Chapter Text
Some weeks later
Helios was on his journey Eastward when Kassandra returned to the villa, stopping at the pump to rinse the dust from her arms and legs. She checked her knuckles. Not even a scratch.
She shouldered the cheesecloth wrapped parcel that she laid on the stones while she washed and strode into the kitchen. Cymone was still there, adding herbs to something she had simmering on the stove. It smelt delicious. She looked up as Kassandra entered and gave her a smile.
“Back at last.” She inclined her head to receive Kassandra’s kiss on the cheek. “That took longer than we expected.”
“There was cake,” Kassandra grinned, by way of explanation. “And would-be pirates.”
“They showed up while you were there?” Cymone laughed. “Saucy buggers.”
“Well, in fairness, they weren’t to know,” Kassandra placed the weighty bundle on the table. “They’ll not be raiding anyone’s farm round here again though.”
“Cake and carnage. You've had quite a day.” Cymone laughed, wiping her hands on her apron and coming over to the table. “And what have we here?” She surveyed the mystery parcel, already coming to her own conclusion.
“It’s half a goat,” Kassandra explained. “I tried to tell them that there was no need, but they insisted.”
“People like to say thank you.” Cymone patted Kassandra’s arm before peeling back a corner of the cloth and nodding with approval. “It’s kind to let them.”
“They were already down half a dozen animals.” Kassandra went to hang up the meat in the dim cool of the pantry. “I’ll send over a couple of the kids when Bitey becomes a pater.” She emerged grinning.
“A nice thought.” Cymone watched as she went to rinse her hands in the yard. “If they offer you something in payment, think about accepting it, though. Not everyone is comfortable with charity.”
“I know.” Kassandra ambled back in, shaking her hands dry and glancing about. “His wife makes this honeyed ale. A cask of that wouldn’t go amiss, it's delicious.” She was openly peering around now and listening, her head cocked like an inquisitive dog.
“Quiet isn't it?” Cymone sat down to shell some beans. “Phoibe and the Archon are out, doing her exercises I think. Out by where you have those creepy training dummies.”
“They aren’t creepy,” Kassandra laughed, taking a seat opposite her.
There was a bowl of walnuts on the table. She helped herself to a handful, twisting them apart with a deft flick of her thumbnail.
“With their heads and arms all hanging off!” Cymone protested. “Give me the willies, they do.”
“They just need repairing.” Kassandra reached over and popped half a kernel in Cymone’s mouth. “I’ll do it tomorrow if they bother you. You should name them,” she grinned, tossing up a nut and catching it in her mouth. “They’d feel more like friends then.”
“And you think that would help?” Cymone shook her head, but she was smiling all the same. “Seeing you hacking the heads off my new friends.”
“You are a difficult woman to please, Cymone.” Kassandra gave her a playfully foxy look.
“You’re not one who’s afraid of a challenge though, eh Misthios?” Cymone returned it, and added a wink. “And before this gets out of hand, I’ve just remembered that Phoibe asked me to tell you to go out and find them when you got back. She has a surprise apparently.”
“Is that right?” Kassandra got to her feet, brushing crumbs from her hands. “What surprise?”
“And how would I know? It would scarcely be a surprise then.”
“How is she?” Kassandra had set out early on her errand, catching the briefest of glimpses of Phoibe over breakfast as she readied herself for the morning’s lessons with her tutor.
“Very well.” Cymone caught the scraps from the table in her apron and went to add them to the chicken pail. “She’s not quite back to full strength I don’t think, but not far off it. She’s been doing those exercises Rhea gave her, like her life depended on it.” She watched as Kassandra made her way to the door, unfastening her bracers as she went. “She wants to make you proud.”
Kassandra stopped at the door, one bracer already in her hand, and looked at Cymone.
“I’m already proud of her.”
“I know that.” Cymone took the bowl of beans over to the stove. “You just make sure that Phoibe knows it too, all right?”
When she had changed Kassandra went in search of the others. She found them where Cymone had indicated.They were so engrossed in what they were doing that they hadn’t noticed Kassandra’s approach. She stood for a while, arms folded, watching them.
There was a rough, dented little bench that they had brought over from the covered training area onto the grass where they were training. Beneath it lay a selection of stone weights in various sizes. On top were a number of different arrows and the fine new bow that Kyra had had made for Phoibe. It was there for visual encouragement. She wasn’t quite strong enough for it yet, but she was getting closer every day.
Phoibe was still favouring her weaker side a little. Understandable enough, Kassandra reminded herself. Every time the draw pulled on those muscles it reminded her of the terrible injury that she’d suffered. She’d made so much progress though, Kassandra thought as she watched Kyra gently adjust Phoibe’s shoulders, hips, elbow, with the lightest of touches. Soon Phoibe would be able to handle her bow and think only of her surroundings and her target. Soon she would be wielding the beautiful weapon that Kyra had gifted her.
