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A popular saying traversed Amphoreus’ trodden roads in company of its travellers: all paths lead to Okhema. Although Janus paved roads and sent directions on the wind at people’s backs, the Worldbearer had long stood as Amphoreus’ centre. Even in the days of the Chrysos War, before the Imperator carved new routes beginning from the city walls, Okhema was the centre of fashion, poetry, theatre and everything else that pleased the eyes and ears.
With each day unceasing catastrophe shrank the world down from the edges to the bustling city at its centre; where all of Amphoreus congregated to make shelter and home stitched together from their lost lives.
Instruments sang out different meters and melodies in dialects and languages lost to much of the crowd that gathered to listen for beauty and emotion beyond words. Theatres became the stages for innumerable masks and myths that turned heroes to villains to bumbling idiots depending on who authored the script. Fashion remained the domain of the Goldweaver but, when she unearthed old patterns to rework into new styles, or incorporated the accents of one land into the shape from another far flung city to create one awe-inspiring design, the people were never far behind.
But Mydei was most attuned to was the city’s ever changing culinary tastes, more fickle in their favoured textures and flavours than any music, dramas or clothes. The last trend across the world wound web had been a wine mixture recovered from a Stygian scroll said to have been a gift from Phagousa to a talented musician, whose melodies had reached their banquet in the sea depths. Every symposium and dining established in the city had offered the mixture, or some slight variation of it, for weeks.
Once interest waned, the wine had fallen from the public eye and blended into the city’s landscape as another speciality rose to replace it. This time, the people were infatuated with a biscuit baked in various shapes and sizes, and offered with differing selections of fruit to match an array of flavours. They proliferated the marketplace but sold best the closer the vendor sat to the Garden of Life because, despite innocuous appearances, the recipe originated in Dolos and was equally enticing for humans and animals. Okhema’s most beloved animals were its chimeras and people flocked to the Garden with biscuits in hand that swiftly came to be known as chimeras cookies.
Mydei wasn’t immune to such trends. In fact, he usually sought them, tasting them at stalls and storefronts, and scouring the world wound web for recipes. He honed his culinary skills against the whetstone of new knowledge that would be tested by the palettes of his men, his fellow Chrysos Heirs, and, now, the city’s chimeras.
The Garden was as lively as it had been for the past two weeks and the rambunctious crowds sent a twinge of sympathy through him each time a beleaguered gardener passed him. He nodded at them and they had become familiar enough with his presence to nod back without dismay, but the most comfort he could offer was to continue volunteering his time and efforts caring for the chimeras.
When he had first arrived in the city, the gardeners had been wary of his many visits, as frequent as he could manage when his time was consumed by seemingly endless diplomacy, but they warmed to him almost as quickly as the chimeras that ran to greet him. From hunting hounds to cavalry horses to supply dromases and even the occasional stray cats that found solace amongst the detachment’s tents, Mydei was accustomed to caring for animals. They were necessary but also loyal companions and a comforting presence when roaming Amphoreus’ hostile wilds. Not only were the chimeras a joy to see and play with, they offered their services to the city, so he had no qualms assisting with the numerous duties that came with keeping the chimeras healthy.
Even the rowdiest ones cooperated at a simple chiding look but his homemade chimera cookies made him even more popular in recent days. Any chimera that caught him by scent, sound or sight trailed after him out of the public gardens into the private areas reserved for gardeners, chimeras and volunteers in need of peace away from prying eyes and interruptions.
However, when he lowered himself to sit in an open space, they knew better than to swarm him. There was no need to compete for his attention; he would get to them in turn and reward them for their patience.
A number of chimeras passed through his hands, letting him check the condition of their ears, teeth and scales for anything of concern. Once he was done, they waddled off with their chimera cookie. They had all taken their reward eagerly, which was a relief when he had experimented with a new recipe for today.
He had overhead the woes of gardeners as more and more of the chimeras grew a little rounder than they should due to the many treats they generously munched on throughout the day. Keen eyes could somewhat regulate their eating habits within the Garden but the chimeras were trusted to fulfil a number of duties throughout the city, and free roam as they pleased, so there was no accounting for how many well-meaning hands offered them snacks.
