Pandora's Mistake (Fate of Eros #0) (The Fate of Eros Series) (16 page)

"If only my parents would think so highly of me."

Cithara laughed. "There's one catch, though. You have to be as quiet as possible. Although I know you won't sleep with Bartholomew, the priestesses don't believe that. If they find out the truth, they'll hang both you and Bartholomew for blasphemy. There's no sex allowed in the virgin goddess Athena's temple. Bartholomew and I don't even hold hands while we're inside it."

Medy dug her feet into the ground. "Maybe I shouldn't go then."

Cithara yanked on her arm. "No, I've snuck in there a ton of times. They won't figure it out unless you do something stupid. They don't like to go into the slave quarters because they view it as beneath them. It's just one night; you'll be gone before they notice."

Medy thought about it a moment, tempted. Tonight might be the last night of her life where she got to stay in a beautiful place. Not to mention, she had always looked up to Athena and it would be fitting to begin her new life under the goddess' roof.

"Okay," Medy agreed.

They traveled to the temple. Medy had never been this close to it before. She had always wanted to visit, but it wasn't open to the public. Taking in its beauty, Medy admired the white marble and statues decorating the outside.

They tiptoed towards a side door rather than the main entrance and looked both ways to make sure no one was around. Cithara tapped her fist in a certain rhythm as she knocked. It must have been a secret signal.

A tan young man opened it wearing a huge smile. His black hair shone in the moonlight. "I didn't know you were coming to visit me tonight."

He raced out the door and grabbed Cithara by the waist, kissing her so passionately that Medy blushed. She had seen Cithara do sexual things with men, but none of them had felt this intimate. She now saw love behind the act, something she'd never seen her father or mother share. Suddenly, she understood why poems were written for lovers. She shook her head, most of those verses ended in tragedy. Pleasure was how men tricked women into being owned by them.

Cithara pulled away and gestured towards Medy. "As much as I like seeing you, I actually came over because my friend needs a place to stay."

Bartholomew looked over at Medy for the first time, his eyebrows raised. "Oh?"

Cithara nodded. "Medy, this is Bartholomew. Bartholomew, Medy."

She shook his hand shyly, but he smiled at her warmly.

"I've heard so much about you," he said.

"Really?" Medy asked.

He nodded his head. "Follow me."

Cithara excused herself, saying that the other prostitutes were waiting for her back at the brothel. This would have frightened Medy if Bartholomew wasn't so welcoming. He chatted to her quietly as he led her down a few hallways in the direction of his room. She smiled and whispered, "Thanks for everything."

He opened the door to his room and Medy followed. She jumped when something shifted in the hay, thinking it was a rat. Instead, she saw a man who was so quiet she hadn't noticed him at first. He looked amused at her surprise.

"This is Horius," Bartholomew introduced. "He works at the temple as well. He's mute."

He winked at Medy and she giggled. He had the kind of smile that someone could only have if they were a child at heart. It made her want to get to know him better.

"He witnessed something that he wasn't supposed to," Bartholomew continued. "So they chopped off his tongue."

Horius nodded his head and shrugged. He pointed to his mouth and opened it to show her, but Medy shielded her eyes. "No, I don't need to see it."

They didn't have much for dinner, but they shared what little bread and cheese they had. She was grateful for it because she got insomnia whenever she went to bed hungry.

She had never slept in a pile of hay before, but found the arrangement more comfortable than she expected. She was frightened by the idea of insects hidden inside crawling over her; she'd heard too many stories of bed bugs and lice in hay. The temple didn't take care of their servants well, but they were healthier and cleaner than most in Athens. It didn't seem as bad as sleeping in the brothel on the stone floor.

She stretched her legs. Staying limber would be difficult, cramped that way every night.

The candles were extinguished. She heard Bartholomew and Horius breathing heavily as they fell asleep. Medy tried to join them, but she was too anxious to rest. Her life had been turned upside down. She kept imagining herself dying of hunger on the streets every time she closed her eyes. She remembered her mother once spitting on a prostitute who was sick on the side of the road. Would that happen to her?

