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Hippodamia
“IF THE QUEEN OF THE Lapiths is dead, I do not see why we should not let this foolishness die with her,” Eurytion said, not for the first time, as they traveled down the mountain. Since word of the queen’s passing had reached the centaurs, he had done nothing but grumble.
Not that Hippodamia blamed him. By all accounts Pirithous, named king of the Lapiths upon his mother’s death, was more pirate than hero—and he had certainly proven he was in no hurry to take a wife, even if he’d agreed to the match his mother had made for him. Once, perhaps, Hippodamia had found the idea of marriage to Pirithous attractive, but after five years spent waiting for him to claim her as his bride, the shining prize of such a husband had tarnished. Son of Zeus he might be, but she was beginning to think she would be better off dedicating herself to Artemis and following the goddess to the hunt. As a woman, she had no true future among the centaurs as anything but a maiden, besides—which was precisely why she had been so pleased by the thought of marriage to Pirithous, even beyond its promise of peace for her people... until Pirithous had never come to claim her as his bride.
“With Queen Dia’s death, it is more important than ever to reinforce the bonds of kinship between centaur and man,” Centaurus said, his tail flicking with irritation, though Hippodamia could hear none of it in his tone. “The Lapiths are our best hope for peace, and King Pirithous would make a powerful friend. Perhaps he is not as wise or reasonable as his mother, but he has always treated us with respect.”
Eurytion snorted, kicking up an excess of dust with his clomping. “That does not mean this pirate deserves the hand of your daughter!”
“It is my choice,” Hippodamia said, bumping against the younger centaur’s flank with her shoulder as she walked beside him. This high up the mountain, the trees were thinner and the path wide enough that they could travel all three abreast. “And I go willingly if it means peace for our people. No matter what Pirithous is, the bargain is worth striking, but if the king of Athens calls him friend, he cannot be all bad. King Theseus is the Horse-Lord’s son, after all, and it is said they are like brothers.”
“He should have come to us long before now,” Eurytion growled.
She shook her head. Though she had been raised among the centaurs, there were times she did not understand her friend. Eurytion had watched over her from the moment she had begun to crawl, protecting her from being trod upon by careless hooves, and keeping her from losing herself in the caves where she had played as a child. He had taught her to love her own strangeness as a girl, and had seen her arrival as a gift from the gods, as their salvation. But now, when she reached out with both hands to embrace her fate, he refused to accept her choice. Refused to believe that any man could be worthy of her. Though how he thought she could save her people otherwise, she could not imagine.
“Whether he had come earlier or not, you would have found him just as irksome,” Hippodamia said. “If the choice were left to you I would live the rest of my life as a maiden, for no man would ever be worthy.”
“No man is worthy,” Eurytion said. “Among the centaurs at least you would be loved and honored. Among these Lapiths—”
“What is done is done,” Centaurus said, and her father’s voice was firm. “But I will not have the Lapiths say we centaurs did not honor our oaths, nor will I give them cause to find insult.” His eyes narrowed as his gaze fell upon Eurytion. “Am I understood?”
Eurytion’s tail switched, and his broad nostrils flared in his dark face. “Of course, Lord Centaurus.”
Her father nodded, pushing aside a branch and holding it back that she might pass. It was not so long a journey down the mountain to the lands belonging to the Lapiths, and now she looked out over the valley, the sun gilding the walled palace with gold and fire. It was beautiful and terrifying, witnessing the dawn of her fate.
“They live differently, of course, but I do not think you will be unhappy, Mia. Not so long as you do not look for love. By all accounts, Pirithous is rich enough that you will want for nothing once you are his queen.”
“If he will have her,” Eurytion said, coming to a stop beside them. It was the last clear view before they descended into the trees below, to follow the fainter deer trails as they approached the border between their lands. “And have you thought at all what you will do if he refuses us?”
“He will not refuse,” Centaurus said. “He will not wish to begin his rule as king with a war.”
