My mother sighs, and she sounds sad. “We will do nothing. We will forget her name.”
“You can’t,” Nephthys says, crawling toward the bed. “You can’t!”
My father shifts slightly, blocking her way forward. If any of this has ruffled his calm, I certainly can’t tell. But something in his eyes when he looks at Nephthys tells me that in her grand plans she didn’t account for what his wrath would have been if she had succeeded.
“I treasured your name,” my mother says, looking at Nephthys and then deliberately looking away. “I wrote it on my heart. I will keep your name alive no longer.”
Silently weeping, Nephthys stands and stumbles from the room. She seems smaller, dimmer, already diminished. I wonder how long it will take her to fade now that she has lost my mother’s love and magic. My rage spent, I feel sorry for her, sorry for the unfathomable spans of time she had and wasted.
I turn to my mother, smooth back a stray lock of hair from her forehead.
She smiles at me, lips dry and pulled tight over her teeth. “My brave, clever girl. As soon as I’m well, we’ll go for a picnic on the Nile.”
“I’d like that.” I would. I’m ready to get to know her without the poison I let destroy our relationship, without the strain of misunderstanding between us. I’m actually excited about spending time together.
“And darling?”
“Yes?”
“What in the three kingdoms have you done to your hair? You’re grounded.”
Okay, new plan. Back to San Diego and getting to know her through the phone and email, instead.
“Oh! Osiris! It’s time. Get the birthing stool.” She smiles, then grimaces, and puts a hand over her stomach. Floods, that time. “Isadora, you’ve made this all possible. I would like you to deliver the baby.”
And maybe what I said to Nephthys about my mother loving me isn’t true after all, because that’s just sick. “Mom, I’d take a demon snakebite for you, but I am so gone until that thing is out of your stomach and cleaned.”
I turn toward the door. Ry’s got his hands shoved in his pockets, broad shoulders pushed up. “Umm, vengeful goddess and crazed god of embalming out there?”
“Baby being squeezed out my mother’s birth canal in here.”
He runs into the hall ahead of me. “Do you have any weapons?” he asks.
We both scream as we nearly plow into a man standing in the hall.
“Thoth?” I stare up into his small, kind eyes. “Please don’t tell me you’re secretly evil, too. I don’t think I could handle it.”
He smiles, turning both hands into birdies. “What’s the problem?” one of them asks.
“Crazy Anubis and Nephthys tried to kill my mom. And me. They might still be around here.”
The other hand-bird’s eyes narrow murderously. It is way, way more threatening than I ever imagined a bird hand puppet could be. “I will take care of it,” it croaks.
“Okay . . .”
Thoth’s smile hasn’t left, but he stands taller, and I notice a power about him that has always been disguised by his gentleness. “I have watched over your mother since before she was born. I will do the same for you, little one.”
Beaming, I go on my tiptoes and kiss his wrinkled cheek. “I’m glad I always remembered you. And I promise I always will.” Thoth nods, and I watch as his narrow, stooped frame disappears around the hall corner.
I doubt we’ll see Anubis or Nephthys here again. I don’t know how Set will feel about what his wife did, or about her decline. I don’t know what it will mean if such a permanent part of their family disappears forever. But I am content to let my parents work out their own problems.
“Come on,” I say, taking Ry’s hand. “We can hide in my room.”
Before locking the door behind us, I look in all the corners to double-check for lurking gods, but with Thoth here I feel calm. Safe.
“You have a bit of a theme,” Ry says, looking around my room, which my mother hasn’t destroyed yet. Thank goodness. I don’t plan on staying here—what Sirus said about learning who we are away from our mother feels both true and timely. Now that I’ve finally accepted her and realized she always loved me, I think I can discover who I am without it revolving around what I’m not. San Diego seems like a good place to figure that out.
I flop onto the silver covers of my bed and stare at the ceiling. Ry jumps on next to me, bouncing me so hard I nearly fall off.
“Hey! There I am.” He grins at the placement of Orion on my ceiling.
“I thought you said you weren’t that Orion.”
“Nope, just your Orion.”
I roll my eyes, but I don’t get up, and I don’t move when he casually scoots a bit closer to me. “Isadora?”
“Orion?”
“If we’re going to go at a pace you want, it’d be really nice if you’d put a shirt on over your bra.”
