Page 41 of Queen to the Sunless Court (Brides of Myth #2)

Garden Of Light

Calliste

It was Theron’s idea to have a light meal in his garden and invite Eumelia and Lykos to join them, and it was organized with such speed and efficiency that Calliste wondered if Gaiane had already anticipated it.

“I want to enjoy the rest of this day,” he said to her. “And take it as it is.”

In the time he needed to persuade Eumelia to join them, servants set up a carved table of light oak and four chairs in the cool shadow of the vines curling overhead.

They adorned it with a purple linen cloth embroidered with golden thread and placed a shallow golden bowl in the center, full of scarlet rose blooms floating in water.

They then returned with a selection of cheeses, olives, fresh flatbread, slices of melon, misted-green grapes, sesame cakes, honey-toasted almonds, and a jug of chilled mint tea.

Theron raised his brow at Captain Lykos, who observed everything with a flat, impenetrable expression. “Do you require a written invitation to join us?”

“I’m on duty,” he replied dryly.

“Come, we could use your annoying company.”

Hiding her smile behind her hand, Calliste glanced over the table at Eumelia’s guarded expression, wondering if the musician had grown so accustomed to the banter between the king and his polemarchos that it no longer amused her.

Calliste nibbled on her favorite crumbly Mytheorian cheese, creamy and melting on her tongue, while observing Eumelia with Captain Lykos sitting beside her, partly to take her mind off everything that had happened in the maze—moments she needed time and peace to process—but also because the musician intrigued her, especially with the way the polemarchos behaved around her.

The longer she discreetly observed them, the more intrigued she became, trying to puzzle out why the air between them seemed so stiff.

Eumelia’s expression remained blank and polite, changing only when Theron spoke to her—but Captain Lykos didn’t seem to notice her reserve, suddenly cracking jokes and recounting court anecdotes.

Soon, Calliste laughed so hard she had to wipe away her tears.

“Amusing.” Theron leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, somehow unimpressed. “Such a mine of brilliant stories, you are.”

“You spend too much time with Xanthos.” Captain Lykos grinned, relaxed in his chair. The breeze played with his dark hair. “You won’t hear them from him, that’s for sure.”

“I’m busy running the kingdom and don’t have time for jokes.”

“Well, I’m busy guarding the grumpiest man in existence, who’s running the kingdom—an incredibly demanding job—and I still find time to relax,” Lykos countered, his eyes briefly flicking to Eumelia, who hadn’t smiled once.

“Actually, Theron has a very good sense of humor,” Calliste said.

“Huh? Who would have guessed.”

“Not you,” Theron muttered, picking up a cup of iced mint tea and taking a slow sip.

“What do you think, Eumelia?” Calliste asked, trying to include the musician in the conversation.

Eumelia glanced up from her plate. Her large eyes, shaded by exceptionally long lashes, were a honeyed hue of brown in the sunlight. She blinked, as if she’d woken up from a dream. “Apologies,” she said with a tight smile. “I’m afraid I wasn’t listening.”

“Lykos claims I have no sense of humor,” Theron said casually. “While Calliste insists I do. It looks like you have the deciding vote.”

“Oh.” Eumelia brightened a bit. “I agree with Lady Calliste. You definitely do, Majesty, it’s just different from the prevalent and base kind of humor common in men.”

Calliste paused with her cup halfway to her lips, wondering if she had heard correctly and if the musician had just directed a barb at the captain, who also briefly froze, as if realizing it.

But he exhaled and cracked a nonchalant smile. “So it’s not different to the point of nonexistence?” he quipped.

Instead of answering, Eumelia stood up. “With your permission, Majesty, I have a couple of appointments to attend.”

“Of course. Apologies for interrupting your practice today.”

She smiled again—her face in shadow, her back illuminated by the afternoon sun, which caught in her black hair and ignited little fires on the surface of her rosy-gold pins and bracelets.

“Not at all.” Now her smile was bright and genuine.

“It’s such a pleasure to see you again, Lady Calliste.

I’ll be performing at the odeon later this month, and it would be an honor if you could attend. ”

Calliste smiled back, but her insides tightened at the thought of venturing outside the palace. “Thank you for the invitation.”

As Eumelia inclined her head and picked up her lyre, Captain Lykos stood beside her. “I’ll escort you to your appointment, Eumelia.”

She paused. “I don’t think it’s necessary, Captain, but thank you for offering.”

“It’s no trouble,” he said, unruffled, picking up the last sesame cake. “We’re going in the same direction.”

