The Breaking — Chapter 18

The gods are fickle. The gods are cruel. And yet there is one law they all agree on, the one that can't be broken. Xenia. Visitors must be welcomed with hospitality. A simple law, as such things go. But does xenia apply to an old enemy who appears

The Breaking — Chapter 17

I take the papyrus that contains my freedom, the purse full of drachmae and jewels, and go home. Mykonos has changed in five years. The salt-stained docks creak under the weight of people and cargo, and the agora has spilled into the surrounding streets, its merchants offering honeyed wine, jewelry,

The Breaking — Chapter 16

Sleep forsakes the damned. What good is slumber when the Underworld is filled with the eternally awake? Restlessly, I drift across the long hours of night, trapped in the grey mists between Erebos and the earth. Restlessly, I twist in bedsheets that entangle my limbs. You've abandoned me

The Breaking — Chapter 15

You don't bring me a contract, but I am your wife. There's no announcement, no ceremonial greeting at the hearth, no feast. I've no family to give me away; you seem to have no family to welcome me. No need to sweep me into

The Breaking — Chapter 14

We don't speak of that moment on the balcony. I act as if it never happened. I never took control, never made you so vulnerable—and you act as if that's the truth. But your moods swing like an anchor-stone at the end of a line,

The Breaking — Chapter 13

That winter is one of cold clarity. Days of hard blue skies summon nights that gleam with frost. From you, I learn it's uncommon for Attika to find itself wrapped so tightly in Boreas's chill embrace. It's well beyond my own level of comfort

The Breaking — Chapter 12

When I awaken the next morning, you're still Deimos Autokratōr. You're also still asleep, curled on your side with the blanket thrown carelessly over your body. A thick, ropy scar slashes across the outside of your arm at the shoulder, and silvery lines curve around your

The Breaking — Chapter 11

That night's symposium isn't a grand spectacle in your megaron, or an opulent display in one of the homes of the aristoi. Instead, you bring me to a grove of trees rooted at the foot of the Akropolis.

The Breaking — Chapter 10

If yesterday you were a child, with a child's grasp of emotions, today you're a youth who's just had her first taste of another's lips. And like seeds from a pomegranate, one kiss isn't nearly enough.

The Breaking — Chapter 9

The days pass quickly while you hunt the conspirators who threaten your throne. Sometimes you send me to the library, to help Thukidides conduct research at your behest, but mostly I accompany you while you call on your strategoi, magistrates, and other retainers. I serve wine, kneel by your side—