Aello only ever spoke of her mother with detachment, never with the familiarity that she used when she talked of her father or younger brother. Mistress Aphelia spent her time in the center of Thessaly, at the height of politics and gossip, and her husband did not seem to miss her, devoting his attention to his children, his men, his king, and his concubines.

Though she did appear on the eve of Aello's thirteenth birthday, flowing into the courtyard with her train of pleasure slaves, both male and female, whom I could not look upon without heat bruising my cheeks. They were all beautiful in body, hair and skins glistening, but their eyes were ever downcast and they answered every order with such cowardly, dog-like obedience... I could not help but thank the Fates, that I had not become one of their ranks. What would have happened to me, since I would have resisted such transformation with all my heart? Would I have even been allowed to live?

Aphelia moved from her litter and cooly greeted her husband before moving down the line to kiss her daughter and son on their heads, ignoring the rest of the household and sweeping past me and Ioanna to disappear into her rooms. Her many slaves followed her.

"I hear she is of the line of Pothos, who is the God of Longing and the son of Aphrodite," Ioanna told me as we prepared Aello's birthday celebration. "She is driven by the immortal lust flowing in her blood, destined to be forever unhappy with the desires of mortals. At least, that is what I hear."

And that story seemed to ring true, for Master Barak's wife could not be more different from her daughter. They looked so alike so that their shared blood could not be denied, but where Aello was bright-eyed and curious, Mistress Aphelia was dour and lazy. Where Aello was lively and kind, Mistress Aphelia was spiteful and was impossible to please. All day, I heard of the demands coming from her rooms and I was exceedingly glad that she was not my mistress, content with my own lot.

Even so, I could feel Mistress Aphelia's hard eyes on me throughout the celebration of Aello's birthday, feel her growing displeasure with every smile and laugh that Aello directed at me. My unease grew with her displeasure, aware of the way Aphelia observed every fact of me and saved them in her mind for calculation. However, I did not allow it to distress me as perhaps it should have; Aello's happiness with her birthday was distraction enough and then Aphelia did not spend much time with her daughter in the days after, which kept me out of her sight.

But then Aello was to go to market with Master Barak and her brother, Master Tarilles. It was customary for them to scout the horse market together at least five times a season, for Aello so loved the strength and agility of the animals, and her father loved to indulge her, something I could wholeheartedly empathize with.

I made ready to go with the party, as I always did, to watch and care for Aello. But as Aello and I were walking out into the courtyard to join her father, her mother called to her. I remained the respectful distance away as Aphelia whispered with her daughter, and it was suddenly the case that Aello should go with her father and brother's retinue only. It came without warning or explanation to my ears, and it wasn't my place to ask the questions that burned in my mind, so I watched her climb into the litter with her family, and the whole party moved on without me.

I was obliged to wait in Aello's rooms for her return, plagued with horrific visions of some fantastically strong horse on display at the market, suddenly being put upon by Poseidon's unpredictable nature to trample and murder young girls; distracted as I was, I could barely put my hands to repairing the stitching in my mistress' favorite saddle without getting up to pace the floor, wringing my hands and staring out the windows at the city in the close distance.

It was during one of my short periods of productivity, my capable fingers forcing thick needle through toughened leather, that the door opened and Ioanna appeared.

"The Mistress of the House wishes to see you, Syntyche," she said, her eyes wide with curiosity, but her mouth turned down in concern.

I'm sure my own face conveyed the same sentiments. "Is there anything the matter?" I asked quietly as I stood to follow her, for I wouldn't think to disobey the summons.

Ioanna shook her head, tight-lipped and anxious-faced. She didn't talk to me as she led me through the halls of the house, down the homey, familiar corridors until we arrived at Aphelia's rarely-used rooms.

The door was opened by a well-endowed woman with such creamy, dark brown skin that the white of her eyes was striking. Her hair had been shorn so close to her scalp that it was but a shadow on her head. Her features were broad and strong, graceful and smooth in the way that nature could be. I couldn't help but stare at her strange beauty for the moments that Ioanna conversed with her, but then as we were led deeper into Mistress Aphelia's rooms and I could feel again the pit of dread inside me, momentarily forgotten but so painfully reintroduced.

"Your daughter's handmaid, Mistress," Ioanna announced, her voice surely quavering with uncertainty. "She is named Syntyche, if it pleases you."

"Leave her with me." The mistress' voice was flat.

Ioanna bowed and left without another look at me.

I found that I couldn't lift my eyes from the floor, as I remembered Aphelia's hard looks which I'd received at Aello's birthday celebration, and I began to fearfully ponder on Aphelia's motives in making me stay behind while Aello went to market today.

"Bring her here," Aphelia commanded when the door had been shut behind Ioanna.

The exotically dark woman without hair took my wrist in her wide, warm hand and, kindly but firmly, led me forward.

I was placed in front of a small dais in the center of the many-windowed room. The sunlight shone in, warming lush fabrics and gleaming on statues and goblets and other such objects that displayed inordinate wealth. It created illusions of so much luxury that I felt I could suffocate in it. The many pleasure-slaves, of which I'd blushed upon seeing in the past, were placed all around, their fully performing bodies seemingly posed so as to put on the greatest of their attributes.

