A shooting star flitted over the tip of her outstretched finger. 

Rhene gasped. Spearing rays of Inachus’s setting sun bathed her hand in the warms of crimson and gold, yet the cool bands of storm blue heralded the creeping black of true night. Stars flickered in their waking while the two moons inched along their daily arc. The duel of time that’d captivated her vanished in her awe. Rhene’s hand dropped to her chest, her finger throbbing with a faint, happy heat. Eyes searching the heavens found no more sparkling trails, but it was no matter. The moment, ever so fleeting, was within her. Tomorrow it would be on leather canvas. 

Thoughts of another morning arriving as too many had returned Rhene’s attention back to the world. Houses of white stone wound their way down the stretching slope like foam of a bubbling rapid upon which her oikos sat. Endless colors bounced against the walls from the battle of day and night—Iridescia’s gift of ephemeral paint. Clay roof tiles shone with the haze of the afternoon’s heat, but soft wind playfully circling the second-floor balcony plush with pillows and blankets that was always her own beckoned a sweet relief soon to come. 

Irideska, this home city of hers named for its patron goddess, offered endless beauty to her day after day, year after year. In the morning, in the evening. Even the fierce storms were a wild charm, and it’d been no few times Rhene’s secret sneaking to this balcony to watch from over the wall rushing rain turn the streets into rapids proper earned her rebuke when her tattered state betrayed her actions. The very gardens beneath her feet had no equal amongst their neighbors. Rare peonies bloomed in abundance in spring and early summer. The violets blossomed until autumn chilled them asleep, and right now cheery yarrow did its best to mimic the sun. 

Sighing, Rhene dropped her head upon a pillow. These sights, though dear, were too familiar. Closing her eyes put no black curtain on the view. She didn’t need to lift her head and search the eastern horizon to find there, at the bottom of the long hill, the endless churn of sea. Biremes and triremes bobbed about at all hours as the captains put new rowers to the test. Lighthouses to the north and south flared their warning beacons for all seeking shelter among the gentle bay. Twice last year she’d been able to lounge upon the white sand, cool herself in the frothy waves. Already reaching the tail end of summer, she hadn’t been once this year. 

“Berenike, guide me east when the sun rises,” Rhene whispered into the cricket-sung air. “I feel I shall embarrass you with how pitiful my swimming has become otherwise.” 

A hopeful exhale passed her lips now. Eyes closed from weariness, not frustration. The cushions beneath her soothed the impostor of aches her bored body dared to imagine. Slippery silk illusioned a bed of petals beneath her, and the faint melody of merry chatter, clattering cart wheels, off-beat songs of drunken men, and bards tuning their lyres played a unique lullaby. 

“Rhene!” 

Of course. 

“Mater.” Rhene rose. There, in the doorway to her bedroom, stood her mother. The yarrow had been planted in honor of her golden hair seemingly strung by Inachus himself. No age dared lower her mother’s plump, pink cheeks nor crinkle the corners of her sky-bright eyes—eyes currently lit with cool flame. Wealthy cowhide sandals muffling her steps lessened the threat of her mother’s exasperated stride. It further helped that this rebuke, too, was part of the routine. “Were you thinking of finding your rest here again?” 

“It is an exquisite place to lie,” Rhene dared a shrug. 

“Ahh,” her mother palmed her cheek. “You’d be a bitten mess by morning.” 

“I’ll place a covering over myself.” 

“We’ll place a covering over your windows. That way you may still have the wind. Now, come.” 

Without protest, Rhene stood and trailed her mother indoors. Her room was a wonder no mortal not touched by madness would dare criticize. Furniture of foreign dark wood shined with reflective gloss as creamy ivory embedded itself within etchings and as accents, especially upon her bedframe that hosted a mattress of fluffy feathers. A bronze mirror pedestaled by a figure of Iridescia and servant nymphs provided less reflection than the vanity itself Rhene’s mother sat her before, but it was enough to watch as her mother’s fingers expertly went to work untangling the crown of braids coiled upon her head. 

“Gold from me, crimson from your pater,” her mother tenderly repeated the phrase as she did every night. Rhene’s gentle curls tightened by the braids of the described mixed hue cascaded free from confinement. A wide-toothed comb worked free the few tangles. “You must, at the least, tend to your hair before bed.” 

“I would have.” 

“I am not yet ready to try my trust in that statement.” 

“Then you shall never know trust.” 

“Hoping to become a philosopher?” her mother’s lips pulled upwards. 

“Is that permission?” 

“Hmm, I don’t think you would enjoy it.” 

“No, I wouldn’t.” 

“I know you well, my daughter of perfect harmony.” Her mother sweetly pressed her temple upon Rhene’s. The bronze mirror warped the colors, but her eyes of blue and gray, too, were a blend of her mother’s and father’s. Pale skin of delicate grace had little chance to ripen in the sun thanks to her mother’s watchfulness. Painting occupied most of Rhene’s day, and— “Your fingers! Again?” 

