“I’ve heard it before,” Spiridion spoke softly. “When Kore cries, I hear it.”
“Owls are wise,” Xenia offered. “If it sings for your sister, it must know she needs soothing.”
Spiridion nodded, opened his mouth, then closing it.
Xenia waited but the boy was careful to keep his words guarded. “I’ve heard that owls are the best companions.”
“Have you?” Ariston asked.
Xenia glanced at the warrior at her side.
“They are,” Ariston went on, “the most loyal of all companions. If one has chosen Kore, she will never be alone.”
She could not smile, not when she knew he spoke of Medusa and Thea. Theirs was a steadfast love. She must be sorely tired, to let her heart grow so heavy. She cleared her throat, turning back to the boy. “Sleep now. Find peaceful dreams, with Kore’s owl, perhaps. Sleep is the only occupation for such a time.” She watched him lie back, looking far too awake but offering not disagreement. He was a good child, obliging and careful, if a bit too thoughtful for one so young. She smoothed the linen sheen sheet over his slight body.
“Will you sleep?” Ariston asked the boy.
Spiridion nodded, closing his eyes. “I shall try,” his voice wavered.
Ariston cast a hesitant glance her way, the simple act a request for privacy. Xenia left, lingering outside the boys’ room to wait for Ariston.
“Spiridion,” Ariston’s voice was low, “if you have need of me, simply call. My room is there,”-Xenia could imagine him pointing the way- “across the courtyard from your own.”
“It is neither wise nor brave of me to be ruled by my fears,” the boy answered.
“We are mortals,” Ariston’s words were measured. “Wisdom and bravery fail even the strongest amongst us. Never let it rule you, but learn from it and cherish the lessons you glean. Do you understand?”
“I think… I do,” the boys murmured.
“Sleep now.” Ariston added, “Perhaps Kore’s owl will visit you and soothe you with a lullaby as well.”
Xenia heard no answer, instead Ariston joined her, pulling the latticed door around but leaving it ajar. He glanced at Xenia and she nodded her agreement. They moved on, speaking only when they’d crossed the courtyard.
“He’s not had a peaceful night since arriving.” Xenia sighed.
“He’s too young to have witnessed so much.”
She could hardly argue. Spiridion had seen the horror the Persians left behind, lost his parents, his home. But there was more. “Perhaps. But… It’s as if he… he fears being discovered. As if he has some secret that troubles him. There are times he looks as if he has something of great import to share. But, then, he presses his lips shut, grows pensive, thoughtful.” She tapped her finger on her chin. “What secrets could a boy his age have?”
“Secrets? Or memories… Memories too painful to remember, too troubling to forget?” His gaze met hers, for but a moment. “We’re both of us familiar with that. Would it be wise to revisit them?” He paused. “The boy needs time, Xenia, not words?”
“Perhaps,” she relented. Ariston glanced at her, his was such a haunted expression that she stumbled to a stop. Her lungs ached as she pulled in air, readying herself for what she must say next. “But there are words that should be spoken, Ariston-”
He bit out, “Do not, Xenia.”
“She would not want you to carry on so,” her throat tightened, all but choking her.
Ariston’s eyes closed, his lips tightened.
“You are no better than that boy. I hear you, you know. He is not the only one that cries out in the night,” she reached up, stroking the young man’s face.
He flinched, moving from beneath her touch. “I’d not meant to disrupt your sleep-”
“You misunderstand me.” She sighed. “I’m too old to ne
ed much sleep, Ariston. But it saddens me to see you so. You are a great man. You’ve a sharp mind. A strong arm… you were one of Athena’s favored.”
His eyes raged when he looked at her, the muscles in his cheeks bulging.