But Rhea shook her head. “Not like Myra. She was selected for her ability, yes, but also for being quiet, unassuming, seemingly humble. The others . . . were not. They wanted the power terribly, and it showed. And I think the Lady must have seen something. . . . She told me once that none of them could ever be allowed to succeed her.”
“But she didn’t see anything about Myra, because Apollo was protecting his little puppet,” I guessed.
Rhea nodded, looking troubled. “He must have been, at least enough that the Lady did not see Myra for what she was.”
“So Myra got the job, and everyone else got bupkis.”
Rhea nodded.
I started rinsing off. “Tell me about them.”
“Victoria—the redhead—is from one of the founding families who first started the Circle, the Roupells. She’s one of the Lord Protector’s distant cousins, and everyone thought she would be the heir, until Myra was unexpectedly named. She was always the leader—even as a child—and still is, it seems.”
“And the others?”
“Elizabeth—the blonde—likewise came from a founding family, but her grasp of the power isn’t as good. She’s more of a follower and . . . not as intelligent. I think she was named acolyte as a political move. The Warrenders—her family—were among the Lord Protector’s chief supporters.”
The Lord Protector seemed to have a lot to say about something that wasn’t any of his business, I thought, and grabbed a towel.
“And the brunettes?”
“Amelie de Vielles—the one with longer hair—is the best with the power. In fact, she’s the best I’ve ever seen. She clearly expected to be the heir, and was furious when it went to Myra. Jo—Johanna—Zirimis is the one who wasn’t there. I don’t know if she is acting with them or not. She was always difficult to read. Quiet, bookish, but a little . . . odd. She never seemed to really be there in some way.”
“And the fifth?”
“Sara Darzi, the one with short dark hair. She’s the one you . . .” Rhea abruptly cut off.
“Threw out a window?” I finished grimly.
“You’re doing what you have to do,” she said, seeing my expression. “A Pythia is responsible for her court as any coven leader is for her coven. And who else could possibly—”
“What about the covens?” I interrupted, because I didn’t want to talk about this right now. Or ever, because what was there to say? She’d been trying to kill me; I hadn’t had a choice. I already knew all that.
But it didn’t make it any easier.
Those girls might be a disaster, but they hadn’t gotten that way on their own. The Pythian position wasn’t supposed to be some kind of prize to be won, some kind of trophy for the prominent families to fight over. It was a job, and a damned hard one. And it needed somebody who got that, not some political appointee drawn to the glamour.
I watched about an acre of Victorian mud slush down the drain.
Not that there was a lot of that these days.
“The covens?” Rhea repeated.
“If they don’t send hardly anyone to court, they can’t think they have much chance of getting a Pythia,” I pointed out.
“They don’t believe they have much of one anyway. They haven’t had a Pythia in more than five hundred years, haven’t had anyone who might take their side—until you.”
“Except I’m not a coven witch, either, am I?” I wrung out my filthy washcloth, and decided I’d been right—it was beyond saving. I chucked it into the trash. “And I was raised by vampires.” Which never seemed to make anybody happy.
Except the vamps, of course.
But Rhea was shaking her head. “The leaders were hesitant to come to you at first. There was a huge debate on it after I asked. I think they only agreed because they were curious. They didn’t know what to expect from you, this Pythia from a vampire’s court. But then they met you and . . .”
“I can imagine.”
“They were impressed,” Rhea said, watching me.
I snorted. “At what? My ability to play pool?” Because that’s what we’d spent half the night doing. And the rest . . . well, I hadn’t exactly been much help there. Shifting five people back in time, even a short distance, had all but wiped me out. If the witches hadn’t taken up the slack, we wouldn’t have made it out of there.