Pandora Gets Angry by Carolyn Hennesy Page B

she playfully swatted at his arm with the back of her hand. Her hand dropped to the sand and he covered her little finger with his, and didn’t move it.
    â€œIt’s fine. It will all change tomorrow anyway.”
    Pandy was silent, staring at their fingers touching. She’d had a few crushes on youths back in Greece but had never known what it was like to have that feeling reciprocated. For the first time in her life, she felt …“crushed.” And it was wonderful. There was nothing in the world except this handsome young man and his little finger touching hers. In the next instant, the full weight of their situation came rushing back in and Pandy was a little ashamed at having let herself go, having forgotten why she was where she was, even for a moment.
    â€œYou know, we’ve been camped here a full day and a half,” Pandy said, slowly putting her hand back in her lap. “The caravan could have gone into the city already.”
    â€œI know,” said Douban’s son. “For all of his bluster, the Captain of the Guard deeply respects my father and is taking more time than necessary. He knows that what is going to happen is a corruption of justice. I think he himself is trying to think of a way out of this. But it is all useless, I’m afraid. The lookouts in the highest city towers have seen us here, and the Prince of Baghdad has sent more guards to discover the delay. There is to be no more stalling. It is to be tomorrow.”
    â€œThis is the stupidest thing I have ever heard of, and if you knew what some of our gods have done back home, that’s saying something.”
    â€œPandy,” Douban’s son said, “do not think for a moment that the prince will get away with this.”
    Pandy looked at the youth, surprised.
    â€œMy father is a man of honor,” he went on. “But he is not without the desire for vengeance. My father is not the only one who will die tomorrow. Pay close attention to the instructions my father has for the prince. And be ready to seize the prince’s blood … and there will be blood.”
    â€œI’m so sorry,” Pandy said softly. “This is my fault.”
    Douban’s son waited a bit.
    â€œNothing happens without a reason. My father believes, and so do I, that every choice we make is the right one, even though we might not know it at the time.”
    â€œWhere I come from, everything is set from the moment you’re born,” Pandy countered. “It’s all predetermined and we don’t have choices. Although I can’t imagine you or your father being subject to our rules.”
    â€œThen our two different views have conspired to allow you and me to meet. And for you to be able to recapture some of those lesser evils.”
    He paused again.
    â€œIt will all be rather hectic tomorrow and I just wanted to say that I have enjoyed knowing you. I have enjoyed listening to the stories of your adventures. You are very … impressive.”
    â€œThank you, Douban. So are you.”
    After another long silence, the youth spoke. There was a tremor in his voice.
    â€œThat is the first time I have heard my new name on another’s lips. It is … bittersweet.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Buster’s Bowl of
Borrower’s Bile
    Looking backward, Alcie knew that without Persephone, she would be lost in the maze of the palace forever. But as they had been walking together through yet another long, complicated labyrinth of palace corridors, Alcie had been marveling not at the endless gray sumptuousness, but at how much Persephone could eat.
    She had cleared every one of the platters and bowls that had been set out (for which Alcie was actually grateful. She’d loved everything she’d tasted, but could not bring herself to try the entrails or the tripe soup), and still Persephone was now traipsing along with a large silver goblet of dove hearts (“Just a little something to