“What are you talking about?” Calix asked, his brow furrowing as he stared at me. I was certain it was difficult to imagine Origen Karras raising a child who wasn’t his, and I’d never made sense of it myself. But I hadn’t exactly been able to ask him, on the off-chance that he hadn’t connected the dots or there had been something I’d missed.
I suspected, in the end, he simply didn’t know. He wouldn’t have cared so much about where my mutation came from, only that it was an abomination for it to exist in the first place.
Unless I’d been valuable in some other way.
“I’m colorblind,” I said, looking between the two men. “He isn’t.”
“Children inherit traits from one parent all the time. I have my mother’s eyes,” Rafael said, speaking of his multicolored gaze that had to have been a recessive trait compared to the typical Spanish eye color.
“That’s not how colorblindness works,” I said, stepping forward to snag the pad of paper off the fridge. It had a few items on it for a shopping list, but I flipped to the back side and grabbed the pencil. “Monochromacy is determined by the X-chromosome. Women have two of them—one from each parent. If either of mine didn’t contain the trait associated with colorblindness, I would be able to see color.”
“So your mother was colorblind too?” Calix asked, twisting his lips as he considered it.
“No. She could see color, but women can be carriers of colorblindness without actually being colorblind. She probably had one affected X-chromosome, but the other functioned normally so her sight wasn’t affected. I just happened to inherit the wrong chromosome from her. Men only have one X-chromosome so they cannot be asymptomatic carriers. So for me to be colorblind…”
“Your father would have needed to be colorblind,” Calix agreed, nodding his head in thought. “Are you certain Origen wasn’t colorblind and just well versed in hiding it? He always wanted you to disguise it, and it would make sense why he was so disgusted by it in you. We hate reflections of what we perceive as our own weaknesses.”
“He was not. He could pick a color out easily. I’ve seen it more times than I can count,” I said, thinking of all the times he’d thrown his normalcy in my face. Once I’d learned about the mechanics of it, I’d spent the rest of my life looking at every man in Philadelphia who was around the right age, assessing the way they reacted to colors and wondering if they might have been my real father.
My only hope was that my mother’s journal would contain some evidence of who he might have been.
“What are the odds that Hasapis knows she isn’t a Karras at all?” Rafe asked, and Calix shook his head. There was no way to know, or even begin to speculate.
“I never even asked if my father knew. I don’t know that anyone else knows, but it seemed worth mentioning,” I explained.
“What if he’s harboring Jeno? Would your brother know?” Calix asked, his shocked stare meeting mine.
“Harboring Jeno? You killed him at the wedding,” I whispered, feeling my face twist with my confusion. I grasped the tumbler, tossing back a massive gulp. I was not drunk enough for this conversation. Clearly they’d been drinking for longer than I’d thought if Calix forgot killing my brother.
“We can’t find his body,” Calix admitted, pursing his lips to the side as he considered the information and what it might mean.
If my mother had intended for me to go to the address in her journal, had she also trusted Jeno with a secret?
“You didn’t think to mention that?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. The world was crashing down around me, the reality of what my lineage might mean. Of what that address could mean.
“I didn’t want to worry you,” Calix said, reaching out to touch my cheek with a gentle finger. I clamped my mouth shut, keeping the journal and the address to myself. It didn’t appear that Christian had mentioned it, or that he’d mentioned allowing me to google the address on his phone.
Calix clearly had his secrets. He wasn’t going to have mine, too.
The sun beat down on me as I collapsed to my knees, the thud of Calix’s wooden spear making mine vibrate against my palms. “Ugh,” I groaned, forcing myself to my feet and taking a step back from him. He watched me, his face unbothered as he twisted the spear in his hand. It spun at his side, the dull point digging into the grass beneath our feet as he shoved it deep. “This is fucking archaic.”
“No question there,” he said with a chuckle. “The spear is one of the best weapons you’ll find in ο λάκκος. Swords, shields, axes, and a morning star are all intended for closer combat. You’ll want the spear because it will enable you to keep a greater distance between you and your opponent.” Calix stepped behind me, wrapping his fingers around my grip on the spear. “The spear is lightweight compared to all those weapons. We don’t have time to build up enough muscle in you, so we have to work with what you have. That means focusing on your endurance and the way your body moves, not the strength within it.”
“This is impossible. They’re going to fucking kill me in the same spot as my mother,” I groaned, hanging my head forward. The thought of suffering through all those years under my father’s roof for it all to end in the worst place imaginable was too much.
I wanted to go back to bed.
“First of all, the battle is not to the death. Anyone who kills owes a blood debt to the family, so if they were to kill you they would be forfeiting their life to me. You aren’t going to die, Little One.”
