Page 8 - My FlipBook
P. 8
ELIZABETH T AMMI
by maybe five or six years, and it’s unnerving to see some of
my features in male form. He stays silent and unacknowledged
throughout the meal. To be fair, I do mostly the same—at least
the silent part.
When the last of the guests finally exit through the front
doors, they shut with a satisfying noise. Phelix wordlessly begins
clearing plates, helping the servants clean up the feast. I lean
down to do the same, but Father catches my arm.
I glance up, and he smiles. “Your first day back home.”
I nod, and mirror his grin. “I suppose it’s been awhile.” I
pause. “And thank you, for the welcome banquet—I appreciate
it.”
He shakes his head as if it’s nothing, but I still remember
the empty pitchers and worried servants. All is not well in
Arkadia, but I won’t be the first to bring it up.
“No, really,” I continue. I straighten my skirts, and look
into his familiar eyes. “Thank you. Not just for tonight, but for
everything—I’ve never had a home like this before.” He shakes
his head again, but I keep going, sudden gratitude overflowing.
“If there’s anything I can do to help—”
“Atalanta,” he says, and though I’m not great at under-
standing people, his tone sounds almost guilty. He heaves a
sigh and stares vacantly around his palace. “Your coronation
will be in just a few weeks.”
“I know.”
“There will be suitors there,” he says. “Suitors you need
to impress. So I’ll ask Kahina to help you with some basic
etiquette and—”
“Suitors?” I ask. I immediately, stupidly, think of Meleager.
My throat threatens to clamp up, but I clear it. “But . . . I can’t
get married.”
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