She was about to walk over and join them when Kyra spotted her, standing watching them. She touched Phoibe’s back lightly and said something. Phoibe turned, already grinning and began to wave.
“Kassandra! You’re back. You were ages. Are you going to be able to help that man?” She was bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet as Kassandra approached.
“I already did,” she laughed. “The fools turned up while I was sitting there eating cake.”
“Bad timing on their part,” Kyra smiled, reaching up to kiss Kassandra. “Are you all right?” she pressed a hand to her cheek before taking a step back and eyeing her up and down.
“Absolutely,” Kassandra assured her, catching her hand and pressing her lips to its warm palm. “I don’t think anyone even made contact. Lightweights!”
“What? So you’ve sorted the pirates out already?” Phoibe absently scratched her knee. There was one scar there that still twinged now and again. Rhea had said it would lessen with time.
“If Xenia had been there she’d have knocked them senseless for taking the title in vain,” Kassandra ruffled Phoibe’s hair and gave her a wink. “They were just some ragtag bunch of bandits with delusions of grandeur.”
“So, you knocked them senseless in her absence?” Kyra was pretending interest in an arrowhead. “As a mark of respect for a former acquaintance, perhaps?”
“I knocked them senseless to protect those poor bloody goats.” Kassandra stepped behind Kyra and slipped her arms around her waist. “I’m fond of goats, as you know.” She nuzzled into her neck, punctuating her words with light kisses. “And they didn’t deserve to drown at sea, which is what will inevitably happen to those halfwits, given the miserable state of their boat.”
“Ship,” Phoibe corrected, taking an arrow from the table.
“No. It was a boat,” Kassandra laughed, snuggling Kyra tight against her. “Just about.”
“Well that’s good.” Phoibe’s eyes had been bright and eager since she’d first spotted Kassandra, her whole posture had the look of someone simply dying to share a secret. “That you sorted it out, I mean.”
“So!” Kassandra bent her knees to allow her chin to rest on Kyra’s shoulder. “What’s this surprise that you have for me?”
“Yes!” Phoibe punched the air vigorously, something she would have been unable to do a couple of weeks earlier. “Put Kyra down for a bit and come see!”
“Sorry love,” Kassandra kissed Kyra’s cheek, chuckling softly. “I have my orders. We’ll resume this later, no?” She released her embrace, sliding her hand down Kyra’s back to cup the curve of her ass for a moment, before going over to join Phoibe.
She had taken up her old bow and was rolling her shoulders and stretching her neck, frowning in concentration as she cast a glance over at the target that had been set up. Kassandra followed her look. The target was barely over half the distance that Phoibe would have been able to hit before she was injured. Kassandra felt a brief, bitter flood of sorrow and anger. She pushed it aside, concentrating instead on Phoibe’s eagerness to show off her progress. A couple of weeks ago she would not have been able to do this, and in another couple of weeks the dummy would be where it had always been.
“Step back a little bit, will you please?” Phoibe looked over. “A little bit more, just in case,” she encouraged.
Puzzled, Kassandra followed Phoibe’s directions, inching back until she at last nodded that she was satisfied. She was a long way back, she chuckled to herself, looking over to Kyra, expecting her to share her amusement.
Kyra wasn’t even looking at her. She was concentrating entirely on Phoibe, standing behind her, hands resting lightly on her shoulders, bent over, speaking softly.
“Remember what we talked about? You don’t have to manage all the steps yet. You’ve already done incredibly well. I am so proud of you. Now, let’s amaze Kassandra shall we?” She brushed a kiss to Phoibe’s cheek and took a few steps back to stand behind her.
Kassandra folded her arms and settled back to watch. Kyra was right. It didn’t matter whether Phoibe hit the target or not today. She would do, and soon. What mattered was that she was standing here, fit and well, her brow crinkling with concentration as she nocked her arrow and raised her bow.
Phoibe was frowning as she drew the bowstring back till it brushed her cheek, but Kassandra fancied it was with focus rather than physical effort. Her draw had been fluid and she was holding it easily. Rather than taking mark on her target though, Phoibe closed her eyes, breathing slowly. In through her nose, out through her barely parted lips. Her eyes were still closed.
Kassandra found that she was suddenly feeling nervous. Was this the first time Phoibe had actually loosed an arrow since her run in with Alector? The hours that she had spent with Phoibe had been focused on building up her strength and flexibility. Jogging around the grounds at first, eventually sprinting. Climbing over walls and benches initially, now swarming up trees and onto the villa roof. Playful wrestling bouts that would quickly descend into tickling and laughing.
She’d left the weapon training to Praxos and Kyra, knowing how much pleasure it gave to the former, and tacitly acknowledging the latter’s superiority with the bow. Perhaps Phoibe was attempting to clear a much bigger hurdle than Kassandra had supposed. She could feel her own shoulders growing tense.