“We hardly have the strength to do him much in the way of harm. We would not make it past the palace walls!”
Centaurus sniffed. “War with men, you fool foal. Dia’s death breaks the peace between the Lapiths and the Myrmidons just as it has ours. He will not risk the gift of our friendship offered elsewhere.”
“If the Myrmidons would have us as allies, why do we bother with the Lapiths at all?” Eurytion demanded.
“Because Pirithous is kin, son of Zeus and Ixion by Dia, and half-brother to Centaurus,” Hippodamia said, tearing her eyes from the palace to elbow him back. The way he pranced and pawed so near to her, she risked losing a toe. His hide shivered beneath her touch and he sidled away with another snort. “Really, Eurytion, it’s as if you’ve forgotten everything we were taught. The Lapiths might believe we’re capable of going to war against them, but as long as Centaurus is king, sacred laws bind him. Do you wish so much to see our blood spilled? Our people cursed?”
“I wish only to see you happy, Mia. And though your father might believe it possible, I do not see how you will find any joy among men. And the things I have heard of Pirithous—he will not honor you as he should.”
“As a centaur might, you mean?” she asked. “And what good will that do me, to have honor and nothing else? I cannot stay, even if I wished to, and no matter where I go, everything must change. Why should it not be in service to my people? Let Pirithous be a fool, or a pirate, or a hero-king, I care not. We will have peace for ourselves and our foals, and that is all that matters.”
“Your children, you mean.” His black eyes burned, and she looked away, her face flushing. He knew too much of her desires, her hopes. “And like as not, Pirithous will take your sons from you to be weaned by another, or given up to some other king to raise.”
“If he truly is so cruel as that, I will ask Chiron to tutor my sons,” she said, pleased her voice stayed steady. “The old centaur would not deny my request, nor would Pirithous refuse the honor. And I will have the raising of any daughters, besides.”
“Enough,” Centaurus said, when Eurytion drew breath to argue. “If you cannot hold your tongue, you will remain behind. I will not stand by while you shame my daughter for doing her duty. And it is a good thing she desires children, or there would be little purpose to any of it. We should all pray that Hippodamia bears Pirithous a strong son, that he might inherit his father’s kingship and grant us peace for that much longer.” His tail switched, snapping against his flank. “Gryneus awaits us below. Hippodamia, you will ride upon my back. I do not trust Eurytion not to run off if you sit upon his.”
Her father smiled, but from the wariness in his eyes, she knew he was only half-jesting. When he held out his hand to her, she took it, then leapt up onto his bare back, as she had a hundred-hundred times before. But this ride would be one of her last, for once her father gave her to Pirithous, she was unlikely to see much of him, nor would it be proper for her to sit upon his back like a child once she was made queen.
If she was made queen.
She glanced sidelong at Eurytion, trotting beside her father as he picked his way down the mountain trail. Centaurus was rarely wrong, but if he was now, what then? She would be dishonored among the Lapiths, and none were likely to want a girl raised by centaurs as a bride even if they did not think her shamed. Nor could she stay among the Lapiths if they insulted her people by refusing the friendship of the centaurs. Still, there was nothing left for her upon the mountain but sorrow and fantasy. Returning would only encourage Eurytion, and she could not bear for him to look upon her with hope in his eyes. Not when she knew in her heart what he offered would never be enough. She could not spend another season watching the females foal, knowing she could never share in their joy.
Pirithous would accept her, she decided. And whether she cared for him or not, she would know, at least, that her people were protected. If it was as Eurytion said, and Pirithous took her sons, she would still have her daughters to love. Daughters that no centaur could give her.
And if nothing else, there were the horses. Perhaps that was the opportunity which tempted her most of all, for the Lapiths were well known to have the finest beasts in all Achaea. If Pirithous only allowed her to spend her days in his stables and granted her nothing else, she would be very happy indeed.
After all, if he was truly a pirate, he would hardly be at home.