No matter how I looked at the woman in front of me—left, right, near, far—she was nothing like the image of a huntress who slips through the forest, still as a doe and swift as a hare. You people really wanted the gods to die all over again, didn't you? You chose this specimen to bear a goddess's name just to piss Her off into an early second death? The thought alone broke my composure, and I pointed at the brawny woman's ebony face and burst out laughing.
My provocation hit home. The dark-skinned amazon ground her teeth so hard they clacked, her already bulging eyes nearly popping from their sockets.
"You—you…" She jabbed a finger at me, lips trembling, but couldn't string together a full sentence.
I laughed for a while and slowly got a hold of myself, covering my mouth and bowing my head. "Sorry, sorry—I'm not laughing at you. Haha… truly, I'm not laughing at you…" It was the least sincere apology in history. The Amazons might be straightforward, but they aren't stupid.
"I—I want to…" The big woman floundered, until one of the women behind her hesitated, leaned in, and whispered a few words in her ear.
The brute's face changed at once, but under her companion's prodding she finally blurted at me, "I challenge you to a God-Name Trial! I wager my god-name. By our law, outsider, you must accept!"
"Artemis, what nonsense are you spouting? Thea isn't one of our people—our laws don't bind her." I hadn't even answered yet when Diana, startled by what she'd heard, pushed through the crowd. The moment the big woman spoke, Diana's surprise turned to anger. How dare you gamble with a goddess's honor! That isn't yours to toss around!
Her last words rose without her meaning to. The Amazons dancing nearby froze mid-step, heads turning in unison. Silence rippled outward as women clustered in twos and threes, whispering, trading the fragments they'd caught.
The brawny woman was already regretting it, but the arrow nocked had to be loosed. She wasn't built to bend; asking her to admit fault was like asking her to die. So she steeled herself, chin high, and stared straight back at Diana. "This is the right the gods granted me. I'll stake everything—my life and my honor."
Even I was a little lost by then. Lady, aren't you challenging me? Why are you locking eyes with Diana? Is your custom to beat up the mediator before you get to the duel? I mean, culturally fascinating if true.
I folded my arms and kept my mouth shut. After a long, smoldering glare at Diana, the mountain of a woman finally remembered who her opponent was and turned a thoroughly displeased gaze on me.
"What's the challenge?" I wasn't going to back down. One look at her physique told me this wasn't going to be a calculus bee or a coding sprint, but I still wanted the rules clear.
"Hold," Hippolyta cut in at exactly the right moment. My magic was sealed, but my mental senses weren't; I'd known she was lurking at a distance, watching, and only stepped in once things were about to boil over—textbook "make an entrance."
Thank Hera the local style wasn't to roar "long live the queen." I dipped a small bow and called it courtesy enough.
"Artemis, do you understand what you're doing?" Hippolyta's face wore anxious love-of-the-people, the same expression Moira had perfected back home. That soft, caring gaze that says, "I cherish you," while the inner monologue mutters, "Why aren't you dead yet?"
But to these earnest Amazons, it plays. The big woman dropped to one knee and bellowed from the chest, "I do. I'll bear all consequences. If I fail, I'll leave our home and go die in the outside world!" She was so firm—even I, who'd come to scoff, felt a twinge.
A glint of satisfaction flickered between the queen's brows, then she put the motherly mask back on and drew the kneeling woman in. "Why put yourself through this, my child? Did someone goad you?" Her eyes slid past to mark the faces behind. A capable ruler pulls weeds up with the roots; a headstrong bruiser barely merited her notice.
But the bruiser had already forgotten she'd been put up to this. She swore it was all her idea.
"Very well. Then I can only bless you. May the Father's lightning light your path." Hippolyta displayed her craft, won herself a wave of goodwill, then turned to me.
"As our honored guest, it pains me to ask this, but will you accept her challenge? If you prevail, you'll bear the Moon Goddess's name. You will be sister to us, and there will be no more dividing lines."
"I accept." Retreat wasn't in my vocabulary. As for losing? From the way the brute said it, defeat meant exile from the island. To them, exile was worse than death. To me? Heh.
To appease the crowd, the queen couldn't openly take my side, but she slipped me a look that said, I'm rooting for you, either way. Win or lose, it served her. She departed with her guards, satisfied.
"Thea, you shouldn't have agreed," Diana said hurriedly once the crowd had thinned. She had no idea of the knots of politics under all this—she only saw an impending duel. Which, speaking of—
"About that black giant," I pointed at the retreating mountain, "what exactly am I being challenged to?"
Diana's mouth fell open. "You don't know? You accepted without knowing?"
"How would I know? No one told me. Is it in that coliseum over there?" I'd noticed the full-on Roman arena when I came in—no clue if it was original or an addition, but it looked properly dramatic.
"It isn't," Diana said carefully. "It's a Moon-Name Trial. The time isn't fixed, the format isn't fixed—our Moon-Priestess elders must seek the goddess's oracle first."
And the "elders" would be… which ones again? The faces here were all cut from a similar heroic mold, and with the Horus Eye off, I hadn't bothered to pick them out. Honestly? No idea if I'd seen those old priestesses at all.