waited a few steps before speaking. "Why do you always have to do things like that?"
I shook my head solemnly. "I tried to fight it Perry, I truly did, but the gods had other plans for me."
He sighed. "You know this is going to come back to bite us in the ass, right? You didn't just bruise his ego. You annihilated it."
"Good," I said. "Maybe next time he'll think twice before flapping his giant idiot mouth."
He stopped walking. "No, you don't get it. You'll be fine. There's no way he'd risk angering your mother by laying a finger on you. But me? I'm the one who'll face the consequences."
I turned, met his eyes, and smiled. "Don't worry so much. You'll be fine."
Then I winked. "If he does come after you... I'll protect you."
He rolled his eyes, but I could see the corner of his mouth twitch. "Gods help me."
"Who needs gods," I said, grinning, "when you've got the future number one [Goat Herder] on your side?"
That got a real laugh out of him, and I saw the tension from moments before slipping away.
"And here I thought you were set on [Dung Witch]," he said.
"I'm still debating," I said thoughtfully. "[Dung Witch] does have a nice ring to it."
"Well, at least the Sisters will be happy," Perry said. "It is a witch class, technically."
"Oh absolutely," I said. "I'm certain my mother will be thrilled."
The road curved past the marble steps of the Temple of Pyrion, its tall columns glowing gold in the afternoon light. A handful of yellow-robed brothers stood near the entrance, sweeping or chatting beneath the golden emblem of the rising sun.
Pyrion, the sun god. Brother to Mēnē, god of light, warmth and life. Where Mēnē watched over silence, secrets and dreams, Pyrion reveled in warmth, laughter, and everything that bloomed beneath the sun. His followers wore the yellow of sunlight. Ours, the white of moonlight.
They were twins, the old stories say. Born together, cursed apart. Fated to circle the world in endless near-embrace—one rising as the other falls, never able to meet.
Some call Mēnē the goddess of borrowed light, but I always liked the other version better: that Pyrion gives her his light. A message across the sky. That even if he'll never hold her again, he'll make sure she never walks alone in the dark. That she's not borrowing, she's being loved.
And with that love, she guides us. Quiet and constant. The light that watches while we sleep. The one who sees what we hide. She waxes, she wanes, but she never leaves us.
That's Mēnē.
One of the brothers raised a hand when he saw us. "Sister Hecate!"
"Brother Philon," I called back, raising a hand in return. "You're looking especially radiant today."
He grinned and spread his arms, eyes like molten gold catching the sunlight. "I am blessed by the sun."
Perry muttered, "He says that every time."
"I know," I replied. "It only gets funnier."
"You heading to the Class Selection?" Philon asked.
I nodded. "Yep. Time to seal my fate and decide what the rest of my life will look like. You know, nothing major."
He beamed and gave a small bow. "May Pyrion light your path, and may your choice honor Mēnē."
I dipped my head in return. "And may her light find you in darkness, and guide your step when the sun sleeps."
His smile didn't falter. "It always does."
We walked on as Pyrion's followers cheerfully waved us off. Perry leaned in. "He likes you."
"Yeah. He likes everyone," I chuckled. "He's been personally blessed by the sun, remember?"