36. Invited
36
Invited
Calliste
Calliste lingered in her bath, inhaling the scent of vanilla-infused oils, her mind in the Underworld.
Hypnos had been nothing but encouraging, yet she felt like her progress was being stalled. She had only moved up slightly on the tree, and her power still worked at a painfully slow pace. So slow that she wondered if her efforts would be reversed once the mysterious entity behind the curse found a way to defeat her.
The stabs of vicious energy were getting harsher with the progress. She was far from giving up, but the fear of losing wouldn’t go away.
It was this fear that drove her out of the bath. I’ll start earlier today.
She dried off and dressed quickly. A deep breath later, she stepped out of her room, turning her head toward the sound of approaching steps on her right. Her heart kicked against her ribs. “Majesty?”
He came to an abrupt halt a pace away from her, the diffused light from the tall windows to his side flooding him with the honeyed, late-afternoon sun.
“Afternoon, Calliste,” he replied. He wore a plain white chiton tunic, his usual belt with sword and dagger—but there was something out of place about him—something she couldn’t analyze without staring at him for longer.
Which she didn’t want to. She dropped her gaze to the floor.
“You’re out earlier than usual,” he observed. The sun-drenched silence coursed between them until he spoke again. “May I walk you to my son’s chamber?”
“Yes,” she replied, unable to move, his unexpected appearance still bolting her to the floor.
He cleared his throat. “Shall we?”
She forced herself to turn and take her usual route.
The king fell into step beside her. His scent was the usual spices, but also air, sand, and something heavier, oily. Traces of sweat mixed with dust against the slick glow of his frame.
“Have you been training?” she finally asked.
“Boxing,” he replied, massaging his left forearm and wincing. “Yesterday and today again. I’ve slipped out of practice. Helps me to get back clarity after spending the majority of my day in the council chambers and courts.”
“Good for the body, good for the spirit.”
“And always a good opportunity to beat the smirk out of Lykos.”
That brought a smile to her face. “Isn’t he hard to beat?”
“As much of a pain inside the ring as he is outside it,” he murmured, wincing as he touched his left forearm again.
She cast a careful look at a huge bruise there. “What’s this?”
“Lykos’ punch from yesterday.”
“Looks vicious.”
The king was quiet for a moment. “Just a reminder to pay attention.”
Calliste halted and turned to him. “If it’s bothering you, let me get rid of it,” she said, raising her hand to him and freezing as he stepped half a pace away from her.
The last of the afternoon sun streaming from behind him perched an incandescent crown of a golden halo on his head. There was something about him, warm and cold at the same time. Underneath the light, there was the statue-like coldness of power and the hidden darkness. “I don’t want you to waste your precious energy on something as insignificant,” he replied in his measured tone.
He’s right. Her cheeks stung when she realized that under ordinary circumstances, she’d never waste her power to heal a bruise. “Then I won’t,” she replied flatly.
He must have caught something about her tone, yet remained quiet for another moment.
Probably seeing through my pathetic eagerness.
“But then…” He shifted closer. “It’s true. It is bothering me.”
She lowered her hands onto his forearm and closed her eyes for a moment, sinking deeper into her focus, connecting with that familiar pull of energy, as powerful as the one coursing between them at any time when they were at such close quarters.
Her emerald captured the sunlight and lit up inside. The fraction of divine power coursed through her veins, seeping from her fingertips, repairing the damaged blood vessels and rejuvenating the tissue.
The air trembled around them as she finished and took her hands away. This was easy. Why can’t unraveling this curse be so easy?
“Thank you,” he breathed, examining the healed forearm. “I should be used to it by now, yet it still amazes me.”
“These are divine powers that I’m channeling. Not mine.”
“Still, it’s nothing short of amazing that you can channel them.” Then as if on reflection, he added, “I’m glad to have come across you today, because…”
Her breath stilled to nothing.
“Because I can’t help but notice that Kalias’ color is so much better.”
“I am making some progress,” she replied in a neutral voice, suppressing her fear again.
His gaze sharpened—just like the first time they met, when he seemed intent on ripping her mind open to bare all of her secrets. This time, he pressed his lips together and nodded.
Would he nod in the same way when he unleashed his army into battle? He was in charge of making the most critical decisions in the country and had easy access to everything.
And yet he had to make do with whatever little information she gave him.
She exhaled. “I’m always cautious with giving good news,” she said, not looking at him. “I’ve beaten some of the disease. But this isn’t a passive being—it’s fighting to preserve itself. I’ve chosen to make slow progress, as I don’t have enough resources to risk an all-out war.”
“You’re a good strategist.” He finally smiled.
“If we were at Mount Hellecon, my sisters and I would take turns to look after the prince. But here—”
“You’re on your own, and you have a limited supply of energy. I understand.”
She waited another moment, then took a deep breath, steeling herself. “I must go—”
“Calliste.” He stopped her, an odd inflection in his voice. “Would you care to join me for supper tomorrow evening, before you come down to Kalias?”
That slow, melting feeling in her chest—she kept it in check.
After a moment of her silence, he cleared his throat. “Or I misjudged?”
