11. Eudoxia
EUDOXIA
Alexander lets out a low whistle as they drag themselves across the field to dinner. “That guy does not mess around, huh.”
“Lazarus?” Zeno asks. “Definitely not. He’s always been a bit intense.”
“I wonder when he’ll realize that stressing us out won’t magically make us succeed,” Eudoxia complains. She has enough on her plate without the Trials, and Lazarus’ constant reminders are making her crazy.
Zeno, ever one to see the good in people, says, “We have to remember that he’s loyal to our cohort when he doesn’t have to be.”
“You’re too nice. That guy is a powder keg about to explode.” Alexander shakes his head and speeds up his pace. “Now come on, losers, we’re going to miss food.”
They stumble into the dining hall a minute late, much to the Priestesses’ amusement. Apparently their tardiness is now infamous in the Temples, to the point where Priestesses make bets on how late they’ll arrive.
They eat quickly, and Alexander scans the hall the whole time like he’s looking for someone.
He’s been doing that a lot more recently, especially at nighttime. Maybe all of the Trial talk is getting to him too.
“Do you wanna come spar with us, Alexander?” Zeno asks once their plates are almost empty. Eudoxia’s expecting the usual: ‘I’ve got some stuff to catch up on’ or ‘I need to go to sleep right now or I’ll die,’ but instead Alexander checks the time on his ring and shakes his head.
“I, um— I have something going on tonight. Studying, I mean. I’m just going to study here tonight. You don’t have to wait up.”
Well, he is definitely up to something.
“Right,” Zeno responds, squinting in suspicion.
She can only pray to the Forms that he isn’t meeting with Kallias. He’ll be dead by morning if he lays a hand on that golden-haired loose cannon.
“Yup. So, I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Have fun! Sparring. Et cetera.”
Zeno laughs and ruffles Alexander’s precious hair, ignoring the affronted squawk he receives in response. “See you tomorrow, you goofball,” he says. Then he starts for the training room, checking back every few seconds to make sure Eudoxia is following.
Which—of course she is. She would follow this boy to her own death if it meant she’d have one more moment to look into his eyes.
Because he’s her friend. Obviously. That’s why she feels this way. It’s a platonic admiration for a loved one’s best qualities.
No! Not a loved one. Just—a one… who is beloved? Liked?
Well, ‘liked’ doesn’t really work, does it? Admired? Respected?
She’s been through maybe a hundred different adjectives by the time they arrive at the sparring rooms. Zeno grins over his shoulder as he opens the door.
That smile. Brighter than anything.
It sends her right back to the drawing board.
Back to ‘loved one’.
It’s okay. She’ll get it out of her system as they spar.
Sometimes she thinks maybe the whole thing is an excuse for them to be close to each other. To grab each other and hold each other and everything else that they do. There must be other excuses she can make to shower without the whole cohort…
Well, best not to think about it too much.
“I miss Arete,” Zeno sighs on the walk back to their rooms.
Eudoxia snorts. “You saw her, like, two days ago.”
“I know. But usually I see her every day. And, for that matter, usually I see you every day.”
“You do see me every day.”
“No, I mean outside of class and sparring. I’m just saying I miss you.” Forms, he is adorable when he’s earnest like this. Eudoxia tries and fails to tamp down her smile.
“I miss you, too.” She turns away so he can’t see her blush. Then she heaves a dramatic sigh. “But your new bestie Alexander is just too high-maintenance. No time for little old me.”
“I always have time for little old you. Emphasis on the little, though,” he replies, slinging her over his shoulder like a sack of flour.
“You monster, put me down!”
She’s proven time and time again in their spars that she can counter his various holds, this one included. She tries not to think about the fact that she ‘can’t’ until he drops her in front of her door.
“Could I come over in an hour or two?” Zeno asks, like he even needs to ask.
“Of course. And bring your violin. You know Arete loves a concert.”
