Rhene thrust extra weight into her heel with each step. She and Evelthon walked in a silence comfortable enough for her to superficially enjoy the trill of birdsong and put dedicated effort into reclaiming pride. The latter did not come to fruition. Once confident her solid stomping produced a discernable trail, Rhene piqued Evelthon’s interest by boldly glancing behind. Not a single footprint could be seen. 

“Notice something?” Evelthon wondered. 

“No...” Rhene slumped. 

Her toes throbbed and her skin burgeoned with itch for nothing. She treaded normally from then and let her mind rest in wanderings to ignore the mild pain. Since she’d ran a far distance, the slower walk to camp would stretch. Rhene blinked fast, however, when the neighing of the horses abruptly reached her. Wrenched from her daze, Rhene whipped her stare behind them once more. 

“Anything this time?” Evelthon wondered again. 

“I...the time it took us to return wasn’t nearly long enough.” Rhene fully turned around. Even if she hadn’t been paying attention, could she truly have been that oblivious to her surroundings? “It took less time for us to walk than for me to run.” 

“I don’t know what to say,” Evelthon scratched the back of his neck. “I brought us on the most direct route back. Perhaps that created the difference?” 

“Or I am making my grand jaunt more impressive in my head than it turned out to be in reality,” Rhene acknowledged forlornly. 

“You have returned Hellanike?” Orius broke the pondering apart. Hurriedly weaving around the trees, he emerged before them. 

“No, but I found a kind lady who looks exactly like her,” Evelthon quipped. Orius was not amused. He stepped towards her. 

“Are you alright?” 

“I fruitlessly put my toes through a trial, but I am unharmed,” Rhene replied. 

“You...are in surprisingly better countenance than I anticipated from someone who tried to flee.” 

“The run released emotion. I am displeased with how this has all come about, yet...I do understand why you simply couldn’t approach my pater and ask for permission for this journey. Now that I have confirmed for myself there is no path for me but west for the moment, well, I suppose I can let myself be a little curious.” 

“I know that is the most I can ask for,” Orius rubbed his ear, glancing to the side. “I did not take the chance earlier to apologize, so I will do so now. I apologize for what suffering my greed has caused, and I am thankful for your understanding. Please also forgive me for...” 

“For?” 

Orius threw his arms around her and drew her close. His height tilted her head a tad awkwardly, but the sensation of the embrace was not altogether unpleasant. The muscled squeeze, natural warmth, and musky scent reminded Rhene heavily of Perdix and his bold hugs. 

“You two are strange,” Rhene stated. Orius squeezed harder before letting her go. 

“Strange how?” Evelthon asked. 

“I’ve been taught that Samatis men are warriors through and through. That they endure harsh training for years starting in their youth, and that they are gruff and stoic figures who see the more affectionate displays of Astagoria men as weak. You have both embraced me. You have both sought to acknowledge what I feel and comfort it. It’s at odds with all the stories.” 

“Gruff and stoic is an accurate depiction of many—” 

“When exactly did you embrace my sister?” Orius snarled, interrupting Evelthon’s entertained musing. 

Evelthon’s lips went flat and his tongue silent. Rhene giggled. Orius radiated an aura more like Perdix than ever before. The two men working themselves up into a scene of accuser and defender led to the intent of a question ignored once more, but, in truth, the answer hardly needed to be spoken. Astagoria men were to dictate the lives of their wives and children, but her father listened to her mother’s instructions on nearly everything instead—including the obvious delaying of Rhene’s marriage. It stood to reason that not every Samatis man was thusly emotionally flat. 

The scene ended with Evelthon’s survival. Orius then sat her on a fallen log to tend to the scratches and bruises on her feet, and Rhene did her best not to laugh like a fool from each tickling brush. She fell asleep on a blanket spread out after that. Although that late summer sun beamed down with fury, the thick canopy prevented its blistering rage while a cooling breeze stayed a true companion. Rhene’s thighs and rear, unfortunately, produced heat when it was time to return to the saddle for several additional hours of travel. 

“Aeti...Pat—um. Ae...” Rhene failed spectacularly in addressing Orius’s father. Her father. “Eh, he lives in Myrcaea now?” 

“Yes,” Orius didn’t press her on the clear conflict. “After mater’s death and your kidnapping, Pater’s rage fueled an impressive rise through the military ranks. We live in Myrcaea where his wisdom and knowledge serve the kings. Stability in the city-states and between Samatis and Astagoria has kept him in the southern capital more as of late, but he leads military excursions every so often. I assist him in commanding the troops.” 

“How long will it take to get there?” 

“About a week. Coron is along the way. We shall stop there to show you the house and Mater’s grave.” 

“...Alright.” 