Phoibe’s probably were also. She’d been holding that draw for quite a while now. But her hands looked rock steady, her stance was good. Her eyes were still closed though. Kassandra could see Kyra’s lips moving. She was murmuring something, but too quietly for Kassandra to hear. Was it words of encouragement for Phoibe?
Gradually Phoibe’s expression began to relax, and the merest tip of her tongue peeked out between her lips, drawing a smile from Kassandra. It would be a risky habit for her to get into, Kassandra had seen a clumsy rebel take the tip off his nose with a poorly placed bowstring, but for now she’d let it pass.
She’d barely thought this when a strange popping sound drew her attention from Phoibe’s face to the head of her arrow. Kassandra gave an audible gasp. Small orange flames were licking around the arrowhead, dancing in the breeze like butterfly wings. Phoibe opened her eyes and gave a delighted grin, her excitement rippling through her, disturbing her posture.
“Easy now,” Kyra’s voice was soft and calm. “Calm your breathing. Relax your shoulders. Keep that elbow up. Excellent.”
Kassandra stood gaping as Phoibe followed each of Kyra’s instructions. The flame had flared sharply when she’d opened her eyes, spitting like a pocket of resin in a campfire, but now it was calm again, barely wavering in the warm air, scarcely extending beyond the edges of the arrowhead.
“Whenever you’re ready Phoibe,” Kyra’s voice was almost a whisper.
Phoibe took a steadying breath, releasing it so slowly that it barely touched the little flames kissing her arrowhead. She relaxed her fingers and -
Kassandra followed its flickering trail all the way to the dummy. The arrow thudded into its chest, off to one side, extinguishing itself immediately.
Phoibe retained control for long enough to lower her bow safely, but as she turned around the glee was written all over her face. She placed her bow on the table carefully though before turning to face Kyra, bouncing excitedly.
“I did it! I did it. Did you see?”
“I certainly did!” Kyra did something else that hadn’t been possible until two or three weeks ago. She wrapped Phoibe in a hug, lifting her off her feet and swinging her round. “Well done, Phoibe! That was wonderful.”
Kyra lowered Phoibe to the floor and she instantly turned to Kassandra, chattering delightly.
“Kassandra, did you see?! That’s only the second time I’ve ever done that. The first time it went out before I could loose it. Did you see! I wanted to…” she tailed off, seeing Kassandra’s expression. She was still looking at the dummy as if she couldn’t quite believe what she’d witnessed.
“Kassandra?” Phoibe sounded hesitant now. “Are you cross? I...I just wanted to surprise you.”
“Well, mission accomplished,” Kassandra said quietly, drawing her eyes from the target with some difficulty. Looking at Phoibe finally she saw her nervous expression, the way her shoulders had drooped. Saw Kyra reaching out to place a comforting hand on her back.
The guilty twist in her chest forced her to recover herself. She opened her eyes wide and threw out her arms in a theatrical gesture of astonishment.
“Phoibe! By the gods! That was amazing!” She gave her a broad grin. “How did you? Did Kyra teach you how to do that? I don’t know what to say! You! That!” She swung her arm from Phoibe to the dummy. “You!” She flung it back again. “Incredible!”
Her performance had the desired effect. The worry melted from Phoibe’s face and she bounced delightedly on the balls of her feet.
“Were you surprised?” She grinned. “We’ve been practicing every day. In secret. I wanted to tell you so much. But I wanted to surprise you even more. Was it a good surprise?”
“It was a bloody astonishing surprise!” Kassandra dropped to one knee and held out her arms. “Come here, little one.”
Phoibe raced over, throwing herself into Kassandra’s hug, flinging her arms about her neck and holding her tight. “I thought you were cross for a minute. I thought I’d upset you.”
Kassandra glanced over at Kyra, she looked less convinced by her performance than Phoibe had been. “Why would I be cross?”
“I don’t know.” Phoibe was still enjoying the hug, so Kassandra got to her feet, holding her tight, allowing Phoibe to wrap her legs around her waist. “You just looked cross at first, sort of.”
“No!” Kassandra shook her head, drawing back slightly to look in Phoibe’s eyes as they strolled over to Kyra. “I was stunned speechless, that’s all. It took me a moment to get my big, dim head around it.”
“She’s worked so hard Kassandra,” Kyra said quietly as they joined her. “Like she said, she’s practiced every day. I wasn’t sure it was even possible, but..” she looked over to the dummy, where Phoibe’s arrow protruded jauntily. “She just wanted to surprise you, love.” The look she gave Kassandra was still tentative.
“And she did. You did. You both did.” Kassandra slipped her free arm around Kyra and pulled her close. “I don’t know much about this, but I suspect that what you’ve done is just as amazing as what Phoibe has.” She kissed Kyra’s brow gently before resting their foreheads together.