Her mouth thinned. She bowed to Theron and walked down the white gravel path, her silvery robe fluttering in the breeze, her black hair shining like onyx in the sun.

“Until later.” Lykos nodded at both of them and followed, two steps behind Eumelia.

Calliste sipped her mint tea, observing them closely, looking for confirmation of what she’d gleaned by their interactions, then glanced at Theron.

He was lounging in his chair, his gaze shifting between the vista of Anthemos and her, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

Then he rose and approached her, taking her hands.

“Come to the viewing deck with me. You’ll love it.

” Noticing her wistful glance at the grapes, he chuckled and picked up the bowl.

“You like them, don’t you? We’ll take some with us. ”

She followed him across the smooth marble tiles into the dazzling sunshine and onto the wide, crescent-shaped deck.

Her steps faltered at the stunning mosaic under her feet: a line of amber inlaid like the horizon, against which rose a half-disc of amber sun.

Its slender, sinuous rays wound toward the edge of the balcony, the space between them filled with snowy marble shading into a pink hue near the deck’s edge.

She paused before stepping onto the amber disc, and he paused with her.

“Is something wrong, Calliste?”

The syrupy-golden tones of the inlaid amber caught the sun, gleaming like its heart, mesmerizing her. “No. This… is beautiful.”

The glow of the amber gilded his distant smile. “Oh, yes. My grandfather had this design installed here.” He observed it for a moment. “I’m still shocked at how pristine everything is. I had no idea that Lykos would do something like that.”

It looks like he did it for more than one reason.

They made their way to the balustrade, where he set down the bowl of grapes.

She picked one up and popped it into her mouth, shading her eyes to take in the view.

The vista crashed into her like a majestic wave: the city glimmered like a pool of jewels scattered along the shore, and endless vineyards, olive groves, and orchards stretched to the far outskirts, which bulged into hills against craggy, imposing mountains with razor-like peaks dusted with snow and softened by haze.

Theron moved to her side, wrapping an arm around her waist, and she leaned against him. “Like it here?” His voice was as warm as the sun.

“It’s spectacular.”

His embrace tightened.

A moment of silence passed between them. She wrapped her arm around his waist, closing her eyes, and it felt like stepping into the heart of warmth: his body, his voice, the sun pouring down, filling her soul.

She savored it, memorizing as much as she could before they’d have to set out to the Underworld again, trying to pry Amatheia and Kalias from Eris’ hands. She pushed that thought away, determined not to let it poison the moment. “I’ve had such a good time here.”

“Thanks to Lykos, no doubt,” Theron huffed. “He knows how to make you laugh.”

She paused, incredulous, suddenly grasping Theron’s dry remarks at his friend. “Theron Amyntasides. You’re not jealous of Lykos, are you?”

“Jealous? Of Lykos? Pfft. Never.”

She stifled a laugh and popped another grape into her mouth, enjoying its burst of sweetness. “That’s good, because he wasn’t trying to make me laugh. He was trying his hardest to make Eumelia laugh.”

His brows arched. “I doubt it. Why would he? Eumelia isn’t interested in him.”

“Oh, that’s plain enough. But he likes her.”

“Lykos?” Theron repeated, as if to make sure they were still talking about the same person. He glanced down at her with an amused smile. “You’re so wrong about that.”

“Am I?” she asked, smoothly raising an eyebrow.

“Definitely. He’s a ladies’ man, and a poor match for Eumelia besides. She wants to compose and study music for the rest of her life, and I can’t think of two people more different… Why are you smiling like that?”

“Because I can’t believe you missed the fact that your best friend is pining for your personal musician. I’d bet on it.”

He chuckled, challenging glints skipping in his eyes. “Oh, Calliste, you’ll lose that bet, because Lykos likes a lot of women. Including you.”

“He might, but it doesn’t change the fact that I traveled with both of you—he had opportunities to flirt with plenty of women along the way and did nothing of the kind.”

“We were in a hurry, and he was on duty.”

She met his eyes.

The sun highlighted their deep bronze hue. The cool sea breeze teased a few strands of his dark hair around his sensuous mouth, enhancing his usual scent, now mixed with hints of mint and melon.

It was so good to see him so relaxed and to, well, gossip…

but she wouldn’t let him win. “Has he ever liked a woman enough to spend money on hiring gardeners for her to have a scenic place to practice? It must have cost him a fortune. And he admitted he’s been paying for the upkeep of this garden since last year… How long has Eumelia been here?”

He looked at her for a moment. “A year.”