And so do I, she thinks. Hopefully he doesn’t pick up on that part.
Zeno winks and swings around his doorframe into his room, and exhaustion settles on her now that the planet she revolves around is gone. She opens her own door and the sight that awaits her is already a familiar one.
Ophelia and Arete sit gossiping in her bed, wrappers of Sun Priestess offering-candies strewn all over the floor and an empty container from dinner on the desk. When they notice her, they both look up mischievously.
“Who was out there at the door?” Ophelia coos.
“Oh, I know the answer!” This is why Eudoxia doesn’t give Arete candy before bed. She gets so hyper. “It was Zeno.”
“Zeeeenoooo,” they chorus together. Eudoxia pulls off her cargo pants and button-down so she’s in her pajamas.
“Yes, my friend Zeno.”
“Sure,” Ophelia sings, popping another piece of candy into her mouth. “If that’s what you want to tell yourself.”
Eudoxia scowls at the two of them, and in response they kiss her on each cheek.
The night after the party two weeks ago, she found Ophelia in her room, distraught.
She wouldn’t tell Eudoxia what happened, but it was clear something was very wrong.
So when Ophelia asked to stay the night, Eudoxia gave her a resounding yes.
A yes that extended to any night. Which, to Ophelia, seems to have meant every night.
Eudoxia is glad for it, though. She loves Ophelia more and more with every passing minute, and Arete took to her instantly.
“Is he coming back? Do I finally get to meet him? I can’t believe we keep missing each other.”
“He’s coming tonight.”
“Is he cute? What if I wanted to make a move on him?” Ophelia asks slyly.
Arete jumps up on the bed. “Very cute!”
“Arete, should I flirt with him? How would Eudoxia feel about that?” Ophelia teases.
Eudoxia rolls her eyes and ignores the tightness in her stomach. “That would be fine.”
Ophelia boops her nose. “Oh, you are so into him. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t even think about stealing him away. And, from how Arete describes him, it seems like he only has eyes for one person.”
“Who?” she asks reflexively.
Ophelia laughs. “Oh, I adore you, Eudoxia.”
Arete jumps over Ophelia and into Eudoxia’s lap.
“You look sleepy, Xia. Do you wanna nap before Zeno comes?” she asks, and her sweetness is too much for Eudoxia’s heart.
“I’m okay.”
“Well, can Ophelia and I braid your hair, then? Ours is too curly, but yours is so perfect and shiny.”
“Just lie back and we’ll make you look amazing,” Ophelia says, subdued and wistful like she’s lost in a memory.
Eudoxia drops into the pillows and allows them to sift their hands through her hair, weaving Forms-know-what kind of patterns on her head.
Eventually the combination of ocean sounds, a soft bed, and gentle hands lulls her to sleep. She’s more tired than she thought.
Eudoxia wakes up to the sound of sweet giggling and barely audible whispering. She opens her eyes slowly to find Zeno, Ophelia, and Arete huddled up, talking to each other quietly. All of the people she loves, laughing in each other’s company. She’s never seen something quite so wonderful.
Zeno turns like he senses her looking.
“The Empress awakes,” he booms, and thank the Forms for soundproof dorm walls.
She suspects the rooms were designed this way to give the Guardians plausible deniability as to the more salacious actions of the Auxiliaries and Priestesses, but for her?
Well, they muffle the sounds of her loud kind-of-roommate, louder younger sister, and loudest…
Zeno so people can’t hear them all the way on the top floor.
“Thank the Forms! I feared we might have to start performing spells. My new friend Ophelia has been instructing Arete and me on Sun Priestess prayers to wake the dead. They cost part of your soul, but it would have been worth it for you,” he says with a wink.
She desperately hopes he can’t see how much she melts.
“Thank goodness no one had to sell their soul.” She mirrors his melodrama. “Though, if someone did, I’d hope it would be you and not my darling sister.”
“Arete? Never. She has no soul to steal, the little satyr.”