“Kyra is a really good teacher.” Phoibe was clearly reassured. “And a really, really good shot. I put a walnut on that tree stump over there the other day and she hit it first time!”
“Well, I am not surprised to hear that!” Kassandra laughed. “I told you she was a better archer than me. And soon you’re going to be as well. I’m going to have to start practicing more myself or I’ll get left behind.”
Phoibe giggled delightedly. “Cymone has made some of those nut biscuits,” she confided, whispering in Kassandra’s ear.
“Has she now? Well let’s go and see if we can have some. To cheer me up now I’m the worst archer in the family,” Kassandra replied affably.
“You’re still the best bandit fighter,” Phoibe assured her as they headed off to the kitchen.
Kyra’s hair had grown considerably, Kassandra thought as she lounged on their bed that night, hands behind her head, watching Kyra loosening her braids. She must have thought aloud, because Kyra glanced over her shoulder.
“Mmm, I’ve not touched it since before we left for Kephallonia.” She paused. “Would you like me to cut it?”
“Gods no!” Kassandra wondered if she’d responded a bit too quickly. “What I mean is, it’s your decision. But I like it. I liked it before of course. But, now...I mean it's lovely both ways.”
“Stop panicking,” Kyra sounded amused. “Phoibe said she liked it, so I was just going to ask Savina to trim the ends.”
“Can I?” Kassandra saw her reach for the hairbrush.
“What? Trim my hair?” Kyra sounded dubious.
“No,” Kassandra was off the bed and loping over. “Brush your hair, I meant.”
Kyra’s smile was fond as she handed over the brush. “You may.”
Kassandra ran her fingers through the braided section, checking for any tangles, frowning at the brush in her other hand.
It had been a fine piece of craftsmanship at one time, but had seen considerable use. The bristles were worn and at some point the handle had cracked at an angle, probably along a hidden flaw in the wood and the end was missing. It was scarcely a fit implement for the governor of the prosperous Silver Islands. It was certainly not fit for the woman she loved.
“This has seen some service?”
“The brush?” Kyra was relaxing into the pressure of Kassandra’s fingers against her scalp, the movements of the brush. “I know it looks a bit sad now, but it was a gift from Praxos when I was just a girl. The first really nice thing I ever had,” she sounded wistful. “I don’t have the heart to get a new one.”
It was a good thing she’d checked, Kassandra thought. A replacement was out of the question then, but there must be someone on the Islands who could replace the bristles? She would have a quiet word with Savina.
“That was quite something this afternoon.” She had been chewing over the nature of Phoibe’s surprise since she had tucked her up earlier. “Was it as impressive as I think it was? I don’t really understand how it all works.”
“It was.” Kassandra had expected Kyra to sound buoyant, proud of her own and Phoibe’s achievement, but she seemed wary. “It took a while for me to get to that point, and I had a Daughter of Artemis as my tutor.”
“Well Phoibe has The Arrow of Artemis as hers,” Kassandra teased. “No wonder she’s setting fire to training dummies already.”
Kyra caught Kassandra’s hand and turned on the stool to face her. “She hasn’t set anything on fire, Kassandra. Today was only the second time she managed to raise a spark, and the first time she managed to maintain it for long enough to loose the arrow.”
She took the brush from Kassandra’s hand and placed it on the table. “Can we talk in bed? It’s a little chilly out here.”
Kassandra didn’t feel it, but she offered Kyra her hand and led her to the bed. “Want me to close the doors?” She nodded towards the balcony as she turned back the covers.
“No. It’s not that chilly, and it will warm up once you get in here with me.” Kyra’s smile was teasing. She held out her arms towards Kassandra, sighing contentedly as she snuggled up, pulling her close.
“Talk was it, that you wanted?” Kassandra smirked, feeling Kyra wriggling to get as tight up against her as possible.
“Mmm. To start with at least.” There was a smile in Kyra’s voice, and Kassandra expected her to continue, but an awkward silence followed.
“So?” Kassandra decided to break it herself “Phoibe is going to be a...Grand-daughter of Artemis?”
Kyra's chuckle sounded a bit grudging. “Hardly. I wasn’t even a Daughter myself. I wouldn’t have been adopted till I started my bleeds, and even then I wonder if everyone would have been happy about it. I think I’ve learned as much from teaching Phoibe as I did working with Phillipa. I didn’t understand what she was trying to teach me back then.”
She moved to lie half across Kassandra, her head against her chest. “I couldn’t help noticing,” she began quietly, running a single finger down the central line of Kassandra’s torso, circling her navel once before sliding slowly back up, settling her palm over Kassandra’s heart. “You looked a bit shocked? Phoibe thought you were cross and I could see why she got that impression. Did we upset you? It occurred to me when I saw your expression that we should have discussed it with you first.”
Kassandra craned her neck to look at Kyra, but she still had her cheek against her chest, pointedly not making eye contact. She gave it some thought. She had been rattled when Phoibe had ignited that arrow. For a moment or two her head had been full of the screams of the hind and Alector’s hideous gurgling.
