by Rebecca Ross
Gregor seemed struck motionless, staring down at Halcyon. The joy of reunion was dimming into fear, disbelief as the family realized how ill Halcyon was. As they listened to her labor to breathe.
“Nico, you go,” Aunt Lydia said to her husband. “Now!” Tears gleamed in her eyes.
The men departed the chamber, closing the door behind them. And the women began to undress Halcyon.
“Mother . . .” Halcyon whispered.
“I am here, love,” Phaedra said, caressing Halcyon’s hollow cheeks. “I am going to take care of you. Close your eyes and rest.”
Halcyon obeyed, resting her head on one of the pillows, closing her eyes.
Evadne cut away Halcyon’s tunic, Phaedra unwrapped her wounds, and Aunt Lydia and Maia prepared a bowl of water.
Despite everything Evadne had just gone through, it was one of the worst moments she had experienced: to witness her mother behold Halcyon’s poor state of health.
“Lydia?” Phaedra said, serene although her hands were shaking. “Will you go fetch my pot of salve and one of my old chitons? We can shred it into new bandages.”
Lydia moved at once, slipping from the room. And Evadne noticed that Maia was trying her best not to weep as she stared at Halcyon, her face crumpling. Evadne took her cousin’s arm. “Can you bring down a fresh set of clothes for Halcyon?”
Maia nodded and was gone, and it was only Phaedra, Evadne, and Halcyon.
Quietly, they bathed her, minding Halcyon’s raw forearms. Evadne could see the countless questions in her mother’s gaze, but she held them captive.
Halcyon’s eyes fluttered open. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed, shallow and wet.
“I know, I look terrible . . .” she rasped.
“You are beautiful, Halcyon. So beautiful.” Phaedra stroked Halcyon’s face again.
Evadne sensed that she should leave. They needed a moment alone.
She departed the chamber, closing the twin doors behind her only to discover her father in the corridor. He stood against the wall, arms crossed, waiting.
“Father?”
“I need to know everything, Pupa,” Gregor murmured. “Did you sneak Halcyon from the quarry? Are you fugitives? How did your sister come to be so ill? Was it Lord Straton? I will kill that man if he ever steps foot on my lands again.”
Evadne hesitated. What could she possibly say to her father? She could not tell him everything. Not yet. She would have to tell him bits and pieces.
She reached out to touch Gregor’s arm. “Father . . . I . . .”
She noticed Uncle Ozias from the corner of her eye, tentatively approaching.
“Uncle Ozias,” she breathed, and when he held out his arms, she went to him.
He embraced her, holding her tight for a moment. He was just as she remembered him being, save for the long scar on the right side of his face. His chiton smelled of sun and smoke, and she wondered where he had been for the past ten years. Why he had stayed away so long. She felt Kirkos’s relic beneath her tunic, and she stiffened, hoping he could not feel it.
“How you have grown, Evadne! The last time I saw you, you did not even reach my elbow,” Ozias said, pulling back so he could study her. “Gregor said you favored him, and yet I could not imagine it. But now I see . . . he was right.”
Gregor was still overwhelmed, trying not to cry. Evadne glanced to her father, watched him run his hand through his messy hair.
“Yes,” Evadne said, looking back to her uncle. “I am happy you have returned home.”
There was an awkward beat of silence. Ozias cleared his throat and said, “I know, I have been away for too long. But when I heard the news of Halcyon and how you had left Isaura to take a portion of her sentence . . . I wanted to come home. To see my brothers.”
Evadne’s heart warmed, and she was opening her mouth to say more when Lydia and Maia returned to the corridor, bearing fresh clothes and bandages and warm tea for Halcyon.
“I will tell you everything soon, Father,” Evadne promised Gregor. She began to follow her aunt and cousin into the common room when Ozias took a gentle hold of her arm.
“Wait, Evadne.”
She paused, expectant as she looked at her uncle.
Ozias glanced down the corridor, where Uncle Nico and Lysander stood, curious. “I told Nico not to ride for the healer.”
“Why?” A flash of anger coursed through Evadne.
