Chapter 16
Life dispelled the Empty. For hundreds of years, the clergy had promised as much in prayer, and in all our history, never had they been proven wrong.
A sprawling town covered the mountainside, with marble buildings stark against the brown stone, their roofs tiled a deep red. Herd animals followed sheepdogs and ranchers across dirt roads, weaving through merchant caravans and travelers.
The road to Therapne had brought us through many outposts, but this one was unusually crowded. I hardly found space for myself on its congested streets. My blonde mare nuzzled my head when I stopped to let a wagon pass, and I felt her saliva dampen my curls.
“Eugh.” I rubbed my head, wiping off the slobber.
Eleos smiled at me, rubbing his mare’s snout. “She loves you.”
“Already?” I flicked the saliva from my fingers.
“Horses are intelligent creatures. She knows she’s safe with you.”
Frowning, I stared into the horse’s eyes. Maybe Eleos was right. A deep well of intelligence seemed to lurk beneath the surface. Eleos’ dappled brown horse nuzzled him, much more gently and without coating his neat brown waves in spit.
Of course, his horse would be as polite as he was.
Seraphim and her black horse shook their thick manes at the same time. She glanced between us. “I hear the markets here are great for souvenirs.”
Percy tipped his hat over his eyes. “You want to go shopping? Shouldn’t we stay together?”
“I’ll watch over you.” She nodded at Percy. “And the boys can watch Aethra. We’ll only be across the street from one another.”
“But-”
“Take a moment to breathe. We’ll meet back up by that tree.” Nodding, she pointed out a canopy of red leaves looming over a small church atop a nearby cliff.
Taking Percy’s arm, Seraphim dragged him away. Seth furrowed his brow, shifting from foot to foot, as though intending to chase after them.
I nudged Seth. “You can go with them.”
“Percy doesn’t need me hovering over him like a worried mother.” He peered down at me. “Besides, he can hold his own in a fight.”
“I can, too.”
“Is that right, princess?”
“Mhm.” Leading my mare away, I flashed him a cheeky smile. “I disarm them with a smile and then run away.”
Rolling his eyes, Seth muttered under his breath. “I’m training her for nothing, aren’t I?”
“Well,” Eleos turned to look at us. “Did any of you forget something at home?”
Chuckling, I glanced over the shop signs. “My sorry excuse for a mattress.”
“Want a new one?” Eleos asked. “An aching back might get you out of bed earlier.”
Seth snorted.
“Hey,” I protested. “It’s not my fault that none of you wake me up.” Glancing across the street, my gaze lingered on Percy as he waved his hands around in enthusiastic conversation.
Face falling, Eleos watched Percy and Seraphim disappear into a textile shop. “You’ve been looking at him differently. I know how you feel. I didn’t know what to say, either.”
“What can you?” I muttered.
“Nothing,” Eleos said plainly.
“Don’t say anything,” Seth called from behind us. “Percy hates being treated differently.” Skidding to a stop, he gasped, staring at a sign across the street. “Wait a moment.”
I followed his gaze to a smithy, where a variety of knives hung on display behind the forge. Dropping his reins into Eleos’ hands, Seth darted away, though Whisper remained behind with us. Finding a tree in the center of the road, I ducked beneath its boughs to escape the crowd while we waited.
Whisper sat on my foot, his wiry fur tickling my skin. Petting his underbelly with my shoe, I flicked a few new clumps of mud off the poor boy.
Leaning against the trunk, I watched Seth hungrily eye the collection. “Does he have any hobbies besides blood?”
Eleos stood beside me, pulling out his journal and flipping through the pages. A quill was tucked into its binding, worn down and feather frayed. One heavy day of writing, and it looked like it might fall apart entirely.
“Eleos,” I said. “Something you said back in Ikaria’s been bothering me.”
“What?” He muttered.
“What did you mean?” I asked. “When you said, ‘I seek to fill my heart, but never with myself?’”
Eleos snapped his journal closed and looked up. “Tell me something good about yourself.”
Snorting, I brushed my hair behind my ear. “You ask the impossible.”
“That’s what I mean.” He said. “You never afford yourself grace, but you’d happily give it to others.”
“I think you have a much higher opinion of me than you should.”
“See?” He raised an eyebrow.
Pursing my lips, I stared back at him, wondering what he saw within my mind. I was envious of psyches. Right now, I’d give anything to peer into him and learn what dwelt beneath the calm surface.
“You’re a psyche.” I waved a hand idly. “Can’t you fix my head, or something?”
“I could make you feel happiness, or pride, but it would be fleeting and fake.”
“Give it a try. I’m curious what it feels like.”
Taking my hand, Eleos cupped it between his. “I have to lure you toward the emotion I want, remember? What draws you toward happiness?”
