as a mortal man, to tend the grove at her side, to give her children, to be buried beside her when he died.
If any of his descendants aspired to ascend within their court, it would not be by inherited magic but by some other gift or strength.
Which Halcyon had done.
“Do you think we have gathered enough?”
Maia’s inquiry brought Evadne back to the present. She glanced at her armload of olive clippings. “Yes, more than enough. We should get back. Our mothers will be wondering what has taken us so long.”
“Perhaps they will think one of the gods flew over the grove and—literally—fell in love with us,” Maia said brightly as she dropped from the tree. It was a frequent quip of their family, but Evadne still laughed.
“Lightning never strikes in the same place twice, Maia. Sorry to disappoint you.”
The cousins walked through the trees, finding the main path that wound up the hill to the villa. Most of the time, Evadne’s right ankle ached only in the cold seasons. But it ached today, despite the sultry weather of a storm about to break, and every step through the grove was unpleasant. And when she noticed Maia glancing at the hem of Evadne’s chiton, whisking over the grass and stained with dirt, she realized why Maia had volunteered to climb the tree.
“Am I limping that much, Maia?”
“No. I was just thinking about how hard it is going to be to get all that dirt washed out of your clothes.”
Evadne shook her head but couldn’t resist a smile. Their chitons were simple, made from white linen and cut into sleeveless tunics that they wore long. The garments were fastened at the shoulders with brooches and cinched at the waist with woven leather belts. In the cold seasons, they traded linen for woolen chitons and cloaks the color of the earth: umbers and greens and grays. Colors that blended into nature and quietly proclaimed their status in society, which was the lowest in their court.
How many times had Maia and Evadne and their mothers lamented over the stains that the grove gave their raiment on a daily basis? Laundry days were detested.
But just once, Maia swore, most likely when she was an old woman and held no more fear of what other people thought, she would wear the esteemed purple, as if she were Queen Nerine herself.
The girls walked the rest of the path in silence. Evadne was distracted by the ache in her stride, an ache sparked by the recent labor she and her family had undertaken, preparing for Halcyon’s return. The past two weeks, they all had been stricken with work, eager to make the villa shine like a new coin, a place worthy of a girl who had ascended in the Common Court.
They had harvested the best of the fruit and gathered the first pressing of olives, oil so rich it was deemed sacred. They had aired the blankets so they would smell of summer winds and scrubbed the tiles and frescoes until they gleamed. They had filled all the lamps with oil and prepared their finest garments. Halcyon’s name had been spoken frequently, reverently, like she was a goddess, and Evadne and her family had let the promise of her fill every corner and corridor of the villa.
By sundown tomorrow, Halcyon of Isaura would be home.
And what stories might she tell Evadne and Maia? Stories of the world outside the grove, one that glittered of the upper class and cities and chitons so fine they were iridescent in the light. It would be like opening a box of treasure, like a divine relic that Evadne could only admire, not touch and claim.
She dreamt of ascending rank in her court, too. Of leaving the dirt-stained chitons and windblown hair and seasonal strain of a land steward. To no longer be looked down upon by others, simply because she worked in the grove.
Evadne cast the ascension desire aside; it would never happen, so why did she keep entertaining it? She dwelled on her sister again and tried to imagine what it would be like to reunite with Halcyon, hugging her after all those years separated, and a jolting mix of joy and nerves shot through Evadne. Which would Halcyon sense more? The overflowing delight or the pinch of envy?
The girls reached the courtyard of the villa, where a herald waited beyond the gates, ringing the bell for admittance.
“What news could he possibly bring now?” Maia growled beneath her breath. “A higher