17. Across the Wall
17
Across the Wall
Calliste
“Blessings. I’m Petros, and this is my wife, Despina. Welcome to Hellenixia.”
The elderly innkeepers who came out into the courtyard to greet them were shrewd and polite, asking no questions about their disheveled and blood-stained appearance, or commenting on the presence of only one woman among so many men.
Not that she cared about appearances anymore. Not after enduring the hours of ride to get there, including an agonizing crawl through the busy, packed streets of this large city, praying for a bath-house.
The king must have been thinking the same, as this was his first question after they dismounted.
“Oh, we have our bath-house here.” Despina’s eyes lit up. “But you can use the public one down the street if you wish.”
“Calliste?” The king glanced at her briefly.
It took her a moment to work through the haze of weariness and realize he was asking her preference. “Here is fine.”
The king nodded, leaning in closer to Despina and giving her instructions Calliste couldn’t hear.
Despina listened, her smile widening. “Of course. Excellent. Let me show you the room, my lady.” Jingling a bunch of keys, she led Calliste through the ornate entryway.
Calliste retrieved her belongings from the saddlebag and took one last glance at the king, who was already in conversation with his polemarchos . The rest were busy getting the horses into the stables, talking quietly between themselves.
After climbing two flights of stairs, Calliste was no longer surprised that the inn had its own bath-house. Tiled floors, carved wooden beams, gilded ornaments—the place was fit for a king who still traveled without revealing his identity.
“This is your floor.” Despina opened a door with a key and led Calliste down a small corridor with four sets of doors on each side facing each other. “The doors to the rooms are unlocked, but the door to the corridor will be locked.”
Calliste followed her to one of the rooms on the right, taking in the simple, pine furnishings under the low-beamed ceiling and whitewashed walls. The window faced the inner courtyard. When she peeked from behind a thin curtain, the king and Captain Lykos were heading for the stables, probably to tack their horses. Throughout their journey, she’d noticed that they both personally tended to their mounts. She could tell this wouldn’t be any different even if they had servants with them.
“You can leave your bag behind. Your belongings are safe here,” Despina said. “I’ll lock the corridor door. Only your travel companions will have access to this floor.”
Calliste nodded, retrieving a small polishing cloth along with her herbal disinfectant, wishing she had brought a larger phial of it.
“Let me show you the bathhouse.” Despina’s keys chinked again as she bustled out of the room and down the stairs again, pausing in the hallway. “Wine?”
“I don’t usually drink.”
“First time in Hellenixia?”
“Yes.”
“Then you must try it.” Despina opened another door, revealing a small cupboard, and picked an empty cup from a tray standing next to it and filled it from a decorative jug standing beside. Hurrying through another doorway with the cup in her hand, she led Calliste down a flight of stairs that split into two, and took the right turn.
“This is our bath-house,” she announced with a proud smile as she opened the door. “The women’s section.”
Calliste sighed as the warm moisture in the air clung to her skin. The shallow pool was made of creamy stone and had three low steps leading into it. At one end, there was a high wall of glazed tiles. The walls surrounding the pool were made of the same washed-out, warm, yellow stone as the pool.
“Take your time.” Despina grinned at Calliste’s expression. “It’s all yours for now.”
“Are there no other guests at the moment?”
“There are. But the man you’re riding with requested that you have it for yourself for as long as you like.” Curiosity shone in her eyes, but she didn’t ask any further questions.
Perhaps the king had paid for that, too.
She followed Despina to a rack stocked with towels and glazed pots.
“Scrubbing salts and oils.” The innkeeper pointed to an ornately carved marble table stacked with decorative stone pots, standing next to a grille near the pool. “Bathrobes are here. There’s hot water in this jug. You can wash yourself here and then soak in the pool. Let me take your robe, I’ll have one of the servants wash it and bring it back to your room.” As she waited for Calliste to take off her dirty robe, she strolled alongside the pool until she reached the tiled wall. She carefully placed Calliste’s cup of wine on the edge before returning back to her, taking the robe away and winking at her. “You’re lucky to be here on your own.”
Calliste was about to ask for clarification, but the rattle of Despina’s keys was already getting fainter behind the door.
Just as well.
She unstrapped her knife from her thigh, unsheathed it, and rinsed off the harpy’s blood and tissue over the grate. Then she applied a few drops of disinfectant and dried the blade with her cloth. She finished cleaning the ivory handle and inspected the edge.
A gift from Leontia. What would she say if she knew I used it to kill a monster?
She pushed away that thought as she stepped onto the grate again to wash herself. The relief of scrubbing herself clean with fragrant salts from the stone pots and then rinsing the dirt and blood from her skin was second to none. She washed her hair as well.
