Zoya

“Beware the man with two faces. He is both your doom and your destiny.”

The mysterious voice in Aphrodite’s temple still lingers in my mind as I absently pluck a few fresh red grapes from a bowl at the breakfast table.

My father is in a good mood today. Rhea, my stepmother, has regaled him with the story of the misadventure of my near-drowning in the creek. In her version, it sounds more like I was absentminded and clumsy rather than having a loose saddle, but that’s alright.

Besides, I like the way Rhea makes my father laugh. Her love for him shines in her warm smile, and his light blue eyes twinkle merrily in response.

“My poor Zoya,” he says, half-sympathetic and half-reproachful. “And here I thought that you told me that Lamia heeds your commands. I should have bought you an old donkey to ride instead, I think.”

“It was just another accident.” I shrug, not paying much attention. Those few words in Aphrodite’s voice—for I’m sure it was her own voice and not some faithless demon’s—are still keeping me preoccupied.

A journey? A man with two faces? Not being an oracle, I’m unable to divine the true meaning of this strange warning.

But I’m meeting my best friend after this meal. Since Isodore has made a study of occult matters, perhaps she’ll be able to help me.

“Janec, your daughter seems very preoccupied this morning.” Rhea takes a sliver of honeycomb from her platter and waves it teasingly at me. “Do you think perhaps she’s in love?”

“In love?” Father snorts. “She’s too young to know anything about love.”

“I’m almost twenty-one,” I object. “To be fair, I’m not thinking about any man in particular, but I could if I wanted to.”

“Of course.” Rhea speaks up in my support immediately. “She’s old enough to know her own mind, Janec, my love. She can’t stay a little girl forever.”

Father doesn’t look too happy at that thought, but he only sighs and shakes his head.

“It seems it was just the other day you were a cheerful little girl running around underfoot and stealing all the best grapes off the vines,” he says mournfully. “Where did the years go? If you do fall in love, Zoya, make sure it’s with a local boy. We could use the help at harvest.”

Rhea’s mouth tightens, then firms into a thin line.

“Or she could be chosen by a handsome young nobleman at the Eros Encounter soon and become his bride,” she suggests, averting her eyes from mine. “She might not want to live on the estate forever, Janec. The girl needs her freedom.”

“She’s free here.” My father looks at me, startled and a little indignant. “Aren’t you, my little spring flower? You’re happy working with your old father on the land?”

“Of course I am,” I say, reaching for the tall jug of cold milk in the middle of the table. Rhea looks at me, and for a moment, her cloud of red-gold hair frames her face like a divine solstice crown. Behind her, the tapestry of gold thread she brought as part of her dowry shines in the sunlight.

“Are you?” Rhea smiles. “But as your father says, you’re still young. Perhaps when you meet the right man, you’ll change your mind. And you do have me, Zoya. I know I’m not your real mother, but if you wanted to come and live in the capital in my father’s house—”

“I don’t,” I say hurriedly. “But I have to go now. Isodore must have already set up our common stall at the market. I need to pack up those jars in the cart.”

“In the city, you’d have servants to do all that for you.” Rhea glances at Janec, and her face softens. “Oh, well. Never mind, my love. I know you don’t like me bringing these things up. But you can’t expect me to like our girl doing menial labor either, you know.”

Father gives me a doubtful and almost shamed glance.

“Perhaps I’ve put too much of a burden on your shoulders, Zoya,” he mutters, gripping Rhea’s hand tightly. “But you’re our only child, and in some ways perhaps I’ve treated you more like a son than a daughter.”

“And I’ve loved every minute of it!” My heated reply is loud and sure as I get to my feet. “You know me, Father. Do you really think I’d have been content to sit around in silks and play music all day? I love working on our land. Every time the vines come into bloom, my heart sings.”

My father’s face lightens. “As does mine.”

“Good.” I drop a kiss on the top of his head. He’s still a fine and handsome figure of a man, with a full head of luxuriant hair, beetle brows, and a funny little smile he reserves just for me. The laugh lines at the corner of his eyes crease as he looks up at my face.

“Be careful,” he says gently. “No more accidents, Zoya. I don’t want to even think of anything happening to you or Rhea. The two of you are my whole world, you know that.”

Rhea kisses him on the cheek then gets up too. “I’ll help you pack up the wine, Zoya.”

She leads the way to the stone tank outside where rows and rows of wine jars lie in serried ranks, hidden under a heavy slab of rock and immersed in running water from the creek to keep them cool. I carefully count down the rows, making sure to take enough of each variety.

The grapes on our land are red and luscious, but my father also makes sure to age and mature them in different ways, and with different colors and flavors. We have raspberry wine, apple wine, elderberries and plums, melons and pomegranates all mixed in with the grape base.

Humming happily, I pass my selection to Rhea, who stands holding a large wicker basket. She wears a patient expression and sighs a little when I’m ready to leave.

“It would have been nice, though,” she says, stroking my hair back from my face absently. Her eyes are far away. “If we lived in the city, I could take you shopping in the agora, instead of letting you sell anything there. Perhaps once you’re married, we could go there, you and me.”

“Perhaps,” I agree, jumping up to take the old cart horse’s reins. Lanthos is an old and reliable horse, unlike Lamia, and he neighs in placid agreement with my tug on his harness. “One day.”

Rhea steps back and watches me leave in a cloud of dust. I look back to see her wistful expression changing to something more resolute before she turns back to the house.

I sigh. These conversations are becoming more and more frequent lately. It’s as if Rhea has only just realized that my father’s heart is in the countryside, as if she thought he was only joking when he first told her she must live here with us after their marriage.

As if she thinks she can still change his mind, after all these years of stubbornness. . .

I chuckle, though a little sadly. I’m the image of my mother, except that I have my father’s eyes. And if Rhea hasn’t realized it’s the memory of the first mistress of the Undergrove vineyard who’s keeping him tied here, perhaps she never will.

Perhaps it’s for the best she does not know, after all. Why ask for unnecessary trouble and strife in the household?

The giant wheel barrel in the back of the cart clinks and quivers to a gentle halt as I reach the marketplace. Every day is a rush of confusion and chaos as all the people from villages nearby flock to find the best place to set out their wares.

Isodore is here before me, of course. Being a sensible girl, one moreover who is used to taking care of herself, she was here bright and early. She waves to me eagerly from a spot right in the radial center of the agora, prime spot in the marketplace.

I raise my shortened whip in response and urge Lanthos forward. The cobblestones across this path are rough, and he steps in an unwieldy way today. Or is that simply the effect of the bright sunlight in his eyes?

It is a blazingly bright blue sky as the sun climbs higher, and I get off the cart, careful not to disbalance the baskets and barrels of wine, and help to push the cart forward. The crowd teems around us, and I temporarily lose sight of Isodore.

“Lanthos, you can do this, brave one,” I whisper in his ear. His fetlocks strain with the weight he’s pulling, even with my help. A tinkerman jostles us, and somehow Lanthos is tangled up in his harness while the front of the cart cranks loose.

“Wait, no!” I scream as the cart tips over. The weight of the barrel sends it rolling back down the steep path. “Everybody, watch out!”

I dodge around the cart to get to the barrel, and realize my mistake too late. The crowd parts as the cart itself detaches from Lanthos and rolls backward.

Then it comes right at me, trapped and horrorstruck in its path.