Ozias’s eyes shifted nervously. From Gregor’s scowl to Evadne’s anger to Nico’s and Lysander’s confusion. “When you have finished dressing Halcyon, will you invite us back into the chamber? There is something I need to say to her, and I would like the entire family to be present.”
Evadne did not like his request, and she found that she did not wholly trust Ozias. But she only nodded and slipped into the common room, leaving the men in the shadows of the corridor.
Aunt Lydia and Phaedra were making swift work of cleaning and rebandaging Halcyon’s wounds and cuts. Soon, they had Halcyon dressed in a clean chiton, and Maia was helping Halcyon sip the tea.
“Where is the healer, I wonder?” Phaedra asked, rising and gathering the soiled linens.
“Uncle Ozias has something to say to Halcyon,” Evadne said. “Before the healer arrives.”
Her mother and aunt looked bewildered and irritated, but Evadne opened the door, and the men returned to the room.
They gathered around Halcyon, who seemed to shrink into her cushions as if she was afraid. Afraid of her family?
Evadne knelt at her side and wove her fingers with her sister’s. She felt Halcyon’s grip tighten on hers, apprehensive.
Ozias gazed down at Halcyon, a crease in his brow. And then he said, “Quickly, quickly. Move her and the cushions there, into the sunlight.”
Gregor gaped at him. “Cease this, Ozias. My daughter is ill!”
“Do as I say, Gregor,” Ozias said calmly, his gaze remaining on Halcyon.
Gregor gently scooped Halcyon into his arms, and Evadne grasped the pillows, moving them into a large patch of warm sunlight. She helped her father ease Halcyon back down onto the cushions, and Halcyon stifled another groan.
And all Evadne could think was her Uncle Ozias was mad.
But then he knelt on Halcyon’s other side, the sunlight brightening his tawny hair. He reached for Halcyon’s hand and held it a moment, and he smiled at her.
“I knew the night you were born, when I first held you, that you were destined for something more, that you heard a calling beyond this grove as I once did,” he said. “I remember how fast and strong you were as a girl. You could run so swiftly, as if you had wings. A kingfisher bird.”
Halcyon’s eyes flooded with tears. He is needlessly upsetting her, Evadne thought, wringing her hands. But then she saw a change overcome her sister. Halcyon’s emotion eased into a reverent peace, as if she saw something in Ozias no one else could.
He reached beneath the collar of his chiton. Evadne stared at him, heart thundering, and her family pressed closer, anxious, mistrusting. But it was only a silver chain that he removed from his neck. A silver chain that carried a ring.
Ozias freed the ring from the chain and held it to the light. It was a golden band, intricately etched with vines and flowers, and a great sunstone glittered in its setting. Red and amber and incandescent with fire, with life.
Lysander’s jaw dropped in disbelief.
And Evadne finally understood. She knew what this ring was, and tears swarmed her eyes.
“I give you this ring, Halcyon of Isaura,” Ozias said with a gentle smile. “Wear it and be healed.”
And he slipped Magda’s enchanted relic—the Sunstone Ring of Healing—onto Halcyon’s finger.
Evadne found Uncle Ozias that night after dinner. He sat alone on the edge of the courtyard, staring into the starlit grove. He heard her approach and droned, “No, Lysander. For the hundredth time, I will not tell you where I found the ring.”
“Thank the divines I am not Lysander
, then,” said Evadne.
Ozias turned and saw her. “Ah, Evadne. Forgive me. I thought you were your cousin. Come, sit beside me.”
She did, and they were quiet for a moment, watching the night breeze play with the branches.
“I wanted to thank you, Uncle,” Evadne said. “For giving your relic to Halcyon.”
She could only imagine how difficult it was for him to surrender the ring. She knew how much her uncle had once craved possessing a relic, almost more than anything. His former greed had tragically driven a wedge between him and his brothers.
Ozias was quiet, and then he glanced at her with a smile. “I am honored to give it to her.”
“Thank you.”
“Your sister should keep it on her finger and bask in sun as much as she can,” he said. “It will take her a while to fully heal, but she should. The enchantment is fueled by the sun, but moonlight will work as well. The ring is not as effective at night, but that should be a given. For Magda is the goddess of the sun, is she not?”
