26. Melody
26
Melody
Theron
He left his son’s chamber with a bittersweet taste of hope and dejection on his tongue and stood motionless beside the door until Chrysantos asked, “Any orders?”
He glanced up at him, then at Argyros. “If something needs my immediate attention, fetch me straight away, no matter the hour.”
“Understood,” they replied in unison.
Gaiane was waiting for him at the end of the hallway.
He strode up to her. “She asked me to leave.”
“You expected more than that.” She tilted her head, reading him better than anyone. “Perhaps she must work alone to achieve her miracles.”
“I don’t doubt her abilities, but I have every right to be there.”
“You believe your presence will help?” She patted his hand, light skipping in her wise eyes. “If the best assistance you can give her is leaving her alone, then this is what you need to do.”
“She’s asking a lot of my trust.”
Gaiane exhaled. “Do we have another choice?”
The familiar fear put a chokehold on him. We don’t.
“I trust her,” she said, as if reading his mind. “For the first time since Kalias fell asleep, I feel at peace. She was exactly who we needed. Well done.”
The knot in his stomach eased somewhat.
“There’s nothing more to do here tonight,” she added. “I’ll wait here for you in the morning. Get some rest.”
He thought about the scarlet monsters devouring his kingdom, the very same nightmare that had been haunting him every night for the past six weeks—except for one, bright afternoon when Calliste had guided him into a calm, restful sleep. “Send Eumelia to my study, will you?”
“Eumelia?” She glanced at him, her neutral expression withholding judgment. “I will.”
He dragged himself through the endless corridors to his study, collapsing into a chair and staring at the wall until the only person who could ease his pain arrived.
Eumelia stepped into the room, dressed in her dove-gray robe with delicate rosy-gold trimming. She cradled her lyre close. The familiar, flowery scent of the perfumes he bought for her wafted over to him as she took a seat in her usual armchair and studied him for a moment. “You were gone for a long time, Majesty. I was worried.”
“Forgive me. You know how I’ve been lately.”
“Oh, I do.” She shot him a sweet smile, her graceful hands gliding along the curves of her rosewood lyre inlaid with lotus flowers carved from ivory. It was of superior quality, ordered from the best luthier in Anthemos: an expense he’d never regretted. She still cherished it, with the same look on her face when he gave it to her—breathless joy, like she’d been given the world to rule.
Perhaps for a virtuoso like her, this was her entire world.
“What would you like me to play, Majesty?”
“Something to distract me.”
Eumelia gave a knowing smile and ran her fingers along the strings.
He closed his eyes, savoring each note deep inside his soul. How could she do it that her music was so soothing and otherworldly, he didn’t know, but he was glad that he’d taken a chance on her. She’s made me proud.
Time fell away. When Eumelia had finished, she watched him for a moment. “I’ve heard an odd rumor that you brought a priestess of… Epione, is it?” She hesitated. “I’m not familiar with that order.”
“It’s a rumor already, is it?” He sighed. “Yes. Her name is Calliste.”
“A lot of your servants saw her when she arrived.” Eumelia’s hazelnut eyes glittered in the candlelight. “Those who have seen her from up close claim that she’s pretty.”
“I didn’t bring her here for her looks, I assure you.” Calliste’s face briefly flashed in his mind, surprising him with how easily he could recall it. “But yes, it’s true.”
Eumelia continued to study his face closely, as if trying to glean more information from his expression. “I don’t mean to pry, but does this have any significance to our arrangement?”
Caught off guard by the question, he blinked and realized how much had changed since leaving the Palace for Mount Hellecon. He wondered what to tell her, knowing he still had to be careful. Even with her. “What are you asking me?”
The moonshine reflected in her eyes as her gaze drifted to the window. “Our arrangement has worked very well for me, and I’m under the impression that it was the same for you. But I’ve always known that it wouldn’t last forever.”
“No,” he agreed. “But should it no longer serve either of us, your position in the court will remain unchanged.”
Eumelia stroked the curve of her lyre. “I just wanted to prepare myself, in case I’m eventually”—she laughed softly—“discarded by the king after his unwavering romantic attention for so long.” She chuckled even harder. “I suppose I could write a ballad about my broken heart and perform it at the odeon .”
He laughed, too. “Your views on marriage haven’t changed, I take it.”
The candlelight brought out the golden hues of her hair as she glanced up at him. The smile had vanished from her face, and it pained him because he knew the reason that wiped it out. “No, Majesty. I still can’t see myself getting married.”
He sent her an indulgent smile. “So I’ll continue to benefit from your talent.”
“This is all I want, Majesty. This is my perfect life,” she replied softly. “And I’ll be forever grateful for allowing me to have it this way.” She rose and bowed. “It’s getting late. Would you like me to play a little longer, or…”
“No, have some rest, Eumelia. Thank you for tonight.”
“My pleasure, Majesty. As always.”
He watched her leave and eventually left his study to enter his sleep chamber. After a quick bath, he slipped between the starched covers, watching the moonlight slice across the ceiling and thinking of Calliste while waiting for his nightmares to claim him.