Dad Tried to Kill Me, but Mom Heard My Thoughts

"What's wrong, darling?" my father asked, stroking her back.

My mother stared into space, as if she'd just woken from a dream.

"Nothing... I must have misheard."

My father smiled and brought the baby boy closer to the bed. "Look. He looks just like you."

Furious, I kept opening my mouth and kicking as hard as I could inside the basket. But the stench of the blood-soaked rags overwhelmed me. I couldn't make a sound or muster any strength.

Don't listen to him.

Mom! I'm in the basket.

My mother went deathly pale. Clutching the covers, she jerked upright, gasping like a fish out of water.

She'd heard me! Hecate's soul-link really worked.

My mother shuddered again.

I hurried to tell her more.

Mom, that baby isn't yours! Myra Selwyn had him. She's my father's lover!

Everyone in the Selwyn family bears Artemis's sacred brand behind one ear.

My mother looked sharply at the boy, her gaze uncertain.

My father mistook her look for affection. His expression softened even more as he brushed a fingertip against the baby's cheek.

"Thea, this is Orion Varen, our firstborn son. One day, he'll be our heir."

With trembling fingers, my mother slowly brushed aside the soft hair behind Orion's left ear.

There it was. A little crescent-shaped mark!

During my mother's first pregnancy with me, Myra had come to visit.

She'd bent to pick up her fallen shawl, accidentally revealing the same mark.

My mother had teased her. "That's an unusual birthmark, Myra."

Myra had blushed and shaken her head. "It's not a birthmark. A priest of Artemis branded me the day I was born. We're grateful to Artemis for giving our family this special honor."

Now that same brand was on Orion.

My mother's breathing quickened, and all the color drained from her lips.

Mom, now you have to believe me!

Hurry, save me! They're about to carry me out!

I writhed wildly in the basket. I'd gone too long without air during the birth. Now I couldn't even cry. All I could manage was a faint whimper.

My mother turned sharply toward Daphne Vale, the midwife. "Stop!" she barked.

Daphne flinched and dropped to her knees.

"M-my lady... what would you like me to do?"

My mother stared at her. "What's in that wicker basket?"

Daphne went pale.

Before she could answer, my father stepped forward and took my mother's hand.

"Thea, why are you so upset? You've just given birth. You'll only hurt yourself by getting worked up."

His voice was still gentle, but his grip had tightened.

"It's only the afterbirth and blood." He spoke as if soothing a child, then shot Daphne a look. "Blood is unclean. It offends Hestia, goddess of the hearth. Get it out of here!"

Daphne got up and hurried toward the door with the basket.

The basket jolted violently, shaking me until I could barely breathe.

Mom, don't let her leave!

Wait any longer and you'll lose your baby again!

They're going to make their bastard son your heir and steal your dowry!

Desperate, I hammered my tiny fists against the wicker. But I was too weak to make more than a faint scratching sound.

Hearing me, my mother flung back the bed curtains and struggled to get up.

"I said stop! Are you deaf?" she shouted toward the door.

The woman in brown froze.

The room fell silent.

My father's smile finally faded. "Thea, blood from childbirth is unclean. It will defile you. You mustn't look! Those are the rules."

My mother clung to the bed. Tears still filled her eyes, but she refused to give in.

"The rules? I'm the archon's daughter. I make the rules!"

My father pulled the linen tighter around Orion and pressed his lips together.

"Throwing your family's weight around again? You may be highborn, but this is my house."

He'd said it so many times. Every time, my mother would panic, back down, and end up apologizing to him.

For all her noble blood, she'd spent their marriage hiding her pain to keep him happy.

My father said a priest of Hestia shouldn't live in luxury. So she took down the amber and ivory ornaments and hardly ever wore her solid-gold diadem. Whenever he made her cry, all he had to do was bring her a gift and say a few sweet words. Truffles, pheasant eggs, wine from Chios, even a single pink myrtle blossom... Any of them could make her smile again.

She'd once told me while I was still in her womb, "That's what love is. You fight, then make up. But once you're born, sweetheart, I could never bear to fight with you."

The first time I tried to be born, I'd looked forward to a life filled with that kind of "love."

But during my third and fifth attempts, I watched my father grow colder, come home less often, and fight with my mother more and more. I no longer knew whether she was right.

It wasn't until I was in the Asphodel Meadows beside the River Styx that I learned about my father's relationship with Myra.

Mom, don't let him fool you again.

Please, just look at me.

At my words, my mother bit her lip but stood her ground. "I just want to look in that basket."

My father stared hard at her. After a moment, he sighed.

"Fine. If you need to be sure." He turned to the woman in white kneeling on the floor. "Let Chione look."

Chione Hale was the slave my mother had brought from her family home as part of her dowry. She'd served my mother for years. Her life and her place in the household depended on her mistress.

My father looked at her. "Go on. Tell your lady exactly what's in that basket."