“No. I wasn’t angry. I’m not sure what I felt exactly. Surprised certainly, shocked a little even. I didn’t know it was a thing you could do outside of the Daughters of Artemis. Did Phoibe ask you to teach her?”
Kyra was quiet, thinking. Kassandra could feel her warm breath against her torso.
“We’ve been working with her bow. You know that. Trying to get her back to full strength, so she can use the new one. We’ve talked a lot while we’ve been training together, it's been good. For both of us, I think. She’s been angry, you know?”
“Angry?” Kassandra raised her shoulders, frowning down at Kyra.
“About what happened,” Kyra explained. “About what happened to Nikos, to you and me, most of all about what happened to her. You remember how that feels don’t you?”
Kassandra knew well enough. The fury she had felt at times as a child. The anger against the world that it should have turned upside down on her so cruelly. Her rage at the suffering of the innocent. She still experienced it now on occasions. But now she knew how to deal with it.
“I can imagine you’re thinking that it's a terrible idea to teach an angry child to wield fire.” Kyra leaned up to look at her. “But it's helping her. Helping both of us. You can only manage the flame if you can manage the anger, if you can find that still, quiet place inside yourself.”
“She’s found that?”
“She’s finding it,” Kyra said quietly. “Well...recognising it. Just as I did.”
“Has she told you what it is?” Kassandra wasn’t even sure that this was a question she should ask, much less that Kyra would feel able to answer, but she saw that she was smiling.
“Oh Kassandra,” Kyra laughed softly. “It’s obvious isn’t it? It's you. I suspect it's been you since the moment she laid eyes on you in that lumber yard on Kephallonia.”
“Lumber yard?” Kassandra was perplexed.
“Talk to her.” Kyra lay her head back against her chest. “She’s ready to talk about it now.”
It had been a day full of surprises Kassandra thought. Why stop now?
“I’ve been thinking.” She rubbed Kyra’s shoulder gently.
“Dangerous precedent.” Kyra teased. “About what?”
“What we talked about the other week,” Kassandra prodded herself to continue. “Well you talked and I listened really.”
That didn’t really narrow things down, Kyra thought, but all the same she felt the hairs prickle on the back of her neck.
“About?”
“About adopting Phoibe.”
Kyra wondered how her heart could be in her mouth and hammering in her chest at the same time. She licked her lips. Her mouth felt dry, but this would be a terrible time to break and pour water. Kassandra was so easily startled away from difficult conversations, like a deer at a waterhole.
“You said you’d think about it?” Kyra encouraged, keeping her voice gentle.
“Yes.”
The silence that followed was tense and expectant. Kyra’s ears were tingling as she waited for Kassandra’s decision, but eventually she had to admit that it wasn’t coming without further encouragement.
“Did you come to a decision?”
“Hmm?” Kyra could feel Kassandra’s puzzlement in the movement of her shoulders. “Oh! Sorry. I’m not doing this very well. I mean… that was my decision. Yes.”
“Kassandra!” Kyra shot up, she folded her arms on Kassandra’s chest and leaned forward to kiss her. “Really? You’re not just saying that because you think it's what I want to hear?”
“Well, what I mean is, we should ask Phoibe. And if it's something that she wants to do, then yes, we should do it.”
“Oh Kassandra,” Kyra kissed her cheek, her jaw, the hollow of her throat. “I honestly didn’t know what you were going to decide.” So much time had passed without Kassandra even referring to the conversation that Kyra had begun to think that she’d fallen into old habits, ambling away from emotionally testing situations.
“I talked to a few people about it.”
This was even more surprising, but Kyra hid her astonishment, keeping her voice level as she asked, careful not to tease Kassandra just yet.
“You did? Who did you discuss it with?”
Kassandra took a deep breath. Was there going to be a list, Kyra wondered?
“Barnabas of course. I knew what he was going to say, but...I wanted to hear him say it, I think. I needed to see someone else’s reaction.”
Kyra was about to speak, but Kassandra hadn’t finished yet.
“Cymone. Phoibe really likes Cymone, they chat about all sorts of things when they’re feeding the chickens and peeling vegetables. Nike.” She sounded a little hesitant now but Kyra ran a soothing hand up and down her sternum, saying nothing. “Phoibe is very fond of Nike, and well, I think they talk about you...about us probably, it's perhaps best not to know the details.” She took another deep breath. “And then I talked to Gelon.”
“Of course,” Kyra smiled. “I suspect if we didn’t adopt Phoibe, Gelon probably would. What did she say?” she asked, genuinely curious.
“She told me not to be a fucking idiot and get on with it.” Kassandra laughed.
“Sound advice,” Kyra kissed her again.
Kassandra returned this one, curling her fingers in Kyra’s hair, breathing in her scent, reveling in the warm curves of her breasts and hips against her.
