The Thinara King

by Rebecca Lochlann

  His brows rose. He inhaled sharply as though he’d forgotten to breathe. “Soldiers in my country keep their hair short, for convenience.” His hand rose and covered hers. “Your hair too, is different.”

  She’d nearly forgotten. When had she last looked at her reflection? So long ago she couldn’t remember.

  “When I first met you,” he said, “you had only a topknot. You wove baubles through it.”

  She laughed.

  “After the Destruction, with your hair so short and with such small bones, you could have passed for a boy.” He shrugged. “You still could.” He moved his hand to her shoulder. “You’re no longer pale,” he said. “That terrified look is gone. All I want is to be with you, for as long as my moera allows. I want to live by your side. Do you trust me yet? Do you know I would do anything to protect you? That if you went over the edge of this cliff, I would follow and break your fall?”

  “Yes.” She scooted onto his lap and tucked her head under his chin, closing her eyes. “I do know.” She loved how he made love to her with his words. Every time he did, it pushed Harpalycus a little further away.

  Wind blew over them, clean, crisp, tasting of snow and pine. An eagle cried. Sunlight drenched them in a patchwork of yellow warmth.

  He will never leave me.

  Believing it changed everything. She forgot all that was, all that would be. For this brief space of time, suspended above the earth on a tremulous rock outcropping, she allowed his love to slip inside and press like healing unguent over her injuries.

  “Try this.” Menoetius offered her a bowl.

  He smiled. She hadn’t seen that smile since she was ten years old, and she knew by it that Carmanor had come back.

  The water’s purity made her smile, too. It no longer tasted of ash.

  “I see Crete recovering.” Menoetius squatted next to her pallet, resting one arm alongside her thigh. “As the snow melts, it carries ash into the rivers, then to the sea. Rain removes more. Little by little, the earth again grows fertile.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Aridela uncrossed her legs and stretched.

  “We’ll return to the lowlands and it will be as though none of it ever happened.”

  “Yes.” Fierce, hot desire shot through her.

  “You want to go back now,” he said. His eyes missed nothing.

  “You know I do.”

  Scowling, he stood up and strode away.

  She rose from the pallet, her heart sinking. The time had come.

  She’d known for days she had to do something. An end must be made to their mountain idyll, now, before another day passed and it grew harder, she grew weaker, and the child in her womb grew bigger. “I belong to the people of Kaphtor,” she said softly. “My life isn’t my own. If it were, if I weren’t queen, I would stay here with you.”

  He faced her, narrow-eyed, mouth tensed. “Would you?”

  “Go with me. Fight beside me. We will kill Harpalycus and rout his warriors.” She stretched out her hand, palm up. Hesitantly, he approached and clasped it. “I will make you judge or advisor,” she said, “and you will be at my side for the rest of my life. Chrysaleon loved and trusted you. Now that my consort is dead, I will have no other man but you, for as long as I am queen.”

  He frowned, but drew her close.

  She put her arms around his neck and stroked his hair. Menoetius possessed the softest hair she’d ever felt. It was thick, smooth, lacking even the slightest wave or curl, almost like the still surface of a lake.

  He held her face so she couldn’t turn away. “Are you saying you love me?”

  Tears burned her eyes and she had to swallow before she could answer. “I do love you.” She laid her hand against his crescent scar. Mark of the lion, of Athene. Mother, I have looked beneath the surface. I see what you wanted me to see. I wish it hadn’t taken so long.

  He saw her tears. He laughed. He crushed her against him, kissing her face, her eyelids, her throat, her mouth.

  She knew she had to convince him. Athene again demanded more than she could willingly give. Why couldn’t she ever be merely a woman? Her duty seemed more arduous than any other queen’s.

  Give me strength, Lady, if you want me to follow your will.

  But as she tried to form what to say, Menoetius picked her up and laid her on the pallet.

  He’d been patient last time, understanding of her confusion, her memories and grief. Twining his limbs around hers, he’d pulled her cheek to his throat and stroked her hair until she fell asleep. He’d been gone when she woke in the morning.