“Okay, I’ll just be bloodied so severely that I’ll wish I was dead. That’s very comforting, thank you.” I said, smiling at him from over my shoulder.
He kicked a foot between my legs, nudging until I stood with them shoulder-width apart. “I will bleed long before I ever let them touch you,” he murmured, pressing his jaw into my temple. He guided my hand to the front of my body, using his other hand that he’d placed at my waist to move my hips in tandem with the movement of my arm. “It’s an extension of your arm. Just another part of you. You’re acting as if you are holding a spear in your hand and you’re afraid it will bite you.”
“How am I supposed to act like I’m not holding a spear when I’m looking at a spear?”
“Don’t be so literal,” he snapped, breathing slowly at my back. “Close your eyes.”
“I would like to maybe not stab myself in the face. How am I supposed to see with my eyes closed?” I asked.
“You’re not, but you don’t need to worry about poking yourself in the eye when your eyes are closed. If the spear is a part of you, you should always know where it is even without seeing it,” he said, guiding my free hand to touch the spear as he moved it from one hand to the other. I let my eyes drift closed, sinking deep into the feel of his hands on mine.
“This is ridiculous,” I said, allowing him to guide me through the movements.
“Just get to know the fucking spear, Thalia,” he warned, but there was the slightest chuckle in his voice.
“If I’ll have you to protect me, can’t I just sit and watch the show? I’d really hate to miss any of it,” I murmured, letting my voice drop lower.
“Be careful, λουλούδι μου. You’re at risk of distracting me from the task at hand. Besides, the only way I’ll allow you to watch the show is if you’re sitting on a throne where you belong. Not trapped in the sands of ο λάκκος,” he said, stepping back. He left me to keep taking my hands through the motions, curving the spear back and forth as I got to know the way I needed to shift my balance to make up for the slightly heavier extension of my arm.
I listened to his steps, heard the way his wooden spear dragged against the roots beneath the grass when he plucked it from the ground.
I stood, waiting for him to tell me to do something. The sound of his wooden spear cutting through the air sent me into a flurry of motion, reacting without thought. I spread my hands along the spear, raising it above my head just in time to block the blow as my eyes sprang open to watch his spear crash toward me.
Mine dug into my hands, making my palms ache with the force of the blow he dealt. With the force that had been aimed for my head. “You could have killed me!” I shrieked, yanking my spear away and taking a step back.
The bastard shrugged, spinning the offending weapon at his side with a smug grin. “But I didn’t.”
“I fucking loathe you,” I snapped, shoving my spear into the ground at my side. I was supposed to trust him to protect me, to put my safety first, when he was willing to risk my life for a sparring session.
“I would never have tried it if I hadn’t known you would stop me. You’re thinking too much, but when you just let go and follow your instinct, you’re a warrior, λουλούδι μου,” he said, his voice softening as he realized how much his outward carelessness had upset me.
“I’m nothing close to a warrior. I’m just a girl that’s never been allowed to be anything,” I said, hanging my head in shame. I couldn’t be a warrior. I couldn’t be an artist. I couldn’t write stories that made people escape from the misery of their lives.
I was just nothing in the shell they’d created.
“Is that who you are?” Calix asked, taking a single step toward me as he dropped the spear to his side. “Or are you the woman who very nearly killed her father with the same cane he used to abuse her? I thought you were the woman who would paint this city black with the stain of blood—the only woman I’ve ever known to face down the council of the six and not so much as flinch when they tried to put you in your place. You are either a queen or a pawn, Little One. Only you can decide your future. Would you like to be the pretty trophy tucked safely in my home, or will you kill them all for what they did to you?”
“I thought you already did that,” I whispered, staring up into the unhinged darkness gleaming in his silver gaze.
“Jeno is alive. Tobias is alive. The entire Galanis family was complicit in the murder of your mother and my banishment. They allowed a child to be dragged onto the sands of ο λάκκος and subjected to horrors she had no business witnessing. I won’t rest until they know the kind of fear you felt in the moments before your father took your mother’s head. Until they scream the way you did as I fell upon the sand. I want you to be a part of that. I want you to hold the knife to their throats and show them what happens to men who underestimate you, but I will not force you, and I won’t think less of you if that is not the path you choose.”
He dropped his forehead to mine, staring down at me as I blinked up at him. “I don’t think I’m capable of that.”
“λουλούδι μου, you are capable of bringing this city to its knees. All you have to do is pick up the spear and accept the challenge,” he said, taking a step back. He wrapped his fingers around my weapon, yanking it from the ground and placing it upon his open palm so that it balanced.
I stared at it for a moment, contemplating the kind of life I wanted for myself. I could live in comfort, reading and drawing and doing whatever made my heart happy, or I could become something far more sinister.
I picked up the spear.
