by Rebecca Ross
“Evadne,” Halcyon breathed, looking to where Evadne’s right foot peeked out from her hem. “Your ankle still troubles you?”
Evadne froze for a beat. It almost seemed like she was embarrassed, ashamed of it.
“Oh. No, not usually. Only in the cold seasons.”
Evadne resumed walking—she was trying to conceal her limp, and that vexed Halcyon—but she handed over the food and ale, and Halcyon sensed she did not want to talk about it.
They sat side by side on Evadne’s bed, the wax tablet resting between them, and Halcyon began to search the sack. She had been surviving on berries and nuts and stolen chickpeas the past week, and occasionally a fish or a hare if she had the time to hunt, which was slim with the commander pursuing her. Her mouth watered when she drew out a honey cake. One of her favorites. She ate slowly, savoring it, listening to the rain tap against the shutters, knowing she should ration the food. But she drew out a pair of figs next and devoured them both without a second thought.
Evadne was quiet. She traced the wax symbols of Haleva and then asked, “Why did you arrive early, Hal? Why did you crawl through my window?”
Halcyon swallowed the last of the figs and knotted the sack. It was time, she knew. She drank a few sips of ale from the flask, remembering the speech she had practiced.
“I’m in trouble, Eva.”
Evadne patiently waited for an explanation. When it failed to come, she said, “Yes, I gathered that much. What kind of trouble?”
Halcyon let out a breath. “I cannot tell you the details. No matter how much I want to.”
“You do not trust me?”
The words cut, but Halcyon parried them quickly. “I trust you with my life, Evadne. That is why I chose your window to climb through.”
Evadne glanced away, distressed.
Halcyon sighed and reached for her hand. “I do not tell you because I want to protect you.”
“And what are you protecting me from?”
“Look at me, Eva.”
It took her a moment, but Evadne brought her eyes to Halcyon’s.
“Tomorrow he will arrive here,” Halcyon whispered and felt the corresponding tightness in Evadne’s grip.
“‘He’? Who do you speak of?”
“The commander of my legion. Lord Straton.” Halcyon hesitated for a beat. “Eight days ago, I committed a crime. I did not intend for it to happen, but it did, and my hand bears the guilt of it.”
“What—”
“I am not going to tell you the crime, Eva. And it is not because I mistrust you, but because he must not know you aided me. When Lord Straton arrives, he will tell you what I have done, and why he is hunting me, and you must be surprised, as our parents will be. Or else he will know you helped me. Do you understand?”
Evadne was silent, but Halcyon could hear her breaths quicken. “You have been running from him. For eight days?”
Halcyon nodded. It was an astounding feat that she had outwitted and outrun Lord Straton with only her canteen and her kopis. Again, she imagined him camped somewhere near, scowling at the storm, asking himself, Where would she run?
By dawn, he would know. He would realize how close he was to Isaura, and he would come.
“What if you remained here, Hal? To speak with your commander when he comes tomorrow? If the crime was an accident, as you said, surely your commander will understand.”
“No. He will not, Eva. If he catches me . . .” She could not finish it. Partly because the image truly terrified her, and partly because she had no inkling what Straton would do.
Evadne’s face went blank, like she was drifting into shock. “He would not kill you, would he?”
And Halcyon, as much as she wanted to, could not lie. “I do not know, Eva. That is why he must not catch me.”
Evadne stood and paced in a circle. But she finally came to a stop before Halcyon, her voice husky as she whispered, “I can hide you, Halcyon. You remember the sea caves on the coast? Where Lysander slipped and broke his arm? I can take you there now.”
Gently, Halcyon answered, “That is a generous offer, Eva. But you must not hide me. Lord Straton will know if you do, and he will not be kind in prying the truth from you. I must run, and you cannot know where I go.”
She expected Evadne to object. But her sister surprised her again. “What more do you need? Food? A different set of clothes? We can disguise you.”
Halcyon almost took the offer, her hand going to the anchor of her cuirass, eager to shed it. “But my armor . . . Where could you hide it, Eva?”