Again. Rhene’s mother loved that word. A call for assistance slipped in Pero, the slave girl with tight curls of dusky brown with a narrow nose and cheekbones Rhene thought a curvaceous delight. The girl refused all her wishes to craft her a portrait though. Pero’s faint smile and knowing gleam immediately brought her to the water bowl where she grabbed a bar of soap and cloth to scrub Rhene’s fingertips flecked with dried pigments. 

“What state you would be in without me,” her mother bemoaned once more. “A dried, bump of a girl with stringy reeds for hair and stained hands not even a blacksmith’s wheel could clean.” 

“You paint with your words, Mater,” Rhene scoffed a laugh. “What an orator you would make.” 

“I only require speechcraft for one—you. Be grateful I pray to the Gentle Mother and not Hesis.” 

Rhene lifted her chin, “Thank you Goddess Melinna. I apologize for my mater having to inundate you with endless pleas.” 

“The goddess receives an apology. I receive this,” her mother rubbed a finger now tinted red from the scrubbing. “I suppose I shall assist in wiping and oiling you as well.” 

The nighttime routine continued, lighthearted bickering and all. Rhene shivered when her mother and Pero tugged her free of her light green chiton and cream himation to wipe her with lukewarm water before rubbing her where necessary with oil. Rhene redressed. Her mother took from the dresser a slip of silk. Lightly binding Rhene’s curls, the silk was carefully wrapped and pinned around her hair. 

“This idea of Ino’s has been working wonderfully,” her mother clapped her hands together. “Your hair has never been cleaner and softer. I must hear of any new suggestions the next time we meet.” 

“On that, has there been word from Pater and Perdix?” Rhene wondered, sitting upon her bed. 

“They should return home soon. If they’re delayed, Pater will gladly escort us to Ino’s. A visit to Maia cannot be ignored either.” 

“I want to see Maia and the baby!” 

A new voice joined the mix. Cilissa, Rhene’s youngest sister, cracked the bedroom’s main door. Her golden waves matched their mother’s, but she inherited their paternal grandfather’s eyes of strong brown. Given that Cilissa was not far in the development of a woman yet already bulged her chiton noticeably meant she’d one day gain a figure like their maternal grandmother. 

“Soon, love. I will also see you to bed soon. Wait in your room.” 

“I will wait outside the door,” Cilissa decided, closing the door with an audible whoosh before a challenge could be made. 

“Gentle Mother, I plead to you again,” her mother joked to the ceiling. 

“I shall cause you no more stress this day, I promise,” Rhene patted her hand. 

“Would that you make that promise for a lifetime, but I will take your vow for now.” She leaned in close, foreheads touching. Another part of the routine was her mother’s misty gaze and slightly wavering voice full of love to see her to sleep. “How beautiful you are. In physical, and in spirit. How healthy you are, and I thank the gods every night that you have been kept so. You are near and dear to my heart, little lamb. You are safe with me, no matter how the world seeks to harm you.” 

“I love you, Mater,” Rhene blinked faster. 

“I love you too.” 

A wayward strand of hair twisting free was affectionally tucked back under the silk. A kiss and squeeze of her hands preceded her mother’s departure with Pero scurrying to affix the covers over the windows before trailing her heels. Pero graced Rhene a friendly dip of the head before closing the door. Banter between her mother and Cilissa could be heard until the two reached her sister’s room. Rhene inhaled deeply, sneezed from the scent of oil, dropped her head upon the pillow, and, with nothing else to do, let the darkness of mind take hold.

It crept upon her like the slow drip of leaking water. A noise insignificant enough to not be worthy of attention...until it persisted. Until it defiantly challenged each dismissal in a never-ending loop. Until one was forced to turn and acknowledge its existence. Rhene couldn't turn. Rhene couldn't see. Without something as simple as consciousness of self, all she could do was wait. The faint noise gathered its strength and swelled, rumbling her heart with the mad clatter of charging hooves that overwhelmed her.

She shot up. Sweat iced Rhene's arms and neck even though midnight's cool breeze pulsed the window coverings to the pace of her erratic heartbeat. Had she just been running? Trying to get away? Rhene couldn't remember. Nothing clung to her except the fading echo of hoof upon stone. A dream, she knew, yet its scarcity of substance didn't deprive in emotion. What emotion shook her, however, wasn't easily determined. Though...Rhene couldn't quite say she was scared. If anything, she wished to tiptoe to the precipice and discover what the answer of this moment was.

Unfortunately, she wasn't going anywhere right now. Her mother wouldn't let Rhene hear the end of it. Calming, Rhene tucked the curiosity away, lay down, and sought the illusions of night once more.