Evadne agreed. She was thinking of all the windows in the villa they could open to let as much sun in as possible. And then maybe they could bring Halcyon outside, to the meadow, where the light was full and golden.
Ozias cast his gaze back to the grove. “It is humbling to return here after I swore I would stay away.”
Evadne sensed this was an invitation and roused her courage to ask the question no one dared speak to Ozias. “Where have you been all these years, Uncle?” By the scar on his face, she surmised he had once been held prisoner in the common quarry. But even that presumption felt odd, because Ozias wore fine clothes and had the Sunstone Ring of Healing in his possession, a relic that had been lost for years.
“I have been many places, Evadne,” Ozias replied. “I have walked the queen’s palace and supped in thieves’ taverns. I have been in court and in prison and everywhere between.”
“Is that where you received your scar?”
“You are the first of the family to ask about it,” he said, glancing at her. “For that, I will answer you truthfully. A mage once tried to kill me. He was unsuccessful but left me with a scarred face.”
His words troubled Evadne. “Why would a mage attempt to kill you, Uncle?”
“We wanted the same thing.”
“A relic?”
Ozias smiled. “Ah, it is always about the relics, isn’t it?”
Evadne waited for him to further explain, but he fell quiet, his hand retrieving a small square of papyrus from his chiton. He held it in the space between them, and Evadne’s breath caught when she saw what was inked on the papyrus: the stamp of the mysterious basilisk.
“I saw you the day the queen rode through Mithra,” said Ozias. “I stood in the crowd and watched you and Damon, and I knew then . . . I knew that he was about to drag you into this quandary, and I did not want that for you. Not after what had befallen Halcyon. I sent you the letter to meet me at the Gilded Owl, hoping you would recognize this symbol, that you would connect it to me.”
Evadne took the papyrus, studying the basilisk. She finally saw it, now that she knew it was him. The basilisk was like the old fresco on her bedroom wall. The chamber that had once been Ozias’s.
“I thought it was Macarius,” she confessed. She was overwhelmed, realizing that her uncle was also woven into Straton’s secrets. “I thought Macarius had written to me, not you.”
“So I suspected the moment he followed you into the shop,” Ozias said. “I could see you from the storeroom, but you left before I could redirect you.”
She handed the papyrus square back to her uncle, distressed. “So you have been working with Lord Straton and Damon?”
“I work for and serve the queen,” he said. “When I first set out from Isaura all those years ago, I sought relics for my own gain. I was the lowest of the low. But my life changed when Queen Nerine granted me mercy for a petty crime. She gave me a renewed purpose, and I vowed to serve her in her secret alliance, to be her eyes and her ears in places she could not tread.”
“You are a spy,” Evadne blurted, amazed.
“Your words, not mine,” Ozias said, amused. “But yes. I began to work closely with Straton when we both suspected that Selene was manipulating the queen. That led me to uncover her plan for the relics. Selene’s group of mages are trying to gather all of them together and use them against the queen by making it seem that Nerine has turned her back on the common people. Selene has already passed a few laws through her that have sparked dissention and inequality. We have been trying to find the relics before they do, to keep them out of their hands.”
Evadne remembered how the common people around her had shouted and booed at the queen that day in the street. She thought of the relics, how the divines had left them behind for common people to wield, to keep the mages in check. Her stomach ached when she dwelled on Acantha’s crown, now lost to them.
“We lost the crown, Uncle. I am so sorry, but Macarius was waiting for Damon and me at the mountain threshold. He overpowered us. And I know that the crown was the most important relic of all. That it was the last hope for Nerine, to break whatever enchantment Selene has cast upon her.”
Ozias gently touched her shoulder. “You do not need to apologize to me, Eva. I am still in awe of you, that you were able to survive the dangers of Euthymius.”
And yet it was not enough. Evadne covered her face for a moment, breathing in the scent on her palms. “Damon has gone to Abacus, to see his father.” Her hands fell away, and she looked at Ozias. “Why have you come home, Uncle?”
