Page 39

“Be happy with him, my dear. You deserve it.”

“I will,” I whispered. “I promise.”

His presence thinned gently beneath my hand. I stayed perfectly still, feeling the last remnants of his spirit pass. Then the earth was only earth again.

I kept my palm pressed flat against the grave for a long time. Eryx didn’t ask me to move. He didn’t rush me. When I turned toward him, he opened his arms, and I collapsed against his chest.

“He knows,” I wept, my hands clutching the front of his coat. “He knows I’m happy.”

His hand moved gently over my hair, cradling my head. “I’m glad you could tell him.”

I cried then, burying my face in my husband’s shoulder, letting the last of the panic and the horror wash out of me. I would miss Father tomorrow. I would miss him when I found a strange flower he would have liked in the garden, when I returned to Melia and no longer had a familiar door to knock on.

But he’d heard me. He was at peace.

When I was finally ready to stand, Eryx helped me to my feet. I brushed the wet earth from my skirt and laid my hand one last time against the wooden marker. Then I took my husband’s arm, and we walked back through the quiet winter trees together.

14

Together

Eryx

The lamps were lit when we reached Petrion. Through the open doors, the clatter of pans came from the kitchen, ordinary and familiar. Kallisto was doing the washing.

Thalia stopped beneath the archway, her hand still resting in mine. She was staring out at the courtyard, her gaze moving from the shrine to the dark windows above it. Nothing here had changed while we were away in Melia. A linen cloth still hung over the edge of a basket. Bion had left a watering jug beside the steps.

Her fingers tightened around mine.

“I’m glad we came back tonight,” she murmured. “I don’t think I could have stayed in the village another night. Even the air there still tastes like smoke.”

I brought her knuckles to my mouth and kissed them softly. “You’re home now. Come inside, and let the rest of it wait until morning.”

We skipped the lower hall and went straight upstairs. In our room, Thalia sank onto the edge of the mattress. Her shoulders dropped the moment the latch clicked shut behind us. I wished the closed door alone were enough to hold the last four days at bay.

Thalia let out a long breath and reached for the fastenings of her outer wrap, her fingers clumsy from exhaustion. “Let me do that,” I said. “Just sit still for a moment.”

I knelt before her and loosened the wrap. She lifted her arms so I could draw the heavy garment away, and I laid it across the chair. When I turned back and took her hands in mine, dark earth was still packed beneath her fingernails. Dirt that came from her father’s grave.

I went to the washstand, poured water from the pitcher into a small basin, and returned with a clean towel. Kneeling between her legs, I dipped the cloth and began wiping the dried earth from her fingers. Her life magic hummed faintly beneath my thumbs, steady despite her weariness.

She watched my hands work, her knees brushing against my ribs. “That feels good. I’ve been trying to scrub that dirt out since we left Melia.”

Perhaps she’d been trying to scrub more than just the dirt. But her loss wouldn’t wash away so easily. I could only hope her conversation with her father had helped her.

“The dirt’s gone now.” I took my time cleaning each nail, until the water in the basin turned cloudy and her skin was clear. I dried her palms with the towel and pressed my cheek to her wrist. “And I’m here.”

She touched the side of my face with her free hand, her thumb brushing the corner of my uncovered eye. For a while, we stayed just like that in the quiet lamplight.

Then her hand slipped down to my chest, her fingers curling into the front of my shirt. “Yes, you are. Eryx… Everyone in Melia has been looking at me for days as though I might break. I’m tired of it. Of being careful.”

The grief was still there in the shadows beneath her eyes, heavy and real, but her grip on me was firm.

“Tell me what you need from me tonight,” I said.

“I want my husband,” she replied, pulling me closer between her thighs. “I want to be in our bed, and I want you to hold me like you aren’t afraid of hurting me.”

I understood what it took for her to ask so plainly. She’d spent the last four days tending to wounded villagers, answering the elders, and holding everyone else together. Here, with the door latched, she didn’t have to be a shrine maiden.