She got up, lit a candle that she found, and covered the flame. She was afraid she'd wake someone with her actions, but they continued to snore. She walked out the door, even though she knew it was risky.

The little flame reflected red against the gold that decorated the building. She gasped as she gazed at all the beautiful images carved into the marble. She recognized Poseidon and Pandora, Zeus and Prometheus.

She probably shouldn't have wandered this far, but she was addicted to the beauty. She felt like a mortal who had just broken into Mount Olympus–too humble to walk on such holy ground.

She turned a corner and saw a large statue of Athena. The ceiling was higher than any she'd been under before and Athena's head brushed the top of it. Medy collapsed to one knee. Athena stared down at her, covered in white glory from the marble she had been carved out of. This was her hero. She looked so powerful that it moved Medy.

She wondered whether this was a life-size replica or not. She heard that the gods looked like humans, but were much taller than them.

This was a sign. In the morning, she needed to ask the goddess for advice. She had enough drachmas left to buy a humble sacrifice. It would pay for a dove and Athena would grant her the fearlessness and wisdom she needed to move on. Just standing in the same room with her statue was inspiring.

Feet shuffled behind her, causing her to jump and spin around. She grabbed her heart, expecting screaming men holding swords to burst through the shadows. She had been caught and Cithara's boyfriend could be killed. She'd just have to lie-say she broke in by herself, so that no one else would be punished. If she had been more patient, maybe Bartholomew would have let her peek into this room in the morning.

When no one emerged, she held her candle towards the corners of the room where the darkness was most thick. "Who's there?"

No one answered and her heart slowed. She allowed her tense muscles to relax. It must have been a mouse. Virgin priestesses and soldiers didn't like to sneak up on people in the dark. They viewed themselves as worshippers and warriors of the light.

This was her cue to leave. She turned around to admire the statue once more and blew it a kiss goodbye. Her breath caught in her throat. She wished she could see the goddess in person just once. She didn't deserve such an honor, but knew she'd never be the same again if it happened to her.

An arm wrapped around her waist and a hand covered her mouth. She tried to scream as she struggled, but every noise she made was muffled. She was lifted from the ground, kicking and punching as a male body pressed into her back. Her face was shoved against the floor and her legs parted. Her body ached as her bones cracked under the pressure of being smooshed against the hard floor.

Had one of the servants noticed her? They didn't seem like the kind of people who would attack someone. Maybe a criminal had broken inside. But he seemed too strong to be just one human. Who was this and what did he want from her? Was she going to die?

He lifted her dress and immediately tears flowed down her face. No, he couldn't possibly want that. She refused to give it up to a stranger. She beat her fists against the floor and tried to crawl away. She deserved to keep this one thing after all she'd lost.

The smell of the sea overwhelmed her and made it hard to breathe. He was pinning her down so tightly that she couldn't move forward. His skin was slick and covered in sand. It tingled where he touched her as power radiated off him. Much taller than a normal man would be, he could crush her with his bare hands.

His erection was huge. As it pressed against her entrance, she wondered how it would be possible for him to fit it inside. She begged for him not to do it, imagining the blood that would result, but he ignored her. It felt as if he was ripping her in half as he filled her up. He might as well have been pummeling her with a knife. Her hymen broke, a tiny tear, but it ricocheted throughout her abdomen. His grunts were loud and his thrusts were deep.

She bit and clawed at his hands, but he took no notice. In fact, she was pretty sure that the more she fought him, the more he was turned on. She wished he would hurry and finish so that it could all be over. She wasn't sure she could make it through the whole thing alive and kept picturing her mother's disapproving face. Ceto had warned her that she could get hurt, but she hadn't listened. Was this whole thing her fault?

With one last moan, he finished. He left her with a mess of sex juices and blood dripping down her thighs. She ached too much to move and get a glimpse of his face before he disappeared, but she had a feeling he would be gone anyway, even if she had been quick.

