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sat with the royal family.
    “A gift for Thessalonike,” Hephaestion said. His slow smile was the one I’d seen prompt giggles from both the kitchen slaves and the stableboys, but I sensed he was laughing at me as he pressed the bulky package into my hands.
    I looked down to see my eldest brother’s dog-eared copy of Homer’s Song of Ilium . I wrinkled my nose, prompting a laugh from Hephaestion.
    “Surely my brother cannot bear to part with his precious book,” I said, holding the thing like a dead rat. I much preferred The Odyssey , with its tales of adventure and exploration.
    “Alexander sleeps with that poem. It’s dearer to him than almost anything.” Hephaestion winked at me. “Except me, of course. Your brother bids you keep it safe for him; he shall order Aristotle to send him another copy,” Hephaestion continued. “He wishes you well versed in the accomplishments of the great heroes, for he claims he will one day rival even Achilles.”
    “Something about animals would have been more interesting,” I grumbled. Maybe something on snakes or dogs. I’d already read Aristotle’s ideas in the History of Animals . I’d taken to heart his suggestion to crack open chicken eggs at regular intervals in order to observe the generation of organs like the lungs and the brain, a practice that had earned me a round scolding from the cook and a lecture about how only uncivilized barbaroi would keep fertilized eggs in their kitchens. I wondered if perhaps Aristotle had penned a manual on spear throwing or how to wield a sword, both skills that seemed suddenly practical in this upside-down world I now lived in.
    “I had a feeling you’d turn your nose up at Homer, so I brought something else.” Hephaestion laughed again and tweaked my ear, revealing a lumpy burlap bag in his palm. I tore it open greedily, my bruised heart expanding at the honey cakes inside. “And you, little lioness, shall be full-grown when we see you again. Shall you honor Aphrodite with your beauty then or Athena with your wisdom? Perhaps Artemis, lover of animals?”
    “All three,” I chirped proudly.
    Olympias cleared her throat, bringing me back to reality. “That’s enough, Hephaestion,” she said sternly. “You shall dine on Alexander’s dust if you don’t follow now.”
    And thus, Hephaestion bowed to us, kicked his horse in the ribs, and charged off, toward Alexander, Thessaly, and the victories yet to come.
    I didn’t know it then, but it would be many years before I’d see Alexander again, at yet another funeral that would set the shears of the three Fates into a deadly flurry once more.

CHAPTER 2
    Thebes, Greece
    Hephaestion
    “Smile, Alexander,” I said, as he reined in his demon-horse Bucephalus amid the city’s death throes. “You craved a good fight since we left Aigai, and today you had it.”
    Alexander glowered at Thebes’ stone citadel, looking far older than his twenty years. “Thebes underestimated me. I shall not halt the slaughter until the city’s blood stains Bucephalus’ knees.”
    “That’s the last thing Ox-Head needs.” I wrinkled my nose even as Bucephalus snorted at me, baring huge yellow teeth beneath a ridiculous helmet of golden horns that made him look like a misshapen bull.
    Artemis’ tits, but I hated that horse.
    “The oceans could turn red with Theban blood and it still wouldn’t be enough,” Alexander said, nudging Bucephalus’ ribs and pushing forward into the city.
    I looked to the heavens before I urged my horse to follow, for Alexander had a flair for the dramatic when he didn’t get his way. Thebes had dared revolt against Alexander after Thessaly had so kindly capitulated, quaking in their greaves as they watched Alexander cut steps into the supposedly insurmountable cliff face of Mount Ossa and lead his troops over the top, surrounding the Thessalians and prompting their generous surrender. They’d hailed Alexander as their basileus and heralded him as a hero