kiss to her brow. And then he turned away to hide his tears, unable to watch her leave.
Evadne gathered her small bag of possessions, Halcyon’s kopis safely stored at the very bottom. Her mother walked her down the stairs to the front door of the inn. A door Evadne had slipped through like a shadow earlier.
Phaedra stopped on the threshold. She cupped Evadne’s face in her hands and studied her, the rise and fall of her daughter’s profile, the darkness of her eyes, the freckles on her cheeks.
“It does not matter that you serve Lord Straton’s family now,” she whispered. “You are your own self. No one owns your soul or your body or your fate. No one but you, Evadne.”
Evadne breathed in those words, let them twine with her blood and her bones, so she would never forget them.
“You have done a courageous thing, one that the gods will see and bless you for. And I am proud of you, Evadne. Use Kirkos’s relic only in time of dire need, and even then, be wise with it, my love. It is an extraordinary gift, but it can be dangerous if misused,” Phaedra whispered and kissed her cheeks. She relinquished her daughter, as she must. Even though it made pain bloom in both of them.
Evadne began to walk toward the market.
She did not look back, even though she felt her mother’s gaze.
And each step Evadne took drew her farther from her former life. Fear and doubt warred within her until she thought of Halcyon, who had always been the symbol of valor, a constellation for Evadne to chart her course.
She set her hand over her breast, feeling the lapis wing resting against her heart, thrumming with magic. A promise rose from the earth, from the wind, moving through her like a chorus.
There is steel within me.
I will not bend.
I will not break.
The Second Scroll
A Crown Made of Secrets
XI
Evadne
Straton waited by the well.
He looked like a god upon first glance, tall and broad and merciless, with the sun blazing down the bronze scales of his armor, as if he were forged from fire. His helm was in the crook of his arm, the black-and-white horsehair blowing in the morning breeze. A small leather satchel was buckled at his belt, and a sword was sheathed at his side, the scabbard trimmed in emeralds.
Evadne wondered how many people he had killed as she arrived to meet him.
His eyes briefly assessed her. She could only hope that she did not look forlorn, afraid.
“Come with me.” Straton turned and walked through the market, the vendors, servants, housewives, and hoplites swiftly stepping aside for him. Evadne labored to maintain his pace, drawing the eyes of those she passed. Again, the whispers rose, chasing her heels.
Yes, that is her. The sister of the hoplite who killed Xander.
She’s paying a portion of Halcyon’s punishment. Fool of a girl.
What possessed her to do such a thing?
Perspiration beaded her brow when the commander finally stopped in the booth of a silversmith. A worn blanket served as a roof, shielding them from the brunt of the rising sun as they waited for assistance. Evadne stood slightly behind Straton, gazing at the array of jewelry set on the craftsman’s table.
One tray brimmed with divine tokens. Each of the eight gods and goddesses were represented in silver. Even Pyrrhus, god of fire, had tokens made in his honor, despite the fact that he was still trapped in Mount Euthymius. Kirkos, however, was forgotten, and Evadne felt a pang of sadness, that his decision to become mortal had rendered him insignificant.
“Lord Straton!” the silversmith cried, emerging from an open doorway. “I apologize for the wait. How may I assist you?”
“I need an amulet,” the commander said.
The silversmith glanced to Evadne. She read his thoughts, the arch of his brows—he knew exactly who she was. “Yes, of course,” he replied, and invited them into his work chamber.
It took a moment for Evadne’s eyes to adjust to the dim light, but she soon saw there was a long table set against a wall. Silver ingots and iron instruments were scattered across it. A great scroll was also unrolled among the clutter, inked with designs.
The silversmith fumbled around a few jars, finally displaying an amulet on his palm for Straton to see.
“That will do fine,” the commander said.
Evadne remained standing on the outskirts until the silversmith motioned for her to come closer and stand near the fire. She knew what was about to happen, should have been