altogether. Turning back to the interior, Dion found the stairs to the uppermost level and began to climb.
He found his mother with her head bent over a copper basin filled with cloudy black water. Thea, Queen of Xanthos, had a rough woolen cloth on her shoulders, worn like a shawl over the white silk chiton underneath. She ran her fingers through her hair. An oily black substance coated them.
‘Mother,’ Dion said, smiling as he entered.
‘Dion!’ she exclaimed, turning her head to regard him with soft brown eyes while still keeping her long hair over the basin. ‘I’ve been so worried about you. I would embrace you but I’m certain you don’t want to be covered in dye.’
Dion’s mother was a slight woman, with a narrow heart-shaped face and dimples on her cheeks. She carried herself with grace and was nearly as tall as Dion, although Nikolas and Dion’s father both towered over her. She was King Markos’s second wife – Nikolas’s mother, the previous queen, had died in childbirth – but Dion’s father doted on her.
‘Mother, you barely look a day over forty.’
‘You are a man, Dion. Don’t expect to understand. Gray is not an attractive color in a woman. A queen must always look her best.’
Thea rinsed her hair in the basin and then scrubbed her head with the woolen shawl. ‘How do I look?’
‘The same as ever,’ Dion said wryly. ‘Although you might need a comb.’
‘Come.’ She indicated a stool nearby. ‘Sit beside me while I follow your advice.’
Dion sat on the stool while his mother ran a long comb of polished wood through her tresses.
‘I should be angry with you,’ she said. ‘You left with Cob and then last night when you didn’t come home . . .’
‘Do you know when Father will be back?’ Dion asked, changing the subject. ‘I have important news.’
‘He and Nikolas will soon return. Your brother has news also.’
‘So Peithon tells me. Little Luni is to be named. Nikolas must be proud.’
Thea smiled as she combed her long hair. ‘You’ve never seen a prouder father. Your news – what is it? Tell me about your journey.’
Dion explained about the narrows, but refrained from mentioning the Ilean warship.
‘Some of the Phalesians say that the gods caused the tremor because of the eldren.’
‘As I’ve already told you, earthquakes happen,’ Thea said, shrugging. ‘Mount Oden is no doubt to blame – it’s been rumbling for years. If you were to sail over to the island you’d likely see a plume of smoke rising from the volcano and ash on the ground.’
‘An eldran saved the life of the first consul’s daughter.’
Thea arrested the motion of her hand mid-stroke as she regarded her son. ‘Is that true? The Phalesians should all be grateful then.’
‘I’m sure the first consul is. But many fear them.’ Dion hesitated. ‘Mother . . . Why is it you don’t fear them? You have better reason than any. Wildren destroyed your homeland. They slaughtered your people.’
Thea sighed as she resumed combing. ‘I will never cease to be asked this question.’
‘I’m just trying to understand. The eldran who cleared the narrows . . . the serpent form he took . . .’ Dion let out a breath. ‘I can see why they frighten people. They could be powerful friends. Or powerful enemies.’
‘Friends is better,’ Thea said. ‘Remember: Wildren, not eldren, destroyed my homeland. The two are different, far more different than one human nation is from another. There are good and bad eldren, and good and bad wildren. We have all seen wild merfolk who pose no threat at all. But the thing that must be remembered is that wildren are animals. Once they pass the point where they have forgotten who they are, and are unable to change back, they are eldren no more. Some wildren pose a threat to humans and eldren alike and must be hunted down like all dangerous beasts. But to blame an eldran for what he may become – but almost certainly never will – is
He found his mother with her head bent over a copper basin filled with cloudy black water. Thea, Queen of Xanthos, had a rough woolen cloth on her shoulders, worn like a shawl over the white silk chiton underneath. She ran her fingers through her hair. An oily black substance coated them.
‘Mother,’ Dion said, smiling as he entered.
‘Dion!’ she exclaimed, turning her head to regard him with soft brown eyes while still keeping her long hair over the basin. ‘I’ve been so worried about you. I would embrace you but I’m certain you don’t want to be covered in dye.’
Dion’s mother was a slight woman, with a narrow heart-shaped face and dimples on her cheeks. She carried herself with grace and was nearly as tall as Dion, although Nikolas and Dion’s father both towered over her. She was King Markos’s second wife – Nikolas’s mother, the previous queen, had died in childbirth – but Dion’s father doted on her.
‘Mother, you barely look a day over forty.’
‘You are a man, Dion. Don’t expect to understand. Gray is not an attractive color in a woman. A queen must always look her best.’
Thea rinsed her hair in the basin and then scrubbed her head with the woolen shawl. ‘How do I look?’
‘The same as ever,’ Dion said wryly. ‘Although you might need a comb.’
‘Come.’ She indicated a stool nearby. ‘Sit beside me while I follow your advice.’
Dion sat on the stool while his mother ran a long comb of polished wood through her tresses.
‘I should be angry with you,’ she said. ‘You left with Cob and then last night when you didn’t come home . . .’
‘Do you know when Father will be back?’ Dion asked, changing the subject. ‘I have important news.’
‘He and Nikolas will soon return. Your brother has news also.’
‘So Peithon tells me. Little Luni is to be named. Nikolas must be proud.’
Thea smiled as she combed her long hair. ‘You’ve never seen a prouder father. Your news – what is it? Tell me about your journey.’
Dion explained about the narrows, but refrained from mentioning the Ilean warship.
‘Some of the Phalesians say that the gods caused the tremor because of the eldren.’
‘As I’ve already told you, earthquakes happen,’ Thea said, shrugging. ‘Mount Oden is no doubt to blame – it’s been rumbling for years. If you were to sail over to the island you’d likely see a plume of smoke rising from the volcano and ash on the ground.’
‘An eldran saved the life of the first consul’s daughter.’
Thea arrested the motion of her hand mid-stroke as she regarded her son. ‘Is that true? The Phalesians should all be grateful then.’
‘I’m sure the first consul is. But many fear them.’ Dion hesitated. ‘Mother . . . Why is it you don’t fear them? You have better reason than any. Wildren destroyed your homeland. They slaughtered your people.’
Thea sighed as she resumed combing. ‘I will never cease to be asked this question.’
‘I’m just trying to understand. The eldran who cleared the narrows . . . the serpent form he took . . .’ Dion let out a breath. ‘I can see why they frighten people. They could be powerful friends. Or powerful enemies.’
‘Friends is better,’ Thea said. ‘Remember: Wildren, not eldren, destroyed my homeland. The two are different, far more different than one human nation is from another. There are good and bad eldren, and good and bad wildren. We have all seen wild merfolk who pose no threat at all. But the thing that must be remembered is that wildren are animals. Once they pass the point where they have forgotten who they are, and are unable to change back, they are eldren no more. Some wildren pose a threat to humans and eldren alike and must be hunted down like all dangerous beasts. But to blame an eldran for what he may become – but almost certainly never will – is
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