Horrified gasping. Whispers of despair and shock. Rhene expected both and heard neither. In fact, she heard little. Blood rushed her ears with the wrath of a stormy sea as her stomach pitched and swayed like a fishing boat lost in the squall. She waited—waited for the change. For her to realize she’d misheard, misunderstood. Sight doubling, Rhene searched for her brother. Orius sat rigid, avoiding her gaze. Jocasta, however, met her eye. Pity. Sympathy. Knowing. The whole room knew. The whole room understood. They did not come here to see a family reunited in joy, but to... 

“Pater...” the anguished word fell from Rhene’s lips. Aetion had told her to hold it until she felt its weight in her heart. She’d wanted to say it with pride and glee after the ceremony. To have it be a present. Acknowledging him as such only increased the weight of the shackles, and he, too, turned from her desperate wide eyes. 

“The offering shall be purified, and then the father will send his daughter to Nelephyrus,” the head priest announced, straightforward. 

One priest grabbed the shackles. Rhene buckled as soon as Aetion stepped away, and the other priest forced her to her feet and onwards through a heavy door to the back of the temple. Rhene twisted and grunted, ignoring her surroundings, yet each strenuous movement surged the dual pulse of ice and fire. Her whole body convulsed, and she fell to her knees. The first priest set a pail before her that caught her regurgitated breakfast. 

“The potion, unpleasant at first, will numb you and slow the beat of your heart. I suggest leaning into it instead of resisting,” he advised solemnly. 

“I—!” 

Rhene couldn’t gasp more than that one syllable. Talking heaved her over the bucket again, but...what good were words? What good were screams? How badly Rhene wished to scream. Yet, who would answer? Guards created too wide a perimeter around the temple. The king who could command all sat on the other side of the wall. Shocked numbness and drugged numbness stilled Rhene. The priests left as three priestesses silently appeared to wipe Rhene with cold cloths, rub a mixture of herbs upon her body, bathe her in incense, and cut a lock of her hair. One disappeared with the lock. At the same time, Orius quietly slid within the chamber. A single nod scattered the other two to the corners. Rhene didn’t resist him gingerly sliding her to a cushioning of blankets where he sat next to her. She didn’t look at him. She didn’t speak. The longest moment passed before he did. 

“Are you not going to fight?” he questioned. The strange expectation of hope in the statement kindled what true emotion could push through the unforgiving blockage. 

“I am naïve. I am pitiful. I am not, however, an idiot. No struggle I can muster will set me free. Some shall say I have an obligation to fight regardless, yet I simply do not want to.” Rhene tried a deeper inhale. It didn’t come. Every inch of her body felt swollen, from her smallest toes to the tip of her tongue. Senses floated above her control, and it took effort beyond recognition to maintain ownership of each. “Orius, I asked you before why you took me from my home. I see now that your answer was incomplete.” 

“We...” Orius dug his fingers into his skin as his hands clasped. “Pater and I knew where you were for the longest time. We chose to leave you be because the passing years made us understand that Hellanike had died alongside Mater. Whoever she would have been had become lost. Then Nelephyrus, proposing a deeper bond with Pater, required a show of dedication from him. We feared we’d have to give up Sebasteia, but Pater recalled you. He sent me to Irideska where I discovered you’d not yet married...” 

“Jocasta questioned me this morning if I’d been with a man,” Rhene noted dully. 

“She went into a panic when she woke realizing neither I nor Pater confirmed it with you directly. Kypris and Merope spending as much time as they did with you yesterday already put her on edge, for she didn’t wish for a connection to form.” 

“Sebasteia isn’t sick, is she?”  

“...No.” 

Rhene curled and uncurled her fingers. She couldn’t feel them. “You lied to me.” 

“I omitted aspects, but I never lied. I told you I would see you here safely, and I did. I told you that you had freedom to enjoy, and, though for a shorter time than anticipated, you did. When I said I was glad to meet you, I meant it.” 

“You said you wanted to see those you love protected from harm.” 

Orius gritted his teeth and spoke without air, “That is still not a lie.” 

Rhene would have rather he hit her. This wound he caused pained her in a way no drugged detachment could prevent. Eyes, dry until now, finally spilled tears. “You kept telling me to take all opportunities. That it was my right until the end of my days. You made me that wonderful breakfast, and...a-and...” Rhene drew her knees to her chest. “You appeased me every way you could because you knew you led me to the slaughter!” A wry laugh hissed from her lips. “Aetion as well! He even told me my fate was to save others! That he would take on my wish for his own!” 

“He told me of the conversation, and he meant his words. Pater knew it was your fate to save others...because your death will give him the power to do so. He understood his utter failure to be your pater, which is why he made the promise to do what he can for you—including seeing your wish completed.” 

“How can he dare desire to prevent suffering like he experienced when he is soon to kill the very one he wishes to protect?!” 

“I told you,” Orius clenched his eyes shut. “You are not that child. It was why I did not mind when you asked to be called Rhene. Why he did not mind.” 

“If I am not the sister you care for, why did you come back here, Orius?” Rhene shook her head madly. 

“I am selfish. Facing your despair, seeing the anger and betrayal in your eyes appeases the guilt in my heart, because I know I should be hated. It is the punishment I deserve.” 