“Misjudged?”
“Your interest in my offer.”
“No.” She kept her voice calm. “It’s a matter of timing.”
“Timing?” His brow wrinkled. “Would you rather we had dinner together?”
Despite herself, she laughed. “Supper is fine. I’m just wondering… why? Other than helping me in the morning, you’ve been avoiding me.”
His face darkened. “I know I haven’t been as attentive as I should be—”
“Nothing wrong with that,” she put in quickly. “You brought me here for a specific reason, so I wouldn’t expect your company beyond what is necessary for you.”
He surveyed her blankly. “Beyond what is necessary for me?” It seemed as if he was doing complex arithmetic in his head before he exhaled and shifted on his feet. “No, you have it all wrong—”
“I don’t,” she said, still neutral. “I heard you talking to Captain Lykos in Aganeeios, when you had that argument in the corridor. You said you needed me for healing your son, nothing else.” And she paused, realizing that she was interrogating a king over her wounded pride.
He watched her with that unnerving focus. “I know what I said, but…” He heaved a sigh. “I cannot explain right now.” His eyes glinted. “Sup with me and we’ll get it straight. Agreed?”
She recovered her wits. “A supper with the king. Who wouldn’t want to?”
“Many would flee at the mention. What will you do?” There was that familiar air of teasing about him.
“Run? Never. Nothing can keep me away from food.”
His eyes swept over her frame. “Because you know the importance of a good meal, or because you clearly have an insatiable appetite?”
“Both. Also because life’s too short to refuse good food.”
“And good company, Calliste.”
“As long as you tolerate my underwhelming sense of etiquette.”
He laughed. “I promise to bear it without complaints. And… I’d like to show you other parts of the palace. You’ve been here over twenty days now, and you haven’t seen the world outside of two chambers.”
“ How many days? ”
“You haven’t counted? Twenty-six, to be precise. And you’ve done more than Panakeios so far.”
“The battle is not over.”
He cast her an appreciative look. “I understand. So supper it is, then. And the next time, you could come to the Poetry Evening at the court. One is coming up soon, though I failed to check when exactly—”
“No.” It whooshed out of her, too harsh. She quickly amended. “But thank you for the invitation.”
He stilled. “Why not?”
Curious gazes. Whispered comments. Probing questions about her identity. She forced a smile. “I want to focus on the prince, that’s all.”
“I see. What about hearing some wonders?” At her raised brow, he continued. “I have an exceptional musician at my court. She’d be delighted to play for us at the supper.”
“She?” Calliste threw him a surprised glance. “I thought that only men were allowed to study music.”
He shook his head. “Not anymore. My lyrist, Eumelia, is one of the first graduates from the formerly all-male academy.”
She stared at him, incredulous. “Melitta told me about outlawing arranged marriages and employment for women. But she didn’t mention education.”
“What good is empowering without offering education? This is true empowerment.”
Her heart flurried. “Why?” It was strange for her to ask him this and even stranger to comprehend that his word had shaped the law. “Melitta said it made you unpopular with the aristocracy.”
He grew serious. “During the invasion and siege of Anthemos, women fought just as fiercely as men. Not on the battlefield, perhaps, but everywhere else. This was what sparked the idea for Hesperis to not only become more prosperous, but also to recover more quickly.”
“Have these reforms helped so far?”
A bitter smile twisted his lips for a moment. “Yes and no. It takes time, doesn’t it? Old traditions die hard, but numbers don’t lie. More money than ever is streaming into the treasury and the capital is flourishing with women setting up their own businesses. I employed Eumelia to set an example, and I have never regretted it. She is exceptional… and her music helped me through dark times.”
“I’d like to hear her play.”
“So it’s settled,” he said as they passed a side corridor. “I’ll be at your door at the first evening hour tomorrow…” He trailed off, glancing past her and halting, his brows furrowing.
Calliste followed his gaze, blinking at two unfamiliar, young women who emerged from the side corridor beside her.
“Majesty.” They curtsied in unison.
There was nothing out of place about their looks, styled to bold perfection. One was raven-haired, with her hair piled atop her head in careful curls, adorned with a delicate gold tiara. Her navy robe with layers of shimmering silk blend flowed about her figure as she bowed.
Her companion had hints of rich chestnut in her hair and lips painted gentle red. Her copper-hued robe complemented both.
Raven and Robin , Calliste thought.
“We didn’t mean to disturb you.” Raven said, her oval, pretty face beaming as she looked up.
The king’s face fell into an impassive mask. “Calliste, this is Erythea of House Kraneia and Kleio of House Morea.” He narrowed his eyes at Robin. “Who allowed you in my private quarters?”
She fluttered her lashes. “We’ve obtained the permission from Xanthos, on our fathers’ requests.”
The king’s face hardened. “Interesting. To what do I owe your visit?”
Raven kept her eyes on the king. “We’re here to remind you about tomorrow evening’s function. Everyone is looking forward to the poetry reading.”
Tomorrow evening. Somehow, Calliste managed to keep a neutral expression through the sting of bitterness in her chest.
The king exhaled. “Tomorrow evening?”
