Pherenike - Chapter 127

The child’s body, still heavy with sleep, sagged limply in her mother’s arms. Actor Nikandros could still lift the girl as lightly as a feather, but for Pherenike, it was no longer so easy.

“It’s time to get up.”

“Why?”

“You need to have breakfast, Leuce.”

The little girl blinked slowly in her mother’s arms, then suddenly glanced around at the darkness.

“It’s still dark out.”

“I know. It is dark.”

“But breakfast is supposed to be when it’s light.”

“You still have to eat.”

“Actor Nikandros said I shouldn’t eat anything when it’s dark! He said so before, too! I asked Ino for cookies at night, and—”

Pherenike ignored her daughter’s perfectly reasonable suspicion and began taking out the food. She held a raspberry to the girl’s mouth, but the princess turned her head away in protest.

“When Actor Nikandros comes back, Ino will tell on us.”

“Ino isn’t here.”

“We’ll get in trouble.”

“No one’s going to scold you. I promise.”

“Not even Father?”

“…Yes. Not even your father.”

The child’s eyes suddenly sparkled, and she reached for the food herself.

“Mother, you’re stronger than Father, aren’t you?”

“What a funny question.”

“Sometimes, I think Father is afraid of you. Even though he’s bigger!”

Without any expression, Pherenike pushed bread into her daughter’s mouth, replying without much interest.

“That depends—on the time, on the circumstances.”

“Depends?”

“For example, your father is much better with a sword than I am.”

“Then why would he be scared? What are you better at?”

“Chew your bread, Leuce.”

“I’m not scared of Mother at all, so I must be stronger than Father!”

Pherenike let out a quiet sigh as her daughter, proud and triumphant, snatched a piece of dried fig from her hand.

“Then I’m the strongest in all of Lykke!”

“Are you planning to be a warrior when you grow up, Leuce Pelagon?”

Her mother answered distractedly, pulling out more food from the basket as Leuce nodded with great enthusiasm.

“How did Mother know? Leuce really is talented. Father said so. I’m really strong—”

“…That’s because he thinks you lack absolutely nothing. And try not to drool.”

“That’s why Father taught me how to use a spear, in secret! I know spears now. I can use them. Oh, but it was supposed to be a secret from Mother…”

“You’re going to be in trouble with a mouth that careless.”

“It’s fine!”

Pherenike looked at her daughter with a distant gaze. The excited girl tumbled off the bed, darting into the darkness like a wild animal.

Not wanting her daughter to trip in the dark, Pherenike quickly summoned a bright light at her fingertips and stood up. Leuce, quick as ever, had already clambered onto a chest and was grunting as she dragged something out from behind it.

Sighing, Pherenike sat down again. She could hear the daemons counting down the remaining time in the princess’s chamber.

“Look at this!”

“Leuce Pelagon.”

“Father and I found it before. Isn’t it cool?”

She looked down at the little spear her daughter presented with such pride. For a moment, a hot breath caught in her throat and slid down into her chest.

It was Deucalion’s spear. A gift from before the child was even born, meant for the child she would one day have.

“Look here! There’s a wolf and an eagle on it.”

“….”

It was just a practice spear, with a short shaft and a dull tip, safe for a child to use. Pherenike watched her daughter poke the air with it, proudly demonstrating her clumsy spear skills.

Deucalion’s spear, whether it matched her own childhood memories or the day she’d received it for Leuce, had been carefully maintained, its blade free from rust. She knew Actor took care of it himself, as if it were some kind of ritual. He cherished his young daughter above all else, and surely her first weapon was no exception.

He probably didn’t know where it came from, or what it meant. Pherenike swallowed a bitter smile. She gently took the spear from her daughter and gestured firmly for her to climb back onto the bed. Cheeks puffed out, Leuce crawled up and asked,

“Don’t Leuce get any praise?”

“When you get even better, I’ll praise you then.”

“I’m going to be really good. Father said that when I grow up, I’ll be just like Deucalion.”

“….”

“Father said Deucalion is the best spearman in all of Evdokia. Deucalion is Father’s brother—he said I could call him uncle.”

As if Pherenike didn’t know, Leuce carefully explained everything about Deucalion.

“Uncle is the one who gave Leuce this spear.”

“….”

“He said it was his favorite when he was little. He treasured it like his life. Since he gave his favorite thing to me, Father said I have to be sure to thank him when I see him next.”

Pherenike gazed absently at the spear, setting it aside. Even after all these years, the ash wood was solid, bearing the marks of Deucalion’s long hardships.

Actor remembered the only gift his younger brother had ever received from their father—and passed that memory on to his daughter, just like that, like it was nothing. Like a madman.

Her eyes burned as she stared at the spearhead.

“But Mother, aren’t you going to eat?”

Leuce cheerfully offered the bread she’d been nibbling on, only to pause and draw it back. She did this with her father all the time, knowing he didn’t mind.

But she seemed to realize her mother probably wouldn’t like it, her little hands hesitating in midair.