Ozias glanced to the grove. And she knew why he had returned to Isaura. It was not to see his estranged family, to comfort his brother, to mend the past.
“You have returned here to search for Kirkos’s relic,” Evadne whispered.
“Yes. It makes me sound callous, does it not, Eva?”
She remembered how he had once wanted to dig up Kirkos’s grave, thinking the relic was buried with the god. And how all this time, her own father had been keeping it. Her family, it seemed, was built upon secrets.
“Father does not know that you are Nerine’s spy,” she stated.
“No. And he should not, Eva.”
“And what of the other relics?”
“Three are still unaccounted for. Irix’s Sky Cloak. Loris’s Pearl Earrings. And Kirkos’s Winged Necklace.”
“The Sunstone Ring of Healing . . .” She hesitated, worried.
“It can remain with Halcyon for now,” Ozias reassured her. “She is a member of our alliance, a servant of the queen. She knows to guard it well.”
It was the response she’d been waiting to hear.
Evadne lifted the silver chain from her neck, the lapis wing centered in her palm, and held it out to her uncle.
Ozias merely stared at it for a breath. Stunned. And then he brushed it with his fingertip.
“By the gods,” he whispered. He met Evadne’s gaze. “Where did you . . . ?”
She shook her head. “No. I will not tell you where I found it. Just as you will not tell Lysander where you found the ring.”
“Fair enough, Eva.”
“But I would like to give it to you, Uncle Ozias. For Queen Nerine.” Evadne set it into his palm, the chain whispering as it left her.
She wanted it back as soon as she let it go. She wanted to keep it around her neck until she died, to revel in that one piece of magic. But she knew that relics were not to be hoarded. There was more at stake now. More than she had ever thought possible.
“Thank you.” Ozias enclosed the relic within his fingers. “When this is all over and we have prevailed, Queen Nerine will be honored to know what you have done for her, Eva.”
Evadne nodded and smiled. But within? Her heart was churning. Because it seemed that victory was as distant as the stars.
XXIX
Evadne
He’s gone!” Lysander cried, bursting into the common room the following morning.
Ev
adne sat beside Halcyon in the sun, feeding her soaked oats and honey. She stopped to stare at her cousin, his anger disturbing the tranquil air like a storm.
“Who, Lysander?” Maia asked around a yawn. She sat on Halcyon’s other side, holding a cup of steaming tea for her cousin to sip.
“Who do you think?” Lysander growled. “Uncle Ozias!”
Evadne’s eyes drifted to where her father sat on his bench, finishing his breakfast. Gregor frowned and said, “No, that cannot be. Ozias said he was going to be with us until next summer.”
“His chamber is empty. His possessions are gone, and so is his horse. He’s gone, just like that. No goodbye. No farewells. Just . . . gone. Like some thief in the night!” And Lysander collapsed onto the floor, fuming.
Evadne knew why Ozias had left without word: he had Kirkos’s relic, and he needed to return to the queen in Mithra. But her throat narrowed when she saw a gleam of pain in her father’s eyes. Her mother touched Gregor’s shoulder, a wordless comfort. Aunt Lydia began to mutter—good riddance to him; why did we even welcome him home in the first place?—and even Uncle Nico appeared crestfallen that his brother had slipped away from the villa without a word.
“I am sure he will return soon,” said Phaedra. “Perhaps he had an errand in Dree.”
“Unlikely,” Lysander said, pouting into the oats his mother set down before him. “Ever since Bacchus was murdered, Dree has been different. All the men have left. It is like the eve of war in that village. Why would Ozias go there?”
“Bacchus has been murdered?” Evadne cried, nearly overturning Halcyon’s bowl of oats.
Her family looked at her, surprised by her passionate outburst. She felt Halcyon’s hand, stronger than it was the day before, take hers and gently squeeze.
Halcyon knew, then.
Macarius, Evadne thought. Macarius must have had something to do with this, and Evadne felt like killing him. Again.
“Yes,” Lysander said. “Bacchus was murdered by that brute Laneus. And Laneus stole the Golden Belt, and who knows where he took the relic? He has all but vanished, like some worthless uncle I know.”