Evadne bit her lip, glancing around their room. There was nowhere to hide it. Halcyon could not leave a trace.
“I should keep it with me,” she said, standing. “And you have brought me more than enough food, Sister. Thank you.”
Evadne did not look convinced. The food would last another day, maybe. Halcyon could tell by the weight of the sack. But she could not risk Evadne pilfering more from the storeroom. Their mother might notice.
Evadne walked to the window to open the shutters. The wind and rain blew in, tangling her long hair.
Halcyon followed, her sandals leaving dirty tracks on the wet floor.
“Will I see you again?” Evadne whispered, fearful, as they stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the night.
“Yes. When it is safe for me to return home, I will. I swear it.”
Evadne stared into the storm, unable to say goodbye.
Halcyon crawled up to the windowsill. But she glanced back to Evadne and whispered, “Do not be afraid, Little Sister.”
Evadne drew in a sharp breath, but if she was intending to speak again, Halcyon would never know.
She dropped from the ledge, catching herself on the vine that grew up the villa wall. Down she went, scaling and slipping against the wet stones, but she soon found the ground and stood in the downpour, gaining her bearings.
Lightning forked across the sky, illuminating the mountains that rose on Isaura’s northern border.
Halcyon began to walk to them, thunder shaking the ground. She could hear the groaning of the grove, branches swaying and leaves rustling in the storm, and when she sensed that Evadne could no longer see her, she fell to her knees in the mud and sobbed.
She had been holding it in her chest for days, ever since the accident happened. Suppressing it, as if the emotion would fade. Weeping now gave her some relief, but not enough to dull the ache in her heart.
Do not look back, Halcyon told herself, dashing rain and tears from her face. She knew she would see Evadne’s shutters still open, her sister framed in golden firelight. She knew she would crawl back to her.
So Halcyon rose, set her eyes on the dark ridge of the northern mountains, and ran.
IV
Evadne
Straton arrived as Halcyon said he would, just as the sun began its descending arc in the sky. Evadne was in the garden with Maia, harvesting herbs in the shade of the villa, when they heard the distant clattering of hooves on the road. Evadne stopped working, her fingers lost in a tangle of oregano. She could feel the tremble in the earth as the commander approached their home. A steady, angry rhythm.
She tilted her face away from Maia to hide the fear that furrowed her brow.
“That must be Halcyon!” Maia cried, jumping to her feet with a broad smile. “Come, Eva!” She hurried down the stone walkway that curved to the courtyard. Evadne slowly rose.
The villa was suddenly a whirl of shouts and excited pattering of sandaled feet. Gregor and Uncle Nico came running from the grove; Phaedra and Aunt Lydia flew down the path from the press. Even Lysander darted from the barn, straw clinging to his clothes.
Evadne was the last to arrive to the courtyard.
The gates were open, anticipating Halcyon’s return. Gregor and Phaedra stood at the forefront, arms wound about one another, eagerly awaiting something that would never come.
Just when Evadne thought the suspense would break her, the commander arrived, trotting through t
he gates into Isaura’s courtyard, mounted on the greatest horse Evadne had ever seen. In his shadow were ten other hoplites, their horses lathered like foam from the sea. The warriors were heavily armored; it was painful to look upon them as the sunlight reflected off their bronze greaves, breastplates, and helms. They bore swords, kopises, quivers of arrows, bows, axes, and spears among their traveling supplies.
What had Halcyon done to warrant such a hunt?
“Is my daughter with you, Lord?” Gregor asked, studying the faces of the hoplites that had encircled them. “We are eager to see her again.”
Straton was silent. He took his gaze from Gregor, his eyes examining the family, one by one. He was, likewise, searching for Halcyon. His helm was crested with black-and-white horsehair; the wind teased it when his gaze finally settled on Evadne. And there it lingered, measuring her face.
Evadne went cold with dread.
“I was about to ask the very same of you, Gregor of Isaura,” the commander said, removing his scrutiny from Evadne. “Halcyon is not among us, but perhaps one of you or your kin has seen her this morning, or the night before?”
“No, we have not seen her yet, Lord. She is expected to arrive this evening.”
