Chapter Seventeen
Dimitris
Crystals peppered the portholes of the ship Dimitris repaired from the drop in temperature over the past night, winter making its official mark over the lands.
Splintered wood and rusted nails lined the Despoina’s hull from its many months spent on the sea.
She was the largest ship in the Skiathan fleet and the one that took the longest journeys down the coastal trade routes of Anatole.
Many that resided in the Mykandrian Sea thought the men and women of Skiatha—the crew of The Nostos included—to be fearsome pirates, but they were nothing compared to the crews that ruled the Saron Sea and its isles.
Relief had washed over Dimitris when his father aervaded the lot of them to the beaches of Avernia to travel beneath through the caves to Aidesian.
Not only would sailing to the isle that guarded the underworld take time, but it was one that risked both body and soul.
Stories were passed down over the years of the violence that plagued the waters in that quadrant of Odessia—ships that flew over the seas with sails made of skin and lines made from the hairs of the people who dared travel to the dead sea.
The crews of Skiatha indulged in debauchery and occasional pillaging of villages in the isles ruled by tyrants and that deserved every ounce of blood split on their beaches, but the crews of the Saron Isles would rather see a ship burn and its people sunk to the depths of the seas than ask questions.
The Despoina had somehow made it back nearing twenty times over the years—an impossible feat that was well recorded in its logs.
She deserved the care and attention that Dimitris gave her now as he replaced every broken cedar plank and pulled every crooked nail.
Her service was invaluable to keep this isle running.
Nexos knew of this isle and The Nostos had long supplied what goods it was able to barter, but it was never enough.
Skiatha flourished with grain, cattle, sheep, and timber, but other necessities—linens, metals, spices—needed to be brought in from elsewhere, and the most luxurious of those goods came from the southern sector of Anatole.
There were many times on Nexos where Dimitris felt undeserving, as if he did not do enough for his people, that he did not deserve the rank he was given at birth.
Fates, he had proven that fact time and time again between rejecting his bond with Marianna to gallivanting about the castle indulging in debauchery that no prince should, especially not one that was supposed to lead such an ancient pack.
But here, on the docks of an isle he seemingly owed nothing to, Dimitris felt worthy.
He was able to not only do his part, but spearhead something he was actually good at.
The Aphrodite was his most prized treasure and he would treat any other ship, especially the Despoina, with the care she deserved.
Every plank he replaced sent a warming nudge to his heart.
The men at the docks had treated him with more respect than he would have thought, perhaps due to his rallying speech earlier.
However, they also gave him strange looks when he did not use any lesser magic to speed the process of mending the ships.
He was not his brother, nor his uncle—he preferred to work by hand, at least on a ship as formidable as this.
Cal would no doubt provide the help of more than thirty men if he ever chose to arrive and help.
The old man was supposed to be here. Yet it shouldn’t have surprised Dimitris to see his uncle strolling to the docks in his fur-lined cloak almost an hour late.
He was notoriously late to everything—but this was different.
When it was something that aided the greater good, he generally was placed directly on time.
“It is nice of you to join us, uncle. I was beginning to think you had shirked your duties for fear of the cold and had decided to stay in the smoky warmth of the forges all day,” Dimitris called out.
“If you must know, nephew, I had a very important meeting. I am the former leader of the Nexian Fleet, am I not?” A booming chuckle left Cal’s mouth as he approached Dimitris’s ladder Dimitris.
“I would have loved to see what this important meeting was. You have not led the fleet in many years, uncle,” the prince replied with a light laugh.
Cal twisted his right hand up and curved it as if he was threading a needle. Pale light glowed around the boards Dimitris had not gotten to yet and each one healed itself of the cracks and splinters he’d planned to replace with fresh cedar before the light faded once more.
“I was getting to those,” Dimitris huffed, side-eyeing his uncle. It wasn’t just that he could replace this side of the ship on his own, but that he wanted to.
“I know you were, but there are more pressing matters than you plucking out shards of wood from your fingertips to prove you have done an honest day's work.”
“Important matters like whatever occupied you just now?” Dimitris retorted.
Cocking his brow, Cal continued, clearly unimpressed by Dimitris’s slight. “If you must know, I was gifting Thalia her present for Haloa, or were you so caught up in your speeches of grandeur and need to aid the men at the docks that you forgot the bonfire was tomorrow evening?”
“I did not forget, uncle, though other than you I can’t think of a single person I would give a gift to this year,” Dimitris lied straight through his teeth.
“Can you not?” Cal was obviously not phased by his silver tongue.
