Abandoned by Olympus, I Became Queen of the Underworld

My mother tore the laurel crown off my head in front of all the gods. "Not this daughter," she said. "The other one." The other one was Eudora. Her adopted daughter. She stood beside her now, the golden belt my father had given me cinched around her waist. My name is Ianthe. I am the only biological daughter of Enyo, Goddess of War. But blood never meant anything to her. My mother is the Goddess of War. Before mortal kings sent their sons to battle, they poured libations at her altar. Victorious armies carved her name into their city gates. She always said she hated injustice. Which was why the best things always went to Eudora. Jewels from conquered cities. Robes woven with gold thread. The first cup of divine wine poured at the household altar. Every single time. "She has the bearing of a goddess's daughter," my mother would say. "Look at you. Like you just crawled out of a grave." I did spend a lot of time near graves. Whenever my mother returned from war, spirits would linger outside the palace gates. Their weeping was invisible to everyone else. I could hear it. If I sat with them long enough, they would slowly go quiet. My mother thought it was a shameful quirk. And tonight, beneath Olympus's white colonnades, she found another reason to be rid of me. Lady Cleonice had proposed that I marry her son, Leandros. He was the heir to one of the wealthiest divine families on the mountain. His family controlled the eastern trade routes. Nearly half the coastal city-states paid them tribute. I was the daughter of Enyo and Lysandros. One commanded war. The other served as the gods' envoy, brokering their treaties. Everyone assumed my mother would accept. Instead, she tore off my crown. "Ianthe is jealous, ill-mannered, and has not a single useful talent. She doesn't deserve to stand beside Leandros." I hid in an empty colonnade and wiped my tears before anyone could see. Then, through the wall, I heard my mother speak to her shield-bearer. "So she wanted to marry Leandros. If I gave my biological daughter a better match, what would people say? That I only adopted Eudora to keep her forever beneath my real child?" She paused. Bronze armor scraped against marble. "I'm sparing Ianthe a marriage she can't handle. And I'm protecting Eudora. That's what's fair." My mother had defended city-states. She had dragged wounded soldiers from burning walls with her own hands. She had crushed sieges single-handedly. Mortals wrote hymns to her mercy. That mercy had never once fallen on me. I pressed my palm against the cold column until my fingers stopped shaking. She chose Eudora. Fine. She could keep her precious daughter. I was done asking. When I returned to the banquet hall, Lady Cleonice still hadn't given her answer. "Ianthe can't stand anyone better than her," my mother was saying. "A bride like that would only bring chaos to your house." "Enyo, enough." Hecate stood by the doorway, dark cloak falling from her shoulders. Every flame in the hall tilted toward her. "Ianthe understands kindness better than most gods in this room. You know that." "She's my daughter." My mother cut her off. "I know exactly what she is." She pulled Eudora close, her palm resting gently on the back of her neck. I knew that hand could be gentle. For nineteen years, I had watched it stroke someone else. "Eudora understands duty. I formally adopted her at the sacred flame when she was small. Tonight, I declare that she will inherit my temples and tributes." My mother placed my laurel crown on Eudora's head. "She will bring honor to your family." Whispers surged from every direction. So the War Goddess's heir is her adopted daughter. "What did the biological one do? Even her own mother doesn't want her." My mother heard them. She let them keep talking. Lady Cleonice studied Eudora for a long moment. "If she brings your favor and temple tributes, then this marriage can be considered." Eudora lowered her lashes. "You honor me, my lady." The corner of her mouth twitched. I saw it anyway. "As for Ianthe," Lady Cleonice added, "my nephew Theon is unmarried. A double alliance between our houses would be a fine thing." Someone behind the wine jars choked back a laugh. Theon had run his chariot into a crowd outside a packed temple. When a priestess rejected him, he broke her jaw. His family bought silence with a herd of sacrificial cattle. Eudora got the inheritance. I got the disgrace they couldn't pawn off on anyone else. The torches beside Hecate flared tall. "Ianthe's husband will be her own choice." I stepped forward before my mother could speak. "Thank you for the offer, Lady Cleonice. But I will not marry Theon." My voice carried across the crowd, all the way to the farthest columns. This time, it didn't shake.

