37. Eudoxia
EUDOXIA
Eudoxia is worried. And not just because of their impossible plan.
Ophelia has been… off recently—like she’s been stuck in some kind of fog. She’s not herself, but she’s not not herself either. And they’re all afraid—what they’re trying to do is impossible—but whatever is happening to Ophelia is more than that.
Cool sea wind whips Eudoxia’s hair around where she sits on the balcony outside their room, and she tries not to think about all of her anxieties.
About Ophelia, about the Trial, about the groove she practically paced into the floor after leaving Arete at the Sun Temple.
If she thinks too much about it all, she’s overwhelmed by her fears.
And yet she can’t not think about it. About branding, exile, death. Something worse than any of those.
She feels it from outside of herself as she descends, descends, descends into her anxiety. The sound of the balcony door opening behind her jolts her into the present before she loses herself completely.
Arete doesn’t say anything when she walks out of their room and plops into the chair next to Eudoxia. She lets the silence sit for several minutes, like she’s waiting for Eudoxia to get used to her presence.
“You looked like you were fading away,” Arete finally says.
“I was,” Eudoxia confirms.
“I wanted to help even though I know you don’t want me to.”
Eudoxia turns to her sister, who is staring into the sea. She is so small, so heartbreakingly young. But Eudoxia still has some resentment left, though she wishes she didn’t.
“You always help, little bird,” Eudoxia replies.
Arete’s shoulders drop in relief. “You help too.”
Eudoxia hums with a smile too small for anyone but Arete to notice. Arete sticks out her tongue in response. She doesn’t seem disappointed that Eudoxia can’t bring herself to be silly back.
When Eudoxia holds out her hand, Arete takes it.
It’s enough.