Her skin felt raw from scrubbing as she stepped into the pool and made her way over to the cup of wine left by Despina by the decorative wall.
She had been to public baths years before, in Anthemos. But she couldn’t recall such a striking focal point: a brilliant explosion of golden and turquoise tiles depicting a sunset over the sea. The mosaic extended underwater, with the tiles shimmering below the clear, steaming surface.
Above the water, the most elaborate part was made up of bright, golden inlays depicting rays of sun. They had a solid and misty appearance, standing out from the rest of the mosaic, almost as if they were made from a different material.
Intrigued, Calliste ran her hand along one of them to feel the chill of metal with a unique filigree texture, unlike the smooth, stone tiles around them. She pressed her palm against it, sensing a cool breeze wafting through.
Oh. Air vents.
So the metal golden rays were both functional and ornamental. She glanced up at the wall again, admiring how the metalwork blended seamlessly with the tiles. Then she lowered herself into the water, sitting against the pool wall and resting her head against the ledge. Her gaze drifted to the domed ceiling pierced with a round skylight, letting in the late afternoon sun.
Then she closed her eyes.
Sooner or later, it would haunt her. Being alone was a comfort, but being alone with her thoughts was not.
She glanced at the cup Despina had left on the pool ledge, then reached out for it, holding it against her lip for a moment before taking a small sip.
The wine was exquisite, sweet and heady. It danced on her tongue and warmed her stomach, just enough to numb the overwhelming helplessness. Another sip helped to take the edge off remembering Erinna’s glassy eyes. Yet another dulled the feeling of failure. Another sip to forget the blood spraying from the harpy’s neck as she stabbed it, the sickening sensation of steel piercing flesh to take a life.
Just like the Fates do. They always have a final say. I don’t.
The sound of splashed water and muffled conversations hummed on the other side of the wall. She paused with her cup halfway to her lips as she listened in to the indistinct but familiar male voices of the kingsmen, finally taking a well-deserved bath in the male half of the bath-house.
She glanced at her own dark reflection in the wine before exhaling and trying to clear her mind as she put away her cup—
“Thoughts? This has been an interesting day.” Captain Lykos’ voice behind her was surprisingly close and clear.
“Agreed.”
She froze, nearly dropping her cup.
“Could you say that in fewer words, Theron?” Captain Lykos snorted.
Calliste stared at the golden filigree rays next to her, concealing the air vents. Is it the same design on the other side? Then—
“What do you want me to say?” the king asked in a low, tense voice.
“Drink that wine already. It’s nice.”
“Hellenixian wine is the best,” the king agreed before lapsing into silence. After a long pause, he spoke again. “That’s better. I’m godsdamned tired, Lykos. I feel terrible about that girl’s death. And sorry for Calliste.”
Calliste held her breath.
“I saw that wound.” Captain Lykos’ voice hardened. “If you can even call it that. She was disemboweled, but Calliste still tried to help her. All I could do was give false comfort.”
“False comfort has its uses. How did you know her name?”
There was a pause, then Captain Lykos said, “She and her friend tried to chat me up in Mytheora. I brushed them off.”
“Did you?” The king’s response sounded sour. “Unusual for you.”
“Kindly shut your mouth, Majesty,” Lykos growled. “It’s bad enough knowing that if I had flirted back, she might have been delayed and still alive. And if I hadn’t wasted time arguing about going through Petrakelis Passage, perhaps we could have saved her in time.”
Calliste’s breath caught at the raw remorse in his voice.
After a long silence, the king spoke again, exhaustion weighing down his tone. “Nothing can be done now. The threads have been cut. As usual.” Now he sounded downright venomous. “Step back and don’t let it faze you.”
“I know that, damn it.” There was a muffled sound and splashing of water as if Lykos shifted against the wall. “But I don’t think Calliste can let it go.”
Her throat tightened. She had assumed that, as seasoned warriors, they would be less affected. It was a small comfort to know that they agonized over the outcome as much as she did.
“It’s harder for her.” The king lowered his voice. “She feels responsible because she was the only one who could have prevented it.”
A wave of warmth smothered her breath for a second. Her eyes stung.
“Theron, are you saying she’s overly responsible and therefore will torture herself over her imagined shortcomings? Because that reminds me of someone.”
“She’s far more sensitive than me. She sobbed against my back for the rest of our journey here.”
Heat rose on her neck. He noticed. Of course he did.
“Not good.” The captain sighed.
“No. And there was no point in trying to console her because she wouldn’t have accepted anything I said at the time.”