Back at the War Palace, my mother summoned me to her inner chamber. She poured a cup of watered divine wine and pushed it toward me. Such a small gesture. Some stupid corner of my heart still noticed. "At least you knew better than to fight Eudora in public." I didn't touch the cup. "You told all of Olympus I'm worthless." "Don't be dramatic." "By dawn, every temple on the mountain will know my own mother thinks I'm not fit to marry into a decent house. Have you thought about what happens to me after that?" Her lips tightened. "Eudora lost her mother. Her father doesn't want her. You were born divine. You have a father. You have a palace mortal kings would kill for. She gets a little, and you can't stand it?" A little. I lived in the room she didn't want. Wore the robes she discarded. Ate what the servants remembered to bring after clearing Eudora's tray. When I was ten, I heard my mother tell the steward: "Eudora has no one. Don't let her go without. Ianthe can have less." No order in that palace was ever carried out more thoroughly. The gifts my father sent from distant temples all went to Eudora's room. Anything she glanced at twice became forbidden to me. On her eighteenth birthday, my mother left a war council early to host her banquet, hired musicians, lit a hundred oil lamps. For mine, I sat by an unlit hearth, waiting from daylight until the moon set. All I got was a messenger. A wax tablet with one line. Don't cause me trouble. My mother's heart had room for armies, for city-states, for the orphan girl. And I spent my entire childhood trying to make myself smaller, just to fit into whatever space she had left. "The matter with Leandros is settled," she said. "Stop thinking about him." "I don't want to marry Leandros." "Then you should be pleased." She unfolded a marriage proposal. A minor divine house's seal marked the wax. "Damon guards the northern storehouses. Compliant. No ambition. Marry him. You'll tend the household flame and do what you can." I read the terms. Residence within my mother's territory. Husband swears loyalty to her. My share of tributes, still controlled by her steward. Not one thing was mine to decide. "No." She looked up. "I won't marry. Father hasn't even seen this." Her palm cracked across my face. I hit the corner of a carved chest, pain stealing my breath. "Your father is beyond the western sea. By the time he returns, the heralds will have announced it." "Announcing it doesn't mean I agreed." "But it's enough to teach you what happens if you embarrass me again." I turned and left. I wouldn't let her see me cry again. Back in my room, Mirine brought snow from the mountain icehouse, wrapped it in linen, and pressed it gently to my face. She had raised me. A spring nymph serving in the War Palace. The only person in that building who never made me feel like kindness came with a price. "She hit you?" Her voice broke. "You're her own child." I closed my eyes. Mirine pulled a small package from her robes. "Hecate's messenger brought it. He said it had to go directly into your hands." Inside the linen was a pomegranate-shaped garnet brooch. Dark silver leaves cradled a deep red stone. I recognized the craftsmanship. Three winters ago, in Hecate's temple, I held a dead boy's hand and sat with him for hours, until he stopped begging to be sent back to the battlefield. A man in a black cloak had waited nearby the entire time. He never rushed me. Later, he asked my name. After that, Hades came to that temple often. When I talked about the dead, he listened. He never asked me to stop hearing them. Beneath the brooch was a folded piece of parchment. I heard what happened at the banquet. If you still wish to see me, send your answer with the messenger. I will wait for you to choose. I held the stone until it grew warm in my palm. Then I borrowed a pen from Mirine. Come. Over the next few days, the palace filled with garlands for Eudora's engagement. Mirine watched servants carry chest after chest past my door. "Your grandmother's gold jewelry. The embroidered cloak. The silver cups your father sent from the islands." She turned, shaking with anger. "All of it into Eudora's room." Once, I would have chased after them, begged them to leave me even one thing. Now, I just tucked the garnet brooch inside my collar and kept waiting. On the seventh morning, the steward came for me. I had barely stepped into the council hall when a painted clay cup shattered against the wall beside my head. My mother stood over a pile of ruined fabric. "Apologize to your sister."

