With my good hand I reached under the braid at the base of my neck to free the thong that was tied there. It… — Megan Whalen Turner
With my good hand I reached under the braid at the base of my neck to free the thong that was tied there. It was the shorter of the two that Pol had given me on the banks of the Aracthus. One-handed, I couldn't easily get the knot undone, and several strands of my own dark hair came with the thong when I pulled it free.
I glanced back briefly at the magus and was delighted to see his mouth open in astonishment.
"Gen," he said under his breath, "you viper."
Above the queen's extended palm I held Hamiathes's Gift. It had hung hidden in my hair since I'd braided it there after first fighting in the Sea of Olives.
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Ambiades, I realized, was the kind of person who liked to put people in a hierarchy, and he wanted me to understand that I was at the bottom of his. He was supposed to treat me politely in spite of my subservient position, and I was supposed to be grateful.
For my part, I wanted Ambiades to understand that I considered myself a hierarchy of one. I might bow to the superior force of the magus and Pol, but wasn't going to bow to him. Neither of us moved.
"...Everything about you reveals your low birth. You'd never be comfortable at the court."
"I'd be famous."
"Oh, you're already that, Gen," he said pityingly.
"You can always give me some of Ambiades's food."
The magus gave me an ugly look. "You'll get your share and nothing else. No one's going hungry so that you can eat."
"I don't see why not," I said as I lay down on the grass for a nap. It had dried in the sumer sun to crakling stalks that poked me in the arms and neck. "I'm a lot more important than anyone else here," I told the blue sky above me.