The one thing she valued-her virginity-had been stolen from her like everything else. Her body trembled all over and she thought about searching for the knives the priestesses used to perform sacrifices and cut herself with them. Or maybe she could still find the man and kill him. She couldn't do it, though. It was too much effort.

She lay there for what felt like an eternity and once her legs stopped shaking, she stood. She winced and almost fell over as she tried to walk. She had to grip the wall to make any progress. She was leaving all the evidence of the attack behind. She wanted to clean it and make it go away, but she didn't have the energy or tools to do so.

When she finally got back to Bartholomew's room, she blew the candle out and lay on the hay. Her eyes were stuck wide open and she couldn't breathe, even as she rested her head. She wanted to light the candle again, so she could see what was happening in the room, but the two of them could get angry with her. She was scared the man would return and rape her again. Her two roommates would probably try to protect her, but that being had been strong and what if they couldn't fight him off? What if he covered her mouth and was so quiet that they heard nothing?

She contemplated waking them, but wondered whether they would blame her for what had happened. Bartholomew knew she was a prostitute, after all. Maybe he'd make a joke and say she was probably just upset because he hadn't paid her or yell at her for wandering the temple alone. She couldn't take that.

She wanted to tell the authorities, but knew that would help nothing. Being in the temple, in a man's room, was illegal. She'd be the one punished rather than the mysterious man who had hurt her.

She hiccupped as she cried. It wasn't fair. She was ruined and possibly pregnant. She made bad decision after bad decision and she'd be suffering on the streets soon for all of them.

Medy eventually drifted off to sleep and morning came too quickly. She begged Bartholomew and Cithara for permission to make a sacrifice in front of Athena's statue. Bartholomew hesitated before saying yes, which made Medy feel terrible, but this was important. They went into the agora to purchase a dove. The man wouldn't haggle for it, so Medy was forced to borrow a drachma. Cithara left; she'd be back to get her later.

Bartholomew found a beautiful young brunette dressed all in white with a childish face. The other priestesses stared at the two of them as if they were teachers looking down at unruly students. The dove cooed in its cage, which cut the silence like a hammer banging against the wall.

Bartholomew claimed in a whisper that she owed him a favor, but he still bowed his head and didn't look her in the eye as he asked the priestess to perform the sacrifice.

Her mouth formed a tight line and Medy felt certain she'd say no. "Very well. Follow me."

bBartholomew left to perform his duties. Medy hid her face behind her hair and didn't meet anyone's eyes as they traveled down the hallway she had been in the night before.

"Most people aren't allowed into this place," the young priestess said. "If you touch anything or speak, you will be forced to leave immediately."

Medy nodded her head. The mess she had left was gone. She wondered whether they'd cleaned it.

When they neared the statue, Medy kept her eyes on the ground. The priestess set a pile of logs on a golden altar to the side and lit it on fire. She grabbed the caged dove from her. It flapped its wings wildly as she pulled it out. She took a bronze knife and slit its throat, barely noticing its struggle. Blood dripped down her hand as she removed the meat from the fat and bone; the priestesses and slaves would consume it later. She threw the fat and bone on the fire and soon the flickering flame was reflected on each gold plated wall.

Medy bowed her head and clasped her hands. This would be the end of foolish decisions. The sacrifice of this pure, white bird would cleanse her for the future.

She gazed at Athena's feet and swore that they were glowing. It must have been the morning light playing tricks on Medy's eyes. The toes twitched and she wondered whether the hallucinations were because of a lack of sleep.

She looked up slowly as the white marble turned peach where Athena's skin lay. Her armor burst with color: in some places bronze, in others gold.

Medy stumbled backwards. A servant carrying water shattered the pottery on the ground as she dropped it. All the priestesses fell to one knee.

The owl on Athena's shoulder blinked and flapped its wings. Her hair flowed down her shoulders unlike any color Medy had ever seen. In some lights it shone red, in others blonde, and in the rest brown. It changed every time she moved. Her lips were pressed together, her chin stuck out, and she glared downward. She raised her spear and pointed it at Medy's forehead.

Medy froze, her eyes wide and her mouth open.