25. The Kingdom in Her Hands
25
The Kingdom in Her Hands
Calliste
A gentle, warm weight on her shoulder stirred her from her sleep. “Calliste.”
“Huh?” she murmured in a sleepy voice, wondering if he was real or just a part of her dream. Wasn’t Gaiane supposed to wake me up?
“The sun is setting.”
Her eyes flew open, her vision flooding with a rich ocher and orange light that streamed into the chamber, illuminating every surface. The late afternoon heat, laced with a sea breeze and frayed with the faraway screech of gulls, wafted through the windows. “Gods.” Holding the thin blanket to her chest, Calliste sat upright and rubbed her eyes. “So late.”
The king perched on the chair next to her bed. He’d changed into a light, purple tunic with a golden border, taut across his disciplined frame and spanned by a wide, leather belt with an embossed golden pattern of two fighting centaurs, where he carried his sword and dagger.
She’d expected him to wear more insignia of his status on return to his palace, but the only indication of his position was his unwavering air of power. Though his purple robe could be a hint: few could afford this precise shade, which cut a brilliant contrast with the softness of the orange sunset.
She was staring at his mouth and inhaled his clean scent for a heartbeat too long before she hastily looked away.
“Sleep well?”
“For far too long.”
He straightened. “I asked Gaiane not to wake you up. I thought…” He paused, scratching his trimmed beard—a sign of worry she’d learned to recognize. “I thought that if rest is what you need, then you should get plenty of it.”
She pushed down the thin blanket, blessing Gaiane for giving her a sleeping robe—else she’d be sleeping naked again. Then she rose, shaking the blanket and filling the air with a light whiff of lavender.
“No need to make your bed here,” he said, rising from his seat. “The servants will take care of it.”
“I’d like to do it myself.”
The king watched her in silence.
Calliste flattened out the blanket, then straightened, glancing up at him. “I hope my personal tastes don’t trouble you too much.”
His mouth quirked. “Order is what I prefer, too.” His fresh, spicy scent drifted between them as his gaze swept the made- up bed and then her face, briefly lingering on her lips. “ Unless circumstances warrant a mess.”
For a breath, the sliver of space between them heated up. When he looked down at her like this, from beneath hooded lids with the honeyed afternoon sunlight washing over him—suddenly she wanted to be that light, crawling all over him, imagining the mess he’d make of her—if only he wished.
What am I thinking? She blinked several times. “I’ll change and I’m ready.” She marched to the bathing chamber and quickly wriggled into her light-green peplos robe , splashed some water on her face, and smoothed her hair. When she emerged from the chamber, he was standing beside the table, glancing at her barely touched tray of food.
“Not hungry?”
“I’ll eat later.”
He stepped closer, eyes narrowed at her as he raised his hand.
The ugly memories from her past made her flinch. In an instant, her hand flew to her thigh, except—
He stilled, his brows pinched as he lowered his hand. “I forgot,” he said. “It’s just… your eyes are puffy. You’ve been crying. Why?”
Her pulse still fluttered. “Exhaustion. I’m fine now.”
“Just exhaustion?”
“Yes.”
His eyes fell to where her knife used to be. “You didn’t whip out your blade.”
“Captain Lykos confiscated it during our ride to the palace.” She tried not to sound resentful.
A glint of amusement flashed in his eye. “He managed to disarm you?”
For a moment, she was breathless with anger. “You knew he’d do this?”
“Calliste—”
“I don’t know what’s going through your heads, but I’m only a threat to those who threaten me.” She barely held on to her temper. “He doesn’t trust me because I don’t want to talk about my past. Fine. Yet I swore my loyalty. If you still find me untrustworthy—”
“Calliste,” he interrupted her, his eyes widening at her outburst. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
It took her a long moment to regain control of her breathing. “Like what?”
“I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“If you agreed to take my knife away, you already did.” Her cheeks still burning, she spun on her heel and marched toward the door.
He caught up with her. “Lykos has always had my blanket permission to take necessary measures and quite rightly doesn’t allow anyone to carry weapons around Kalias, except for his trusted sentinels.”
“Then it was enough to tell me not to take it into his room. It was a present from Leontia.” She refused to meet his gaze. “It was important to me, and I told you as much.” Then she rubbed her forehead, regretting her outburst. “Not that you understand.”
“I think I do,” he replied, at length.
“I doubt it.” She waited for him to move, but he did not, leaning against the threshold, waiting. His silence finally forced her to look up.
“I understand why you feel safer with a knife.” He was serious. “But I want you to understand that you’re under my protection.”
“I’ve learned to rely on myself for my own protection.”
“Perhaps that was the best way on Mount Hellecon. Here, in Anthemos, you can rely on me. Is it that hard to accept?”
“Everything about you is hard to accept,” she blurted out before she thought it through, then bit her lip. “I didn’t mean to say that.”
Sparks of humor lit up his eyes. “I think I’m getting used to it.”
The sunset pouring into her chamber masked the flush on her face. “Used to me having no courtly varnish whatsoever? Or just being honest?”
“Either. It’s… refreshing. Even though I’m not in favor of excessive formality at my court.”
She frowned. “I’m not certain how to take it.”
“As you take everything else, Calliste. As it is.”
“A compliment… of sorts.”
