31. Mother and Daughter
31
Mother and Daughter
Calliste
“Gods, finally .”
Melitta’s smile seemed more dazzling than the afternoon light pouring into the chamber.
Disoriented, Calliste sat up.
“You slept through most of the day, Lady Calliste,” Melitta straightened in her armchair, setting down a tray with scrolls on the floor with care. “I’ve managed to sum up most chamber expenses for this month. I didn’t know healing would be so exhausting.”
Calliste tried to answer, but her mouth seemed like a desert.
“Wait, I have water with honey.” Melitta stood up from her armchair and returned with a mug and jug. She watched as Calliste gulped down the water with relief before refilling her cup.
“Thank you.” Calliste finished off the second mug. She looked down at her pendant, relieved to see it was back to its deep emerald shade. “The prince?”
“Mum said he looks healthier, but he’s still asleep.”
And he will be. Calliste exhaled and sifted through the details of the morning until she remembered the king carrying her to her room. She bit her lip and pushed away the thought.
Melitta lifted the tray from the table and set it on her lap. “Spinach pie, still warm, a platter of Mytheorian cheeses, fresh spelt bread, and fruits. What would you like, my lady?”
“For you to stop calling me a lady.” Calliste smiled and attacked the pie, followed by the platter of crumbly Mytheorian cheeses before devouring the bread.
Melitta watched with comical consternation, then her expression softened into sympathy. “You were starving. I’ll make sure to bring more next time. Would you like a bath? Let me move these papers out of the way.” She knelt and carefully arranged the scrolls on the tray before lifting it and gently setting it on the table.
Calliste watched her for a moment. She moved with grace, stylish and pretty. And intelligent, judging by the paperwork she had just set aside. “Melitta, why did you want to assist me in the first place? It looks like you already have a job.”
Melitta’s smile faltered as she shrugged. “Oh, the accounts? I only handle the sums for the kitchen and chambers. I wanted to do something different.”
“But that’s not everything,” Calliste said quietly.
Melitta blushed, straightening the plates and cutlery in silence.
Interesting. “Well, I’m ready for a bath.” Calliste dropped the subject and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.
“How do you feel, my—erm… so how should I address you?”
“Calliste. Groggy, but otherwise fine.” She stretched, marveling at how her energy was back. With Melitta at her side, she strode into the bathroom. “You’ve already filled the bath? When?”
“Half an hour ago. I used hot water, so it should be fine. Oh, use these salts. Rose and myrtle. They’re my favorite.”
“How much do I use?”
“I’ll show you. See if the water is the right temperature for you.”
Calliste dipped her hand in the water. “Wonderful. Thank you.”
Melitta reached out. “Let me help you undress—”
“No.” She backed away from her by instinct. Then she cleared her throat, softening her voice. “It’s not necessary.”
“I’m sorry.” Melitta stared at her, chewing on her lip. “I only wanted to help.”
“This has nothing to do with you, Melitta.” I don’t want you to see my scars. “I’ll tend to myself.”
An awkward silence hung between them for a moment. Melitta blushed, staring at the floor. “You’re right. There is another reason I wanted to assist you. It’s somewhat… self-serving.”
Calliste exhaled. She’s misinterpreting my rejection. “You don’t have to tell me. We all have our secrets.”
Melitta nodded, her gaze fixed on the marble pots of scrubbing salts lining the end of the bath. She bent over and picked up one. “I liked you when I first saw you. Mom also approved of you right away, and she reads people scarily well, so I knew it was a good idea.” She sprinkled a generous amount of salt into the bath, filling the air with the scent of rose and myrtle. “But I also figured out that you’d be stationed here, in the part of the Palace I rarely have an excuse to visit. Now that I do, I get to see… someone more often than usual.”
The wistful way she said it made Calliste smile. “First love?”
Melitta gave a shaky exhale. “First. And last. He used to be… never mind.”
Calliste crouched next to the bath and ran her hand through the scented water. “This smells divine.” She watched the little ripples before asking, “What is he like?”
“Oh, he…” A radiant blush spilled onto Melitta’s face. “He’s so serious about everything. He showed me the abacus and taught me how to count when I was younger, completely ignoring the fact that I was a girl who wasn’t supposed to know numbers. But they spoke to me. They were predictable and easy. I couldn’t help but love them… and I also fell in love with him. But I shouldn’t have.”
“Nothing wrong with that.”
Melitta set down the marble pot and capped it. “There’s everything wrong with that.” She straightened up.
“Why?”
“Because he loves another,” she said so quietly Calliste barely heard her. “And I know better than to chase a man whose heart is taken.”
“Has it been going on for long?”
“Long enough.” Her gaze was empty for a moment. “Too long. I’ve never told anybody.” She glanced at Calliste, as if surprised. “He doesn’t know. And he won’t ever know. But I cannot imagine myself beside anyone else, so spinsterhood it is for me.” This time, her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Please don’t tell my mum.” Without waiting for the answer, she slipped out of the bathroom. There was a clink of the dishes, as if she rearranged them on a tray, and then the door to the chamber shut behind her.
***
For the rest of the afternoon, Calliste sat in silence before the statues of Epione and Asklepios, watching the fading sunlight sweep across them, her mind in a place infinitely darker.
