5. Eudoxia
EUDOXIA
Eudoxos is a simple guy, really. Mostly because he is also a non-existent guy.
Eudoxia, though? She is not a simple guy. She is, in fact, a frazzled mess. Basically all of the time. It isn’t like she has much of a choice about it; she has a lot to be frazzled about.
Left hook.
First on the list would be Arete. Since the moment she was born and Eudoxia became an older sister, Arete has been her top priority.
Parry.
Second is the existence of ‘Eudoxos, the simple guy’ at all. It’s exhausting to keep up the veneer of masculinity, but better that than being a female Auxiliary. She and Arete need to be able to pick up and leave at the drop of a hat. It’s hard to do that if you’re seven months pregnant.
Uppercut.
Third, Kleitos. He is out for blood, and Eudoxia knows he isn’t afraid to slash her up to get it.
Duck.
Fourth is Zeno. Not anything specific about him. More just his presence. His comforting, beautiful, kind, funny… presence.
Kick and—
“Shit,” Eudoxia groans when she hits the mat face first.
Usually their nightly spars end in an even win ratio, but tonight she has been knocked down first every round.
She hears Zeno laugh somewhere above her so she flips to lie flat on the mat and glares at his adorable smile. Her eyes stray to his brown skin and dimples and muscles and…
Forms, get a grip, Eudoxia!
Zeno grabs his chest like he’s been shot by her scowl and falls down next to her.
“Aw, Eudoxia, don’t look at me like that.
You know it kills me,” he says, giggling quietly.
It’s refreshing to finally hear her real name after another day of pretending to be Eudoxos.
It’s not like the masculine version of her name is that far from her real one, but she can still feel the difference. Especially when she hears it from Zeno.
He’s the only one here who knows it—except for Arete, of course. Eudoxia doesn’t trust anyone else.
She wants to keep her angry facade but Zeno crushes all of her walls with the tiniest smile. It’s a weakness, she knows, but there’s nothing to be done. Trust her, she’s tried.
She rolls onto her side so she’s facing him.
“Are you okay?” he asks, concern in his eyes but a slight smile still on his lips. “You seem a little… I don’t know. Distracted?”
“It’s just the usual stuff. Arete’s going stir-crazy in my room,” she says with a sigh, remembering this morning when Arete did cartwheels until she skinned her knee and then broke down crying, begging to leave the Academy just for a bit.
“Poor kid,” Zeno says. Then, turning onto his back, “I’ve been trying to figure out ways to get her some time away, but I don’t know how we’d do it without someone finding her. It’s just not safe.”
“Try explaining that to her,” she responds. “Maybe I’ve done the wrong thing bringing her with me.”
Zeno’s brows are scolding, and Eudoxia knows exactly what he’s going to say. “You know that’s not true.”
It’s the millionth time they’ve had this conversation; whenever Arete shows signs of discomfort, Eudoxia falls into a spiral of self-doubt and resentment.
And then the resentment turns to guilt because she doesn’t want to be angry with Arete at all.
She just wants some of this weight off her shoulders.
“I wish it wasn’t all up to me.”
“But it’s not,” Zeno says, smiling. “It’s up to us. You and me.”
Sometimes, Eudoxia wishes that Zeno wasn’t the way that he is. Too generous, too kind, too loyal.
More of the time, she’s desperate to ask why his kindness is so often directed at her. She who is rotting slowly and whose touch would surely corrupt anyone who tried to reach out, to offer love.
And those she loves? They’re even worse off. She loves like a lightning storm that strikes true every time. When you least expect it, it takes you down.
If that happened to Zeno, she would never forgive herself.
Not that she loves Zeno, obviously. Because she doesn’t.
Obviously.
“Right,” she replies, wishing she could say more. “You and me.”
Zeno’s perpetual smile brightens so much it could be the sun itself. “Always.”
He’s going to blind her one of these days.
“Let’s talk about you now,” she prompts. Zeno needs his private room nearly as much as she does.
He drops his hands over his face. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I mean, Alexander seems like an awesome guy. Really, I think we’re gonna be good friends. But… well, you know.”
It’s not the roommate itself, not for Zeno. It’s the repercussions of having someone to tell on you if they find something amiss.
Still, she likes Alexander.
He’s very… charismatic. Enough that, though she may enjoy his company, she doesn’t trust him.