“She was right. I was overthinking it, imagining things that may never happen,” she murmured when they paused for breath. “I love you Kyra, and I love Phoibe. We should ask her tomorrow, no?”
“We should ask her tomorrow yes,” Kyra grinned, rolling onto her back and dragging Kassandra with her, laughing into her kisses.
Kyra opened her eyes, unsure what it was that had woken her. She eased herself up onto her elbows, aware that she was alone in bed. She had been for some time it seemed. Cautiously sliding out a hand she could feel that Kassandra’s empty space was cool.
Where was she? They’d had a pleasant day and the leisurely, indulgent love making that had followed would usually have been enough to guarantee an uninterrupted night’s sleep, securely encircled in the warmth of Kassandra’s arms.
Had it been the business of training Phoibe? Kassandra had claimed to be happy about it. Happy for it to become a bonding exercise and a means for Phoibe to understand and control her anger about what had happened to her. But had she felt pushed out? Had Kyra overstepped the mark? Was it the sort of thing that ought to have been a family decision?
She should go and find Kassandra. Talk to her. Reassure her.
For the first time since opening her eyes Kyra looked about the room. It was terribly dark. Even on the most clouded of nights there was generally some ambient light creeping in through the cracks in the balcony doors. But not tonight. It was some unspoken sense that assured Kyra she actually was in their bedroom, because she could see very little. Apart from…
What was that odd shape in the corner there? Somehow a shade lighter than the darkness of the room, though that made no sense. It was roughly the size and shape of a person.
“Kassandra?” Kyra ventured, afraid to speak above a whisper for some reason.
There was no response. It didn’t feel like Kassandra. Kyra wouldn’t have been able to explain how she knew that, but she was suddenly convinced that the figure was not Kassandra. She pulled the covers up tight to her neck and inched closer to the edge of the bed. There was a knife on the bedside table. Just a short, single edged fruit knife, but it was sharp and well balanced. Kyra insisted on that for all the blades in the villa. You didn’t need a sword to defend yourself if you knew what you were doing. And she did.
As she moved, so did the figure.
“No, not Kassandra.”
It was a man’s voice. Totally unfamiliar to her. Kyra abandoned all attempt at subtlety and turned, openly feeling around on the table top for a knife that wasn't there.
The room grew lighter, as though someone had just lit a lamp, though there was no identifiable source. As she puzzled over this Kyra realised that she was no longer naked. She had on one of Kassandra’s old tunics that had been repurposed for nightwear.
“You know this is a dream, don’t you?” The man was walking out of the shadows towards the bed. He advanced slowly, pausing after each step, holding out his hands to show that they were empty.
“I do now!” Kyra sat up, peering at him, trying to make out his face.
As if in answer to her unspoken desire, the light around her mysterious visitor increased and he came towards the bed almost spotlit. Kyra had never seen him before in her life.
If she’d had to guess she would have put him at about Praxos’ age. Shorter than him by a long way. Nowhere near as tall as Kassandra in fact, but with a stocky build and thick arms that suggested a life of manual labour. He was thickening around the middle also. Nothing much yet, just the hint of a man who enjoyed his food and drink.
“May I sit?” He paused a few steps away from the bed. His voice was deep, but soft and kind and Kyra found that she no longer feared him.
“Of course.” She moved up to make space.
He took a seat by her legs, bringing with him the scent of resin and fresh sawn wood. Kyra could feel the bed dip under his weight.
“I’m so happy to meet you at last.” He turned to look at her.
He had a kind face. Bronzed from working outdoors, crow’s feet from squinting in the sun. His reddish brown hair and neatly clipped beard shone as though lit from within.
“I’m sorry,” Kyra shook her head. “I don’t know you.”
“No, not yet.” He rested his hands on his lap and laced his fingers. “You know of me, but you don’t really know me yet. Don’t worry though, Nike and Rhea will sort that out. Ask Nike to tell you the story of how I bought a piglet for Rhea’s birthday feast and then we didn’t have the heart to butcher it,” he chuckled to himself at the memory.
“Theron?” Kyra breathed.
“Indeed,” he turned to look at her, smiling warmly. “I understand if you prefer to call me that. I really haven't earned the right to have you call me pater, of course. I know you though Kyra. I know you so well.”
Kyra sat gazing unblinking at him. It was a dream, of course it was, she’d half known as much from the moment she opened her eyes. But…
“You know me?”
“Of course,” he grinned. “I’ve watched your progress. Who wouldn’t? So many obstacles thrown in your way, and every one of them you pushed aside or climbed over or, gods know, set fire to at times!” He laughed delightedly. “Of course I would take an interest in my daughter’s sister,” his voice softened. “Your spirit. Your fire. You are definitely a member of this family, Kyra.”
“Theron...what Rhea said to the crowd that day...the things she said about you…” Kyra struggled to find suitable words to apologise.
