8
I can’t get the image of Adrianna—my mother—writing that letter to Metis out of my mind. Her hand resting over her belly, the absolute fear on her face.
She knew she might die giving birth to the child of a god…but she took the chance and did it anyway. She chose to have me. I’ve been wrestling with that so much that I’ve zoned out. I’m so far lost in my own thoughts it takes the smell of a fresh Stymphalian turd to zap me out of it.
“Oh my gods,” Tina moans from her own bed, pulling a pillow over her face to block the smell. “When will it end?”
I’m thinking it won’t end until Mr. Zee steps down as the head of the Academy, and about to say so, when Cassie and Hepa burst through the door. They’re followed by Fern and Marguerite, their faces red, their gait suspiciously awkward.
“Are