“Precisely. A compliment that lacks refinement, as the one paying it is a bit rusty complimenting women.” His brief, true smile sent a sweet shimmer through her chest. His darkness and thorns fell away when he smiled like this. Yet that brief, sparkling moment died as his expression fell back to the usual, heavy mask of worry. “Let me take you to Kalias’ room.”
She followed him out, memorizing the twists of the corridor—not that many, she noted, only a short walk from the prince’s.
Gaiane rose from the armchair beside the bed. “Evening, Calliste. Hope you had a good sleep. Have you eaten?”
“I—”
“She barely touched what you’ve left,” the king said.
“Then I’ll bring your supper here,” Gaiane said. “I doubt that even healers can go on for long without food.”
“I’ve been practicing fasts. Empty stomach sharpens the mind.”
“Empty stomach grumbles a lot is the way I see it,” Gaiane scoffed.
Calliste surveyed the boy’s face. “Has he been eating anything?”
“Cooked and mashed barley with vegetables, or mashed fruits mixed with water. We made wooden straws so he can sip it.” Gaiane rubbed her forehead. “It’s frustrating, to see him accept food and drink as if by reflex, but not waking up.”
Calliste touched his forehead. Too warm . She took her hand away. “But you did well.”
“Panakeios ordered all that,” she admitted. “Let me get your supper.” She strode out of the room.
In the moment of silence that followed, the king turned his gaze toward Calliste. “What are your thoughts on Panakeios’ efforts?” he asked.
His question caught her off-guard. “Does it matter what I think?”
“I heard you questioning him about the temperature. That’s what I suspected, too, but he wouldn’t have another physician brought in for a second opinion.”
“Majesty—”
“What would happen if I didn’t take the chance to bring you over?” His dark tone left no doubts.
She swallowed, realizing that one wrong word from her mouth might even end Panakeios’ life—and even her intense dislike for the man didn’t seem enough to throw him under the grinding wheels of the king’s anger. “I am not here to judge him, but if you ask me, he did what he could. I don’t believe that any other physician would have done any better. It’s less about his skills and knowledge, and more about what he faced.”
The king squared his shoulders, his eyes narrowing at her. “And what did he face?”
“Something that doesn’t respond to their line of treatment. The School of Asklepios has been established for centuries. While they use different methods of healing than my order, they have been successful nonetheless, haven’t they?”
The king’s face was unreadable. “Yes. They have.”
“I’ll investigate using the methods of my order to give you the answer.”
He slowly nodded, his mouth pressed tight.
She searched his face. “The question is whether you trust me.”
He glanced away for a second, as if getting his thoughts in order. “I have observed your use of power and believe I understand its workings. I won’t question your methods as long as you don’t ask the Underworld gods for help.”
She shot him a careful look. “What do you mean?”
His jaw twitched. “My son doesn’t need the aid of those merciless immortals who delight in toying with lives.”
“Not all of them are like that—”
“Calliste.” His voice was cold. “I won’t be indebted to any Underworld gods. They’ve already taken most of my family away from me. I refuse to ask for their help. Whatever methods you employ, please make sure you don’t, either. This is my requirement.”
But I’ve always relied on Hypnos for help, she wanted to say, but the unforgiving note in his voice made her admission die in her throat. She took a deep breath. “My requirement is that I need to be left alone.”
“Do you, now?” The tension in his voice could choke the rest of the daylight out of the sky. “You’re asking for a lot of my trust without giving much explanation.”
She didn’t let her thoughts stray to scarlet specters, even though the idea of figuring out what they were on her own made her cold. “First, I must find out exactly what I’m dealing with. To fully concentrate and focus on my task, I need to be free of distractions.” And, after all, you only need me for my healing skills. So I do it on my terms.
“You still haven’t told me what you saw earlier. But you looked frightened.”
“Because I’m not certain what I saw. What do you call sending your warriors into an unknown territory to gain information?”
He blinked. “Scouting.”
“Scouting,” she repeated with a smile. “That’s what I’ll be doing. Now that I’ve a proper rest, I’ll stay up here all night.”
He considered that. “Won’t you be exhausted again?”
“I’m used to it. But I’ll probably need someone to help me back to my chamber at dawn.”
“I’ll see to that.”
They lapsed into silence, soon interrupted by the knock on the door. He opened it and returned with a tray of food. “Gaiane’s specials. She’ll be offended if you don’t at least sample them.”
“I promise I will.”
He set down the tray and his dark eyes glanced over her before he strode to his son, watching him for a moment. Then he turned around to walk away without looking in her direction.
“The door will be open,” she said. “All I ask is no disturbance until dawn.”
“Chrysantos and Argyros will be stationed outside all night.” He looked over his shoulder. “Do they need to check on you?”
“Not until dawn.”
He closed the door behind him.
***
She cleared the whole tray of food, chewing meticulously, yet failing to register any flavors or textures. Her mind churned, but now that she had some sleep, she felt unstoppable.
The king had brought a comfortable armchair to the side of the bed. She shifted it closer to the prince and readjusted the pillow on it, then she took his hand, a fierce sensation of protectiveness washing over her. Her skin tingled as she called on her power, waiting for everything she’d experienced the last time to unfold.
She waited.
Wondered.
And then, just like the previous time, she suddenly fell through the planes of air toward the unknown.