Another pulse of chill quivered Rhene. However, this one spread differently than the sedative. From her core it came, and its source of purest wrath soothed her ragged breaths, dried her eyes, and transformed as it coiled up from her abdomen, around each rib, and to her heart where it invigorated her body with a tender sweetness. Orius’s gaze snapped to her from the unexpected affection and her hand on his knee. 

“You came here wanting to see me fight. You came here desiring to earn my loathing. I see now that I can put up a fight, and that fight is to tell you that I do not hate you.” Rhene clutched her fingers into his hem as Orius stiffened. “You showed me a dream. I wish it had lasted longer, but the week you gave me is more life I have lived than the nineteen years my heart beat simply because it had to. I got to pester you. I got to laugh with you. You showed me your irritable side, and you showed me your kindness. I rode on a horse, scraped up my feet, burned my skin, slept beneath a mountain, got to tell others my name, make dear friends, find a passion, and experience one blissful night believing every road called for me to walk upon it. I understand that you can’t consider me your sister. I just hope that, for the brief time we knew each other, when this hour is done...you can think of me fondly for the person I was. That you can still be glad you met me, for I am glad to have met you.” 

Orius went white. Brown eyes turning pale themselves, Rhene watched horror shake them as if she was a monster from below. Orius leapt to his feet and sped from the room faster than the quickest archer’s arrow. Rhene’s hands folded in her lap. Shaking squirmed her shoulders, yet the sweet wrath writhing in her chest kept her heart a steady, slow tempo. The priestesses still in the corners vanished entirely from her recognition, and she stared quietly at the wall even as the door opened and the two priests grimly walked before her. 

『』『』『』『』『』『』『』『』『』『』『』『』『』『』『』『』 

Haidee ran blindly. Cries of aggravated citizenry shoved out of the way were the accompaniment to her frenzied, endless sprint down street and alley. Her task whipped at her heels to speed her onwards even as the same goal presenting no solution left her desperate hope impossible. Who would listen to her plea? Who would agree to help when she had no money? Who was strong enough to fight the guards and powerful men within the temple? Who would be willing to go against the king? 

She burst into the outer rows of the agora. Thankfully, the leniency she’d been shown left Haidee free of the usual leather pieces slaves wore to denote their station. People continued to curse after her, but she was one lone fragment of chaos in the building bustle of the morning market. Haidee’s eyes darted as a fervent hunter’s scouring weapons and materials. Something. There had to be something. 

And then there was someone. 

Evelthon stood before a fruit vendor, surely haggling price or putting forth his requested purchase. His words were swallowed by the surrounding clamor, and Haidee had no care for his concern of fig as her narrowed sight trained on him went red. Neither he, the vendor, nor those nearby had time for surprise since Haidee charged without mercy to whack her palm upon his cheek. Evelthon cried out. He stumbled and dropped his three figs, but he also recovered well to find the source of the attack, hold his cheek, and blink quickly with pure bewilderment—too stunned to seemingly process any pain. The vendor leapt back while a third of the street turned towards the commotion. 

“HOW DARE YOU!?” Haidee, eyes slick and cheeks red, screamed at the blank-faced man. 

“I...I’m buying figs,” Evelthon said vacantly. 

“I’M NOT TALKING ABOUT THE FIGS, YOU KARIÓLIS!” Haidee snatched one of the dropped figs to pelt at him. Evelthon put up his arms, but the projectile otherwise bounced harmlessly off his bicep. The crowd gasped and murmured, and the vendor complained of Haidee’s use of his produce, although she heard nothing he said. 

“Haidee,” Evelthon began to break out of his stupor, not caring of her fury and moving closer. “I don’t understand why you’re upset.” 

“You’re trying to run away from what you’ve caused! Why else would you take off so early in the morning?!” 

“I-I...I was following Orius’s request, and I had my own—” 

“Exactly! You’re Orius’s putána!” Haidee took satisfaction finally seeing exasperation and a sigh from Evelthon. “Because of you two, Rhene is...is—!” 

Evelthon froze. Now not blinking at all, his stalwart concern shamed her fury into considering she might have been premature in her accusations. He tossed a few coins onto the stall, shoved the figs into his pack, and snatched her wrist to guide her to a quiet, shadowed corner away from the attention. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Evelthon emphasized. “What is going on with Orius and Rhene?” 

“You...you truly don’t...?” Haidee stammered. 

“No.” 

Tears started to wet her cheeks, and Haidee ignored them rolling over her lips and off her chin. Time was precious, and the news was urgent. How hard it proved though to unstick the words from her throat. 

“They’re...going to kill her.” 

Evelthon went completely rigid, skin ashing. Disbelief separated his lips. “W-What?” 

“Aetion, Jocasta, and Orius brought her to the temple of Nelephyrus saying they were holding a ceremony to welcome her into the family. The other slaves showed me a hidden place to watch from. The priests suddenly put Rhene in shackles and said she was to be sacrificed as a virgin daughter of Aetion for him to prove his dedication to...to...I don’t know!” 

Evelthon looked sickened. He wavered on his feet and struggled for breath, “Are they doing that now?” 

“They brought her to the back to be purified. I don’t know how long that will take, but powerful people are in the temple—including the king!” 

Haidee’s wrist was in Evelthon’s hold again. As fast as he’d weakened, determination and rage spurred his feet to action and his countenance to fearless. Haidee found her own as, with a sudden wind swelling around them, they began a bolt to the temple.