Ghost Queen in the House of Love

6. Onia

Swallowing thickly and blinking back a dull headache. I sit at the marble and gold vanity in the washroom. The king and queen, though we may sleep together, have separate bathing areas, so our servants may attend us with ample space.

I once would get ready in the bedroom, but for an odd reason, this space feels like it's uniquely mine, even if Cadmus could barge in at any moment. It isn't as if this room forbids the king from entering. Any king. I inhale the scents of rosemaries and thyme, and my shoulders relax.

My eyes linger on the taffeta curtains, which are the color of the sky on a clear spring day with damask golden and silver patterns. The sky itself is a cool gray, promising rain to water the budding hyacinths and orchids in the golden-tiled courtyard.

But I am not outside, admiring flowers like I'm a girl reading adventure stories under a lemon tree. I must get ready for my life to change as I clasp my hands primly in my lap, where my golden chiton pools in soft ripples like maiden hair. Again, it is high enough to hide the necklace and my hideous wounds.

When Kora braids my hair and weaves pearls into it, it is tight enough to give me a worse headache. I swallow and endure.

When she stands before me in her modest white stola, I gaze into her steady gray eyes.

Her soft, lotioned hand glides on my shoulder. "Forgive me, my lady, but you look peckish."

I offer a wan smile. "Don't worry about me, Kora. I'll be fine."

"If I might be so bold, you must eat." Though I may not starve to death, not having a meal in the last few days has made me lightheaded. I must not falter in front of this healer who will arrive to the court. Maybe I can sleep in peace. Maybe this palace will feel like home.

Home. I don't know whether I want to have a true home or to travel to places unknown. It doesn't matter. I've been haunting these halls for centuries.

"Thank you. I will in time." The feasts here are endless because of the generosity of the gods. In the spring and summer, Dionysius and Demeter grant.

When I nod to her, she offers me a gentle hug.

***

The throne room is rectangular and framed by four marble pillars wreathed in golden leaves. To the right of our thrones is a vast hearth, and the smoke billows upward toward a domed oculus. Surrounding the room are several other doors leading to various shrines, workshops, the oil-press, and storage rooms for the oil, wheat, and wine. One only needs to walk outside the golden portico and cross the courtyard to enter the feast room.

The thrones themselves are squat, ivory chairs that sit high above the room on a set of stairs. They are framed by golden figures embedded in the legs and armrests, a bull on the left and an eagle on the right. The only color besides white and gold is a blue carpet which extends to the mouths of the thrones to the open entrance; there are no doors, only high, open arches that let in the cool spring air. Whereas Zeus' throne is said to be marked with every jewel that exists, his seat boasts ivory and ebony adornments, light and dark. Ours have a ring of ivory, adorned with lilies.

And of course, the petitioners and nobles who frequent the court. The perfumed fragrances of myrrh, marjoram, myrtle, and almond blossom waft through the open space. And of course, the scent of spiced wine being served by attending nymphs in sun-yellow chitons.

My bones grate against the hard-edged throne, with Cadmus to my right, leaning back, one leg crossed over the other, laurel crown of lilies and fig leaves askew on his head. A heaviness settles under my eyes, but I must keep my back straight and keep myself from kicking my feet or swaying to wake up my legs and backside. My entire body is small but too much, a skin mask for my exhaustion. The slab that we dare call a seat is high, leaving my toes to only barely brush against the floor.