Arete laughs maniacally and jumps into him hard enough to knock him over. Then she gingerly sits on top of his chest to deposit her last few pieces of candy into his mouth.
Ophelia curls into the bed next to Eudoxia.
“Arete, don’t give me ones with wrappers still on.”
“Oops!”
Eudoxia must be giving Zeno heart eyes or something because when her gaze makes its way to Ophelia, Ophelia bites her lip suggestively. Eudoxia sighs in response.
Then Ophelia shoots up to stand on the bed in an uncalled-for burst of energy. “I believe I was promised a concert.”
“Concert time!” Arete yells, jumping off Zeno—eliciting a pained, “Oof”—and onto the mattress with Ophelia.
Zeno looks at her expectantly. “I cannot play, my wonderful friends, if the Empress does not allow it. Royals as beautiful as she must get their sleep, or else how will she reign over her kingdom?”
She recognizes this for what it is. He’s giving her an out in case she wants Arete to go to sleep now, or if she’s tired herself.
Forms, he’s thoughtful.
“The Empress reluctantly agrees to a concert as long as it’s no more than two songs, plus a possible encore if the crowd is encouraging enough,” Eudoxia announces, and Zeno bows to her before taking his violin out of its case.
She, Arete, and Ophelia position themselves along the bed as Zeno takes his place by the window and puts the violin under his chin.
At the first touch of bow to strings, she inhales in awe.
Somehow she always forgets how arresting Zeno’s performances are.
The way his eyes close when he gets into more passionate parts of the song.
The way his fingers dance along the strings like they were made only for that.
The way he sways ever so slightly with the music like he can’t help but let it creep into every inch of his body.
There is nothing particularly special about the pieces he plays. If anyone else were playing them, she would probably be bored.
But the way he does it? He engages her soul when he plays. Draws her in and whisks her away to every corner of the earth: fireflies across a dark pond, ocean waves breaking on a desolate shore, flowers blooming in cracks between cobblestone.
Everything lovely she has ever seen.
Everything lovely she has never seen.
When he stops playing, she can hardly believe that he’s made it through three whole songs. Hasn’t it just been a moment?
She, Arete, and Ophelia applaud thunderously, and Zeno gives them the sheepish look she always sees after his performances. Like he doesn’t know that people would sit for years listening to him and barely feel as if a day has gone by.
“Zeno. You are so good. I mean, Forms, I will be demanding concerts every day from now on for the rest of my life,” Ophelia gushes.
“I’m not all that, but thank you,” Zeno says with a little blush. “And I will always give concerts to those who request them. But only if those people are Arete.” He winks at her and pats her on the head. “Goodnight, you little satyr.”
“Goodnight, you big stupid.”
Zeno gasps in faux-offense and starts for the door, Eudoxia following behind.
She closes it behind them and leans on the wall next to her room. “Thank you. That was really—” Arresting. Mesmerizing. Addictive. “—great.”
“Only for you guys.”
“No, seriously,” she insists. “You don’t just play, you… it’s a whole experience, watching you. Like something I could do until forever has ended and nothing is left but your hands and your smile. It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
Did she just say that? Oh, Forms. Why did she say that?
She’s very tired. And drunk on the music. And that came out a lot more affectionate than it probably should have. For a friend. Which is what she is.
Zeno stares at her with eyes like moons and before she knows it she’s in a tight hug, her body immediately reciprocating, attuned to every move Zeno makes. He’s over a foot taller than her but somehow they melt together perfectly.
Holding him isn’t exciting in a way that makes her heart race. It’s grounded. It’s right.
“When forever has ended, I’ll be damned if I’m not holding you,” Zeno says, tightening his grip. Then he jolts and he pulls back. “Because we’re friends. Be—Best friends.”
She sighs as reality sets back in. “Best friends,” she replies.
Zeno smiles, her greatest weakness.
“Best friends.”