And Mistress Aphelia, so coldly and burningly elegant, like precious stones incarnate, lounged where she sat in the middle of it all. Her beautifully-shaped, dull eyes looked on me, dressed as I was in my sturdy, work-efficient gown. Then she suddenly turned fully towards me and leaned out to look at me, and I lowered my gaze once more, as was respectful, but she seized my chin in a hard hand, lifting my face for examination. I was instantly reminded of the day Master Barak had purchased me, that long long time ago, the blinding sunset in the background.

"How very plain you are," she sighed, releasing me. "Pretty enough, I should say, but so utterly boring."

I did not speak. Indeed, even if it were appropriate, I would not know what to say.

"How many men do you fuck, when the day is done?"

My shoulders jerked, my eyes snapping up and then down again, the question shocked me so.

She didn't expect an answer yet, continuing her question, "Does even my husband take pleasure from you, when my daughter is sleeping?"

"No, mistress," I answered, just loud enough to be heard but no louder. Her cool voice frightened me.

"How many more than Lyridus?" she asked, sitting back against the chest of one of her chiseled, fair-faced male slaves.

I openly gaped at her. "None... I mean, I'm virgin still, mistress. No man has touched me."

"Do not waste my time with lies, girl," the tone of her voice was bored.

I dropped to my knees at the accusation, putting my hands to the floor, "I would not dare, mistress! I would never lie to one of this household!" I could fairly feel tears burning behind my eyes now, but I kept my composure.

It was but a moment before the dark-skinned woman reached out and brought me back to my feet.

Aphelia's finely drawn brows had risen in skepticism, "Curious. I'd observed Lyridus at my daughter's birth celebration... I did not mistake his thoughts when he looked on you, of that I'm certain. The man's eyes had been far too knowing."

Again, I could not utter a word. I remembered Lyridus standing behind his master's chair at the celebration, only feet away from where I'd knelt by my own mistress as she chattered and exclaimed over her presents. But in all reality, Aello had been my entire world for the year I'd spent around the man, and I'd never given him serious thought since those first days of travel to Thessaly. To be sure, I admired Lyridus whenever my thoughts crossed him, but it was always from afar; Ioanna's words about him there at the beginning had been sufficient in turning my concentration away from him permanently.

"Come now, girl," the mistress' tone had lost its patience. She glared at me in amused pity as she played with her slave's hands, pulling his arms about her like a shawl. "Your face and figure, plain though they may be, are enough to be called pretty even to mine eyes. How else would you have escaped the clutches of some wayward soldier, or some other guest of a general's house, if someone of consequence did not wish it so? That alone is cause for suspecting his lust for you."

I was a sight, I'm sure, my eyes and mouth like that of a fish made ready for a supper. Lyridus, the man with such steel in his long gaze and no smile to be had, lusting after an earthy, simple, skittish creature such as me, and not only that, but in secret when he surely could've ordered my submission? I'd never even spoken one word to him in my year under the same roof as his master, and only ever caught his eye when he glanced my way while searching for threats in the crowds of a celebration. The only conceivable explanation of all this was that perhaps Mistress Aphelia was mistaken when she saw Lyridus examining me, but far be it from me to say so.

Aphelia sighed, bored, "Even so, even if you were too stupid to recognize the secretive lust Lyridus has for you, I can not have such idealistic things around my daughter when she is of marrying age. Eyekk, call for Vabulle, and tell him to bring that disfigured thing I bought today!"

The dark skinned woman bowed low in response and left without a sound.

I was drowning in too much fear and confusion to even attempt to understand what Mistress Aphelia was implying. All I could manage was to keep my hands from shaking, holding them tightly together in front of me, staring at my white knuckles.

"Raspa, my dear," Aphelia spoke to the man she lounged against, "go organize things in the other room. I'll shortly be finished here." She gently kissed his full, soft mouth before gesturing for him to leave.

The majority of the beautiful slaves followed Raspa through a doorway, leaving only a handful of the taller, physically-imposing male slaves in the room surrounding the mistress's couch. From the corner of my downcast eyes, I could see them all beginning to undress before the door shut them in to await the daughter of Pothos.

"Eyekk, so efficient as always," Aphelia sighed in apparent relief and stood lithely, the gold on her arms jingling.

Eyekk had returned with a thin, whiplike man and a short, able-bodied woman. The man was bald and pale and dark-eyed, and I instantly feared the curl of his hand, the turn of his mouth. The woman was clearly trained in the same fashion as the rest of Aphelia's slaves, her shoulders and eyes forever bent downward. She was dressed rather ill, her hair pulled severely away from her face, which would've been pretty if it hadn't been ravaged by the disease that had ruined her complexion, the skin pockmarked and pink.

"Now," Aphelia addressed the exotic woman, "bring this one," she waved her hand at the poor, red-faced girl, "to Ioanna and tell her she will be replacing my daughter's handmaid. She should be instructed so as to disrupt Aello's comfort as little as possible. When you return, do not let anyone disrupt me until my husband has returned with my children. I'm sure Aello will have questions for me."

Eyekk silently bowed again, taking the slave girl's arm and leading her away.

"Vabulle," Aphelia now addressed the man, waved her hand at me this time, "I turn this girl over to you. See what you make of her. If you see potential in her, bring her back to me. If not, find a place to send her."

Vabulle bent down low, "Yes, mistress. I'm once again honored by the trust you show in my judgement."

Then Aphelia, without a look to spare for the life she'd irrevocably destroyed, walked away and left me in Vabulle's hateful hands.