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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