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“I’d be happy to, little one,” I said, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “Can Aristomache play too if she promises not to eat the mice?”

“Yes,” she chirped, opening the bag and riffling through it before offering Arrhidaeus an oaken fish, slightly irregular around the tail where she’d chewed on it while teething as a baby. “Here’s your favorite,” she said to him. I felt a pang as she withdrew a painted goat figurine, for I’d left Pan behind to eat her fill of juniper and gorse bushes in our absence. My cat and the kittens too had been left behind, for it seemed a cruel torture to confine them to a wooden ship for several weeks.

I released Aristomache from her basket and let her slither about on the deck of the ship, the sunshine gleaming off her brown scales. “We may not get to see Egypt and Persia,” I murmured to my pet snake, picking her up, “but this is a start.” Her dull black eyes seemed to gleam with happiness even as heavy footsteps walked up the gangplank. “Cynnane,” I said, straightening. “You’re just in time—”

But it wasn’t Cynnane.

“Medusa’s snakes!” I cursed at Cassander. “What are you doing here?”

And then I saw the blanket roll and the pack he carried. He was outfitted like a common soldier embarking on an extended campaign.

“No,” I said, shaking my head while Adea and Arrhidaeus gaped. “Not you too . . .”

Cassander wore the scowl of an executioner as he strode aboard and set down his pack. “Olympias informed my father that my services were still required and requested that I accompany your family. You lied about my dismissal, Thessalonike.”

“I didn’t lie,” I said. “I only
hoped
that you were dismissed.”

It was rude, but I didn’t care. Now I’d have grim-faced Cassander lurking in my shadow while I climbed to the Parthenon to visit Athena’s famed statue and explored Corinth’s wondrous Temple of Apollo. Cassander would likely lecture me on both, droning on like an obnoxious wasp in my ear.

Why
had Olympias commanded that Cassander accompany us, especially as she sought to draw support away from Antipater and raise her own army?

And then I knew.

Cassander was a hostage, although I guessed he didn’t realize it, at least not yet. I almost felt sorry for him then, for he was merely another powerless pawn in Olympias’ game. But then, weren’t we all?

“There aren’t enough cabins for you to have your own room,” I said. “You can share with Arrhidaeus or sleep on deck with the rowers.”

Arrhidaeus grinned at that. Despite my best attempts to persuade my brother that Cassander was as enjoyable as a brick wall, Arrhidaeus fawned over Cassander. I told myself that was only because he missed Alexander and Hephaestion.

“Shall we fish tonight, Arrhidaeus?” Cassander asked him, and I knew then that I’d lost. I turned my back on them and settled in to play animals with Adea, letting Aristomache slither back onto the deck, where she wrapped herself loosely around a tiny cedar elephant.

“I wish I could strangle someone too,” I murmured to my snake.

I stalked off from Cassander in high dudgeon, but I soon forgot my pique as the bireme found its first heavy swells.

“I want to die,” I moaned in my dark cabin, eliciting a chuckle and a perfunctory pat on my head from Cynnane.

“No one ever died from a sour stomach,” she said. “We’ll be on deck if you decide to join us for grilled fish and shrimp.”

“I’d rather swallow rusty nails,” I said, throwing an arm over my head and willing the world to stop swaying. I’d taken ill almost as soon as Pella had slipped from view amid the blue sky and cavorting porpoises. Thus far I’d offered Poseidon several impromptu sacrifices from my stomach until it was wrung dry, yet it somehow still churned like sea waves in a storm.

“Chewing mint settles Adea’s stomach when she’s ill or I’ve trained her too hard,” Cynnane mused. “Perhaps we can fetch some when we next go ashore.”

The door closed, leaving me to die in darkness on my hard little pallet.

Mint.

Cassander chewed mint.

“Cynnane,” I moaned as loud as I could, hoping she’d fetch the herb, but she was already gone.

Even in my present agony, I wouldn’t ask Cassander for anything. Still, I wasn’t above stealing a few leaves from his pack.

I dragged myself from my pallet, wrinkling my nose at the fetid smell that followed me. Arrhidaeus’ tiny cabin was across the empty corridor, and so cramped I had no idea how both he and Cassander would stretch out to sleep.

