I find Hippolytos trading some Aeras goods at a stall. He accepts the piece of fruit from the vendor as if it is priceless. Two hands cup the orange, his face unnaturally bright. He bows low. The vendor is too busy to notice. I see the flash of Inca gold before the man slips Hip’s payment out of sight.

“Don’t tell me you paid for that orange with an artefact,” I murmur, as he comes alongside me.

“Grandfather has a craving,” he says and tucks the orange away for safe keeping.

“It astounds me what the shaman prizes.”

“It astounds him that you do not prize the same things.”

“An orange?” I query dismissively.

“Life,” Hippolytos replies simply.

I stare down at him; feeling strangely reprimanded as if I were a child.

“He plans to plant the seeds,” Hip adds.

“Oh,” I manage. “That makes sense.”

“Yes. I thought it would. Being Aether’s sword must count for something.”

I glare at the man. He smirks back at me.

“Is it my day to be scolded?” I say bemusedly.

Hip’s smirk turns into a grin.

“We all need a hobby,” he deadpans.

“Great. Just great,” I mutter.

“You have a request for me,” he says, turning the conversation abruptly one-eighty degrees.

“You heard that on the wind?”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps you do not seek me out unless you require something.”

I tip my head back and close my eyes. This day just gets better and better. And I have still not met with my mother.

“Don’t worry,” Hippolytos advises. “For now, this is your role. And my role is to acquiesce.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means, Prince of Pyrkargia, that swords need to be sharp when they are in use. And right now, Aether needs to use you.”

“To maintain balance.”

“Yes.”

I sigh. This whole Aether’s sword thing has gotten away from me. But Hippolytos is right; I need to be sharp. And if asking the shaman’s grandson for help is something that will get the job done, then I will gladly do it.

Cassandra did not sacrifice so much for it all to be torn asunder by my mother.

“The human is attempting to discover who harmed Melita,” I say.

“Away from prying eyes?” Hip guesses.

I nod my head. “I need you to listen in.”

He frowns. “I am happy to ask the Air to lend an ear,” he says, “but will the human not divulge what Melita tells her?”

“I’m sure she will, but she will only hear what a human hears. I need to hear more.”

“You suspect Melita will not be truthful.”

“I’m not even sure if Melita will talk at all.”

Hip stares at me for a moment and then nods his head.

“It is done,” he says.

I didn’t even feel a ripple in the wind.

“Melita is talking,” he murmurs, and I throw a Pyrkagia shield up around us as we walk away from the camp and towards the cliffs overlooking the bay.

No one follows, but I feel the heated press of eyes as they watch.

Hip stands still on the cliff’s edge; his head cocked to the side, white blazing from his eyes.

“It’s not that I don’t want revenge,” he says, and I realise he is parroting the conversation.

“Then what do you want?” That would be Sonya.

“You would not understand. You are human.”

“You know, I’m getting a little tired of you guys dismissing my humanity. That precious balance your god wants includes humans, too.”

“Perhaps you are right. But you were not raised an Athanatos.”

“And I thank your god for that, I truly do.”

“Ha, ha,” Hippolytos says, and it takes me a moment to translate that to Melita laughing.

The fact that Melita is laughing makes it easier to breathe. She has not been broken. And this human, we are all so ready to underestimate, has managed to reach her; to make Melita laugh again.

“I was destined to serve,” Hip says. It is Melita speaking again. I can no further see Sonya serving anyone than I can see inside that tent right now.

“I’m sorry.”

“Do not be. It is our way.”

“It’s a fucked up way.”

“Perhaps. Things have changed. But much was expected of me growing up. I knew my place. I did as I was told. Until Theodoros.”

“Whoa! What’s he got to do with anything?”

Sonya does not know, I realise. Casey has not confided in her friend. I wonder if this will change things. I wonder if Sonya will stop her attempts to get Melita to open up if she realises Melita once shared my bed.

I have seen the way Sonya looks at Isadora. There is no love lost there.

“Everything. He has everything to do with it.”

I close my eyes and try to breathe normally. I do not wish to disturb Hippolytos. I do not wish him to know I am affected by any of this. A sword is meant to be sharp. But right now I have a dull edge.

“Explain,” Hip says in typical Sonya style.

“I loved him. At one time he loved me. And then I made a mistake.”

“Mistake?”

“I listened to another. I took advice from someone who had a vested interest in the outcome of our relationship. I did not know it at the time; I thought she was a friend. But she wanted Theo for herself, and I was only a servant. How was I to know politics were at play? I did as she suggested. My heart was breaking; I believed she was aiding me. That by spurning Theo then, he would respect me in the future.” This is not how I remember things. “He would be forced to breach the social gap between us and declare to all that I was his Thisavros.”

“Casey’s his Thisavros.”

“So it appears.”

“She is. Once a Thisavros. Always a Thisavros.”

“I am not arguing with you. I merely wish to demonstrate how I was raised.”

Hippolytos is silent for a moment. I imagine the two women glaring at each other. It amuses me that I believe Sonya will win this contest.

“I know my place.” Melita again. “I am a pawn. I am used and discarded by those of higher standing.”

“Such as?”

There is a pause. Even standing so far away from the tent, it feels weighted. But it is not the weight of anticipation I expected. It is different. Thicker. Sludgier. Perhaps it is the medium we are using to eavesdrop; I have not used the Air as ears before now. But something is different to this weighted silence. Something I do not like.

“Such as Agents of Pyrkagia,” Hip whispers, mimicking Melita. She wishes to blame her betrayal on Isadora. “Such as Councillors. Such as Kings and Queens. You name it, human. They were all above me then, and they are all above me now.”

“Who hurt you, Melita?”

“‘Does it matter? I know my place.’”

“Of course it matters. It always matters.”

“In your world, perhaps.”

“It’s a new world now,” Sonya says.

Silence. Then, “All right. I’ll tell you. But it must not leave this tent.”

Melita is not usually so naive.

“I can't promise you that,” Sonya says. “I wish I could, but there’s more at stake here than keeping a secret.”

“You are a pawn too, then.”

“Hey! I’m no one’s pawn!”

“Then promise me. Promise me you will keep this to yourself or suffer the consequences.”

“Consequences?” Hip squeaks. I shake my head. But also hold my breath and wait.

“Tell a soul, human, and you shall burn.”

“Honestly? I don't need to know what happened that much.”

“No one will hear me! No one will share my burden!”

And now she attempts melodrama. This is not the Melita I fell in love with.

I've heard enough. I do not need to hear more to know she is playing us.

I raise my hand to interrupt Hip’s spell, but Melita speaks first.

“I tell you because you should beware. I tell you because you are a servant too, whether you believe it or not. I tell you because you lie in a nest of vipers and sooner or later you will get bitten.”

“Oh, freaking hell,” Sonya mutters. “Who then?”

I know I do not need to listen further. I know what Melita says next will be a lie. But I must have all the evidence before me. The good and the bad.

“So be it.” The words of a binding pact. “The King,” Hip says. “My Rigas did this to me. While the Queen watched.”

I do not hear Sonya’s reply. I do not hear Hippolytos parroting. I do not hear a thing.

Because this can't be true.

Melita is lying, I am sure of it. But why, then, does the lie sound like the truth?