“Indeed,” Straton said wryly. “As we are both waiting for her, perhaps my warriors and I may sup with you tonight, to celebrate Halcyon’s homecoming.”
Gregor and Phaedra exchanged a furtive glance. They finally sensed something was amiss.
“Of course, Lord,” Phaedra said, her voice pleasant despite the sudden strain in the air. “Come inside and refresh yourselves.”
Straton dismounted, and Lysander stumbled forward to take his horse to the barn. The commander looked at Evadne again. He knew she was Halcyon’s sister. That was why he continued to scrutinize her. He lifted his hand, giving a signal to his warriors.
The hoplites paired into five groups and turned their horses back to the gates, cantering to the south, the north, the east, and the west of Isaura. Evadne knew they were riding to search the hillsides and the grove.
Run, Halcyon, Evadne prayed. Run swiftly, Sister.
“What are they doing?” Maia mused aloud.
Lydia pivoted and grasped the girls’ arms, guiding them to the villa door. “Make haste, the two of you. Go wash and don your celebration clothes and then come to the kitchen and help us prepare Halcyon’s feast.”
“But Halcyon is not here yet,” Maia objected.
“Do as I say,” Lydia replied firmly, but she was not looking at Maia; she was looking at Evadne.
And all Evadne could think was her aunt had noticed the missing food.
Evadne entered the villa, going directly to the wash bucket. She was filthy from the gardens and scrubbed her hands, anxious to feel something other than dread.
“Do you think Halcyon is in trouble?” Maia whispered as she stood beside Evadne, their elbows bumping.
Evadne avoided Maia’s gaze. “I do not know.”
She left her cousin to wash, moving as fast as she could up the stairs to her bedchamber.
Halcyon’s blankets were wrinkled from when she had briefly lain down on her bed. Evadne rushed to refold and straighten them. And then she noticed the floor. Sunlight poured in through the open window, illuminating Halcyon’s footprints on the tiles.
Evadne stripped off her chiton and dipped it into her pot of water, falling to her knees to scrub the prints away, angry and heartsick. This was not how this day was to unfold.
Once the floor was clean, Evadne opened her oaken chest and found her best chiton, the one she had been saving for tonight. It was white, its hem patterned with a green vine. The most adorned of all her garments. She donned it, cinching it with her leather belt before reaching for the two brass brooches her mother had bought her as a gift. They were fashioned as olive wreaths, and Evadne fastened her chiton at the shoulders with the pins, her hands trembling.
Do not be afraid, Little Sister.
She looked out the window. In the distance, the Dacia Mountains rose like the knuckles of a god’s hand. Evadne wondered if Halcyon had fled to those mountains to hide, but then she thought how foolish that would be, because of Mount Euthymius.
Mount Euthymius was the tallest summit in the kingdom, and even though Evadne could not see it from her window in Isaura, she knew the Dacia ridge answered to it. No one wanted to live in the shadow of Euthymius, where fears manifested and had the power to roam the land as phantoms, where the door to the Underworld could be found in the mountain’s vast heart.
As a girl, Evadne had been terrified of the summit, as all the children of Corisande were taught to be. Euthymius, god of earth and beasts, had laid claim to it centuries ago, during the era when the nine divines dwelled among mortals. Euthymius’s brother, Pyrrhus, god of fire, had foolishly taken stones from the mountains and breathed his fire into them, leaving the “ember stones” as relics throughout the kingdom, much to the adoration of common people, who could now spark fire effortlessly. Soon, more people worshipped Pyrrhus than they did Euthymius, and Euthymius grew jealous and irate that his brother had used pieces of the earth for his magical fire. He began to devise a way to make Pyrrhus pay.
It did not take long.
Pyrrhus wanted a passage forged below the earth, so he could create his dream of an Underworld. Euthymius and his sister Loris, goddess of water, made an agreement with Pyrrhus, that they would carve into the mountain’s heart and create a door for him. But in order for Pyrrhus to reach the door, he had to pass through layers of earth and water, and it swallowed all his fire. He was the only god still earthbound, trapped behind his own door in the mountain ironically named after his brother. As such, his rage could still be felt from time to time, in the trembling of the earth. And all the temples throughout the kingdom—even those where Euthymius was worshipped—never let their fire burn out like Pyrrhus had.