“Rhea! Ah Rhea!” He threw back his head and laughed. “Gods, I love that woman. Even at her prickliest there was never anyone else for me.” He looked down at his knees and heaved a sigh. “May the gods forgive me, but…” he paused and Kyra saw the whiskers of his beard twitching as he chewed at his lip “Gods forgive me, but when she told me of her misfortune, even as my heart broke for her, it leapt in my chest.”
He sat silently for so long that Kyra began to feel uncomfortable, dredging through her mind for something appropriate to restart the conversation. Before she could manage it, Theron spoke again, sitting upright, throwing back his shoulders and looking at the wall opposite as though he could see his wife standing there.
“I didn’t ever expect it to be a…” he stumbled, and glanced bashfully at Kyra. “A...proper marriage. I mean in the way you expect a marriage to be, a...well...full marriage. I just loved her so much. If I’d only got to sit across from her at the supper table listening to her talk about her latest remedy...that would have been enough for me.”
Kyra could see his blush even in the dim light and she swallowed a smile as she replied. “As I understand it, it turned out to be a wonderful marriage...in every respect. At least that's what Rhea told me.”
Theron turned, still red faced, to look at her. “She did? I mean...she told me she loved me in so many ways...not always words...but, I knew.”
“She said you were a wonderful husband and an excellent father,” Kyra reached out tentatively to touch his arm. It felt warm and solid beneath her fingers.
“She? She said that?” He watched Kyra nod. “I was so proud to be her husband,” he continued quietly. “And when she had Nike? By the gods!” He gazed up at the ceiling. “I know...I know that she wasn’t truly...well not by blood...and I know that there would be men on the Islands who would think me a fool but…”
He fell quiet again. Kyra could see him working to compose himself. At last he gave a sigh, and rubbed his face with his hands.
“By the time Rhea had that baby, I felt like she was mine. She was mine in every way that counted. I was the one who sat with Rhea when she couldn’t sleep, who rubbed her aching back and her swollen feet.”
He looked at Kyra and she felt her heart skip at the fierce determination of his gaze, at the love flowing from him.
“They were my hands that pressed against Rhea’s belly, felt Nike shifting and turning inside her. When Rhea put Nike in my arms for the first time? It was as if I already knew her. I thought I was going to die of joy, I could barely breath from it, my chest hurt so.” He thudded a strong fist against his breast as if he could feel it again. “I thought she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I never thought of...him...ever again. She was mine. Mine and Rhea’s. The first time Nike grabbed for my beard with her chubby little fingers and called me papa…”
“You are her father, Theron.” Kyra inched closer to him and stroked his back gently. “When she speaks of you, it's with such love. I wish I could have known you. I truly do.”
“And I you, Kyra.” He turned to face her and took her hand. She could feel the thick callouses of his work-worn palms. “I know that I have no right, no right at all...I wasn’t there for you. I wish so much that I could have been, that we could have welcomed you into our home and our family, that you might have called me papa one day. I’m sorry for that, Kyra, really I am.”
“That wasn’t your fault,” Kyra squeezed his hand. “None of it was your fault Theron. You were a truly good man. I would have been honoured to call you my father.”
He looked down at their joined hands, rubbing his thumb over Kyra’s knuckles, chewing his lip nervously.
“That’s why I came here tonight,” he said quietly. “To tell you that you have no need to feel badly about what Rhea said. Gods!” he gave a wistful laugh. “To be father to the two bravest, most beautiful women on the Islands? No man could wish for more. I wanted to tell you that if the day ever came...when you felt able to, or that you wanted to...I would be delighted to be your father, Kyra. No father could love you more.”
Kyra looked in the direction of the balcony doors, barely visible in the dim light. She concentrated her gaze there for a few seconds, composing herself.
“Thank you Theron,” she said at last. “I wish more than anything that I could have known you as I grew up.”
“So do I,” he gave a sad smile. “I wish I could be here now. Really here I mean. Especially now.”
“Especially now?” Kyra tilted her head quizzically. “Oh, you mean now that everything's out in the open?”
“Eh?” Theron looked puzzled for a moment, but recovered quickly. “Oh yes, that of course. Imagine everyone looking at my family, the three most remarkable women on the Silver Islands, and me just a carpenter.”
“I don’t think you were ever just a carpenter, Theron,” Kyra replied softly.
“All the same,” he grinned. “Brushing shoulders with Kassandra of Sparta? Imagine that!”
Kyra found her vision swimming as she replied. “I wish you could meet her, Theron.”
“Oh so do I, child, so do I, especially now.”
There it was again. Especially when?
Theron seemed to realise he’d said too much and looked a little shifty.
“What is it about now?” Kyra felt him trying to withdraw his hand but she kept tight hold. “Theron?” she persisted.