  No more waiting, his kisses now told her.

  She wanted him to wait no longer.

  The time for decision-making passed; their bodies even now were merging, dissolving into each other like two drops of rain. Another breath, and there would be no return. Her resolve disintegrated.

  “No, Menoetius,” she said, yet her arms kept him close. She kissed the skin next to his eye, feeling his lashes brush against her mouth. One more kiss. Then she would find a way to return to sanity and reason. To loneliness and duty. “Wait.”

  He opened his eyes, but they lacked comprehension. His hands slid between her thighs, coaxing them around his hips.

  “No,” she said, but it was faint, and held no weight. She returned his kisses and followed his rhythm, longing for what he sought to give.

  He took her earlobe between his teeth. “Why do you tell me ‘no’?” His right hand slipped along her ribs, over her drumming heart. His mouth followed.

  “I need you,” he said.

  “And I, too… but… I must… we must….”

  He stopped her with kisses, leaving no space for anything outside the cave, nothing beyond his love.

  She heard a voice. It seemed to come from outside; she didn’t know at first it was Athene, speaking through her.

  “Take me to Labyrinthos,” it said. “There I will give myself to you, freely and with love, every night, every morning.” She stroked his beard and kissed the edge of it, where his cheekbone began. “Come with me. Fight with me. When my country is free, no man will take your place. I will change our customs and laws to make it so.”

  He stared at her. Passion slowly faded.

  “You play with me,” he said, his voice at once despairing and graveled with rage. “To get what you want. You… rouse me, allow me to touch you, then you say no?” His teeth grated. “You think your ‘no’ will stop me?”

  His hand rose over her face. She cringed away from the blow. But instead he grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head.

  “What is to stop me?” he shouted. “Nothing. Do you think I’ve never raped a woman?” He shoved his knee between her legs. “Your life belongs to me. I’ve saved it not once but twice. You gave it to me. I saw it in your eyes that day at the harbor.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I did. But as a child. Chrysaleon won our Games—”

  “Chrysaleon! If I had been the one with you in the cave—”

  Rage and humiliation twisted his mouth. “If I were still that man….” He released her wrists as though they burned.

  “I don’t mean to trick you. I shouldn’t have let this go so far. I should be stronger. If I lie with you I will never leave this mountain. You’ll never let me leave. Weakness will be master of us both. It frightens me how much I want to stay.” Sobs rose in her throat, manifestations of this desire that wanted its own way, just for one night. They were like stones, and hurt as she swallowed them. She couldn’t lie to herself. If she gave in, it wouldn’t be for one night. “Please understand.”

  She tried to touch his face but he jerked away.

  “All that was has been stripped from me,” she said. “I stood at the overhang and saw my courage, too, die. If we mate, will my resolve go? Will I be nothing but selfish need? Is that what you want, of me and yourself?”

  He stared at her. He was an Achaean, a warrior nurtured on pride and conquest, from a land where women were considered property. He
’d already given her more than most men raised in such a way ever would.

  He still didn’t know that within her grew a child. That most likely it was the offspring of Harpalycus. There were ways to stop it, but not here. She needed birthwort and other herbs, which were dried and kept in containers at Labyrinthos, if any still existed, if Rhené, the healer who knew about such things, still lived. There was only so much time before it was too late.

  Before the day came when he would see, and there would be no hiding it any longer.

  She didn’t want him to see.

  Nothing can ever part us, stated the vow they somehow, incredibly, shared. Menoetius, knowing Harpalycus, would assume he’d raped her, but as long as her belly didn’t grow, he could pretend it hadn’t happened. Aridela knew, with all her woman’s instincts, that their vow couldn’t survive Harpalycus’s living, expanding seed.

  She hardened herself, tensing her muscles, routing tender thoughts. Speaking with the clear coldness of a queen who would be obeyed, she said, “You forced me away from my people. You had to bind me to keep me here. You knew I would leave if I could. I belong to Goddess Athene, not to you. I am Goddess-of-Life-in-Death. It is through me that man is made sacred. Rape me, but if you do, I will never give myself to you. You will be forced to rape me, like Harpalycus, until I escape or die, and I will bear no child from your seed.”

