Page 31 of The Concubine King
“Ethyr,” Gnaeus called, a thread of concern in her voice that wasn’t there before.He glanced over at her, holding her arms out imploringly.He didn’t dare fight Kiaro’s grip.
After another few seconds that felt like hours, Kiaro released him.“Go,” he said quietly.
Ethyr scrambled up and over to Gnaeus, sinking gladly into her arms.She hugged him tight, caressing his hair.Varuut reached over to rub his back.
“You two are cruel,” Gnaeus reprimanded over his head.“Take your disagreements out between yourselves.Don’t involve a poor mortal.”
Catocus scoffed.He turned and stormed out the door.Ethyr stared.It hadn’t occurred to him that there was a tangible world outside of this room.
“Ignore them,” Gnaeus said softly.He looked at her round face and sweet, comforting smile.“It’s nothing you did.”Ethyr knew that, yet couldn’t help but feel responsible.
“You ruin everything,” Ainder complained to Kiaro before standing with a sigh, stretching his arms and wandering back to the table to start eating.
Kiaro turned, swinging his legs up onto the seat and ignoring them all again.
“Come here,” Varuut said, pulling Ethyr from Gnaeus’s lap to sit between them.She gave him a goblet of wine and set to work fixing his disheveled hair.Varuut and Gnaeus doted over him for the rest of the night, until he fell asleep again on Gnaeus’s lap.There was no question she was the god of hearth and health, the way she exuded calm compassion.But unease never truly left the pit of his stomach.
CHAPTER NINE
“Your Divinity.”
Ethyr groaned, squinting his eyes open.He’d passed out immediately after he was brought back to his bed that morning, though not before making sure that his own clothes were still inside the chest where he’d left them.
Exhaustion pulled his eyelids shut and weighed down his limbs.When he didn’t get up, the blankets were thrown off and Gionan forced him to sit up.
“You must wake, Your Divinity.The High Priest has arranged instruction for you at the temple.”
Ethyr groaned again, rubbing his eyes.By the hue of light filling his room, it was earlier than he’d woken in days.Getting out of bed was the last thing he wanted to do.Gionan left his side to open a chest and dig through it, so Ethyr sank back onto the pillows, hugging one and closing his eyes.
He was pulled upright and out of blissful unconsciousness again.He whined, but Gionan mercilessly dragged him from the bed to hold up different articles of clothing in front of him.He decided on a pale yellow tunic with short, wide sleeves and a blue silk belt.Ethyr was not adorned with any jewelry, and fortunately was given sandals for shoes.After a quick breakfast, he was brought to the front hall where, instead of Yorith, Poyut stood waiting for him.Ethyr might have been happy, except he still felt bad for his behavior.Her refusal to meet his eyes didn’t help.
“Poyut,” he said quietly as they walked to the carriage.
“Yes, Your Divinity?”
“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
“Think nothing of it,” she said lightly, but she still didn’t look at him, even as she helped him into the carriage.He didn’t know what else to do to smooth things over.The fact that he’d ruined the one relationship he liked in this horrid place weighed him down more than his fatigue.
The trip to the top of the mountain was almost starting to become boring, though he stared out the window at the gleaming rooftops of the city just the same.Poyut followed on horseback like usual and accompanied him into the temple.A robed priest was waiting for them inside the front room.
“Your Divinity,” he greeted with a slanted bow.“My name is Dessin.It is an honor to teach you.”
“Do you teach like Yorith?”Ethyr asked suspiciously.
The priest paused.“In what way do you mean, Your Divinity?”
“He slaps me with things and gets angry at everything I do wrong.”
Dessin’s second pause was longer.“Mm… no, Your Divinity, I do not teach that way.”
Ethyr pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes.Dessin guided him towards one of the corridors and Ethyr reluctantly let himself be herded.
The room they entered was small, with a little square table in the middle prepared with blank paper next to pen and ink.A window let in light and air, but it faced the mountain and there wasn’t much to see out of it.Ethyr sat cross-legged at the table and couldn’t have been more relieved when he wasn’t reprimanded and told to kneel.
Dessin hadn’t lied; he did not smack him or act impatient at every mistake.But his gentle, condescending manner was almost worse.He treated Ethyr like a dumb child who could not understand something unless it was explained in the slowest and simplest way possible.He was forced to write the alphabet, over and over until his hand cramped.Then he was taught something called ‘music script,’ which was more letters that were tied to different sounds.When read and followed, they made specific music.Ethyr didn’t understand the purpose of it.It wasn’t hard to remember a melody; his village sang all kinds of songs without any such guide.
His only reprieve was dinner at noon, eaten in the same room, and then his lessons continued.
