“You made the choice. Tell yourself what you need to, Highness, but we’ll all pay the price.”
Now Diana watched Tek and her mother talking as if that argument and all the others that had followed didn’t matter, as if Tek’s regular torment of Diana was a fond game. Hippolyta had always waved away Tek’s behavior, her coldness, claiming that it would fade as the years passed and no disaster befell Themyscira. Instead, it had gotten worse. Diana was almost seventeen, and the only thing that seemed to have changed was that she presented a bigger target.
Diana’s eyes flicked to the sundial at the center of the feasting grounds. Alia had been alone in the cave for nearly three hours. Diana didn’t have time to fret over Tek. She needed to figure out how she was going to get her hands on a boat.
As if she could read Diana’s mind, Tek said, “Somewhere you need to be, Princess?” Her eyes were slightly narrowed, her gaze speculative. Tek saw too much. It was probably what made her such a great leader.
“I can’t think of anywhere,” Diana said pleasantly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted me to leave.”
“Now, what would give you that idea?”
“Enough of that,” Hippolyta said with a flick of her hand, as if she could simply wipe away discord. And sure enough, the musicians began to play and the feast table filled with song and laughter.
Diana moved the food around on her plate and did her best to be merry as the sun arced westward. She couldn’t be the first to leave and risk looking like she was sulking after her loss. At last, Rani rose from the table and stretched. “Who wants to run to the beach?” she asked. She held the red silk flag aloft and shouted, “Catch me if you can!”
Chairs were shoved backward as the Amazons rose, whooping and cheering, to follow Rani down to the shore before the next round of games began. Diana took the chance to slip away to the alcove where Maeve was waiting. She wore a crushed-velvet tunic in pale celadon that barely counted as a dress and that she had paired with nothing but sandals and a circlet of leaf-bright green beads braided into her red hair.
“I think you may be missing your trousers,” Diana said as Maeve looped an arm through hers, and they headed toward the palace.
“Two things I love best about this place—the lack of rain, and the lack of propriety. Sweet Mother of All Good Things, I thought that meal would never end.”
“I know. I was seated across from Tek.”
“Was she terrible?”
“No more than usual. I think she was on good behavior because of my mother and Rani.”
“It is hard to be petty around Rani. She always makes you feel your time would be better spent improving yourself.”
“Or emblazoning her profile on a coin.” They passed beneath a colonnade thick with curling grape vines. “Maeve,” Diana said as casually as she could, “do you know if the Council has mentioned a mission on the horizon anytime soon?”
“Don’t start that again.”
“It was just a question.”
“Even if by some chance they did, you know your mother would never let you go.”
“She can’t keep me here forever.”
“Actually, she can. She’s the queen, remember?” Diana scowled, but Maeve continued on. “She’s going to use any excuse to keep you here, and you gave her a good one today. What happened? What went wrong?”
Diana hesitated. She didn’t want to lie to Maeve. She didn’t want to lie to anyone. Still, if she shared this secret, Maeve would be forced to either reveal Diana’s crime or keep Diana’s confidence and risk exile herself.
“There were rocks blocking the northern road,” said Diana. “Some kind of landslide.”
Maeve frowned. “A landslide? Do you think anyone followed you? Knew your route?”
“You’re not actually suggesting sabotage. Tek wouldn’t—”
“Wouldn’t she?”
No, Diana thought but didn’t say. Tek doesn’t think she has to sabotage me. She thinks I can fail all on my own. And Diana had proven her right.
“Hey,” Maeve said, giving Diana’s shoulders a squeeze. “There will be other races, and—”
Maeve seized Diana’s arm. Her eyes rolled back and she swayed on her feet.
“Maeve!” Diana gasped. Maeve crumpled to her knees. Diana curled an arm around her waist, supporting her. Her friend’s skin felt wrong. It was too hot to the touch. “What’s the matter? What is it?”
“I don’t know,” Maeve panted, then bent double, releasing a low howl of pain. Diana felt it a second later, the echo of Maeve’s anguish. All Amazons were connected by blood, even Diana through her mother. When one felt pain, they all shared it.
Women were already running toward them, Tek at the lead.
“What happened?” Tek asked, helping Diana raise Maeve to her feet.
“Nothing,” said Diana, her panic spiking. “We were just talking and she—”
“Hell’s hounds,” swore Tek. “She’s burning up with fever.”
“An infection?” asked Thyra.
Diana shook her head. “She has no wounds.”
“Could it be something she ate?” Otrera suggested.
Tek scoffed. “At the feast? Don’t be absurd. Maeve, were you foraging today? Did you eat anything in the woods? Mushrooms? Berries?”
Maeve shook her head. Her body convulsed on a thready sob.
“Let’s get her to bed and try to cool her body down,” said Tek. “Fetch water, ice from the kitchens. Thyra, go get Yijun. She has experience as a field medic. We’ll take Maeve to the palace dormitory.”
“Maeve lives in the Caminus now,” said Diana. New Amazons spent their first few years in the dormitory connected to the palace before they chose which part of the city they wanted to live in. Diana had visited Maeve’s new lodgings just the other day.
“If this is a contagion, I want it isolated. The dormitory is empty and easy to quarantine.”
“A contagion?” said Otrera in horror.
“Go,” commanded Tek.
Thyra ran toward town to find the medic, and Diana bolted down to the palace kitchens to fetch a pitcher of ice. When she found Maeve and Tek in the dormitory, Maeve was huddled beneath a thin sheet, quivering. Diana set the pitcher beside the bed and stared helplessly at her friend.
“What is this?”
“It’s a fever,” Tek said grimly. “She’s sick.”
This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t possible. “Amazons don’t get sick.”
“Well, she is,” snapped Tek.
Thyra raced into the room, her golden hair flying. “The medic is coming, but two more alarms were raised in town.”
“Fevers? Were they at the feast?”
“I don’t know, but—”
Suddenly, the whole room seemed to shift. The walls shook, and the floor heaved like a beast waking from a deep sleep. The pitcher of ice tipped and shattered on the tiles. Thyra slammed into the wall, and Diana had to grab the doorjamb to keep from falling.
The shaking stopped as quickly as it had started. The only signs that anything had happened were the broken pitcher and the lanterns that continued to sway on their hooks.
“Freyja’s braids!” said Thyra. “What was that?”
Tek’s expression was bleak. “An earthquake.”
“Here?” said Thyra disbelievingly.
“I need to find the queen,” said Tek. “Wait for the medic.” She strode from the room, boots crunching over shards of pitcher and ice.
Diana unfolded a blanket and tucked it around Maeve. She brushed the red hair back from her friend’s face. Maeve’s skin was too white beneath her freckles, and her eyes moved restlessly beneath her pale lids. Contagion. Quarantine. Earthquake. These words did not belong on Themyscira. What if they’d come with Alia? What if Diana had brought this language of affliction to her people?