“Wrong.” She stands and lifts me up from the ground. “If I’ve taught you anything when we practice climbing, it’s that you don’t give up when you’re slipping. You hold fast and think it through. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”
She’s so resilient. Like my mother. Every challenge placed before her, she meets with strength. It occurs to me— Girls are stronger than boys. They have to be.
“Alberich got what he deserved. They’ll have to leave you alone now,” she reassures me.
I lean on her, and we hobble up the path. We sneak into the manse, where the shades are pulled low for the midday nap. I direct her down the hallway. She pauses by the doorway to my room.
“Is this it?” she asks hesitantly. “I’ve been to the Eventide feast a few times, but I’ve never seen where you sleep.”
“That room isn’t mine anymore.” I point toward the guest room a few doors down, and she drags me to it.
“Bed,” I call out.
The platform ejects from the wall. She stares wide-eyed at the unfamiliar technology, but lays me gently on the gel mattress.
“Why did you let him take your room from you?” she asks.
“I don’t want to talk about it, Nadia,” I groan. “I just want to sleep and never wake up.”
“Talk about what?”
We turn to see Phaestion’s pale, lithe form framed in the doorway.
“Go away,” Nadia snaps, her dark eyes burning. “He doesn’t want you here.”
Phaestion ignores her and steps into the room anyway. He approaches the bed. Nadia bars his way. His gray eyes hold her gaze as he calmly hands a jar of something to her.
“What is it?” she asks.
“Tissue regenerative. Rub it on his wounds.”
Nadia looks at him distrustfully but takes the jar. She kneels by the bed and peels the shirt from my torso. My entire left side is discolored, black and blue. She rubs the salve on me. I wince. The ointment is cold then extraordinarily hot on my skin.
“It burns,” I say.
Phaestion nods. “The engineered bacteria absorbed by the skin help repair damaged cells. You’ll be less afraid of getting hurt from now on because you know the pain is only temporary.”
“The best of Tao’s scientists don’t have this kind of medicine!” Nadia exclaims with wonder.
Phaestion smiles enigmatically. “My father’s hired many off-worlders. This salve comes from Nonthera. If we want to be a strong house, a strong nation, a strong people, we have to learn the strongest ways. Even if they aren’t our own.”
“Even if those ways come from the Daysiders?” Nadia scowls. She massages the ointment into my skin.
I feel better. A lot better. I sit up in the bed.
“Don’t forget his ribs,” Phaestion says.
Nadia purses her lips. She doesn’t like taking orders, especially from this highborn know-it-all, but she follows his instruction. The stinging subsides, and then all I feel are Nadia’s hands. We haven’t touched like this before. I feel a stirring below, and I don’t want her to stop. I blush.
“That’s enough,” I say more harshly than I intend.
She backs away and folds her arms across her chest.
“Feel better?” Phaestion asks.
I nod.
He pauses. “You’ve never held a weapon before.” It’s a statement, not a question. I look away, ashamed. “I already knew,” he says simply. “Your father never entered you into competitions. If you were worth anything as a fighter, he would have.”
“Then why come here to train with me?”
“I remember the day of your brother’s christening, as do all in Meridian. They played the aquagraphics of you telling off Old Wusong for days and days. You’re famous. Probably the only scion almost as famous as me.” He shrugs.
I’m famous? The camglobes recorded everything that day, I realize. Still, if he knew I couldn’t fight, why request this fosterage?
“People think you’re strong. You’re to marry the emperor’s daughter one day. They think you could be emperor. A strong emperor, maybe even like the Great Song. I suppose I thought having you as a companion might be fun.”
“Glad I could amuse,” I respond acidly.
Nadia smirks at my sarcasm.
“You may have no value as a training partner, but that doesn’t mean you have no value at all.” Phaestion arcs an eyebrow knowingly. “Just don’t hinder my progress,” he says as he heads for the door.
“Considering Alberich’s dead, I don’t think that will be a problem,” I mutter.
Phaestion looks back over his shoulder. “He’s not dead. You ran off, so I dragged his body from the beach myself. He’s really heavy, you know. My family shuttled in a healing tank from Meridian when I arrived. He’s recovering in your servants’ quarters. He should be fine in an hour or so. I was careful when I stabbed him.”
“You stabbed him?” I ask, shocked.
“He was choking you.” He shrugs. “He might not have killed you, but I wasn’t ready to take the chance. So, I stabbed him.”
I bite the inside of my cheek in anger. “This whole time I thought I had—”
“You ran off.” He shrugs again.
Nadia shakes her head in disgust, but when Phaestion smiles at her, something changes in her expression. My stomach turns. Does she like him? This boy stole my room, saved my life, and now steals Nadia?
Suddenly, my mother is in the doorway. She pushes past Phaestion and kneels by the bed. “Edmon!” She clutches me. “What happened? Did they hurt you? My baby, are you all right?”
I want to cry into her arms, but over her shoulder, I see Phaestion staring curiously. He tilts his head as if calculating what this embrace between mother and son could mean.
It may be a weakness, I realize. I must no longer be a child if I’m to protect her and be his equal.
I gently but firmly push my mother away from me. “Mother, I’m fine.”
“Edmon—”
“I’m fine,” I say more forcefully. “You should go. The Eventide feast will start soon. They’ll need you to help prepare.” I try to sound as adult as I can.
Her face registers shock and hurt, but I push my guilt aside. A firmness sets over her features. I think she understands.
I must no longer be a baby. I must be Edmon of House Leontes.
“You’re right, Edmon. I’m down the hall if you need me.” She turns quickly, her hands rubbing her eyes as she leaves.
I stand to face Phaestion. I feel different, not afraid anymore. We stare each other down, each waiting for the other to make a move.
“You’re lucky,” he says. “You have a mother.”
I don’t know what he means by this, but before I can ask, a drum beats.
“The Eventide feast,” Nadia says, diffusing the tension. She grabs my hand. “Join us, Nightsider. You might learn a thing or two about what it means to be an islander.”
She pulls me toward the music. Phaestion follows.
The music is in full rhythm when Nadia pulls me into the room. Gorham catches my eye with a gap-toothed grin. He plucks out a twangy rhythm on his sampo guitar. Without missing a chord, he reaches into a basket and tosses me a small wooden flute. I catch it midair. Nadia gives me a little shove into the center of the ring. “Show them what you got, Edmon!”