13. Between Light and Shadow
13
Between Light and Shadow
Theron
Theron stirred, his mind journeying from a tranquil sea of sleep to the surface of consciousness at leisure.
It was a peaceful awakening, unlike jolting from the nightmares that had been plaguing him since Kalias fell asleep—those of scarlet monsters slowly devouring his kingdom.
Still, he braced himself for the gloom that awaited him upon waking. He was ready to face its toothy, pitiless grin and the way it would poison his thoughts. With his eyes closed, he stayed still, clinging to the remnants of his sleep. Each muscle in his body was relaxed in a way he couldn’t remember experiencing for a long time.
Sleep was indeed a blessing.
What sparked his alertness was a quiet breath beside him and a scent of lavender and bergamot. He inhaled it without thinking about it, before sensing the heat of a body next to him. A woman’s body. “Amatheia?” he asked under his breath.
Then a relentless blade of his memory swished, cutting through the delusion.
Amatheia is dead.
He’d placed the golden coin in her mouth himself before carrying her body to the funeral pyre, where he struggled to open his fingers and release her onto the wood. He probably wouldn’t have stepped away from it if Solon didn’t come to pay his last respects, sparking his almost murderous resentment.
But then, he was her father. He’d had every right to hug her for the last time.
It had taken an inhuman effort to watch the pyre burn, knowing that her ashes would be all that was left of her. That it was final. That he couldn’t amend anything. And even though he hadn’t spoken a single word that day, he’d cursed all the gods in his head.
So the woman beside him couldn’t be Amatheia. His heart aching, he opened his eyes.
Calliste?
She slept facing him, curled into a ball under a thin blanket, her face serene, lips parted a fraction.
He frowned, unable to process his reactions. It seemed absurd that she would try to sneak into his bed. Even though he’d only known her briefly, he could tell she wasn’t the type of woman to do this. Isn’t she bound with a code of conduct to her patients?
Yet she was in his bed, snuggling close to him.
He rose as quietly as he could, rubbing his face, slow to realize that the light filtering through the unbleached linen curtains was vivid orange. If the sun was setting, then he’d slept through most of the day.
I did sleep , he finally registered, blinking at how refreshed he was… owing to the woman who’d insinuated herself into his bed.
Still debating whether he should wake her and demand an explanation or leave, he grabbed his clothes and armor while his internal, incredulous voice went on: I gave you my own tent last night out of decorum, so no one, including myself, would question your decency. And this is what you did? Yet he was unwilling to confront her now. I’ll wake her once I’ve eaten, and she’d better have a damned good explanation for that. He gathered his things and tiptoed to the door.
Lykos still held the guard outside.
Under Lykos’ silent scrutiny, Theron closed the door and put on his belt, strapped on his breastplate and his thick-soled striders until he was satisfied with his appearance.
The earthy aroma of sun-ripened tomatoes and caramelized onions wafting up the rickety stairs reminded him that he was ravenous.
“They’re preparing a bean stew, if this is your question.” Lykos confirmed his guess, then added, “I’ve never seen a man so nettled from having a good sleep.”
“I had a good sleep. Until I woke up next to a woman who shouldn’t be there.”
“Oh, that. I had no choice. She collapsed from exhaustion. This was the only bed in this place I could think of.”
“What?” Theron stilled, skewering him with a glare. “ You slipped her into my bed?”
“She passed out in front of me. What did you expect me to do—leave her on this filthy floor here?”
Theron clenched his fists. Relief at finding out that Calliste was innocent did little to quell his anger. “Your jokes and insinuations are one thing. But this… There is decorum, Lykos. There’s something called decency you surely must have heard of. If we woke up at the same time, this would humiliate both her and me. What in the name of all the gods were you thinking?”
“That she deserved a rest after helping you, that’s what,” his friend snapped with an angry twitch to his jaw. “Not ideal, but unless you think she should sleep in the flea-infested stables, there was no bed I could shake out of the air at a short notice. No one will find out. I stood guard here all the time.”
“Still—”
“You were both almost naked in that forest lake. I can’t see how this is any worse.”
“That’s not the point,” Theron growled.
“So what is the point, Majesty ?” Lykos’ voice dripped with exasperation. “Explain. I’ll listen.”
“The point is…” Theron faltered. He couldn’t explain, not even to Lykos, whom he loved like a brother; who was practically a brother. “Us two in the lake was an accident. This here was your design. You’re taking liberties, Lykos.”
“Liberties?” Lykos’ features hardened into flint. “You think I did it because I thought it would be amusing ?” He still surveyed him with a disbelieving glare. “It can’t be about your wife, can it? It’s been over seven years, Theron.”
