39. Dancing with Doubt
39
Dancing with Doubt
Calliste
So. Calliste frowned at her green tunic spread on the bed in front of her, then at the white one she wore. Plain or plainer?
She had a choice between her regular white attire or her official green tunic, and neither looked good enough. Which meant she’d have to meet the king dressed worse than any servant in his palace, with only a rawhide thread to tie her hair.
She still scowled at her green tunic when Melitta danced in with a bright smile across her face to stop beside her and cast her clothes a curious look. “Hmm…”
“I’m… supping with the king tonight.”
“Mhm.”
“I can’t say I’m spoilt for choice. It’s either the green one or the white one.”
“Ugh.”
“Thought you’d say that. But it’s only a supper.”
“With the king.” Melitta sparkled a mischievous grin. She bent over and spread another robe on the top of the bed.
Calliste stared at the faded golden robe with a black border. “What’s this?”
“It’s a robe.” Melitta snorted. “Yours. You liked the one I wore last time, so I ordered one for you from the same source.” She held it up against Calliste’s frame, the corner of her mouth lifting. “Looks like you’ve had your bath, so let’s put it on.”
Calliste stared at the girl. “Why?”
Up close, Melitta’s dark, piercing eyes glinted with amusement. “Why what?”
“I’m not used to wearing anything as… expensive.”
“I daresay you have a decent reason to give it a try.”
“I don’t have money to pay you back.”
Melitta scoffed, pulling the robe over Calliste’s arm. “Just change, so I can tend to your hair.” Then she looked her in the eyes. “Dazzle him better than Erythia and Kleio have been trying for a long time now.”
Calliste stilled. “How do you know?”
“Everyone gossips here. Those two got highly offended at the king choosing you over their little function. So let’s make sure you outshine them.”
Calliste snorted. “I cannot outshine them .”
“You already have. Now we just have to make you look perfect.”
She almost refused, but the idea was too tempting, especially after seeing Raven and Robin. She slipped into her bath chamber and changed, taking fastidious care to ensure that the robe covered her scars.
Melitta lit up at seeing her. “Perfect,” she breathed, her gentle hand adjusting the robe here and there. “Let me style your hair.” She guided her to the chair.
After a short while, Calliste ran her fingers through her hair, feeling the coils and the silver thread that held it together. Melitta’s gilded tiara now crowned her head.
“Keep this one if you wish. I have many more.” Gaiane’s daughter grinned. “Now for your eyes and lips. Just a touch of khol,” she said with a grin, as Calliste was about to protest. “I buy my cosmetics from Acaste, and she makes the most amazing tinted lip balms. They’re selling like honey cakes. I haven’t opened this one yet.” With gentle strokes, she applied honey-scented balm to Calliste’s lips and stepped back, humming her approval. “You should have a look.” She took her hand and led her to the polished mirror in the bathroom.
Calliste stared.
“The word you’re looking for is stunning.” Melitta grinned over her shoulder.
“Thank you,” she choked out. “I’ve never felt so…”
“Pretty? That’s what you are, Calliste. Pretty and strong enough to hold your own against those stupid people who gossip about you and the king.”
Calliste slowly spun around, fixing her stare on Melitta. “Gossip about me and the king ?”
Melitta breathed a curse. “I… this wasn’t what I meant to say.”
“But you’ve said it. What did you mean?”
For a moment, Melitta dropped her gaze to the floor, biting her lip. But then she lifted her chin. “Because no one ever sees you outside of his quarters… some people think that the king keeps you as his courtesan.”
“But… I’m a priestess of Epione, so how can they even think that?” It took a long time to frame the next question. “Has he ever kept… courtesans?”
“Not that I know of,” Melitta replied straight away. “But before you came here, he favored Eumelia, our court musician.”
“Eumelia?” Calliste repeated. “She’ll be playing for us tonight.”
Melitta nodded, her expression apologetic. “I know.” And she didn’t add anything more.