"For what?" Eudora's engagement robe lay spread on the floor. Ink had soaked through the pale folds, blackening even the gold embroidery. "Don't play dumb." My mother's voice was ice. "You ruined it." "Did you see me?" "Phaedra saw you." Eudora's maid knelt by the column, hands twisting together. I turned to her. "When?" "Last night, my lady. Just past the third watch." "Where?" "The east corridor. Near the garden door." "What was I wearing?" "Purple robes." Mirine stepped beside me. "The braziers in the east corridor were emptied at sunset. I poured out the ashes myself. There was no moon last night." Phaedra's hands went still. "In that light, you couldn't see the color of anyone's clothes," Mirine said. My mother's expression didn't change. Eudora stared at the floor. "Shall we bring water from the Styx?" I asked. "So you can swear an oath?" Phaedra threw herself flat, sobbing. "It was me! I knocked over the ink! I was afraid of being punished, so I—" Before anyone could move, Eudora slapped her across the face. "You wretch! How dare you slander Ianthe!" Then she turned to me, tears springing up on command. "I'm sorry. I should have managed her better." "Enough." My mother waved a hand. "A misunderstanding. It's over." "No." She looked at me. "She deliberately accused me to make you punish me. Why?" "She already confessed." "She confessed to spilling ink. Not to why she fabricated a story to frame me." My mother glanced at Eudora. In that instant, I felt cold all over. She knew there was more. She just didn't want it spoken aloud. "Ianthe, you didn't lose anything." "If I had actually done it, would you still say it was nothing?" Her jaw tightened. "Phaedra will be expelled from the palace immediately. The steward will escort her off the grounds." She waved impatiently at the guards. "Satisfied?" Phaedra was dragged out crying. Eudora never once looked at her. My mother nudged the ruined robe with her toe. "No time to reweave it. Give Eudora your grandmother's cloak." I couldn't speak for a moment. My grandmother had woven it by hand. White wool soft as water. Silver birds hidden in the folds. After she died, my father brought it home and gave it to me. It was the only thing in that entire palace that still felt like mine. "No." "Eudora will stand before Olympus's most prominent house." "She has an entire room of robes." "You're marrying a storehouse guard. What do you need a cloak like that for?" The last thread holding me together snapped. "Father gave it to me because he knows who his daughter is." The hall went silent. "You just never seem to remember." "Ianthe." "Sometimes I wish you weren't my mother. At least then I wouldn't have to keep wondering why you hate me." The bronze lamp overhead began to sway. "Take her to the punishment hall." Mirine grabbed her wrist. "Please. She's been ill all winter. Her body can't take it—" "Ill?" My mother looked at her in disbelief. "The palace receives divine rations on schedule. There are healers in the temple. Tutors in the house. When has she ever gone without?" I laughed. Sharp. Ugly. The rations were measured into Eudora's bowl. Healers hovered over her slightest headache. Tutors shut the door the moment they saw me lingering outside to listen. My mother said I could have less. Everyone obeyed. She took my laugh as defiance. Guards dragged me through the courtyard and forced me to kneel beneath the bronze relief recording her glorious victories. My mother took a long whip from the wall. I recognized that instrument. Bronze knots blessed in ritual were embedded in the tip. Designed to suppress divine healing. To ensure the victim couldn't heal a single wound until the punishment was finished. The first lash tore open my robe. The second sent me sprawling forward, hands hitting the ground. Golden ichor dripped between my fingers. I bit through my lip. The taste was the same. She struck again. And again. At first, I tried to count. Then I just tried to breathe. Eventually, the pain seemed to drift away, landing on some other kneeling girl. Just before I lost consciousness, I heard my mother say: "Now you know what you did wrong." I closed my eyes. My biggest mistake was always thinking that if I just did a little more, she would love me. Never again.