Medea will be dragging her sons. They won’t want to go, won’t understand. She’ll have blood again on her hands from their wrists. She’ll take the main path at first, to move quickly, and when she hears the cries from town, she’ll lead her sons into wilderness, into this world too large where any may be lost. They’ll follow the coast until they reach Aegeus. She’ll offer him her younger body, bear new children for another king, enslaved again, but what other choice does she have? The kingdom of Medea is without subjects, without land, without reference.

Hekate guide me, Medea says. More powerful Nute. Shape some future I cannot see. Find some new kingdom, sever me from all that has come before. Let me rule and not be ruled.

A life of blood. No doubt she will need to kill Aegeus, too, or someone else in Athens, and more blood after. If she rules as king, it will be far away and many years from now. She understands that her kingdom will not be won easily, that all are against her. Women of Korinth. They watched and did nothing, so Medea would see them burn before she leaves, the entire city razed, all its brick soldiers, all its wealth and pride. The people of Iolcus, too, should have paid, and the stupid subjects of Cyzicus. She would be a wrath much larger. She would destroy all. And she wonders why this is. Rage, but others feel rage. The difference in her is that nothing will hold her back. She will do what is monstrous, because monstrous is only the absence of a lie, the great lie of what we are to each other, wife and husband, daughter and father, sister and brother, subject and king. In the absence of that lie, a great freedom, any action possible. She will feel nothing after the death of Glauce and Kreon. She could have eaten that stew of Pelias and the ram.

Her slaves return.

Where are my sons?

The oldest slave steps forward, head bowed. They’re playing with the princess. We thought you’d be pleased. At first she wouldn’t see them, but Jason made her come out, and then she was delighted.

You were supposed to return with my sons. What have you done?

The slave drops to her knees. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. We thought this was what you wanted. She and the king have agreed to let your sons stay here in Korinth. This is what you wanted.

Medea slaps her as hard as she can. You stupid fool. Bring my sons back to me.

This woman shrinks away in pain and fear, worthless, mute. Did they drink? Medea demands. Glauce and Kreon, did they drink from the cups?