In the Underworld.
Walking beside Dream through realms she never knew existed, asked to heal the course of destiny.
If such a thing was possible.
“Oh, Leontia. I wish you were here to tell me what to do.”
The act of healing needs time, Leontia’s words sounded in her head. An impatient healer is worse than no healer at all.
She exhaled, rose to her feet, and stepped to the window.
The view was stunning, possibly chosen for its strategic location if this room was for visiting dignitaries. The corner window offered a panorama of the palace’s red rooftops, the bustling city in the distance, and the vast sea.
But even the breath-taking vista did a poor job of distracting her from the thoughts of the man who had carried her to bed this morning, holding her close, letting her inhale his scent and bask in his warmth before gently setting her down to sleep. I wish I could stay awake for longer.
The knock on the door sent her heart racing. The king?
Gaiane bustled in, regal in her snowy, stiffly-starched peplos , pacing up to her and shooting her a careful look. “Thank all the gods, Melitta wasn’t exaggerating for once . You do look better. I came to check your plans for tonight.”
Calliste smiled up at this formidable court keeper, already comforted by her presence. “Same as last night.”
“Beside the prince? All night?”
“I often cared for the sick during the night. I’m used to it.”
Gaiane simply nodded, but then she hesitated before saying, “I’m here on behalf of the king. He asked me to report back to him about the prince’s condition and whatever you can tell me so far.”
Disappointment tingled through her. “Oh?”
“He’s catching up on a lot of matters that piled up during his absence,” Gaiane explained somewhat apologetically. “But tell me what you can.”
She took a deep breath. “The prince’s condition is unlike anything I’ve encountered before. Right now, I’m focusing on making him better, but it will take time to determine the cause.” Not exactly a lie. “Is this enough?”
“It is.” Gaiane nodded. “The prince is doing better and that is all that matters.”
Calliste didn’t find it in her to add anything, feeling the cold dread already settling in her stomach.
“You’ve been sitting here alone for most of the day,” Gaiane said slowly. “You’re welcome to come down. Kitchens are the busiest, and this is where I mostly spend my time, but—”
“Thank you. I’m fine on my own.”
Gaiane’s expression softened. “Well, if you’re ever bored, Melitta can chat about anything and everything. For hours.” Gaiane surveyed the room, as if searching for flaws but finding none, as Melitta had already cleared the dishes and made the bed. “Is there anything you need?”
Calliste shifted her gaze back to the window. This was more than just professional curiosity, but Gaiane would know the answer. She took a deep breath. “May I ask what the queen was like?”
“The old queen?” Gaiane shot her a surprised glance. “Or the king’s late wife?”
“Prince Kalias’ mother,” Calliste faltered, also avoiding to use the name of a deceased person.
Gaiane seemed to consider the answer. “She was an intense, complicated woman, and unfortunately hated it”—she made a gesture in the air—“here, in the court, with all its political games and expectations.”
She wasn’t cut out for living in the court, as odd as it seems. With time, I learned how to help her through it. “He mentioned.”
“He did?” The surprise in Gaiane’s voice was unmistakable.
“That his wife had… episodes when she felt unwell.”
Now Gaiane stared, unblinking.
“Is something wrong?” Calliste eventually asked, uncomfortable under the scrutiny.
“He never speaks of his wife,” Gaiane said slowly. “It’s unusual that he would mention it to anyone.”
“He only spoke about her in very specific circumstances,” Calliste put in quickly.
Curiosity shone in Gaiane’s eyes, but she didn’t push. “I’ve always wondered about her episodes. Maybe it’s a condition you’re familiar with? She would have days where she couldn’t get out of bed, saying she was overwhelmed. At first, they were rare. Then they became more frequent. Panakeios tried to treat it, and while his medicinal potions seemed to help, they also left her feeling blank and confused. The king didn’t like it, so he asked Panakeios to stop supplying her with that.”
“Most of the people who come to Epione’s Temple seek help for physical wounds and ailments, but your description reminds me of a few others I have seen. Was there anything else?”
Gaiane hesitated before continuing in a quiet tone. “Her mind seemed to be consumed with worries. Once, I overheard her conversation with the king, and she kept saying her heart was heavy, pulling her into a darkness where there is no hope.”
“My mentor, Leontia, taught me that worry is like a weed, capable of overtaking one’s mind. I’ve seen people who suffered from it—it chokes the life out of them, even if their bodies are healthy. Such people suffer. And their loved ones suffer with them. Panakeios may have prescribed something to numb her mind, but this… isn’t the way.”
“I wish you were here all those years ago. Maybe things would have been different for the king. He was a good husband, but he also had his kingdom to tend to. Our land had just recovered from the invasion and he was needed everywhere.”
Calliste thought of a woman wrapped in darkness, alone in her opulent chambers. “Didn’t she have any friends?”
“She didn’t trust other women. She asked to send for her father—he was the only person she trusted.”
“Oh.”
“Back then, Solon was different—a doting father. She was his beloved and only daughter. He never got over her death. He turned to drinking after her funeral and hasn’t stopped since.” Gaiane brushed off a nonexistent speck from her pristine white robe. “Let me show you back to the prince’s chamber.”