9. The First Dawn
9
The First Dawn
Calliste
She had the whole tent to herself. Its thick canvas walls kept warmth and had an earthy scent mixed with a hint of the wildflowers growing outside.
In quick, efficient movements, Captain Lykos unrolled a thick pallet for her and placed a square of woolen blanket on the top.
She smiled her thanks, but then it was easy to smile at the man who was all charm. “Where will the king sleep?” she couldn’t help asking, remembering him vanishing between the trees just a few moments earlier.
“Likely he won’t,” Captain Lykos said in a neutral tone. “He barely sleeps.”
So his ashen appearance was exhaustion. “Thank you, Captain.”
“My pleasure,” he replied, then hesitated.
She waited for the question he clearly wanted to ask.
He still looked undecided, then exhaled. “I imagine Theron wasn’t exactly smiles and courtesies when he came down to your temple.”
Calliste almost smiled. You know him well. But she wasn’t sure what to reply.
The captain raked his hand through his black hair. “Please forgive him if he was brusque or rude. He isn’t himself at the moment. Hasn’t been for a long while now.”
“I can understand.”
He exhaled, then lit up. “I’m glad. Is there anything else I can do for you here?”
The respect he showed her made her uneasy. She was used to receiving respect from the sick asking Epione’s help through her, but she could sense something else beneath Captain Lykos’ cheerful exterior as he watched her. A silent, fervent hope.
“No. Except… can you tell me: is it just because of the prince?”
The smile vanished from his face. “It’s his only child and heir. And because it’s such an unusual situation, the implications go not only for him as a father, but also for the whole kingdom’s future.”
Then, and only then, the weight of her mission crashed down on her, compressing her chest to a thread of breath. “Oh.”
“I’m not saying it to scare you,” the captain added quickly. “Just so you see what he faces and why he acts the way he does… but I probably should have kept my mouth shut.”
“No. It helps me see things in the right light.”
The captain lingered, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he bid her a good night and left, letting the flap of the tent fall down. Only a thin strip of firelight between the flaps filtered through.
It was enough.
She knelt to empty her mind, but she couldn’t focus, her mind on the sleeping prince. I’ve never heard of anything like it. If this is an illness, I don’t know how to treat it. Sudden trepidation corkscrewed into her heart. Is it beyond my powers?
You must always trust our goddess. Leontia’s calm words washed over her, bringing comfort. She held on to them in silence.
A while later, she rose and unrolled her still wet robe, hanging it on the rope inside the tent. Then she eyed her green peplos . The white robe might be dry by tomorrow, but the night was chilly, so no guarantees. If she slept in her official robe, she’d look crumpled and unkempt the next morning. Unacceptable. Epione’s priestesses always looked pristine.
Which left her with one solution. She took off her green peplos and hung it next to her white one. Naked, she slipped under the woolen blanket, which was soft and smelled of fresh milk. She curled underneath it, waiting for the warmth to build.
But she couldn’t sleep.
Everything was so different.
The forest floor under the pallet was soft enough, but this wasn’t her bed. The fragrant scent of pine wasn’t sage and mint that permeated her tiny room back at Mount Hellecon. The faraway hooting of an owl and male voices speaking in hushed undertones weren’t the evening warbling of her sisters: the only time they were permitted to chat. The wool against her skin was different from the usual, light, linen bedding. She was entirely out of the rhythm that had been ingrained in her.
She didn’t know what the next day would look like, except that they would ride to Aganeeios, a village nestled in the slope of Mount Peliosa. Her memories of Aganeeios were faded, except for the gratitude to the woman who gave her shelter and much needed hope on the darkest night of her life, when she thought she’d never make it to Mount Hellecon alive. I wish I had a gift for her. But maybe she’ll be in need of healing.
She stroked her pendant, smiling. And with that smile, she drifted off to sleep.
***
“Calliste?”
A husky, mellow voice filtered through, glinting in the fathoms of her sleep like a thread of silver and steel. Just like the voice from her dream on the eve of her vow-taking. Except—
“Wake. We must go.”
She sat up in a sleepy confusion, blinking away the haze of dream, rubbing her eyes with one hand and pressing the blanket to her chest.
The king crouched next to her, fully dressed, his massive outline buffed by the dusty dawn light infused with a pink undertone. It seeped through the partly drawn-back flap of the tent, silhouetting the black, jagged lines of the pines and softer outlines of the men packing the camp.
The horses snorted, trotting in place. The hissing fire fought an uneven battle with smothering water poured over it.
Calliste met the king’s gaze, noticing the question in his bronze eyes. But it didn’t make it past his lips. The sharp lines etched in his face told her that he didn’t sleep much last night, if at all. Perhaps that sharpness felt like scrutiny.
“We’re setting out soon,” he said.
“I’ll be ready in no time.”
“We’ll eat breakfast at Aganeeios. It’s three hours away if we ride fast. Will you manage on the horse?”
“It depends.” She adjusted the blanket across her chest. “Will you tie me up?”
He watched her, unblinking, then looked away. “Tie you up,” he said, as if reflecting on those words. Perhaps he was casting his mind back to the previous day, which, in fairness, wasn’t a good start for either of them. But when he glanced up at her hanging robes, something else, much darker, shone in his eyes. He looked at her again. “No. I won’t.”
Before she could decipher the look on his face, he rose in a swift move and left, releasing the flap on the way out.
Calliste glanced at herself.
Nothing was out of place. She was naked, true, but covered, so he couldn’t have glimpsed any of her flesh. Even if he did, he’d already seen her scars, so there was no point covering them now, and she wasn’t ashamed of her body. No priestess was.
Oh. Maybe it’s strange to him that I’d sleep naked? But I didn’t have a choice.
Maybe he believed that a married woman shouldn’t sleep naked? That unwelcome thought gave her pause. Once again, she had to come to terms with the idea of returning to the outside world.
The world where, according to the ancient law, she was already her husband’s property and should never let another man glimpse her flesh like this. Perhaps that was what the king thought… since she hadn’t told him the truth.
She dressed quickly in her white peplos , trying not to linger on the unsettling warmth in her chest as she inhaled his scent. She’d recognize it anywhere now: cool sea breeze and hot spices. And then she remembered the words from her dream the night before, haunting her as if he’d truly said them.
Come, my fearless queen.