Chapter 2

Chione glanced up, looking as if she had something to hide.

She slowly lifted the lid. Harsh light flooded in.

My heart hammered like an antelope's pounding hooves. The lack of air had left my whole body limp. Too weak to make a sound, I could only scream in my head.

I'm right here.

Chione bent over me, blocking my mother's view with her wide skirt. My mother craned her neck but still couldn't see into the basket.

Chione reached in and lightly prodded me through my linen wrappings. An eerie smile crossed her face.

Then I saw the red mole on her wrist. I went cold with fear.

I'd seen that mole five times before.

Every time my mother came close to losing me, that same hand had brought her medicine, lit incense, and guided her along slippery corridors.

It was her... She was the one who'd done it!

"My lady," Chione said, closing the lid, her expression unchanged. "There's nothing inside but blood and afterbirth. It's filthy. Please don't look. You'll only make yourself ill."

I was so desperate I thought I'd burst.

Don't believe her! Something's wrong with Chione!

Look at her left wrist. Does she have a red mole?

She caused all five miscarriages!

I used the last of my strength to scream in my head.

My mother stared at Chione in disbelief.

"Chione," she said quietly. "Are you sure?"

Chione stiffened.

She immediately lowered her head and pressed herself flat against the floor.

"My lady, how could I ever lie to you?" Her voice caught on a sob. "It's just filthy waste from the birth. Please spare yourself the sight."

My father chose that moment to speak, sounding wounded, as if she'd accused him unfairly. "Thea, you don't even trust Chione anymore? Haven't we both earned your trust?"

My mother looked shaken. She didn't answer.

I knew she couldn't bring herself to believe that Chione had betrayed her.

Chione had been with her for ten years, following her from her family home to her husband's house. When my mother burned with fever, Chione prayed to Asclepius day and night. During each miscarriage, Chione held her and gently patted her back. Chione took care of everything: her scented oils, the bells beside the cradle, the wreaths on the door, and the pomegranate tree in the courtyard.

She was practically the only person my mother trusted.

How could my mother suspect her?

My heart ached at how lost my mother looked. I shouted in my head, determined not to let them fool her.

Mom! She's the one who caused all five miscarriages!

She brought you your medicine every time!

The third time you were pregnant with me, she smeared olive oil on the stone steps before you went to the hearth altar!

The fifth time, she put rue in your scented oil!

Rue.

My mother turned white.

She was probably remembering the sudden pain in her belly and the miscarriage that followed during her fifth pregnancy.

Back then, she'd noticed a strange smell again and again but brushed it off. She'd assumed she was simply too weak to carry a baby to term.

Her lips trembled so badly that for a long time, she couldn't finish a sentence.

Five miscarriages.

Five.

Each one had left her in agony. She thought she'd failed her husband and her baby. At night, she could only weep and beg the gods for mercy. "Even if I've done something wrong, please spare my child. Punish me alone."

Once, her eyes red-rimmed, she'd stroked her pregnant belly and asked me, "Am I not good enough? Is that why I never get to be your mother?"

Every time I was about to leave her, she would clutch the eagle-stone charm at her chest, stare at the pomegranate tree in the courtyard, or seek answers from an oracle... I had witnessed her fear and confusion every time.

I reached out with one tiny fist inside the basket, but I couldn't wipe away her tears.

Mom, don't cry.

Mom.

Maybe my voice gave her strength. She struggled to get out of bed. "Bring me the basket," she said hoarsely. "I want to see for myself."

But my father stepped in and forced her back onto the bed.

"Thea! That's enough of this!" His voice took on a scolding edge. "You just gave birth. Why are you so determined to look at something unclean? Our family serves Hestia. If that blood offends the goddess, we'll all be punished!"

Chione pleaded with her too. "My lady, please listen to your husband!" She glanced at my father. "He's made so many sacrifices to Hestia lately, all for you and your son..."

The servants all dropped to their knees.

"My lady, please calm down!"

"There's blood in the birthing room. It needs to be cleaned up right away."

"Please, think of your health. Don't make yourself sick over this filth."

One voice after another.

The whole room was telling her to give up.

My mother looked at the people kneeling before her. Her lips trembled slightly, and she tasted blood at the back of her throat.

She was the noble-born daughter of the archon, yet she had lost all authority in her own home. Not one person in that room could be trusted. Not one would obey her.

The realization struck my mother like a knife to the heart.

I could feel her helplessness and despair, but there was nothing I could do. My breaths were growing fainter.

Mom... save me...

I can't breathe... It's so dark in here...