Chapter 21 Aethra #2
The inn was quiet upstairs, emptied for the night. Seth ground to a halt when he saw I made for the door.
“No.” He pulled out of my grip. “Not while I’m dressed like this.”
“Put on a cloak. This can’t wait.” I insisted.
Seth threw up his hands and stalked up the stairs, returning shortly with a heavy black mantle he flipped over his head. “What, exactly, is so important?”
Fastening my satchel, I pushed open the door. “You’ll see.”
“Seraphim’s going to kill you,” he muttered. Whistling, he summoned Whisper before following me outside.
We weren’t going far. A river cut through the city, and a section of its bank was surrounded by trees—a little hidden nook. Weaving through alleys to avoid drawing attention, I found the copse behind a gathering of small houses and slipped through the trees.
Seth chuckled as he followed me. “I used to hide out here.”
“Really?” I asked, brightening.
“Mhm. Cerys and I played here once.” He stared into the rushing water, reflecting on memories from years ago. Kneeling, he picked up a stick and tossed it across the glade for Whisper. “This is Whisper’s first time here. I picked him up in Cynthus, shortly after my exile.”
“How did you survive the crossing?” I wondered, watching Whisper fetch the branch.
“We have a boat for exiles, too,” Seth said. “Not that it gets used often.” He reached down and retrieved the slobbery stick.
Opening my satchel, I pulled out the small gift I’d prepared: Two paper boats. Holding them up, I showed them to him.
Seth smiled. “Cute. What are those?”
“They’re for you.” I lowered them, glancing at the river.
“In Serifos, we have a tradition for funerals. We set boats on the water and let them drift away. They’re following the source home, back to the Maiden.
” Looking down, I shrugged. “These aren’t quite as nice, but I’m not much of a craftsman, and . . . this was all I had.”
Seth’s brows fell, and he took the little boats from me gently. He stared at them, lost in thought.
“Do you believe in an afterlife here?” I asked.
He nodded. “We think this land is a kind of . . . purgatory, I suppose. The divines wait in the beyond for the worthy, having left their blessed children to govern.” He blinked a few times, fighting away tears. “There was no funeral. There never is, for maidens.”
“Let’s hold one, then.”
Kneeling by the shore, he held up one boat, as if reluctant to set it loose.
“I think Ma’at would be proud of you,” I offered.
“She wouldn’t,” Seth said somberly. “I was a different man back then. She knew about her magic long before Father found out and trained me to inherit her seat. I disregarded her lessons. In my head, she was immortal—she’d lived for centuries, and would live for centuries more.”
“And she was a psyche?”
“Mhm,” he chuckled. “We would talk behind Father’s back, behind the court’s back . . .” Sighing, he set the little boat on the waves. “I might not be a lord, but I can try to save the world for her.” He grinned. “And crush Father’s arrogance in the making.”
I took his hand as the little funeral boat made its way down the river, toward the beyond. “What was Cassandra like?”
“Simple,” he said, laughing. “Actually, kind of like Percy. She and her parents couldn’t read or write. I tried to teach her, but she insisted stories were best told by bards, and words were for stuffy record keepers.”
“Can Percy read, come to think of it?”
“Good question.” Seth smiled.
Curious, I leaned forward. “Are you allowed to court commoners here?”
“No. I didn’t get to see her much because of my duties. Ma’at kept our secret, though.” He set the boat down on the water. “I always wondered if she blamed me. How she felt when she realized I wasn’t coming for her.”
“If she loved you, she never would have blamed you. Never.”
His lids fell heavily over his eyes. “I hope you’re right.”
“Do you think I should blame myself for Ainwir’s death?”
“No,” he said firmly. “Of course not.”
“Then you should forgive yourself. You did everything you could.”
He sat quietly, eyes cast downward. “Ten years, wallowing in self-pity.” Laughing bitterly, he watched the boat. “She and Percy would have been the best of friends.”
“In another life,” I said.
“If there is one,” he agreed. Cassandra’s boat drifted away, joining Ma’at’s on their journey. “Thank you,” he said softly.