His charm will do him well at the Academy, though. No doubt, he’ll break some hearts.
Not that she cares that Alexander is hot. She doesn’t want anyone like that here.
Not even dark skin and brown eyes and the kind of bond she never thought she’d get to find—
“You can always use my room when you need a space to yourself,” she offers.
She really just needs to stop talking. And thinking. And looking at the person who makes her forget that she needs to stop talking and thinking.
“Thanks but… well, I don’t think Arete will appreciate me shredding her eardrums off.”
“She can deal with it.”
Zeno snorts. “You’re brutal.”
“The brutalest,” she says in a mock-serious voice, turning her head to face him with a laugh.
She struggles not to flinch because, wow, their faces are a lot closer than she thought they were. She can feel the warmth from Zeno’s skin so close to hers.
“Oh, I’m sure,” he says, and she wonders if he feels anything from her.
She pushes herself to stand. “Speaking of which, get up. We’re going again.”
Zeno does the fancy jump to his feet that he knows she finds ridiculous before settling into a ready stance.
And suddenly her world sharpens to the twitch of Zeno’s brow, his tell, before he goes in with a right hook. He’s only halfway through his swing when she dodges and uses the momentum to push him forward. Then she moves in with her own strike, but he reads her mind and parries quickly.
She loses count of how many times this pattern repeats before there’s a loud rap on one of the glass doors of the training room and they both freeze. Theokleia, a member of their cohort, is outside waving, likely with a message for one of them on the tablet she’s holding.
Eudoxia sighs and pushes herself up from where she was straddling Zeno—Forms, that sounds a lot more intimate without the context—to get the door. She was just starting to lose herself in the dance of it all.
“Eudoxos, you have to tell me how you did that pinning move. You’re a genius at reversing momentum,” Theokleia says.
A smug smile pulls at her mouth, because yes, she is rather proud of that move, and no, not even she is immune to flattery.
“Thank you,” she says, and Theokleia nods in response.
Theokleia then turns to Zeno and motions him over. “Zeno, Councilman Bios told me to tell you to go to his office. He said he needs a word.”
“Should I tell you to tell him that I said yes in response or should I just tell him myself?” Zeno jokes with a friendly wink.
She laughs and they do a complicated fist bump as he makes his way out. She’s pretty sure Zeno has a different inside joke or silly handshake or deep secret with all of the Auxiliaries at the Academy. He has a way of making everyone feel special.
“Later, Kleia. See you tomorrow, Xos,” he yells behind him. That leaves her alone with Theokleia, which she doesn’t particularly mind.
Eudoxia likes her. They’re in the same cohort, so they spend a lot of time together, albeit not much of it outside of class. They’d be good friends. At least, Eudoxia thinks so. Partially because she is in desperate need of more female-presenting friends.
And how silly of her, to hope for the best. Because now that Zeno’s gone, Theokleia’s voice goes coy and she says, “So there’s this party tomorrow night. Kleitos said I could invite you.”
Oh, Forms. Is she being flirted with?
Not me, Eudoxia reminds herself. Eudoxos.
“I’ll think about it,” she lies.
Theokleia looks her up and down, biting her lip. “Okay, well, I hope I’ll see you. Maybe we can talk somewhere quiet once we’re there. I want to know more about you.”
Plato and his prophecies, what a joke.
“Goodnight, Eudoxos,” she says before kissing her on the cheek and strutting out.
Theokleia is beautiful and confident and more than intelligent. She deserves a great guy. Eudoxia hopes she sets her sights on someone else as soon as possible.
It’s not a long trek to the showers, but it’s tiring anyway.
At least they’re empty at this time of night.
She chooses the nozzle closest to the wall in case someone comes in, lets down her waist-length hair, and envelops herself in the spray.
The nighttime sparring was Zeno’s idea. It’s the only way either of them could think of for Eudoxia to put off bathing until night, when the showers are empty. Most people shower after training—anywhere from midday to afternoon depending on their schedule—but the showers are open and mixed-gender.
And, sure, she’s scrawny enough to pass for a boy, but if anyone even glanced at her without the loose Auxiliary uniform on, it would be clear she’s Xia, not Xos.
It is complicated, like most of the things she does to keep up the ruse, but it’s better than being pregnant for more than half her time as an Auxiliary.