  Shudder after shudder ran through him. His teeth ground audibly. She doubted if he’d even heard her.

  “Do you think I don’t know what your father ordered you to do?” she said. “He told you to find a way to destroy us. And you would have, if Harpalycus hadn’t done it first.”

  He stared at her. “You think that? I wouldn’t have let it happen. I would have found a way to stop it. Even if it meant my own death. But you won’t believe me.”

  Her heart told her he spoke the truth. But she remained silent. She had to make him want to let her go. She had to kill his ardor, perhaps even his allegiance.

  His breathing slowed. The anger in his eyes dulled.

  She bit her lips viciously to keep from denying everything she’d just said, to stop from begging him to kiss her again.

  He leaped off the pallet and paced, pivoting when forced by the walls of the cave. His hands clenched and unclenched. He didn’t look at her.

  She sat up. “Menoetius.”

  He didn’t respond. “Carmanor,” she said, softly.

  He stopped but kept his face averted.

  “You returned my desire to live. With it came my obligation. If you didn’t want me to fight, you should have let me die. My mother tried to warn me many times. The people are my covenant. Everything else comes after.”

  He spat out something in his language, words she didn’t know. He turned then and seized her arms. She struggled, but even using all her strength he overpowered her. He bound her wrists behind her back, then her ankles, and straightened. She couldn’t find the Menoetius she knew in those eyes.

  He left the cave.

  The oil lamps sputtered and went out. No sound broke the stillness in the cave but for the endless echoing drip of water. Though she struggled until her flesh bled, Aridela couldn’t loosen the bonds.

  She grew hungry. Thirsty.

  Why do I not feel your death, Chrysaleon?

  Menoetius must have decided to leave her to die slowly, of starvation. Maybe it was what she deserved.

  At last she heard the scuffing of his boots in the outer cave. He stopped. She heard a faint sound, like a sigh.

  “Menoetius,” she cried. “Untie me. How can you be so cruel?”

  “Aridela?”

  She struggled to rise onto her elbows as a nest of angry bees erupted into a deafening swarm in her head. “Who is it?” she said, scarcely able to project the question. Perhaps she had died, for that voice sounded like the one she most desired to hear and knew she never would.

  More echoing steps. “Keep speaking,” he said, his voice muffled by the rock wall. “Where are you? How do I find you?”

  “It cannot be,” she said. Louder, she asked, “Velchanos? Have you come to take me to my Mother’s land? I must be mad from despair.”

  “I am neither spirit nor god,” came the bodiless reply, tinged with that arrogant amusement she’d always found so compelling. “I am a tired, frozen man who has searched endless days for you.” There was an abrupt sound of stumbling, followed by a curse. “Themiste promised the Lady would guide me to you. Speak, Aridela. I can’t see how to get through this wall.”

  “It’s a hole at the floor, in the corner. You’ll find it if you get on your knees. My heart is breaking with happiness.”

  The grate of his boots echoed as he crawled through the opening. One groping hand touched her wrist. The other fumbled over the pallet and ran up her leg.

  “Why do you lie here like this, alone in the dark? Are you hurt?”

  “He binds me when he leaves. Hurry, Chrysaleon. He’s been gone so long. Cut the straps.”

  His hands examined her face then ran down her arms to the thongs on her wrists. “Who binds you? Menoetius?”

  “Hurry,” she said. “I’ll explain when we’re gone from here.”

  Muttering a colorful string of curses, he slit the tethers with his knife and scooped her into his arms.

  Aridela wrapped her arms and legs around him and drew in deep breaths of his chilled skin. “Hurry,” she said, though all she wanted was to stay there, pressed against him, without care or thought.

  He set her on her feet. They felt their way to the entry hole and shimmied through to the middle chamber, where faint shafts of palest daylight filtered in, allowing them a dim view of each other.

