The Island of Excess Love by Francesca Lia Block

for some reason, right now, it doesn’t seem that difficult. Still, I don’t really want to shoot at a bird when I haven’t seen one in so long.
    They won’t die. They only transform.
    Do I believe him? I want to believe him. This is a way to test his veracity. By putting a small, precious life at stake …
    I point the arrow at a dove. Equal tension in both arms. Remembering what Hex once told me about sword fighting: When you strike, it is not a thought. It is pure action. You embody the result.
    Keeping my eye on the white bird— it will fall to earth a rose, Pen —I pull back the bow and release.
    We all stand transfixed as my arrow ascends into the sky and catches fire, blazing into the clouds like a comet until the flame burns out. The birds scatter, unharmed.
    â€œWhat was that?” Venice asks.
    â€œI have no idea,” I say. At least I didn’t kill any doves.
    â€œAnother sign of your nobility,” the king intones. “The bow and quiver are yours, Queen Penelope. May you use them well as you reign at my side.”
    Reign at his side? The flame of the afternoon’s fantasy sizzles out like my burning arrow. I am no queen. Just a girl without the best aim and an arrow that turned to fire. Although I’m not sure what this means, I know it happened to Acestes, a Sicilian king who provided a brief reprieve for Aeneas and his men before they set off on their journey once more. The Aeneid again. Hex’s maddening book. Our book. I have to find Hex.
    As if on cue, the dark-haired bird woman approaches across the meadow. “The boy is with Swift at the waterfall,” she says. She’s bare breasted and I notice Venice blush and look away. He hasn’t seen any women besides me in a long time, let alone a half-naked one with wings.
    The king thanks her and turns to me. “Queen Penelope?”
    â€œStop calling me that.”
    â€œIt’s just a short ways away. It’s a little paradise and we can swim. You can all come. Then we’ll be back here for supper.”
    Ez jumps up, grabs Ash’s hand, and dances around with Argos nipping at their ankles.
    Even Ash seems happy now, like we’re vacationing rather than stranded on an island with a spell-wielding antlered person who seems to have infatuated Ez. We just need Hex to make it okay.
    So we agree to go.
    The waterfall is across the meadow, beyond an outcropping of the quartz rock and among a cluster of palm trees. We make our way along the trail toward the sound and smell of water. When we emerge from the trees the air is misty and a waterfall cascades over high rocks into a pool. The king dives in, followed by Ez and then Venice. Dark perches on a rock, watching them, her distracting breasts on display. I turn to Ash.
    â€œWhat’s going on? Do you have any idea?”
    He shrugs. “I just want some more of that wine.”
    I ignore this. “Where do you think Hex is? He wouldn’t just leave, would he?”
    I’m not so sure. The way he’s been acting toward me lately—so cold last night and almost cruel when we were on the boat. Maybe he’s still under that spell. But where would he have gone?
    â€œMaybe he’s looking for Merk?” Ash suggests. He pulls off his linen shirt and squats on a rock in the sun.
    â€œHe would have told me, though.”
    Ash squints across the water at the king, splashing with Ez and Venice, tiny rainbow droplets flying in the air around them. “Who knows? That guy’s up to something. At least he has good wine.”
    â€œCome on, Pen, join us!” Ez shouts.
    â€œWhere’s Hex?” I look over at the one called Dark. “You said your friend brought him here.”
    â€œThat’s what Storm told me.” Her eyes are more golden in the sun.
    â€œWe’ll find him, I promise,” the king says. “Come in the water now, Penelope. It’s your element. You must become as