Calliste closed her eyes. You’re right. I would not.
“She must have had people dying on her watch before. You think that’s the only reason she was upset?”
Another lengthy pause. “No. She killed the harpy that attacked us. Went straight for the artery with her knife.”
Captain Lykos whistled. “I didn’t see that.”
“That godsdamned creature was faster than I thought—”
“No, Theron. You decided to take on aerial monsters with an inexperienced rider limiting your swordplay. I warned you.”
“I should have avoided backhand swings and focused on quick strikes instead. Which I didn’t. And Calliste realized it at the right moment and struck.”
“She killed the harpy?”
“We both killed her, but she bought me time and spared me from having my face cleaved in half.”
Captain Lykos groaned. “Theron—”
“It was the first time she’s killed.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I saw her face. She definitely hasn’t.”
“This is something I wanted to talk to you about,” Captain Lykos said in an undertone. “I’m uncomfortable with her carrying a knife while she rides with you.”
“It came to good use. And it’s important to her.”
“Is it?” The captain seemed to mull it over in his head. “I definitely don’t want her carrying a knife around Kalias.”
Her chest tightened. Why doesn’t he trust me?
The king finally spoke up. “She wouldn’t harm a child.”
“I know that. But considering how little we know about her, we should be cautious.”
“We do know certain things—”
“We know nothing.” The captain’s voice turned dark. “Other than Leontia vouched for her, but there could be a thousand reasons for it and not the ones you like. Don’t get me wrong, I can see that she’s an amazing, kind woman. But the fact that she’s not being entirely honest with us—”
“Lykos, damn it. She escaped a sadistic prick.”
“I know.” A growl. “But even so, why won’t she tell you his name or her family name?”
Her breath was a thin, burning intake of air. The king told him about my scars?
“Theron, think. What possible reason could she have for not telling us anything?”
The long silence dragged on, making Calliste shrink in her skin.
The king did not respond.
The captain’s voice sounded again. “I understand she may not want to discuss her past. But I imagine she’d have to reveal it to Leontia in order to become a priestess,” he said. “Therefore, I see no reason why she would withhold it from you . It’s only some reasonable information about herself.”
“She’s private. I can understand that.”
“Only because you’re annoyingly similar. But I’m not looking for a confession. Just her husband’s and her family name.”
“Right,” the king sighed, sounding defeated. “Any suggestions?”
“None for now. But I want a free rein.”
A long silence followed. The king didn’t respond.
Quietly, Calliste stood up and walked away from the wall, her hands trembling as she set down her cup and grabbed a towel.
The captain’s lack of trust hurt. She couldn’t blame him for being cautious. But the truth could be my undoing.
Calliste dried herself off and slipped into a light, flowing, cream-colored bathrobe. She strapped on her knife and tucked the cloth and disinfectant phial beneath it. She left her hair unbound. I just want to sleep. Her head spun a little from the wine. Her gait was less confident than usual, but she managed to navigate the inn to find her floor again.
Philon was guarding the door to the inner corridor, bowing at the sight of her before opening it for her. “All the rooms are unlocked, including yours, Lady Calliste.”
“The innkeeper mentioned.” She looked at him closely. He couldn’t be more than twenty or twenty-one summers. Despite his ability to shoot deadly arrows, there were still parts of him that hadn’t hardened to steel and ruthlessness. “You’re an excellent archer.”
“Thank you, Lady Calliste. Oh, and thank you again for healing my gash.” His brown eyes lit up, then dimmed. “I’m sorry about that girl. You did your best.”
Calliste tensed as if she had been struck by an arrow in the chest. Everyone saw me fail. Not just the king and the captain. Everyone. The thought twisted in her head, fueled by the buzz of wine. She wanted to escape to her room, pull the blanket over her head, and cry.
Voices from downstairs filled the staircase. The kingsmen were returning from the bath-house as well.
She couldn’t look any of them in the face. Especially not the king. Not now.
She stuttered something under her breath and rushed past Philon, her eyes fixed on the floor. Her vision blurred for a moment before she wiped her cheeks and headed right, finally reaching her chamber with a sigh of relief.
Leaning against the door for a moment, she closed her eyes and tried to steady herself.
The creaking of the floorboards outside mingled with the snippets of conversations.
She exhaled and stepped into the room, looking for her bag—and then froze, noticing the familiar saddlebags with a distinct emblem of lions laid out on the floor and the scratched and dented armor neatly placed on the bed; the steely one with gold inlays, roaring lions, and a laurel wreath.
Wrong door. It’s not my room. She whirled around to leave, but the door had already opened.
In walked the king.