“You think you’re the only one descended from greatness? Think harder, sweetie.” Mrs. Redmond scowled as I struggled to understand what that meant. “You’re a descendant of Medea, but I am descended from the man who made her what she was—Jason himself, great-grandson of Hermes.” She tilted her face to the sky in silent reverence.

The story said Jason had taken another wife after Medea, and now I understood why Mrs. Redmond was on the verge of killing my mother so she could get her hands on the Heart. She and I were on opposite sides in a millennia-long family feud.

“Jason didn’t make Medea who she was,” I said angrily, remembering the story Alec had helped me decipher. “Her abilities came from something else, not from some murderous, power-hungry asshole.”

“Nobody even remembers her name. Everyone knows of Jason and the Golden Fleece. Medea is an afterthought. She was pathetic.”

“You think you know everything about her? About me? You’re wrong.”

“I know you’re uniquely situated to cultivate the Absyrtus Heart,” said Mrs. Redmond. “You are the only one left who can. But can you wield its power? Are you fit to handle that kind of responsibility? You didn’t even feel a pull to this place. I had to lead you here.”

She was wrong. I had felt a connection with the house, the people who’d lived here before, and the garden itself. It was why I didn’t want to leave, but her taunts revealed what I’d suspected. “You forged all the letters.”

“All of them except the map. Circe left that behind. Did you enjoy your little scavenger hunt? This place is impossible to get into even with the key to the outer garden, but I did try, Briseis.” She held up her mangled arm. “And then to realize it was locked away even farther than I’d imagined and I didn’t have the god-damned key?” She laughed maniacally. “Maybe it was luck or fate or magic that led you to the final key, but now that you have it, you can get me the one thing I’ve been searching for my entire life.”

A sickening thought bloomed in my mind. “Did you kill the woman from the bank?”

Mom inhaled sharply.

Mrs. Redmond narrowed her eyes. “I did what I had to.”

“You said she was your friend.”

She flashed a crooked, wicked grin. That had been a lie, too.

“I won’t get it for you,” I said. “You can’t have the Heart.”

Mrs. Redmond raised her hand and brought the butt of the knife down onto my mom’s head. She crumpled to the ground. Mrs. Redmond bent over her, pressing the tip of the knife over her heart.

“Don’t!” I screamed.