“Don’t you dare!” Quicker than he could control himself, Theron shoved Lykos against the wall and held him there, his voice dropping to a growl. “And never, ever force me into a situation like you just have.”
They’d fought before: trainings, real fights, drunken scuffles. Lykos was his equal in strength, never shying away from a confrontation or landing a punch. But this time, he was motionless against the wall, his eyes sad. “Do you truly think I’d do something like that for fun, with a woman you’ve known for barely two days and a High Priestess on the top of that? I didn’t mean it like this, Theron. We’re on the road. It was a necessity. You’re taking it wrong.”
Theron’s breaths wheezed in and out as he watched Lykos’ face from up close, no longer certain what exactly sparked his fury. I cannot deal with this right now. “Don’t you dare do anything like that again. All I want from her is to help Kalias. Understood?” he spat through clenched teeth.
Lykos drew in a sharp breath, then his eyes flickered to the side, widening.
Theron glanced. It was Calliste, in the doorway, framed by the profusion of blazing sunset light. Her face was flushed, gaze skittering between him and Lykos.
Theron straightened, letting go of Lykos. How much did she hear? Gods.
Calliste did not venture beyond the threshold. “I’m sorry. I heard the noise and I thought…” Her careful gaze swept over them again.
“Just a misunderstanding, Calliste. Nothing you should worry about.” Lykos straightened, readjusting his breastplate. “Sorry we woke you up.”
Theron didn’t say anything, his jaw hurting from being locked tight, caught off-balance and hating it.
“It’s late.” Calliste’s soothing voice drifted in the small space between them. “I’ll prepare myself for the ride.” She stepped back into the profusion of orange light blazing in the room and closed the door behind her.
Lykos was silent for a moment, then exhaled. “I wish you’d stopped your grief from coloring everything in your life, Theron. Or discoloring, if you like,” he said in an undertone. “I thought Eumelia had helped you move on, but clearly not.” Then he turned away, the stairs creaking as he descended.
Still stinging from his words, fists clenched, Theron went to the door, uncertain whether he should knock, or wait—
Calliste opened the door again, her bag slung over her shoulder. Her eyes widened as she saw him looming in the doorway. She backed up a step. “Majesty?”
He was rarely lost for words like this. What shall I do? Explain? Apologize? Or just thank her? How much did she hear and what’s she made of it?
A long beat of silence passed before she finally spoke again, her face unreadable in the shadow, her voice smooth and calm. “I’m glad you managed to sleep, and I apologize for my intrusion. This wasn’t what I wanted, but I understand Captain Lykos’ initiative.”
He exhaled, surprised. He didn’t expect her to handle it in such a straightforward manner, making it so much easier for him to reply. “You don’t owe me an apology, but I owe you my thanks. Thank you, Calliste.” Then he paused. “Are you usually this weary after healing?”
“Healing drains my energy this way or another. In your case, I may have used much more than I could afford.” She was matter-of-fact. “It was a lesson for me.”
He glanced at her pendant, his breath still in his throat as a shadow of hope bloomed in his heart. She was a first-grade healer, definitely. And it meant that she could help Kalias. “Does it endanger your life in any way?”
She was quiet for a moment. “Not if I’m careful.”
“I see.” He straightened and stepped closer. To his surprise, he caught something of a flinch from her at his proximity before she steeled herself. Why is she behaving like this? And then it dawned on him. She fled an abusive husband, and she just saw him holding Lykos against the wall. “Do not fear me, Calliste,” he said in a hoarse voice. “I’ve lost count of how many fights I’ve had with Lykos.”
She adjusted the bag on her shoulder. “You don’t have to explain.”
“I don’t want you to think that I’m violent. Not like you might think. And I might have overreacted.”
At that, she finally shot him a tentative smile. “I’m glad it’s not just me who overreacts.”
He stared at her. Blinked. And then smiled. “I know I’ve been nothing but grumpy and pushy so far,” he admitted, watching her smile widen. “Forgive me if you can.”
“I cannot forgive you, Majesty.”
His stomach sank.
“Since there’s nothing to forgive. You’re suffering. Suffering twists people and makes them act in a way they normally wouldn’t.”
He was lost for words again.
The clanking of the pots and the banter from downstairs intensified.
She stepped forth. “Before we ride, there’s one place here I wanted to visit. It won’t be long. Can we make time for it?”
Theron nodded, puzzled, about to ask her more.
But she brushed past him and took the stairs, leaving him surrounded by a honeyed, fiery light and silence scented with hints of lavender, vanilla, and bergamot.
Addictive.