“I...I can’t say,” he shook his head. “Except that I know what you wish for above all else. And it’s not as foolish as you seem to think. With any other perhaps,” he sounded thoughtful. “But you chose wisely when you bound yourself to her. She truly loves you, you know.”
“I know,” Kyra nodded.
A change in the light drew her attention to the balcony doors. They were open now and the moon shone in sharp and silver. There, standing on the balcony was the figure of Kassandra, translucent and rippling, as though she were made out of water. Kyra could make out the shape of the opposite roof through her shoulders. And more than that, she was holding something, high against her chest. It was too vague and shifting for Kyra to make out any definite shape.
She turned to look at Theron. He was over by the wall though she hadn’t felt him move, and he was smiling proudly.
“You are going to do great things, Kyra, Archon of the Silver Islands. Your governance will be spoken of with admiration long after you are gone.”
Kassandra had woken unexpectedly, feeling ravenous. She closed her eyes, held Kyra a little closer and tried to ignore it, but her stomach was gnawing at itself. In her mind’s eye she could see the loaves of crusty walnut bread that Cymone had left to cool before leaving that evening.
“Don’t be touching those.” She eyed Kassandra and Phoibe who were hovering around the kitchen, mouths watering like hungry urchins. “They’re for the morning.”
Kassandra looked over at the balcony, the sky was just beginning to lighten. So technically it was morning, she smiled.
She extricated herself carefully from Kyra’s embrace, but needn’t have worried. Kyra was sound asleep, her tousled hair flopping over her face. Kassandra lifted it aside and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.
“I won’t be long,” she whispered.
Pulling on the tunic she’d removed earlier she padded to the door. All was quiet, a couple of lamps burned low on the walls, lighting her way to the stairs. As she passed the main door she could hear the low murmur of the guards chatting to each other.
The kitchen was warm, dimly lit by the banked up fire in the oven. Kassandra lit a spill of wood from the embers and found a lamp. Her mouth watered afresh at the sight of the loaves with their shiny crusts. Cymone must have brushed them with egg or something Kassandra thought, trawling her mind for what little she knew of baking. For all Cymone’s admonitions not to touch them, there were three large loaves on the tray, plenty for breakfast, even with Kasssandra and Praxos at the table.
“And Phoibe,” she smiled, finding a knife and cutting herself a thick slice. It was just as delicious as she’d imagined, the perfect combination of crunchy and chewy. She sat by the oven, partly to make herself slow down and relish it. Watching the rippling colours of the smouldering embers, Kassandra was reminded of the evening when she and Phoibe had sat here together, toasting bread over the glowing fire. That seemed like such a long time ago now.
She remembered the dismal mood of that evening, poor Nikos’ fate hanging over them like a shroud. Kassandra stopped eating for a moment and mouthed a silent prayer for him, and all the others. Tonight was a different night though. Kyra was happily united with her sister, her position was secure. Phoibe slept soundly upstairs, and tomorrow they would broach the matter of adoption with her. Kassandra was pretty confident what the answer would be.
Brushing a flurry of crumbs off her lap she selected a handful of likely looking wood from the basket and positioned the pieces across the embers in such a way that the fire would be ready to greet Cymone when she arrived at sun up.
Another piece of that bread wouldn’t go amiss she decided. She would take it upstairs, and a piece for Kyra.
She’d finished her own by the time she reached their room. Opening the door, she intended to pad in, catfooted, but as she closed it behind her she heard Kyra talking. She must have woken while Kassandra was in the kitchen, warming her toes and savouring her snack.
“I’m sorry love, I was really hungry.” She approached the bed. “And I decided that as it was technically morning, Cymone’s walnut bread was up for grabs. I brought you a slice, so you’re implicated in the crime too -”
Kassandra stopped, looking quizzically at Kyra. She’d reached out and taken hold of Kassandra’s pillow at some point, hugging it to her chest, her cheek resting against the linen of the cover. And she was fast asleep. She talked in her sleep when she was dreaming, Kassandra knew. She put the bread on the bedside table, just in case she woke Kyra whilst getting back into bed.
Pulling off her tunic and folding it at the bottom of the bed, she turned back the covers and slipped in beside Kyra, gently teasing the pillow out of her grasp and insinuating herself in its place. As she did so Kyra gave a sleepy little snuffle and rolled over, snuggling backwards into Kassandra’s embrace. She was still muttering, but almost under her breath now.
Kassandra leaned over, kissed Kyra's shoulder and strained her ears trying to pick up what she was saying. She was probably the only one who would have been able to hear and decipher it. For a moment or two Kassandra remained unmoving, afraid that the unlikely words would be the trigger for another nightmare. But Kyra seemed perfectly calm, lost in whatever dream she was having.
Kassandra lay down and snuggled closer to her, enjoying the feel of her warm curves. If she remembered she would ask her about it in the morning. Ask Kyra why she had been lying there with a blissful smile on her face as she breathed the words,
“Pater. My pater.”