I awake to the shaking of my half sister, Ariadne. Her dark hair is messy, and she's wrapped in a short, loose dress that my mother would never, ever let her wear. Not even to bed.
Ariadne is my mother's husband's daughter. My mother, Queen Pasiphae, married Ariadne's father, King Minos, five years ago, after my father, King Aeson of Crete, was assassinated. My mother was 'afraid for our lives', and she left with me in the middle of the night. I didn't want to go - but she threatened me and I had to obey.
I was more afraid for my life than hers - I am terrified of my mother. She has never treated me well, she has always seen me more as a burden than a daughter, one of her own flesh and blood. My father loved me - I don't know if my mother has ever loved anyone. She's always bitter, and hates everyone who disobeys. Which, granted, is probably why her and I are enemies. Which is also why she takes every opportunity to punish me - and Ariadne, when I pull her into one of my harebrained schemes.
"Deia!" Ariadne calls, shaking me harder. "You have to get up!" I groan, and roll over.
"'Riadne, s'too early," I mutter, rubbing my eyes. She sighs dramatically.
"Deia, it's Sunday!" she reminds me and it takes me a moment to process this thought. When it works its way into my brain, I jump out of bed, all trace of sleep gone.
I run to the pitcher of water and rinse off my face while trying to slip into my sea green tunic.
"Ari, help!" I wail, trying to get everything ready before sunrise, when my mother will be expecting me. Ariadne is lucky - she doesn't have to be up until noon, when her father meets with her. Unfortunately, my pathetic excuse for a mother has to be awkward and get me up at dawn.
I wouldn't mind getting up early, usually, but meeting my mother when I'm not fully awake and grumpy? Not the best idea.
I sit in the chair, lacing up my sandal as Ariadne twists my hair painfully up into a bun, leaving some of the unruly curls to fall down my shoulders.
I grab my belt from the dressing table and run, sprinting to get to the temple of Apollo before sunrise. I can already see the shine from behind the hills, and I run faster, dodging servants and noblemen alike. People aren't surprised by this sight, it happens often, when I forget to wake up.
"Quick, Deianira!" calls someone. "Your mother is already there!"
My heart sinks as I raise a hand in acknowledgement, still five minutes of running away from the temple.
I skid around a corner, knocking over a cart of oranges, yelling:
"Sorry!" before speeding off again.
My heart is pumping fast, not just because I am running, but also in fear of my mother. What will she do if I'm late? I have been lucky recently - I've managed to be up early enough to be there on time. Once I was a minute late, and my mother had glared at me for a what seemed like forever before getting on with the ritual.
I see the temple coming into view, and I tumble head over heels down the steep cobbled street to the bottom, where I can see the procession.
My long, jade green scarf rips as I fall, and I hit my arm on a sharp rock, drawing blood. I cry out as I tumble, coming to rest at the bottom, attracting the stares of many locals. I ignore the pain and push myself up to sprint the last few metres into the temple.
It is dark, and cool inside the marble building. Huge pillars hold up the roof, and a massive golden statue of Apollo with his lyre sits on a silver throne at the far end. I don't see my mother anywhere.
I run down the aisle, silently cheering as I reach the steps, and tie my thin leather belt around my waist and fix my hair. I tie my scarf around the wound on my upper arm and hope the blood doesn't soak through.
"So you're here at last," comes a sour voice, and I whirl around to see my mother walking from behind a pillar, an expression of distaste on her face. "Late, as usual." she says, her lip curling.
"I...apologise for my actions," I say, bowing my head as she approaches me and circles me like a vulture waiting for its prey to die. "It...it will not happen again-" I begin, but I am cut off by a searing slap to the cheek, and I stagger, trying to keep my balance.
"You dare speak without permission in front of your Queen?" she whispers menacingly. I clutch my cheek as she comes closer, pushing her face up into mine, making me back away slightly.
I open my mouth to make an angry remark, but she slaps me again, her dark eyes flashing. "Respect is what made me Queen, and I demand respect from my own daughter, even though sometimes I wish you were not," she hisses, and grabs my wrist in her ice cold hand, and holds me in my place. Her grip is strong, and I know she's using her magic.
My eyes widen, for even though she has made it obvious that she hates me, she has never actually said it to my face.
"I..." I begin, and tears spring to my eyes. I will not cry. Not in front of this witch. "And you dare to speak of rank in the temple of Apollo? Where rank is not considered, where all are one?" I ask, fighting the best way I know how - with my quick wits. One of the only things I am glad to have inherited from my mother.
My mother snarls, knowing that she cannot say anything to counteract my comment, responding only with a:
"See me in my chambers after dinner."
I freeze, knowing what she keeps in there - there are all sorts of secret rooms and passages that she keeps dangerous magical things inside. I have been forbidden to tell, but I haven't been forbidden from starting rumours. Now the whole city of Atlantis knows about the rumour, and my mother doesn't know it was I who started it. The perfect crime.
Slowly, I nod, feeling my body slowly unfreeze itself, and her hand unclenches itself from my arm and I back away from her and stand against a pillar while she begins the sunrise ritual.