I thought for a moment. “Tell me I’m pretty.”
“You’re very aesthetically pleasing to look upon, Lady Aethra.”
I laughed. “I’ve never heard that said less romantically.”
He smirked, a tiny half-smile, barely there.
Slowly, my troubles washed away, tossed into the depths of my memories and forgotten.
Warm, bubbling joy swam to the surface, a sea of yellow against the night.
Pleasant humming sang to me at the back of my skull, like a melody my mother might have sung, had she loved me.
It lasted only fleetingly. Though the sensation was wonderful, it fell into a maelstrom of sorrow, unable to escape the storm. My face broke as tears brewed at the corners of my eyes, though I wasn’t sure what had summoned them.
Eleos released my hand. “Something fake only magnifies the truth.”
“Maybe,” I murmured, longing to feel his fake joy instead of my own sorrow. Year after year, my hatred had grown tiresome.
Wretched girl. Hopeless. Meaningless.
“Besides,” Eleos mused, “Happiness is better found the old-fashioned way.”
“There’s an old-fashioned way?” I raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t anyone tell-”
Eleos cut me off, gently cupping my face and kissing my cheek. His fingers traced my cheekbones, slowly drawing a line across my skin. Grabbing a loose lock of my hair, he gently tucked it behind my ear and returned to his journal, flipping it open again.
Startled, I raised my hand to pull him back, but then lowered it.
A tiny half-smirk curled his lips. Bastard.
Whisper barked, alerting us to his master’s return. Seth twirled a new knife between his fingers. “What do you look so happy about?” He asked.
“Nothing.” Eleos tucked his journal away. “Found yourself a reward for your good deeds?”
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Seth unsheathed the little blade, but it didn’t look much like a weapon of war. It was all handle, no blade. A tiny speck of steel emerged from a curved wooden hilt.
“It’s a little small.” I offered.
Seth bit back a laugh. “Do you say that often?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Your turn, princess.” Seth gestured for me to lead. “Shall it be a frumpy mattress? Or something more luxurious?”
Strolling down the crowded street, I stopped outside a building whose sign read ‘Cynthus Exports.’ Remembering something Eleos mentioned back in Serifos, I tied my horse outside and pushed through the door.
A tiny bell jangled. An assortment of luxury items lined the shelves, most crafted from leather. Tufts of feathers caught my eye, where a box displayed a small assortment of quills. Perfect.
A rack of leather cloaks drew Eleos like a moth to flame. Seth joined him, whistling. “I’ve always wanted a Cynthus-made cloak.”
“So have I.” Eleos agreed.
Backing toward the quills, I watched them, curious if leather, of all things, would bond them.
“Percy had one, before he fled home.” Seth continued.
“What?” Eleos gasped. “He left behind his spear and Cynthus leather?”
“The man’s an idiot, I’ve tried to tell you.” Lining his voice with a flamboyant tilt, Seth mimicked Percy. “Material goods bring no joy, for a wealthy man carries gold in his heart.”
Shaking his head, Eleos inspected the price: far more coin than I was willing to spend. Only a nobleman or wealthy merchant could afford one of these cloaks.
“Think we can haggle it down?” Eleos asked.
“You’re a psyche.” Seth mused. “I’m charming. We could manage.”
“Charming?” Eleos raised an eyebrow.
“You don’t think so?”
“Maybe to women,” Eleos said dismissively, turning his head. “Let me get a read on the shopkeeper.”
Leaving them to their leather, I examined the box of quills, landing on one whose feather was painted a beautiful green, the same color as Eleos’ eyes. Picking it up, I turned it over, admiring the craftsmanship and words carved into the pen.
‘May written work protect what time forgets.’
The creed of the Scholarly Houses, if I wasn’t mistaken. I wondered if Eleos had sworn these words when he’d been instated.
I tried to envision a young Eleos joining the Scholarly House of History; doubtless, he would have been an awkward, lanky teenager. The thought made me smile.
Shaking my head, I watched Eleos and Seth across the shop, ensuring they were busy arguing before I approached the shopkeeper at his counter. Graying hair flecked his black locks, and surprising muscle defined his arms. Setting the quill down, I balked internally at the price. Ten Heschian coins.
A few weeks ago, I would have died on the spot at the mere idea of buying a quill for that price. My hovel of a home cost half that much for a year’s rent.
Without a hint of jovial cheer, the merchant took my coin and moved on to the next customer. Wishing the boys luck with their haggling endeavors, I tucked the quill into my satchel and stepped outside, leaning on my horse as I waited for them.
When the two men finally emerged, I stood straight. “Any luck?”
“That merchant’s made of steel.” Seth marveled. “I admire his tenacity.”