“No. Now hurry along, uncle, there are many more ships to be mended and, as you have shown, you are much more suited to the work than I am.” Dimitris climbed down the ladder and gave his uncle a firm grip on his arm. “As you said, there are better things for me to be doing at the moment.”
As Dimitris walked down the docks, away from Cal, he couldn’t help but think of what he could possibly gift the woman that might end him.
The markets the day before the start of Haloa were bustling with people of all ages.
Small children ran through the streets at port, smacking wooden swords together and chasing after the pastry carts.
Men and women alike perused the stalls overflowing with crafts and delicate silks, each looking to pick out gifts for their loved ones, a tradition all too familiar to Dimitris.
The winter solstice was celebrated across Odessia, however, it appeared only Nexos and Skiatha kept to the ancient traditions of Haloa, a feast to honor the gods of harvest and sea.
The bonfire marked the first night, and it was customary that family and friends exchanged gifts.
In the days following, lavish feasts would be held not only at the castle, but on the beaches, with sacrifices of bulls and grain gifted to the gods for the promise of a bountiful spring harvest to come.
It was one of Dimitris’s favorite festivals during the year, second only to the Kronia ushering in the summer—although that festival did not involve an exchange of gifts.
Dimitris weaved through the streets lined with treasures, though none seemed to spark his interest. He’d traveled these very routes for the past few days and it had been the same—no gift was special enough.
She was a woman who, although formidable as any soldier, enjoyed the grandiose life of gowns and jewelry.
Everything he strolled past seemed too similar to something she already owned.
Perhaps he shouldn’t think so much about it, anything was better than showing up to the exchange empty-handed.
He wasn’t even sure that she would give him anything.
Would it seem disconcerting if he gave her some delicate piece and she had nothing for him in return?
Would it make her uncomfortable? Would it make him?
“Can I help you, sir?” a young woman questioned, snapping his attention back to the task at hand.
The scent of nutmeg and smoked meat tickled his nose at the very same time his stomach let out a resounding growl.
Dimitris peered up at the woman, only a few years younger than he, holding a young babe against her hip.
She stood next to a stall with an assortment of salted cheeses and those exceptionally smelling meats.
He might as well stop for a snack, it wasn’t as if he was accomplishing anything anyway.
“Yes, I will take two of those lamb skewers if you wouldn’t mind. How much do I owe you?” Dimitris asked the woman.
“Consider it a gift for Haloa. Blessed be our harvest,” the woman said, glancing up to the sky.
“Please, I insist…” Dimitris paused, questioning the woman’s name.
“Elara. But I insist as well. If you will not accept it for the festival, then please, as a thank you for joining our people, for inspiring them to fight against evil once again, Prince.”
Running his hand through his hair, Dimitris titled his lips up in a smile, a pink hue brushing over his nose. “Ah…you know who I am, then?”
The woman—Elara—handed him the two skewers wrapped in a piece of parchment and Dimitris immediately offered one back to the small child, who snatched the piece of meat up with a giggle.
“You are hard not to notice, Prince. You resemble your brother so much, and he is of great value to this isle,” Elara said plainly.
Yes, Dimitris had learned as much. His brother was beloved—from the soldiers to the merchants, to random children running on the streets.
“May I ask you a question, Elara?” he said between bites of lamb—quite possibly the best he’d tasted in his life. Dimitris couldn’t place the exact spice blend that coated the meat, but it only added to the flavor.
A warm smile spread across her lips. “Of course. As long as it is not how I make that souvlaki. It is a family recipe, afterall,” she chuckled.
“I know never to mess with a family’s recipe. I was actually hoping to get your opinion on a gift for Haloa. I have a friend who is about your age I plan to give something to, but for the life of me I cannot think of a single thing.”
“A gift for Lady Thalia?” Elara questioned. Gods—was he that obvious with his affection that even this merchant knew? Or had rumors of what happened in the gymnasium spread like wildfire? It was reckless of him, but not a single piece of Dimitris regretted it.
“It seems that everyone but Thalia has noticed my endearment toward her.” Dimitris sighed. At least he had gotten past the loathing stage with Thalia, whatever he was to her now was an improvement, but it was not what he wanted. He wanted her. All of her.
“Well, maybe I can help you find something that will make her notice. My thea has a lovely shop right around the corner from here with her wife. They craft custom leathers and small metal goods. Usually it would be impossible to commission something on so short notice for Haloa, but if you let them know I sent you and who it is for, I am not sure they would refuse.” Elara scribbled a note down on a small piece of parchment before handing it over to Dimitris. “Good luck, Prince.”
Taking the note from her outstretched hand, Dimitris couldn’t help but wonder if he needed more than just luck.