this one comes up under a rush of white froth. And a hippo lifts its snout from the water to roar at him.
"Zeus Almighty!" Cassander shouts, scrambling to his feet.
The hippo must have slipped past the patch of reeds without our notice. Now it has our full attention. Styx whinnies in sharp fear. I'm the only one who doesn't move, even though I know how truly dangerous a hippopotamus is. This one fixes black eyes on me, rivulets of water streaming down its pinkish grey flesh. It opens its mouth in another roar and shows enormous teeth.
Then it rushes me.
"Run!" Cassander cries.
As the great creature closes in on me, I only close my eyes. I'm too terrified to move, or too resigned to my fate. Perhaps this is no ordinary hippo, but the Egyptian goddess Taweret come to claim me for Egypt forever. I wait for the painful crush of a hippo's jaws.
Instead, Cassander's steely grip closes around my wrists and I'm yanked to my feet. "I said, run!"
So we run.
Cassander is strong and swift. With my horse, we clamber up the bank onto the road, away from the hippo—which, in spite of its blubber, could probably catch us if it really tried. We don't speak until we are well away, leaning against the city wall, doubling over from our efforts.
Styx is still on alert from our narrow escape. She trots in a circle, head high, making her outrage plain.
I rub the sore spot on my wrists where Cassander's grip left marks. "You saved me."
"Only by a hair!" His eyes are clouded with anger, his face red with exertion, and he pants like the breath has been stolen from his lungs. "Why didn't you run?"
I too am fighting for breath, and I gasp, "I don't know."
He stares at me. "Did you
want
to be eaten alive?"
I lower my eyes to the ground. "I don't know."
"What's wrong with you? Thrace isn't so bad. It's a barbarous land, but there is a palace and all the luxuries you find here."
"You don't know me well if you think all I care about is luxury."
Cassander snorts. "I don't know you at all. And I can't get to know you better if you're inside the belly of a hippo."
Dusty and glowing with perspiration, I'm surprised he wishes to know me better. Moreover, given his rank, I'm acutely aware that he should not be so familiar with me. His easy manner tempts me to ask him what his father is like—to tell me about this stranger that I'm to marry. But even if my bridegroom is a cruel man, how could Cassander speak against his own father and king? Nonetheless, this boy has become my own personal hero, so I confess, "I'm afraid."
"You can't know what will come, Princess. None of us can. The world turns in strange ways. We can't change how we're born, but we have some say over everything after."
I marry before Lysandra does. In this one thing, I finally come first.
Before the wedding, I sacrifice all my girlhood toys to Artemis. It's a goodbye, for the virgin goddess can't protect me anymore. I will belong to Hera now. After, I wash in a sweet-smelling bath of milk, honey, and water drawn from a ritual spring and carried by a special vase. The servants anoint me with oils, style my hair, and swath me in veils.
My brother is garbed in a crown of thorn and nuts. He is to be my companion at the wedding and pass out bread at the wedding feast. "I'll miss you, Arsinoë," Ptolemy says, his voice thick with emotion. I wish he could come with me to Thrace, but he's part of my mother's plans. When she becomes the Pharaoh's chief wife, my brother will become the heir to the throne. He must stay here and be King of Egypt after my father. It now seems like a childish thought that I should have ever remained here, or become Pharaoh, so I embrace my brother in fond farewell.
The wedding feast is a raucous affair with men and women celebrating together, though they eat separately on either side of the hall. All the while, Lysandra sneers at me, as if hoping to provoke me to tears. She nearly does. Or perhaps I am upset only because when I look for Cassander,
"Zeus Almighty!" Cassander shouts, scrambling to his feet.
The hippo must have slipped past the patch of reeds without our notice. Now it has our full attention. Styx whinnies in sharp fear. I'm the only one who doesn't move, even though I know how truly dangerous a hippopotamus is. This one fixes black eyes on me, rivulets of water streaming down its pinkish grey flesh. It opens its mouth in another roar and shows enormous teeth.
Then it rushes me.
"Run!" Cassander cries.
As the great creature closes in on me, I only close my eyes. I'm too terrified to move, or too resigned to my fate. Perhaps this is no ordinary hippo, but the Egyptian goddess Taweret come to claim me for Egypt forever. I wait for the painful crush of a hippo's jaws.
Instead, Cassander's steely grip closes around my wrists and I'm yanked to my feet. "I said, run!"
So we run.
Cassander is strong and swift. With my horse, we clamber up the bank onto the road, away from the hippo—which, in spite of its blubber, could probably catch us if it really tried. We don't speak until we are well away, leaning against the city wall, doubling over from our efforts.
Styx is still on alert from our narrow escape. She trots in a circle, head high, making her outrage plain.
I rub the sore spot on my wrists where Cassander's grip left marks. "You saved me."
"Only by a hair!" His eyes are clouded with anger, his face red with exertion, and he pants like the breath has been stolen from his lungs. "Why didn't you run?"
I too am fighting for breath, and I gasp, "I don't know."
He stares at me. "Did you
want
to be eaten alive?"
I lower my eyes to the ground. "I don't know."
"What's wrong with you? Thrace isn't so bad. It's a barbarous land, but there is a palace and all the luxuries you find here."
"You don't know me well if you think all I care about is luxury."
Cassander snorts. "I don't know you at all. And I can't get to know you better if you're inside the belly of a hippo."
Dusty and glowing with perspiration, I'm surprised he wishes to know me better. Moreover, given his rank, I'm acutely aware that he should not be so familiar with me. His easy manner tempts me to ask him what his father is like—to tell me about this stranger that I'm to marry. But even if my bridegroom is a cruel man, how could Cassander speak against his own father and king? Nonetheless, this boy has become my own personal hero, so I confess, "I'm afraid."
"You can't know what will come, Princess. None of us can. The world turns in strange ways. We can't change how we're born, but we have some say over everything after."
I marry before Lysandra does. In this one thing, I finally come first.
Before the wedding, I sacrifice all my girlhood toys to Artemis. It's a goodbye, for the virgin goddess can't protect me anymore. I will belong to Hera now. After, I wash in a sweet-smelling bath of milk, honey, and water drawn from a ritual spring and carried by a special vase. The servants anoint me with oils, style my hair, and swath me in veils.
My brother is garbed in a crown of thorn and nuts. He is to be my companion at the wedding and pass out bread at the wedding feast. "I'll miss you, Arsinoë," Ptolemy says, his voice thick with emotion. I wish he could come with me to Thrace, but he's part of my mother's plans. When she becomes the Pharaoh's chief wife, my brother will become the heir to the throne. He must stay here and be King of Egypt after my father. It now seems like a childish thought that I should have ever remained here, or become Pharaoh, so I embrace my brother in fond farewell.
The wedding feast is a raucous affair with men and women celebrating together, though they eat separately on either side of the hall. All the while, Lysandra sneers at me, as if hoping to provoke me to tears. She nearly does. Or perhaps I am upset only because when I look for Cassander,
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