The wooden clappers sounded across the court.
“First evening hour,” Melitta said. “I must go. Forgive me. I… I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
Calliste lingered in the bathroom, battling to keep her thoughts under control and dreading the king’s arrival.
People say I’m his courtesan? How will I look him in the face and not think that? Does he know about the rumors?
Yet it seemed that she would be spared that. There were no steps outside, no knocking on her door.
She left the bath-chamber and walked to the window.
The blazing gold of the setting sun poured into the sea. Helios rode his chariot back to his immortal court as Nyx spread her inky night robes across the sky.
Calliste watched the dimming sun, recalling the story of Phaeton, Helios’ mortal, ambitious son who asked for one day with his father’s chariot yet failed to control the ferocious steeds. They veered off their path and scorched swaths of the earth. Seeing the destruction from Mount Olympus, Zeus struck Helios’ son with his thunderbolt, and Phaeton died as he crashed into the sea.
Such a wise story. Calliste still watched the sun descend, mercilessly reminding her that the time was in motion. It had been a while since the agreed hour, and yet the king hadn’t arrived. Whatever held him up must have been more important than a meal with someone who didn’t even own the clothes on her back.
Perhaps he’d heard about the gossip and decided to attend the Poetry Evening instead.
“Not coming, are you?” she murmured, her eyes stinging.
Only now, in his smarting absence, did she realize how much she’d been looking forward to their meal. And now that hope poisoned her mood. She forced back tears so they didn’t smudge the khol Melitta had applied, feeling like a painted fool. Or like Phaeton, blind to the enormity of what he was asking for. I’m so close to him, thinking I can handle it. But if I’m not careful, I’ll crash and burn as well. He has plenty of women to choose from. And by the looks of it, he’s already courting someone else …
She remembered Hypnos’ calm words. You’re the chosen Head Priestess of your order. Do not let any temptations cloud your judgment. She marched to the door with the intention of going straight to Prince Kalias’ chamber earlier than usual.
Just before she reached the door, it swung open, and the king’s large frame filled the doorway.
The air carried his intoxicating scent. His pine-green tunic was in pleasing harmony with his golden-brown skin and dark eyes, though it seemed thrown on in a hurry. “Calliste.” He seemed out of breath. “I know I’m late. I didn’t mean to keep you—” His eyes widened as he glanced over her.
She couldn’t savor his surprise, struggling to keep her expression blank while knowing full well that he could see her effort to look her best. “I understand,” she said flatly. “You are a busy person.”
“No, it wasn’t that.” He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, impenetrable glints flicking in his eyes. “Forgive me. I was reading a… report and didn’t realize the time.”
“It must have been riveting,” she forced out a polite reply.
He opened his mouth then closed it, looking away, allowing her to study his strong jaw beneath the stubble and the sensual line of his lips. His black hair was combed back and curled against the back of his neck, some strands escaping as they fell across his face. “It was.” He lifted his gaze back to hers. “But not in the way you think. The worst part is I’m late, and that’s an unforgivable offense.” He made a formal bow. “Will you still meet with me, or have I lost my chance?”
Her cheeks heated at how he made it sound as if she could reject him. And in the light of what Melitta said, she sobered up. I should send him away, for both our sakes. Then she remembered Phaeton. This is a flight of fancy. He risks nothing. I’ll end up crashing and burning. And then, as always, the darkest poisonous thought crept out of the corner of her mind. He doesn’t know what I’ve done. She steeled herself to politely decline, to say it was getting late and she must prepare herself for the night. “I—”
“Refuse me”—he leaned in closer, his eyes delivering much more than his mouth—“and I’ll walk away, crushed to spend the rest of the evening cursing my own stupidity.” His smile lit up all the regal aspects of his face. “Will you let me suffer like this?”
He must have been aware of his smile’s power. He must have known how it took away her breath. Lit up her heart. How she had no defenses against it. And how she could only answer in one way. “I’ll sup with you.”