She cannot say no. It would do me dishonor as the new Archon—and my father as Chief Archon. Not to mention that my father didn’t insult her by explicitly inviting her to celebrate my victory. Just our homecoming.
Jasper is still beaming at me. He’s acting truly happy with my victory, not upset by his own loss like so many despondent Testors around us. I’d like to believe that he’s the friend I’d been hoping he was. But I wonder what’s really behind that smile.
Our meeting is interrupted by a visit from Ian and the Chief Basilikon. Jasper and his family bow to their relative and then take their leave, while my mother and I do a deep curtsy. The once-automatic gesture feels strange in my stiff and filthy Testor uniform. My pack weighs me down as I bend—but I strive for Maidenly grace.
“You should be very proud of your Eva,” Ian commands rather than observes, using the full power of his Chief Lexor voice.
“She has done honor to the Gods, and her family,” my father answers, and I swell with pride at his words.
“Her Chronicle was most powerful,” the Chief Basilkon says, echoing my father’s words on the stage. I can’t quite tell if he’s praising me, or begrudgingly accepting my victory, or lying about the whole thing. Maybe he itched for punishment instead of Laurels, but he has some secret reason for publicly forgiving my impropriety. My father’s position, maybe? I can’t help but think about Eamon’s words from his journal—I can no longer ignore the truth of what I’ve learned. Had he learned something about the Chief Basilkon? Something that would compel the Basilikon to excuse the irregularity of my Chronicle? Perhaps so he can hold me under his sway?
“Enjoy your thirty days with her. After that, she’ll be off for her Archon training,” Ian directs. As if he could order happiness.
My father places his arm around me. “We’ve already planned. We will relish every tick.”
The other two chiefs of the Triad turn to leave. My parents and I assume our genuflections and curtsies. Then, arms linked, we head home.
The walk, which once seemed quite long, is but a few steps. In ticks, we are through the door. Everything seems impossibly luxurious after so many days on dogsleds and in crevasses, so many nights in igloos and tents. Especially since the tables of the solar and dining room—heaped high with fruit, beautifully sculpted breads and cakes, roasted fish and fowl—are already laid out for a great Feast.
“How did you know?” I ask.
“What do you mean, Eva?” my father asks back.
“How did you know that I’d win? You said ‘we’ve already planned.’ Even though you’re the Chief Archon, you couldn’t have possibly known that I’d be named the new Archon and thrown together a Feast of this magnitude just today. And if it’s been Jasper that had won, his family would be holding the Feast today.”
My parents shoot each other an inscrutable glance. My mother answers, “Eva, it seemed impossible that you should lose. You can’t imagine how you moved the New North people with your Chronicle at the Gatherings. We had never heard so wrenching a tale of the end. That poor girl.”
The contraband in my pack reminds me of something. I carefully extricate my father’s Relic: the mirror that earned him the role of Chief Archon. “I would have met my end were it not for this,” I say, my voice hoarse. “Thank you for allowing me to take it.”
My father nods solemnly and replaces the mirror on its spot on the mantle, faced toward the Sun. “Eva, the Gods have blessed you with a special gift. To see the hidden truth that lay within the Relics. And to tell that truth so powerfully. No other Testor has ever had that talent. Not in the entire history of the Testing.”
My eyes well with tears. He speaks of truth, but he means stories. My mind turns to Nurse Aga at whose feet I began to learn storytelling. I step close to them. I am awestruck by their compliments. “Truly?”
“Truly,” my father answers.
“Truly,” my mother echoes, with a sniff.
I think she’s holding back tears. But I see a grimace. For the first time in siniks, it registers that I’ve spent too long in these exact same clothes. In the warmth and closeness of the stone building, I realize the problem: I don’t smell Maidenly.
“Eva, you really must bathe before our Guests arrive for the Feast,” my mother manages in her whispery Lady voice. She can only hold back her Lady ways for so long.
My father glances my way, and nods. “That would be wise, Eva. I noticed your—umm—aroma in the town square. I didn’t want to embarrass you before we arrived home.”
I laugh. After all that I’ve faced these past twenty-eight siniks—body-wrenching cold, hunger, suspected conspiracy against me, near-death drops—the last thing I thought about was how I smelled. Yet back at the Aerie, it’s one of the first things I’ve got to tackle. My shoulders slump in relief. I am home. “I’m hardly embarrassed, Father. I would love nothing more than a long, hot bath.” I also welcome the excuse to lock myself in my bedroom and hide the amulet and altar that I’ve been carrying.
My mother smiles. Not only have I stepped into her realm, I am happily agreeing to her suggestions. For once. “I’ve already ordered your Companion Katja to prepare it.”
Katja? I’d almost forgotten about her.
I turn to give my parents a hug before racing upstairs, but something makes me hesitate. I’m excited and relieved to see them, but everything feels just a little too easy. Their Feast preparations, the Archon Laurels, Jasper’s amiable reaction. So I give them a smile and a wave. Still, my own stench reminds me that I am Maiden once again. I must also keep the stench of my secrets hidden.
XXXVI: Aprilus 28 Year 242, A.H.
“Give me a tick,” I call at the knock on my bedroom door. I assume it’s Katja. Earlier in the day, I had dismissed her so I could be alone in my room and bath; my siniks outside the Ring taught me to relish solitude. But now, with the guests beginning to arrive for the Feast, she’s probably eager to see if I need any help before I head downstairs.
I’ve got to be quick and hide the altar and amulet; I couldn’t resist looking at them once I was alone. The compulsion to make Elizabet real again was much too strong. I slide the altar back into my pack and bury it the bottom of a pile of smelly Testing garments. Until I find a suitable hiding spot, I figure that the smell and grime alone will keep the altar safe from everyone tonight, including Katja, whom I instructed not to touch them. Then I hang the amulet around my neck and tuck it beneath my Feast dress. I want to have Elizabet close to me—it’s her night, too. Looking down, I’m pleased that the sumptuous pattern my mother embroidered on the gown’s bodice masks the amulet. I must remember to thank my mother for the elaborate new dress; she must have worked on it the entire time I was gone.
“Come in,” I yell.
The door opens. But it’s not Katja. It’s Lukas.
I stand up and grin crazily. Grasping onto his hands, I blurt out, “I’ve been wanting to speak with you since I saw you in the town square. How can I thank you for all you taught me? I could never have survived without you, let alone won. You were with me beyond the Ring, Lukas. Every tick.”
He smiles back, his grip tight and warm. “Thank you, Eva, but you did it yourself. I’m so happy you won the Laurels, but most of all, I’m happy you’re home.”
“Me, too,” I said.
We grow quiet. There’s so much I want to say, but I hardly know where to begin. Maybe he feels the same way. Or maybe it’s just the Boundary quietude in him.
“I’ve come to say goodbye, Eva.”