Chapter 1

RHEA

The room is buzzing, more so than I expected it to be when Sera and I decided to do a mixer for art history students. I didn't even know there were this many at the academy, though I suppose between the other years and everyone's hangers-on, it makes sense.

I look around the room, searching for my study partner. She should be here somewhere, not only was this our joint idea, but the bar is part of the museum she works in. I don't know whose idea it was to put it here, but it's definitely the perfect place for a group of future art historians and archeologists to hang out and get to know one another better.

I head over to the bar and get myself a glass of rosé. My student budget doesn't stretch to many drinks while I'm out somewhere, but I want to support Sera and show her boss that letting us hold this at the museum is a good idea.

As if she's summoned by my thoughts, I spot the phoenix heading towards me with a dark-haired guy in tow. It takes me a moment to recognise him from her phone background, but all the pieces fall into place then. This must be Hugo, the best friend turned boyfriend.

"Rhea!" She waves happily.

I force a smile. Not because she's draining on me personally or anything like that, there's just a lot going on. "Hi, Sera," I respond.

"This is Hugo." She gestures to the other phoenix.

"It's good to meet you," I say. "And to put a proper face to the name. Sera's told me a lot about you."

"Hopefully nothing bad."

"We met while I'd forgotten everything," Sera says.

He grimaces. "Well, hopefully nothing too bad then."

"I can assure you, she said nothing terrible."

Sera flashes me a grateful smile. "Oh, have you had a chance to look at the painting on the south wall yet?"

I shake my head.

"It's only a copy, they don't want to risk the real things in the bar area, but I think you'll like it. It's actually why I suggested having the mixer here."

"Okay, I'm intrigued," I admit. "What painting is it?" And why does she think I'm particularly going to like it?

"You'll have to go see," she responds cryptically.

I chuckle nervously. "I guess I can do that."

"We're going to get drinks," she says. "Do you want anything?"

"All set," I respond, lifting my wine glass.

Sera nods and they head to the bar, leaving me to decide what to do with myself. I guess I could go and check out the painting she's so eager for me to see. I'm not sure exactly why she thinks it's going to be special, but I'm willing to trust her.

I consider lingering to talk to her more, but I don't want to bother her when she's spending time with Hugo.

It's easy to dodge through the crowd, no one is paying me much attention. Whether it's because everyone already has their circle of friends, or no one wants to be friends with a gorgon, I don't know for sure, but the result is the same. Me and my snakes are typically avoided.

The south wall has several paintings on it, but it's easy to figure out which one it is that Sera wants me to see. A gorgon stands proud with her snakes coming off her head. Her fierce pose that would strike fear into any enemy. She carries an upraised sword and looks defiant as if she's the most respected woman in the world.

My world spins around as I stare at it. I've spent so much time looking at this painting that I know it by heart, and it's sweet of Sera to remember that I said this painting was the reason I wanted to study.

But that knowledge does nothing to stop the torment from bubbling up inside me. Tears spring to the corners of my eyes and it's all I can do to suppress a sob. I grip the stem of my wine glass as firmly as possible and try to get the sorrow back in, but it isn't enough. My snakes shift amongst my braids and slither onto my shoulders. I reach up to touch each of their heads in turn, getting a soft hiss from both in response.

"It's an amazing painting," Sera says, making me jump. "Sorry, I thought you knew I was here."

I sniff. "It is amazing," I respond.

"Rhea? Are you okay?"

I bite my bottom lip, thinking about the best way to answer without making her feel really bad about the situation. "I'm fine."

The expression on her face says she doesn't believe me.

"Granny died," I whisper. "A few weeks ago."

"The one with all the snakes?"

I nod and look back at the painting. "She's the one who took me to the museum to the original. She stood me in front of it and told me that I was capable of anything. I'd never seen a gorgon painted like this before." A tear rolls down my cheek.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't know."

"There was no way for you to. I didn't tell anyone, I've just been trying to focus on doing my coursework and existing." Even if it hurts to know she's no longer in the world.

"You know you can talk to me if you need to." She raises her hand as if she wants to reach out and give me a reassuring pat but thinks better of it and drops her hand back to her side. "You helped me when I was in the most vulnerable position in my life."

"I know." Which is why I'm telling her now. Considering how much she told me about herself and her life when she'd forgotten everything, I know she can be trusted when it comes to things like this. "I'm just not ready to talk about it."

She nods. "It's probably not my place, but I think there's a grief support place on campus. If that's something you're ready for."

"Maybe, I don't know," I admit honestly. "None of it feels real most of the time."

"I can imagine."

A shout comes from across the room and we both turn to find a poor waitress having to pick up glasses from the floor.

I hurry over, setting my wine down on a table and crouching down to help her pick them up.

"You don't have to do that," she says.

"It's fine, I'd want help if I was in your position," I respond, loading them back onto the tray. At least most of them appear not to have broken in the fall.

She offers me an uneasy smile. "Thanks."

For a brief moment, I worry that she thinks I'm going to turn her into stone because we're so close, but a quick touch of my glasses rids me of that concern, they're still firmly on my face where they should be, and I haven't drunk enough to have to worry about not having taken the potion that blocks my magic.

"I think that's all of them," she says, stepping back and surveying the broken glass and liquid all over the floor. "I'm going to go get a mop, please don't touch the broken bits."

I nod and step back, picking up my wine and taking a sip, feeling useful even if the waitress probably didn't actually need my help cleaning up. But at least it's taken my mind off Granny and missing her, though the ache is never gone for long.

I'm just not used to a world where I know she isn't in it. Maybe Sera is onto something about the grief support group. I might need something like that more than I realise.