Because the imbalance of men to women is so extreme, and because almost all Auxiliaries must be children of the Leadership Classes, it’s not uncommon for a girl to bear upwards of ten children before she’s freed upon becoming a Guardian.
It’s horrible that they use women in such a mercenary way—at least, Eudoxia thinks so—especially since they claim that all Auxiliaries are equal.
But it doesn’t matter what she thinks. The Ideal State, the second doctrine of Plato, explains that the Leadership Classes should be almost entirely male.
And no one in the Republic has the balls to challenge Plato’s writings—to do that would be to challenge the Forms themselves.
But no matter how justified they claim the system is, Eudoxia won’t be a victim of it. The baby isn’t even the problem for her—babies are taken at birth to be put in training. It’s the pregnancy she can’t afford.
Eudoxia looks down at her pruny fingers. She’s been in here for longer than she thought.
She turns off the water, towels herself dry, then pulls on a clean set of clothes to rush back to her room. Her heart warms at the box in front of her door, despite it being there every day after they train.
The girls who serve meals are obsessed with Zeno, which totally doesn’t make her jealous at all because why would it, that would be dumb…
Where was she? Oh, right. They love him, so when he asks for an extra meal to be packed up and dropped at his room they do it without question. Then he leaves it at Eudoxia’s door without fail.
When she enters her room she scoops up the food on her way.
The moon is bright over the water, reflecting back its light and illuminating Arete’s little face as she reads one of Eudoxia’s textbooks for the hundredth time.
Eudoxia wishes she could give her sister something better.
Big stuffed animals, kids’ books, candy, and a huge yard for her to play in. But she can’t.
“Hi, Arete,” she murmurs. Arete looks up at her from the book and smiles, innocent and loving. Thank the Forms that her tantrum from this morning is over.
“Xia! Did you know that this book has pictures in the back? I never even noticed before. Come look, you’ll like them.”
“Alright,” Eudoxia says as she crosses the room, placing Arete’s dinner onto her desk and pulling a hair tie off her wrist to put Arete’s wild curls into a bun. The pictures in question are maps of the Republic and diagrams of the various technologies that have been developed since its founding.
Only Arete could find joy in something so mundane.
“That’s cool,” she responds, unable to keep the guilt out of her voice.
She feels guilty for that as well—the guilt itself.
Arete sighs, a tiny, adorable thing.
“Is Zeno not stopping by?”
Eudoxia cringes. Arete loves Zeno. More than her, Eudoxia is quite sure.
During her first few days at the Academy, Arete hid under her bed. Kleitos, her former roommate, would have absolutely reported Arete the second he laid eyes on her. Forms, Eudoxia hates him.
Once she broke down to Zeno and told him the truth, he insisted Arete stay with him. So for six months, before Eudoxia could earn her own room, Arete had the time of her life with Zeno every day.
Eudoxia doesn’t know how to act the way he does with Arete. She’s been the parent for too long to try being the sibling.
“No, he’s got a meeting,” Eudoxia apologizes, and Arete jumps off the bed with a huff. She sits on the floor with her dinner and stares at Eudoxia in a silent demand that she join. Eudoxia can’t help a little frown as she does.
Zeno would be making conversation. Playing games. Having fun.
She just sits there. Makes Arete tuck the napkin into her shirt. Reflects on her own inadequacy. Maybe Arete notices—she’s always been observant—because she taps Eudoxia on the knee and whispers, “I love you, Xia.”
Eudoxia pushes some hair out of Arete’s face. “I love you too. So much. Too much.” Arete giggles around her fork in response.
Once she’s done with her food, Eudoxia washes off the container in the bathroom down the hall—filled with only sinks, one toilet, and an abundance of her least favorite inanimate object: the urinal—and leaves it at Zeno’s door.
Then she hurries back to her room and falls into bed with Arete, who’s already snuggled up in the blankets.
“Ni ni, Xia.”
“Goodnight, little bird.”
Arete smiles at the nickname. It’s nothing more, to her, than a tradition with her sister.
But Eudoxia remembers their mother’s soft voice in the dark as she kissed each of their foreheads.
Goodnight, my three little birds, she would say.
Then she would turn to their mama as she walked out of the kids’ room. Let’s sleep, my beautiful hen.
But now Eudoxia’s most vivid memory of her mother is her gravestone, and the last time she saw her mama, she was nodding silently, acknowledging that they would never see each other again.
Eudoxia hasn’t been a little bird for a long time.