“Yes, Majesty.” Robin raised her chin, shooting Calliste a smug look. “As agreed with you a while back.”
“I see.” He fixed his eyes on the marble floor.
Calliste studied both women. They oozed court polish like their scented oils, flawless, fit for the king and knowing it. She steeled herself to look expressionless, waiting for him to cancel their plans for tomorrow.
It seemed like an eternity before he finally glanced up at Raven. “We’ll have to move it to another day. I cannot attend tomorrow.”
“Majesty?” Raven seemed confused.
The king raised his brow.
He declined?
After a quick exchange of glances, Erythea stepped forward, her voice like honey running down the side of the jar. “Majesty, we understand that you are a busy man, but this has been agreed upon long in advance. It’s been so much work to have all the Houses to attend. Countless artists are counting on your patronage. It is important.”
He smiled thinly. “I haven’t forgotten the importance of arts and culture, if this is what you’re implying, Erythea.”
She blushed, crimping her lips together.
“Majesty.” Raven took over, her voice low and sultry. “Consider keeping to your commitments. Can’t the other arrangement be altered? It would mean a lot to those who have prepared tirelessly for this event.”
“Huh.” The king’s face was as impassive as ever. “Interesting that you deem it appropriate to remind me of my commitments ”—he ground out the last word—“but my decision stands. If you insist on tomorrow…” Amusement rippled across his features. “I’ll happily send Advisor Solon in my stead.”
Raven faltered, then exchanged another look with Erythea, who tilted her head at the king. “Majesty, may we ask why you won’t be attending? We’ll have to explain your absence.”
Calliste cringed inside her skin. They heard him inviting me.
The king’s gaze could freeze a river. “My reasons are my own, but I’m certain that Advisor Solon is a more than suitable replacement as a member of the royal family. Do you disagree?”
“You are the centerpiece, Majesty,” Erythea said sharply.
“It’s not a function that ever required more than my complimentary presence.”
“Yet you’ve always been present.” Erythea persisted. “If not for the artistic value, then for bringing all the Houses together in a more relaxed setting than the Assembly.”
“True, except the Houses will always find a reason to squabble, no matter the setting.”
“Perhaps this time, they’ll hold their peace.”
“That would be to their benefit, not mine.”
Angry blush stained Erythea’s cheeks. Her lips curled into a cold smile as her gaze briefly swept over Calliste, measuring her up and then falling off. “The reason that keeps you otherwise engaged might not prove worthy of offending the Houses.”
Heat stung Calliste’s chest. How dare you .
The king fixed Erythea with a glare. “Then the Houses will have to accept that my reasons matter more than them being offended.”
“So how do we explain your absence, Majesty?” she drawled.
Before the king replied, Calliste discreetly cleared her throat. “The king’s reasons are based on his health. It would be beneficial for his Majesty to take a break from his usual duties.” She tilted her head at Erythea. “And rejuvenate himself.”
Erythea cut her a sharp glance. “Beneficial for his Majesty or his other engagements ?”
“Mainly for his Majesty, I believe.” Calliste gave an innocent smile. “It’s not advisable for him to go to a long and exhausting social event at the end of the day if all he needs is rest. After all, he has to be in the best shape for his duties the next day.”
“What Calliste said,” the king cut in with a half-smile. “Is there anything else?”
Erythea stared at him for a moment, then curtsied to the king in a calculated show highlighting her perfection, the tilt of her smooth neck, the robes effortlessly gliding over her shape. “Majesty, we hope that you’ll rejuvenate yourself in the company of those clearly more fortunate and deserving than we are.”
Her companion also bowed, and they both disappeared down the same corridor they emerged from.
The king gestured for her to continue walking. Calliste stole a glance at him and found him already watching her with a widening smile.
“I like the idea of rejuvenating myself,” he said.
“It’s my professional opinion. You seem to work too much.”
“I’m used to it.”
“Just because you are used to discomfort does not mean it serves you well.”
They arrived at the prince’s chamber. The king nodded at Drakon and Philon standing watch, then opened the door for Calliste.
His presence seemed to be burning behind her as he followed her to Kalias’ bed. But then he crouched beside it, taking his son’s hand in his own. He held it for a long while before stroking his son’s forehead and looking up at her. “This is my reason.”
The light in his eyes took her breath away. She nodded, her throat tight as she watched him kiss his son’s forehead before rising to his full height. In a breath, he’d be gone, his day over. He looked tired. “Tomorrow evening, Calliste?”
“Will your absence offend the Houses?”
His dark eyes glinted with amusement before softening. “I can handle it.”
“Do you even like poetry?”
“Yes, and my absence won’t end my support for the artists. Other Houses also provide patronage, so the event can still proceed without me.” He exhaled. “I didn’t check that it’s tomorrow, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’ll spend that time as I please. And I’d be honored if you could share that time with me.”
Stunned, she stared, wishing she could catch his words, give them a tangible form, and hold them next to her chest. “I’d love to.”
He massaged his left forearm, then glanced down at it, as if surprised at the absence of the bruise. Then the corner of his lips turned up in a smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”