Page 75

“There wasn’t much of a choice,” Atropos said. “It was either humans or fae.”

“We had no chance breaking the will of the fae,” Clotho said. “Such savages, they are.”

“You shouldn’t say that word,” I told them. “My father said it was racist and offensive and never to use it.” I’d repeated something my mother had said when she saw me reading a storybook about Pocahontas. My father hadn’t yelled or punished me. He’d calmly explained why the term was rooted in bigotry and racism. I struck the word from my vocabulary without argument.

A chorus of laughter followed my statement. “We are the Fates,” Atropos cooed. “We will use whatever words we like, pet.”

My mouth sealed shut. I tried to speak, but my lips refused to part. I panicked. My nostrils flared, desperate to inhale.

“Enough,” Clotho said. “Release her, sister. She’s shown too much promise to damage the merchandise.”

My lips broke free of each other and I gasped for air.

Atropos looked at me, fire burning in her eyes. “Remember that we can see your fate-thread, and we can find you anywhere. Control you anywhere.” Her face hardened. “Kill you where you stand with the snip of our scissors.” She made a snipping motion with her fingers. “You serve us now, skoulíki. Never forget that.”

“Yes, Fate.” I used every ounce of strength inside me to keep the tears at bay. The Fates despised it when anyone cried. Another sign of weakness.

I trained for another two hours before they let me break for food and water. It was only later that night, tucked beneath the sheets, that I let the tears fall. I cried for my lost childhood. For my mother’s betrayal. For the harsh environment in which I found myself. For the confusing emotions that swirled inside me—I detested the Fates, and yet I longed for their approval. I’d been abandoned twice already—first when my father died and then when my mother sacrificed me to the Fates. I refused to let it happen again, no matter how they treated me. They could criticize my nose. My father’s lessons. Force me to train until I reached a breaking point. If they wanted a fury that defied expectations, that was exactly what I would give them. I belonged to them now. I existed to do their bidding, or I didn’t exist at all.

No! No more.

I tried to sit up in bed, but my body felt like it was smothered by a weighted blanket.

This is a dream. Only a memory. I’d left the Fates behind and become the mistress of my own destiny. The only aspect of them that loomed over me was the shadow of discovery.

I was as safe as I could be under the circumstances.

“And I like my nose,” I murmured.

“As you should,” a deep voice responded.

I blinked open my eyes to see Dr. Adam’s face hovering over mine.

“Thank the gods,” he breathed.

My head throbbed. “Where am I?”

“A patient bed in my office.”

I struggled to sit up. “How did I get here?”

“Joan drove you in her golf cart. She found you unconscious outside Ramshackles.”

The memory of the cornhole tournament’s dark aftermath came back in a rush. The angry mob. Keith lit a match and hoped to watch me burn.

Better luck next time, douchemonster.

I rubbed the back of my head. “Someone hit me.”

“I gathered that when I saw your hair was matted with blood. Not to worry, no stitches required.”

“Thank you.” I swung my legs to the side. “I need to go.”

“Whoa. Not so fast. You need to rest, Maya. I haven’t ruled out a concussion.”

“I can rest at home.”

He heaved a sigh. “I should’ve known you’d say that. At least allow me to drive you there myself.”