“That was different.” Castor dismissed my words with a wave of his hand. “We were children. You can’t come to the training ground just because you’re bored. You stand to lose too much if your true identity is discovered—and you’re not the only one.”
“I know all that.” I stiffened my spine. “I’m not doing this on a whim. I need to practice my weaponry. It’s been too long since I’ve had the chance. If fear makes me lose the skills I fought so hard to learn, then I’m the worst coward in the world. Castor, I swear by the all-seeing eye of Apollo, I have a way to use the training ground safely, without risk of discovery.” I raised my hands to the sun.
Castor still looked dubious, but Polydeuces came forward and said, “I don’t need Iolaus to tell me how quick-witted you are, little sister. If you say you’ve got a plan in mind, I trust you.”
“Thank you, Polydeuces,” I said. I wanted to embrace him, but it would have looked suspicious to the guards at the citadel gate if the aloof huntress Atalanta suddenly hugged anyone. Instead I turned a questioning look to my other brother.
Castor shrugged. “Go change your clothes,” he grumbled.
As Orpheus had said, most of the other Argonauts were on the royal training ground. I saw all our crew except for Jason, Argus, and the Thracian singer himself. Even Zetes was there, wounded leg and all, watching his shipmates show off their skills with weapons. Milo was soon busy, doing a weapons bearer’s job of fetching the javelins and arrows the men sent flying.
I soon set Castor’s mind at ease about how I’d protect my borrowed identity. To stave off any challenges I couldn’t handle, the first thing I did was issue a challenge of my own against any man who wanted to try his luck besting me in a footrace. I beat five men, including Kalais, a so-called son of Boreas, the North Wind. No one else challenged me for the rest of the morning. What man wanted to risk losing to a woman in front of all his friends?
I should’ve given some time to sword work, but I had my misgivings about that. If I made too poor a showing, the men might suspect something. I owed it to my brothers to preserve the illusion that I was Atalanta. I’d find my own time and place to practice using my blade. Maybe I can get Iolaus to work with me later, I thought as I went off to borrow Polydeuces’ bow.
“Come with me!” I called out to Milo. I headed for the far side of the training ground, where Lord Aetes’ guards had set up a row of straw targets. A desolate hillside rose beyond it. It was a safe place for any private conversation. “I need you to fetch my arrows.”
Milo trotted dutifully after me and stood by my side while I strung my brother’s bow. It wasn’t easy, bending a strong piece of wood that had been made for a grown man’s use, but I had to do it. It cost me a lot of sweat and a lick or two of blood when I lost my grip on the bowstring and it slashed my palm, but I won in the end.
I glanced around casually as I chose my first arrow. No one else had a taste for archery that morning. “Where have you been, Milo?” I asked quietly. “It’s been three days.”
“Working for Jason,” Milo replied, his voice low.
I frowned, setting the arrow to the bow. Anyone watching us would think I was the world’s most cautious archer, to spend so much time preparing to make my first shot. “Doing what?” My muscles strained as I pulled the bowstring back.
“Protecting you.”
The bowstring released with a loud twang, and the arrow arced through the air, barely grazing the top of the target before falling to the earth beyond it. A few of the men practicing with javelins saw my miss and called out that I’d find a spindle easier to manage than a bow. I snatched up a second arrow and buried it fletch-deep in the core of the target. The jeering stopped. Only then did I return my attention to Milo.
“That makes no sense,” I muttered. “In the first place, what protection do I need? And since when does Jason care about anyone’s skin but his own?”
“There may be more to Jason than you think,” Milo said softly. “That day in the palace when Jason made me stay behind, he told the lady Medea he had to go down to the Argo to make sure that the ship was being well kept while she was in port. The gods have mercy on us, you should have seen Medea’s eyes when he said that!”
“What, now she’s jealous of a ship?” I said. I shot another arrow. It hit the top of the target.
“He’d just sent you down to the Argo, remember? With those blankets?”
“Oh, yes.” I pretended to study the shaft of my fourth arrow for straightness. “I was grateful to him for giving me an excuse to escape Medea. She makes me nervous, Milo, even while I’m feeling sorry for her. Her mind’s badly wounded, and the gods alone know why. The gods alone can heal it.”
“Well, she was sure Jason was going to check on the ship just to have a chance to run after you. He swore that wasn’t so, and finally told her that he wouldn’t go to the Argo that day, just to please her. Then she became all honey cakes and nectar, draping herself over him like a vine. I wanted to get away, but Jason forced me to wait there until she decided she’d better go. That was when he turned to me and said, ‘Now do you see the danger? Your friend’s too busy pretending to be Atalanta to admit how bad it is.’”
I set aside the fourth arrow as if I’d found a flaw in it, and reached for a fifth. My hands were shaking. “He knows who I am?”