I sigh dramatically. “You’re so demanding.” But he has a point. In the rush to get away from the impending maternal nudity to end all maternal nudity, I’d kind of forgotten that I still hadn’t replaced my shirt.
I stand and dig through my drawers for the clothes I have left here before settling on a plain black tee.
“You’ll have to introduce me to your parents properly,” Ry says. “You know, when you’re not saving their lives. And when your mom’s not in labor.”
“Whatever you do, do not tell her you’re Greek. She’ll kick you out of the house and never let me see you again.”
I turn around to find him staring at me, his blue eyes twin pools of happiness.
“So, you’re seeing me?”
My fingers trace the jade oval of the scarab on my bracelet, the bracelet that saved more than one life today. A rebirth. Hope. “Maybe.” I let a corner of my mouth go up in a smile. “For now. But don’t think this means I buy any of your fate nonsense. I’m not committing to anything.” Other than being happy and brave and willing to let temporary things feel permanent until maybe, just maybe, they become permanent.
He stands and wraps his arms around my waist, and the shock and joy of his hands on me overwhelms my senses. I wonder if I’ll ever get to the point where being touched doesn’t do this to me. I hope not.
“Fortunately for us, I’m both persistent and persuasive.” He leans in, and I smile against his lips, finally give up and let his love flood in and carve the last of my stone heart into a new shape I’m only just discovering.
Somehow it doesn’t feel like a surrender.
It feels like a victory.
I wander the dark landscape, contentedly tracing the new constellations of my night sky. There, Isis, my mother—still infuriating but also beloved—and in her arms Dora, the first daughter named after someone other than herself. In the distance, farther than I can reach right now but in my future, my father’s stars. Between us, Sirus and Deena’s stars, even Tyler and Scott’s. The stars and guiding points of my life, each in their place.
And of course, directly over me, Orion, with his new brilliantly blue stars. I reach up and trace my fingers along the milky swirls of the galaxy, decide where I’ll paint my own stars onto the sky among these people I love.
Some things, the best things, do last forever.
FIRST THANKS, AS ALWAYS, TO NOAH (GOD OF doing things just because they are good for him), who is everything I know about love. Elena and Jonah (goddess and god of asking for snacks and being really adorable), thank you for being proud of what I do and usually helping me have enough time to do it.
This book would not have happened without Michelle Wolfson (goddess of delivering amazing news and gently shoving her clients in the right directions). It was her constant encouragement that gave me the guts to attempt this book again and again and again, even when I was ready to give up.
As always, huge thanks to my editor, Erica Sussman (goddess of obscenely cute dogs and much-appreciated exclamation marks). She never fails to take what I have actually written and show me how to turn it into what I wanted to have written.
Endless gratitude to Tyler Infinger (goddess of letting me name characters I like after her) for assisting editorially and always being awesome, Christina Colangelo (goddess of fake karaoke) for being funny and delightful and super good at her job, Casey McIntyre (goddess of answering my stupid emails in a professional and friendly manner) for being a phenomenal publicist, Jessica Berg (goddess of fixing other people’s mistakes) for being my stalwart copy editor, Kathryn Hinds (glorious goddess of abhorring alliteration) for helping my sentences make sense, Alison Donalty and Michelle Taormina (goddesses of creating beauty where nothing existed before) for continuing their streak of cover-art brilliance, and everyone else on the HarperTeen team (goddesses and gods of paper and words) for taking the art of making and selling books to such great heights.
Natalie Whipple (goddess of maintaining friends’ sanity through daily chats), who always believed in Isadora and read every attempt at every draft of this book: you are amazing. Jon Skovron (god of indie bands you’ve never heard of but wish you were cool enough to know about) gave me excellent editorial advice when I was desperate for guidance before sending Isadora out into the world. Stephanie Perkins (goddess of baby sloths and adorability), who doesn’t read every word I write, but helps me write all of them regardless.
Special thanks to Lorna Oakes and Lucia Gahlin, whose beautiful book Ancient Egypt was the foundation for my renewed interest in Egyptology as an adult.
Most especially, I am grateful to my parents, Pat and Cindy White. I wanted to write a book about that strange and terrifying space when you realize your parents aren’t perfect. I’m so glad mine are imperfect in such perfect ways, and that they allowed their children to grow up as imperfect but perfectly loved people.
And finally, always, thanks to my readers: gods and goddesses of awesomeness and extremely good taste in fiction.