Squeezing his hand, I sat with him in silence. I could feel his thoughts hanging over me like a shroud. Raw, tearing grief. The pain of farewells.
But also the beginnings of calm that followed acceptance.
I remembered that feeling—one day, I’d awoken and finally accepted Ainwir’s betrayal. That he was gone.
One day, I’d accept his passing—when his ghost left me alone.
Deciding to give Seth space, I squeezed his hand and stood. Running a hand across Whisper’s back, I quietly ordered him to stay with his master. Shifting closer to Seth, the hound rested his big head on the prince’s lap.
Slipping out of the grove, I followed the stone roads back to the inn. A glint of fire caught my eyes, and I slowly raised my head, knowing who I’d find.
Seraphim stood under a lantern post, arms folded.
“I can explain,” I started, raising my hands.
“Is it true?” Seraphim asked. “Phaedrus leapt to Eleos’ defense, in the square?”
Relieved I wasn’t in trouble, I lowered my arms. “I was a little out of it, but from what I recall, yes. He helped save us all.”
Rubbing her forehead, Seraphim slid a hand down her face. “It’s like being with my brother again. Like nothing happened.”
“So he was always a sarcastic ass?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “Just like his son.” Her eyes brightened. “Have you done anything fun since we left Ikaria?”
“No,” I chuckled. “I never did anything fun in Ikaria, either.”
“New orders. I’m stealing you.” Taking my wrist, she hauled me back to the inn. Percy trotted down the steps as we entered, and she locked eyes with him. “Come here. I need you.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Percy wondered.
“And get your lute!” Seraphim yelled as she dragged me down to the basement.
She released me to relight the lantern, and I sat on the table’s edge. “Are we singing a round?”
“No!” She struck a flame and hung the lantern up. “I never shared my hobby with you.”
“Maiming men?”
“That’s second best.” She grinned wickedly. Clearing her throat, she bowed and extended her hand. “Shall we dance?”
My eyebrows flew up. “You dance?”
“I do,” she said, maintaining her pose. “And I’ve been told you don’t.”
“I never needed to learn,” I said, taking her hand. “Prolonged dancing with noblemen would have just gotten me caught.”
“Well, you need to learn now.” Seraphim placed a hand on my back. “You are in love with a prince.”
“I’m not—” I protested.
Laughing, Seraphim looked up as Percy descended, lute in hand. “Play whatever you like. Something rousing would be good.”
“Ooh, are we dancing?” Percy’s tone changed—he sounded like he had back on the Merchant Isles—happy and carefree.
It struck me, then, how somber we’d become since arriving here.
“I have just the thing.” Grabbing a stool, Percy hopped up on it and strummed an opening chord.
“Follow my lead,” Seraphim whispered, guiding me to the tune.
Grinning, I followed her movements, twirling around our little makeshift dance floor. I still couldn’t dance well, but Seraphim was an easy teacher to follow.
She moved with grace, and I could just imagine her in her youth, dancing with her wife like this.
Relaxing, I opened my mind to hers. So much sorrow drowned her in its depths. A tiny fire blazed at her core, fragile and flickering, yet bright as the sun.
Percy finished his first song, and Seraphim dipped me. I giggled when she dramatically pulled me to my feet.
“Do you know a waltz?” Seraphim asked Percy.
Scoffing, he ran his fingers along the lute’s strings. “What do you take me for, madam?”
Leaning forward, Percy began a quick-tempo tune—the kind nobles played in their courts. I’d never imagined myself dancing to one. Grasping Seraphim’s hand, I gave her my rapt attention.
“Alright, ready?” Seraphim said. “Follow my lead.”
Following the three-step pattern, I pretended I was a princess and she was the queen. Our hair flowed around us, and I imagined dresses to accompany, swirling across the floor.
In another life, perhaps my foolish daydreams could come true.
I noticed Eleos leaning on the doorway, watching us. A thin smile touched his lips, but despair shadowed his eyes.
Eleos had never worn that expression before.
A sob caught in my throat, and I forced it away.
Death awaited us, but I wanted so badly for us to live. To find happiness, together, when all this was over. Our strange little band.
But, gods. We wouldn’t.
We wouldn’t.