From Darkness (Hearts & Arrows Book 3)(72)

A tear fell, and she brushed it away as if it had been a nuisance. She drained her goblet as Eleni unseated another Oceanid, and the nymphs roared their joy.

Artemis set the empty chalice down and stood, banishing her sadness, and the din grew louder, her name echoing in her ears as she jogged to the unicorn of the fallen nymph. She pulled herself onto his back, wishing to erase her past, to banish her thoughts, even if only for a moment.

She was handed a lance and shield, and her nymphs ran back to the crowd, the excitement electric and heady. But when she turned for the track and braced herself, her mind did not turn its attention from Orion, did not quiet Aphrodite’s voice ringing in her ears.

Eleni charged, and Artemis kicked with a, H’ya, but as they approached each other, Artemis faltered.

The jolt from Eleni’s lance to her chest hit her like lightning. Artemis landed flat on her back in a cloud of dust, her eyes snapping open and lungs frozen and empty and burning. She gasped, starving for air, staring at the blue sky above.

Eleni’s face appeared over her, and she held her hand out.

“How rare, goddess,” Eleni said, alarmed, though smug enough at winning.

Artemis coughed, her voice rough. “Do not taunt me.”

“Whatever has gotten into you?”

She ignored Eleni’s hand and stood on her own. “Nothing. I’ve had too much wine is all.”

Eleni eyed her.

“I said I was fine. Please, let’s not be dramatic.” Artemis dusted off her robes with more force than was entirely necessary.

“As you say,” she said tightly with a small bow before turning for her steed once again.

Artemis’s skin crawled as the noise from her nymphs grew all of a sudden too loud, the sun too bright. She made her way to Calix, hopping onto his back as the Oceanids turned their eyes to her.

“Carry on, friends. I am weary and wish for solitude.” They mostly looked concerned, so she added, “The first of you who dismounts Eleni will receive a weapon of their choice from my personal armory.”

Eleni scowled from the other end of the field, but the expression shifted into a suppressed smile as the nymphs laughed and whooped, the tension broken. Artemis took the opening and fled, her tears streaking her face at angles as she rode as hard and fast as Calix would take her.



Dita stretched out on her side in her library, running her hand down Bisoux’s back as she watched the fire from where she lay on her sheepskin rug. The flames danced and jumped, the glowing ashes floating up into the chimney and logs burned bright orange, flaring when the air hit the hot wood, phasing bright to dark, and she stared, hypnotized.

The next thing she knew, Heff called her name. She blinked and propped herself up with a start to find him in her doorway, his dark hair pushed back from his face, his eyes bright with concern. Two wooden boxes rested in his arms.

“Dita, did I wake you? I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t even know.” Dita rolled onto her back and stretched as he sat down on the couch.

His worry melted into excitement. “I made you something. Two somethings actually.”

She sat, smiling when Bisoux trotted over to him and licked his hand. Heff passed her the wooden boxes and picked up the little dog, scratching at a spot on his side that always made his leg thump.

Dita laid the boxes down in front of her and ran her hand over the top of the larger one. It was deep chestnut with mother-of-pearl triangles inlaid on the surface to form an image of a dove, like a tangram. There was always a trick to his boxes, and she felt for a switch across the inlay with the pads of her fingers. The shape over where the dove’s heart would be clicked, and the triangles sank and slid under each other until the lid was gone.

She reached into the box and pulled out the machine inside. It was a triangular terrarium, a pyramid made of glass, joined at the seams with copper metal. Inside were shells in pinks and creams, sliced to show the curves and angles and shapes of the chambers, displayed on a bed of white sand.

Heff watched quietly as she inspected the device, turning it around in her hands, running her finger up the dark seams. When she found the small button at the top of the pyramid where the panes met, she pressed it.

The sound of the ocean filled the room, a steady rhythm, a crash and hiss of the waves as they hit the sand, and when she closed her eyes, she imagined she was in Greece.

“Press it again,” he said.

She opened her eyes and did just that. The device filled with black, and small, uneven stars floated inside, spinning slowly, shining silver. The sound the machine made was binaural—two tones weaving in and out of each other, soft and soothing. She sighed, relaxing instantly.

“There’s one more.”

Dita pushed the button again, and the scene transformed to a miniature mossy landscape with miniature mountains. A waterfall rushed out of the face of the stone and into a pool at the bottom. The sound of thundering water filled the room, and she beamed up at him, amazed.

He smiled back. “It’s set to your biorhythms, and it will adjust its settings to meet what your body needs. It’ll speed up your REM too, so you should dream less, if at all.”

“It’s brilliant,” she whispered as she turned it around in her hands.

His eyes were full of comfort and pleasure. “I just hope it helps.”

“I have a good feeling that it will. Thank you.”