The door creaked as I opened it, but Cassander was sitting on his pallet. He hastily folded the letter he’d been writing and shoved it into his pack.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“I was looking for Arrhidaeus,” I lied, but the ground beneath my bare feet rolled and I clutched the doorframe. “Do you have mint?” I asked. “It’s for my stomach.”

I expected him to refuse or at least taunt me, but Cassander took one look at my disheveled state and retrieved a paper bundle from his pack.

“Thank you,” I said, grabbing the precious leaves and leveling him with as haughty a glare as I could muster when he pulled them back.

“I’ll give it to you,” he said, “in exchange for information.”

“I’m in no condition—,” I started, but stopped when he opened his mouth as if to eat the leaves himself. “What information?”

“What is Olympias up to?” he asked, gesturing above deck with the mint. “Everyone knows she doesn’t care two drachmas for her brother, yet now she’s relocating her entire court to the other side of Greece to mourn him? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“She is a dutiful sister,” I said, pushing the words between my gritted teeth.

“She
is
dutiful,” Cassander agreed. “But only when it comes to protecting her son.”

“Are you writing to your father?” I asked, to change the subject, jerking my chin toward his half-finished letter. “Did he tell you to make good use of your time and spy on us?”

“My father is no fool,” Cassander said. “And neither am I.”

“Then I’m confident you can figure out all of Olympias’ plans on your own,” I said. “And be sure when you do to share that information with me.”

I turned to leave, but Cassander cleared his throat.

“You forgot your mint,” he said, tossing me the packet and popping the other leaves into his mouth. I caught the precious bundle and turned again to stumble back to my cabin, making it to the copper basin Cynnane had left for me just before I made Poseidon yet another offering.

With any luck, it wasn’t mint that Cassander had just given me, but an expeditious poison to put me out of my misery.

•   •   •

I
survived that night and the next, but barely.

When we docked in Piraeus’ harbor, I went ashore and clutched fistfuls of loamy earth, nearly weeping at the solid ground beneath me. Crowds of curious onlookers had assembled to gawk at our purple sails and cheer for the royal family of Alexander. Olympias had already disembarked, forgoing the trip to the Acropolis so she might meet with the city’s archon. Cynnane planned to visit a nearby temple to Metis with Adea and Arrhidaeus, but Cassander had insisted that he accompany me to Athena’s famed temple. I planned to ride from the port to Athens, but found myself so weakened from lack of food and illness that I struggled to mount the modest mare that waited for me. I colored to the roots of my hair when Cassander knelt, allowing me to use his knee as a step.

“Thank you,” I muttered, but he didn’t answer as I arranged myself in the saddle, save to incline his head before mounting his own horse. I patted my pocket to ensure that the tiny vial of olive oil was still there, my offering to Athena today as we visited her famous statue. Apollo had driven his sun chariot halfway across the sky by the time we reached the base of the Acropolis and dismounted. My guards cut through the swath of grumbling politicians, yawning slaves, and bareheaded pilgrims by bellowing out my titles, but only halfway up the gravel path, I cursed my shortness of breath even as I marveled at the new sights around me.

A patchwork cat meandered among the olive trees on the rocky white slopes and I paused to rub her chin, relishing her purr as I caught my breath while my guards hung back. “It’s a pleasant day to visit the Acropolis,” Cassander said, directing his gaze at the rocky precipice as I rubbed a painful stitch from my side. “Aristotle often had us meet here to sit and discuss political theory in the shade of Pericles’ achievements.”

“You do realize how pretentious that sounds, don’t you?” I said, taking my steps more slowly with the excuse of peering down at the columned Odeon, roofed with timbers taken from captured Persian ships and home of the world’s finest musical competitions. The stray cat followed until I finally picked her up to stop her rubbing against my legs as if I carried dead birds in my pockets.

“It’s not pretentious if it’s a fact,” Cassander said. “Any more than you draping yourself in your brother’s gold is pretentious.”

“I don’t drape myself in Alexander’s gold,” I said, even as the cat batted at the pearl necklace around my throat. “I prefer cats and pearls instead.”