  She threw her arms around him again. “Chrysaleon, you’re alive. Chrysaleon. Chrysaleon.” Weeping, laughing, she traced the softness of his brows and lashes, the hardness of his jaw, his wiry, springy beard. “You’re alive.”

  “With Themiste’s help.”

  “Themiste lives?”

  “Oh yes. She commands a well-organized rebellion. Given enough time, she and her followers could defeat Harpalycus. She has your cousin Neoma with her. They’ve charged me to bring you as quickly as possible, as did many others. Selene is here, not far away. She’s been searching for you. It will give me great pleasure to show her I am the better scout.”

  Giggles flowed from her throat like spring torrents through a gorge.

  Neoma. Selene. Themiste.

  “I have much to tell you,” he said. “Harpalycus abandoned Natho. He took his men and left for Knossos after losing Themiste then me.” Cold contempt rang through his laugh. “Themiste’s spies know more about Harpalycus and his invasion than he does, I’d wager. They learned early on that he hasn’t near enough soldiers. Rebellions and attacks are making his occupation impossible to maintain. It’s a matter of time, Aridela. Soon he’ll be gone or dead. You will sit upon your throne again, and I will be there beside you.”

  His news, meant to bolster her, did the opposite. Worry crept through her mind. She knew she should tell him of Harpalycus’s boasts about King Eurysthenes and reinforcements from the mainland, but as she gazed into his face, worries and fears were suffocated beneath joy. She dropped to her knees, pulling him down with her. “Chrysaleon….” She pushed at the thick furs he wore, weeping as she leaned into him and pressed her mouth to the side of his neck.

  He slipped his hands beneath her tunic and felt her shoulders and arms, putting her slightly away to ask, “What is this? There is no flesh on you, only bones. Has he starved you as well?”

  “I will eat now,” she said, her voice breaking. “I now have reason to eat. It’s good fortune to join inside the womb of the Goddess. Love me, Chrysaleon; I cannot bear to wait.”

  He had her pressed to the cave floor and her clothing pulled away before she finished her demand. The curved rock walls and stalactites threw back the sounds of their union in satisfying echoes.

  “Come,” he said, after their need was sated, thei
r breathing had slowed, and they had kissed until their lips were swollen. “Let me take you from here. Labyrinthos needs you.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Take me home, Chrysaleon.”

  They emerged into the sunlight, holding hands. Aridela knelt and scooped up handfuls of rich, wet earth, the sudden intensity of light making her eyes sting. Thank you, my Lady. Thank you.

  “By the storms of Hippos, you’re skinny,” Chrysaleon interrupted. “Anyone would take you for a half-starved peasant boy.”

  “That’s a good plan.” She laughed. “I shall travel to Labyrinthos as a boy. Harpalycus himself might not recognize me.”

  “Could Menoetius find no meat?” he asked. “Have the two of you been starving? Where is he? Why were you lashed like a sacrificial dog?”

  “After I was told you were dead, no effort he made could force me to eat. I didn’t care to go on living. I have not made things so easy for your brother, Chrysaleon—yes, I know he’s your brother. He told me. Menoetius did the best he could. I don’t know where he is. I haven’t seen him for… a long while. Perhaps some misfortune came his way.”

  Chrysaleon shifted the bow over his shoulder and glanced across the silent, barren summits looming on every side. “I feel an uneasiness here, like a curse. Let us leave this place.”

  They fled down the slope to the east. Toward home.

  The water in the creek was glacially cold, but it felt so good to wash away the dust and grit that Aridela didn’t care. She splashed her arms, face, and hair, scrubbing until she felt clean. Then she leaned against a boulder drenched in rusty orange light from the setting sun, shivering, combing through her wet hair with her fingers and watching Chrysaleon’s horse swish its tail and graze a patch of sweet grass in the protective lee of a fallen pine. Though he’d sworn Harpalycus and his men were long gone, it was hard to relax, and she jumped, startled and nervous, at every sound.

  Chrysaleon had gone off to hunt their supper. Satisfaction exuded from him; he took great enjoyment in reminding her that he’d only been in the area three days, while Selene and her supporters had been combing the mountains for a month.