Chapter 6 - The Queen's Court

Queen Pasiphaë stood before her mirror as Lysippe fastened the ceremonial brooch. A golden bull. Minos's little joke, making her wear their shame like jewelry. She'd learned to bear these small cruelties without flinching.

"The King awaits in the throne room," a servant announced.

Three weeks he'd been absent from court. Three weeks of construction reports, strange vibrations through the palace stones, and quietly moving gold to discrete accounts. Now he was back, and everyone would pretend normalcy while calculating how close they stood to disaster.

The throne room was packed. Every minister, general, and merchant in their assigned positions like actors who'd memorized their marks. At the far end, Minos sat on his obsidian throne. He'd lost weight. His fingers drummed against the armrest in a pattern she didn't recognize.

She took her place beside him. He didn't acknowledge her.

"Let the session commence," Minos said.

Kleomenes stepped forward with his reports. The king watched him approach with an intensity that made the treasurer's steps falter.

"Your Majesty, the quarterly assessments show increased expenditure on construction materials—"

"Tell me, Kleomenes," Minos interrupted softly. "What is the cost of divine forgiveness?"

The treasurer blinked. "I... Your Majesty?"

"We measure everything. Grain, gold, blood. Surely the gods' mercy has a price." Minos's fingers drummed against the throne.

Kleomenes's face had gone pale, and Pasiphaë saw his eyes dart toward the exit. Just yesterday, Lysippe had mentioned the treasurer's new villa outside the city—rather grand for a civil servant's salary. The poor man was calculating whether the King's strange question was philosophical musing or targeted accusation.

"The gods' ways are beyond price, Your Majesty," Kleomenes managed, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool morning.

"Beyond price." Minos smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yet we try to buy their favor anyway. With temples. With sacrifices. With..." he paused, his gaze sweeping the crowded throne room, holding his tongue through what little political lucidity he had left, his silence thick with tension.

The room seemed to hold its breath. Everyone knew that pause contained something unspeakable. Kleomenes used the moment to shuffle backward into the crowd, trying to become invisible among the other ministers.