Evadne closed her shutters. She shivered, as she always did when she thought of Mount Euthymius and the god of fire trapped beneath the ground.
No, Halcyon would not run to the mountains. Even she had been afraid of Mount Euthymius, Evadne thought as she returned to the main floor of the villa.
She could feel Straton’s presence like a shadow had fallen over them. Evadne began to walk the corridor to the kitchen until she heard her father speaking.
“I must ask, Lord Straton. Why have you come here for Halcyon? Has my daughter done something to merit this visit?”
The men were in the common room. The doors were ajar; Evadne paused in the shadow of the threshold, listening.
“I think we should wait and let Halcyon answer that herself, when she arrives,” the commander said.
He had no doubt his warriors would find her, would drag her home in shame.
Evadne gritted her teeth, hating him in that moment.
She went to the kitchen where her mother, Aunt Lydia, and Maia were already at work bringing out bowls of fruit and warming flatbread on the cooking brazier.
No one spoke.
Evadne opened the cellar door to bring up two jugs of ale. When she returned to the kitchen, Gregor was waiting for her.
“Pupa.” Her father sounded terribly calm. “Lord Straton wants to speak to you. Serve him a cup of ale, answer his questions, and then return here at once. This is nothing to fret over. You are blameless.”
But she was not blameless.
Evadne found the nicest goblet from the cupboard and filled it with ale. Her family watched, frozen as statues in a temple, and perhaps that was why she was able to move with grace, because she knew what was about to happen.
She entered the common room.
The commander sat on her father’s bench, his legs outstretched, crossed at the ankles. Mud freckled his armor, and his weapons were laid out around him. He had finally removed his helm, and Evadne could see his face.
Straton’s brow was heavy, his cheeks pronounced. His skin was weathered from the sun and scarred from blades. His dark hair was croppe
d short, shot through with silver. Even motionless and quiet, his presence commanded the room.
Evadne brought him the refreshment. In her sudden anxiousness, the ale sloshed over the side of the cup. The amber drops gathered on the commander’s scar-flecked hand—and his hand was huge, one that could effortlessly squeeze life from a throat.
Evadne envisioned it gripping Halcyon’s neck, and she froze before him.
“Sit, child.” His voice was surprisingly gentle.
He took the cup, and Evadne sat directly across from him. She tried to relax, but with Straton watching her . . . she felt like a mouse beneath the gaze of a hawk.
“Halcyon spoke of you often at the camp,” the commander said.
“She did?”
“Yes. Her little sister, Evadne. The two of you were very close, before she left to train in Abacus.”
Evadne swallowed. What had Halcyon told him?
He was waiting for her to respond.
So she nodded, words caught in her throat as she tried to anticipate what he would say next. She noticed his gaze flickered to her right foot, nearly hidden beneath the tumble of vine-laden hem.
“She told me how she saved your life that day, long ago. It was right before she joined my legion, so she would have been twelve, which made you what? Nine years old, Evadne?” Straton raised his eyes to hers again; they were a shade of blue, and they burned. It was like staring at the sky that ringed the sun, and it was difficult to hold his gaze, but Evadne did, refusing to look away from him.
And he pitched her back in time.
Halcyon had just beaten the vile boy of Dree in a fighting match, and she and Evadne and Maia and Lysander were walking the road home with the swagger of champions. They passed a shepherd and his dog, and the dog had not seemed right, relentlessly barking at the children, straining at his leash. Evadne had been afraid, but the dog was bound and the shepherd apologized and the children had continued onward.
But the dog had gotten loose and chased after them.
Lysander and Maia had crouched down, huddled beside a tree, but Evadne had run, despite Halcyon shouting at her not to. The dog had gone for her ankle, and she could still feel its teeth sinking into her skin, the way it had jerked and snapped her around, as if she was weightless.