I caught what might have been a smirk or a smile flit across his face as I set the cat back on solid ground. We walked in silence the remainder of the way until the hill leveled and opened to the rocky platform dedicated to Athena. The olive tree that the goddess had given the city spread its branches as if to clutch the rags of blue sky overhead. The white marble temple gleamed like a building stolen from Mount Olympus and I was too slack-jawed to protest as my guards ushered out worshippers laden with offerings of fruit and flowers.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

I moved forward as if in a trance, drawn beyond the smoking altars alight with incense and into the empty sanctuary to gaze in wonder at Athena’s ivory statue. The goddess of wisdom was clad in a
peplos
of flowing gold and wore a sphinx – and griffin-headed helm instead of a crown. She brandished her customary long-spear in one hand, while her owl-emblazoned shield waited discarded at her feet.

She reminded me of Cynnane, except that the goddess’ hair curled in perfect ringlets around her face instead of a mass of kinks and tangles to rival Medusa’s snakes.

“Just the chance to behold her is a treasure far greater than any gold,” Cassander murmured next to me. There was no one else in the temple, so even his low voice seemed to echo off the ceiling. “It’s something you’ve longed for, isn’t it?”

I could only nod.

“And,” he said, pointing toward Athena’s outstretched hand, “she’s holding your namesake.”

I smiled against my will, for Athena held the winged goddess Nike in her palm.

“Your brother seems blessed by the goddess of victory,” Cassander said, “yet he bypasses wonders such as these or, worse, destroys them as he did in Persepolis. I wonder how much time will pass before Nike withholds her gifts from Alexander?”

I should have known that Cassander would find a way to mar even this moment with his moral platitudes.

“Go away,” I commanded, the earlier levity we’d shared suddenly dashed to pieces. I wished Athena would smite him where he stood. “Your dour tidings aren’t welcome.”

He looked about to speak, but instead bowed his head and backed toward the entrance, leaving me to scowl after him.

I didn’t care to admit that Cassander’s words troubled me, that I’d wondered the same morose thoughts sometimes as I drifted off to sleep. However, instead of leaving the olive oil for Athena, I laid it at the altar of Nike’s nearby temple when no one was looking.

“Spread your wings over Alexander and keep him safe,” I beseeched my namesake. “If only to spite Cassander.”

For although I hadn’t seen Alexander in more than five years, I couldn’t imagine a world without him.

•   •   •

I
loved Epirus’ town of Cassope the moment I laid eyes upon it. The stark white city clung to the edge of the southeast cliff of the Zalongo Mountain as if daring the very winds to shake the entire city loose from its moorings. The picturesque city was famed for its Molussus hounds, the massive, long-nosed, shaggy dogs that fiercely guarded their flocks from wolves and thieves. We’d been in Cassope only a week before I had a pack of the beauties to claim as my own.

Olympias made short work of assuming the position of regent for her young cousin after her brother’s desecrated body was finally laid to rest in the family tomb. Less than one week after our arrival, she sent word that I would skip my afternoon sparring exercises with Cynnane and accompany her to the city’s coin forges instead.

Not a request, but a command.

“Cassander will think I’ve been kidnapped if I’m gone too long,” I said, my hounds running along the path as I walked with her to the mint, one of the columned buildings that branched off the town’s
agora
. My loss wouldn’t trouble him, but losing me to brigands or rebels would mean that he’d be unable to finish yesterday’s lecture on the great war against Persia, a tragedy from which he might never recover.

“I sent word to Antipater’s son that you would be with me,” Olympias said, stopping to straighten the pomegranate-topped pin that secured my
himation
around my shoulders. “Has he offered to marry you yet?”

I gaped, then sputtered. “Marry me?”

She arched an eyebrow, then gave a dainty sniff. “I assume not.”

She turned and left me to scuttle after her into the coin forge, the smell of molten metal making me wrinkle my nose. “Why would you think Cassander would propose?” I asked, motioning for all the dogs to wait outside. They sat on their haunches without protest, better behaved than I’d likely ever be.

“Because Antipater hopes for a union between our families to guarantee his continued power,” she said, ignoring the coin smiths as they scrambled to bow before her. “He believes himself to be Alexander’s regent and his successor too, should my son fail to produce an heir.”

“So I should rebuff Cassander,” I said. That would be the first simple task Olympias had set me to.