No clear sense of what to feel after such statements took hold. Sadness and sympathy welled up when Orius spoke of painful matters like his mother’s loss and her abduction. Yet, it all remained distant. That mother wasn’t the mother she knew. The terrified babe that’d been stolen away was a pitiful character in a story, not her. Rhene would gladly pray before the grave of a wife taken far too soon. She simply couldn’t say if the lack of true grief would insult the woman below. 

The confusion over what to feel was the one emotion that stayed clear and bright. The slow minutes leading into the passing hours trapped Rhene on a tightrope. She didn’t know whether it was better to step forward or try to keep her balance, and the bitter churn of fear in the pit of her stomach ebbed and surged as a fitful tide from the gaping danger threatening to rush to greet her from the smallest mistake. Rhene clung to what solace came from the distance to the ground decreasing. Orius and Evelthon endeared their care of her state as genuine and forefront. Though her worries were all their fault, Rhene saw their hands as ready to grab and steady if she stumbled. 

Old habits were hard to break though. Orius and Evelthon conversed far more frequently than any talking she did, although the superficiality of chosen topics further perplexed her understanding of their relationship. Were they good friends? Evelthon claimed his help came from a debt owed. Did they merely keep the topics lighter so as to not burden her? Question after question flitted through her mind, yet Rhene stayed as she’d known. She listened. She replied when directly addressed. She didn’t question her silence until Orius asked if she was bored. 

The three of them reached the settlement of Akopai before the dark of evening fell. No inns in the small cluster of buildings surrounded by farms meant Orius negotiated for the use of a house owned by a young man who swallowed his pride for a night and returned to his parents’ home in exchange for coin. Rhene, however, couldn’t convince herself into the bed of a strange man and so snuck upon the floor with blankets while Orius and Evelthon made spaces for themselves in the front room. The young man’s mother tended to them for breakfast and helped Rhene through a shivering bath, immediately recognizing her as a woman from Astagoria from her frail frame, pale skin, and uncalloused hands. 

“Will...Aetion,” Rhene, back behind Orius on the horse, chose for now, “be disappointed with me?” 

“In what way will he be disappointed?” Orius asked. 

“I’m...quite...little.” 

“You are of standard height. Even if you weren’t,” Orius tilted his head, “I don’t see why that would be a cause for shame.” 

“I assume she means that she’s not trained or athletic,” Evelthon tsked. 

“That is correct,” Rhene clarified, sensing Orius’s eyeroll. “That woman’s nine-year-old daughter could take me down with ease.” 

“The girls of Samatis are expected to hold their own. They train and exercise, and, although Astagoria prides itself on being intellectual,” Orius mocked, “our females don’t take to the absurd notion that they must be packed up and sent off to marriage as soon as they bleed. They’re allowed to grow into true women with bodies that can properly handle childbirth. It was thus relieving to find your family, although for a different reason, showed some sense with you.” 

“Most of what you said has only confirmed how different and feeble I am compared to the women here...” Rhene mumbled. 

“I meant with my failed words to once more impress that you have freedom now. Pater will not fault you for the life you’ve lived. He is simply glad you are alive and found.” 

“You have not given yourself much credit, but I’m sure there’s a talent or skill you’re proud of,” Evelthon urged. 

“I consider myself a fair painter,” Rhene admitted. 

“Painting?” Evelthon glanced over and smiled. “That’s not a skill Astagorian women are known to practice. You are impressive then.” 

“Pater had begun selling my creations for me. Largely to remove them from our storage, but most were purchased without issue,” Rhene mustered courage for the light brag. 

“Painting is a passion then?” 

“It...” she faltered before understanding why. One glance at the rainbow of earthen hues in the cliffsides to the south, crunchy road underneath them, and melodic wind through rippling, viridian grass gave understanding though. “I thought it so. Now I’m beginning to think that it was more a way to escape. All those days inside my home, I craved a connection outside the same walls I’d always seen. I see sights before me here I’d go mad to put to canvas, yet now...I am happy to enjoy them as they are.” 

“Enjoy them you shall, until the end of your days as is your right. I hope you do so,” Orius said with a stalwart nod. 

“Perhaps I shall paint Aetion a portrait,” she pondered. 

“He will be happy to have you do so.” 

Rhene asked of his appearance. Orius, turning cheeky, refused to divulge any details in lieu of her experiencing the reunion with full intensity. Even Evelthon didn’t assist her this time. The two distracted her back to her previous works by wondering of the process and where her paints came from. The morning’s conversation led by her, Rhene gulped down water at the noon meal for her scratchy throat. Had she ever talked so long? Returning the role of talking to the two men saved her from developing a cough. The larger town of Posi offered an inn with a slightly bigger room. 

Three hours into their traveling the following morning, they reached Coron.