Ophelia
“Think about it this way,” Alexander slurs, on what must be at least his fourth glass of wine. “No one is going to say ‘Alex the Great’. You say…” He motions for all of them to continue.
“Alexander the Great,” everyone choruses.
Alexander gestures emphatically. “Yes! And why would I sa—sacrifice ‘the great’ by calling myself Alex?”
Their goofiness reminds her of when she, Aika, and Dora used to—
No. She needs to stop thinking about this; about the pain Dora must have experienced wherever she ended up; about Aika’s eyes seeing for someone else at the bottom of the sea; about the fact that if the woman has Aika’s eyes, maybe she… she…
She’s driving herself crazy and she can’t afford to right now.
She needs to focus. On her plans. On her friends.
Alexander throws an arm around Kallias’ shoulders, which an adorably chatty Kallias takes as a cue to share an observation. “You know what else is dumb?”
Zeno smiles indulgently and asks, “What’s dumb?” His hand is on Eudoxia’s lower back where they sit together on his bed.
“The first Trial was a maze. A maze! And then this one is a labyrinth. You know what a labyrinth is?”
He looks to Alexander for the answer, but Alexander just stares back at him with big, pining eyes, so Ophelia yells, “Another word for maze.”
Kallias beams, with dimples and everything, and points at her. “Exactly! That is so derivative. A maze and a labyrinth? What kind of lazy idiot came up with that?”
Alexander finally finds it in himself to pitch in, apparently, because he says, “A stupid one.”
Kallias laughs sweetly.
Arete chatters loudly from the corner of the room where she and Lazarus are trying to learn a new technique with their tarot cards that will manifest future success.
They seem hilariously invested in their task.
Maybe Arete will help Lazarus experience being the kid he was clearly never allowed to be.
Zeno raises his cup of water and the nitwit boys on the floor clink their refilled glasses. “Cheers to the stupid idiot and their stupid maze that’s going to get us the Forms out of this place.”
“Hear, hear!” Ophelia says. Her grin has been widening over the night, and despite her constant grief, it’s genuine.
In fact, it’s probably blinding. It only grows when she sees Zeno drop his head on Eudoxia’s shoulder.
Eudoxia melts, leaning forward the tiniest bit to look at his face without jostling him.
Her smile is so soft that Ophelia has to roll her eyes.
She’s been looking at him like this since Zeno gave them a violin concert at the beginning of the night—the first one he’s given in a long time.
He’s been weirdly cagey about his violin recently.
Ophelia watches her best friend lean into Zeno’s ear and whisper something that makes him nod instantly.
“We’re going to do some extra training,” Eudoxia says, giving everyone a curtsy on her way to the door.
“You’re gonna train tipsy in the middle of the night?” Alexander teases.
“Gotta prepare for anything.” Zeno winks as he follows her out.
They close the door behind them, and Ophelia leans against the wall beside Zeno’s bed and groans, “They better kiss tonight.”
“You think they will?” Arete asks, jumping to her feet and displacing the tarot cards on the floor.
“We were just getting the hang of this,” Lazarus calls after her, and Arete snorts.
“You were just getting the hang of it. I’m already an expert. Right, Kallias?”
“Right,” Kallias says with a smirk, definitely just to frustrate Lazarus further.
“So you think they’re going to kiss?” Arete asks again.
“It’s about time.”
Alexander stands up with questionable stability and pulls Kallias with him. “It is about time. And speaking of time, Kallias and I are gonna use the last of ours studying the plan in the Library.”
“You’re gonna study tipsy in the middle of the night?” Ophelia echoes.
Alexander shakes his head. “No, we’re gonna study drunk in the middle of the night.”
Kallias impatiently puts a hand to the nape of Alexander’s neck and gives everyone his little salute.
“Goodnight,” he says, practically dragging Alexander out of the room. Alexander looks like he’s in paradise.
When the door shuts, it’s just her, Arete, and Lazarus left to giggle together. Well, Lazarus isn’t quite giggling—it’s more a huffed laugh—but she considers it a win.
“‘Study the plan,’” Lazarus mocks. “They’re ridiculous.”
“Very much so,” Ophelia says, motioning for Lazarus to come sit on the bed with her and Arete. It seems the three of them will be a unit while the others are off ‘training’ or ‘studying’ or whatever other coupley activities they come up with once they’ve all escaped the Academy.
“Well, what should we do?” Arete asks.
Usually she would concoct something in an instant—she’s always been good at that—but today she just stares down at her hands. They’re covered in cuts from working with the mirrors. She can only hope that her design will work, but without any way to test it, she has no way of knowing.
She’s startled out of her musings when Lazarus hums in thought. “Have you guys ever been to the cove?”
She and Arete both wince. “Yes,” Arete responds, quietly.
“Did you not like it?” Lazarus asks her.
“I loved it.”
“No one will be around right now,” Ophelia says. “We could go.”
“Really?” Arete asks.
Ophelia turns to Lazarus in question, and he nods. “It’s really nice at night. And very empty.”
Arete flies off the bed and takes both of their hands, dragging them to the door.
“Then let’s go!”
Ophelia laughs and Lazarus smiles softly at the ground. It’s so sweet she’s not sure what to do with it.
She’s not used to that feeling: not knowing what to do with someone. But even though Lazarus is an enigma to her, she finds that she actually quite likes him.
When they stumble out the door and onto the sand, she and Arete sprint right for the freezing water and Lazarus takes a seat somewhere behind them on the shore. It is, unsurprisingly, Arete’s idea to kick water at him until he gets soaked.
“Guys, it’s so cold,” he complains as Arete chases him down the shore.
“Get into the water, you big baby!” she screams.
He slings Arete over his shoulder and dunks her into the waves as retaliation until she’s nearly crying with laughter.
When they tire out, they float in the calm sea.
Ophelia tries not to think about the fact that somewhere, miles and miles below them, Aika’s stolen eyes are probably watching them.
“I’ve decided you’re my new brother, Lazzy,” Arete announces, blunt as ever.
Lazarus doesn’t even comment on the nickname, he looks so shocked.
“Okay,” he says after a moment’s hesitation.
Arete splashes around in a circle. “Do we have to go back soon?” she asks.
“Let’s just float a while,” Ophelia sighs contentedly. Quiet settles over them, as calming as the moonlight.
“I like it,” Lazarus says softly to her, barely audible over the lapping of waves, “the floating.”
“Me too,” she responds. “It’s nice to know that the only options aren’t to sink or swim.”
Silence follows before Lazarus whispers, “Yes. It is.”