Page 6 - My FlipBook

ELIZABETH T AMMI

again. I’m not sure why Kahina’s so upset. “I want whatever
this young woman deems appropriate. I defer to her esteemed
judgment.”
“But—”
“Esteemed. Judgment.” she growls. Her warm eyes are sur-
prisingly intimidating, and I keep my mouth shut, even though
a burst of raw anger flares in my chest.
“Do your best,” Kahina tells the women. And she’s gone.

A few hours later, I’m sitting at a wooden table so long
that I have to lean back to see the other end. My father sits
at the head, and I’m at his left. Phelix sits across from me.
Torchlight makes the room glow in orange light, and laughter
rings through the hall—pleasant, but too loud. The Arkadians
applauded when I was first introduced. I’m surprised that I feel
good in the purple dress Kahina chose—despite its constraining
length, the fabric is one of the softest things I’ve ever touched.
I’d been told there would be a formal coronation later, and was
relieved when their attention switched quickly from me to the
food heaped onto the tables.
Not many people address me, or even meet my eyes. Which
I prefer. I don’t have to do much talking; my father repeats
our story countless times throughout the night, and with each
glass of wine, it becomes more fantastical. I watch him grin
and beckon toward me, and my insides grow warm—or maybe
that’s just the wine.
“It’s hard to believe that the Atalanta is my daughter!”
It’s harder still for me to believe I have a father. With Phelix
smiling softly across the table at me, and my father singing my
praises to anyone who will listen, a part of me wishes I’d never

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