Today’s chimera cookies were healthier than his previous batches, and what was on offer for purchase around the marketplace. Fortunately, a few rounds of testing yielded results and there was little compromise in flavour or texture, so the chimeras happily ate them all the same.
He held out his hand and Candied Apple obediently placed her paw in his palm, allowing him to press the underside and spread her paw pads to ensure nothing was trapped in the narrow gaps between them. He turned her paw towards the daylight, angling for a better look, only for a shadow to fall over them. From the silhouette and the light-footed approach, he knew the identity of the interloper.
“Deliverer,” he greeted without averting his gaze from his current task, squinting to cut through the sudden dimness. There was nothing of note so he asked for her other paw, which she gave just as easily, eyes wide and tail swaying.
“Hello, Mydei,” Phainon replied brightly, as though he were a substitute for the light he had abruptly cut off. Undeterred by the terse welcome, he crouched and the daylight returned to illuminate Candied Apple’s dark paw pads. “I didn’t expect to find you in the Garden of Life.”
No issues with Candy Apple’s front paws, he motioned for her to spin and then lifted her back paw for inspection. There was an unspoken meaning to Phainon’s seemingly innocent remark, as usual, but Mydei didn’t have attention to spare for deciphering the intent smoothing Phainon’s silver tongue.
“What does that mean?”
“It’s nothing,” he crooned back and Mydei glanced out the corner of his eye just long enough to catch Phainon’s pointed leer at his body.
Phainon’s strange looks and even stranger comments were nothing out of the ordinary. Once, Mydei would have paused, uncertain whether it was Okheman rhetoric playing at a backhanded compliment, but now he was well-acquainted withPhainon’s habit of speaking before thinking and batted the peculiar habits away as frivolous noise. If Mydei was shy about his appearance then he wouldn’t roam the city in garments that set him apart for his supposed immodesty. There were worse things than having the proof of his efforts appreciated by another warrior, especially his equal upon the battlefield.
“It’s just that,” Phainon continued. Unprompted, because he was never one to stop talking long enough for the quiet to prickle with discomfort, “you don’t seem the type to frolic among the flowers and furry animals.”
He swapped to Candy Apple’s last paw, raising an unseen brow at Phainon’s remark. Nothing about him—seated on the floor while he inspected the chimeras one at a time like a general inspected his troops—gave the impression of frolicking unless Phainon had lost the ability to see two steps in front of him. His well-placed leer dispelled that possibility. That meant it was his brain he had misplaced.
“I’m lending a hand,” Mydei explained and pushed her fur back to expose her claws. They were a good length and wouldn’t need trimming for another week at least.
Phainon hummed questioningly but reached the conclusion himself. “To the gardeners? They have been busy lately, haven’t they. I walked past a gardener who looked dead on her feet but she walked with such vigour that she was gone before I could offer any assistance. Do you think the Garden would accept another volunteer?”
When Mydei set Candy Apple’s paw down she knew her checkup had come to an end with nothing amiss. She spun in a small circle with a happy howl.
He smiled and patted at his belt for his pouch of chimera cookies. “I doubt anyone in Okhema would refuse your hand.”
A quiet cough stayed his hand and he glanced over. It had come from Phainon, fist raised to his mouth and his head twisted away. He had seen Phainon struck by weapons but never by illness. As far as he was aware, there were no potent afflictions spreading through the city but he couldn’t dismiss the possibility that Phainon had overworked himself. Again.
He opened his pouch, returning to the task at hand. “And you?”
Phainon’s eyes flicked to him and away again, a retreat contrary to his bold cheer when he replied, “What about me?”
“Are you here to frolic?”
“What? No, I was just… what is that?”
Candy Apple’s mouth closed around the chimera cookie, waiting for him to place it between her teeth rather than attempt to take it from him and risk a nip of teeth. She exuberantly trilled and bobbed her head in thanks before she bounded away, passing Beagle Coconut slinking towards Fig Stew to lick the crumbs from his unsuspecting face.
Mydei followed Phainon’s eye down to his empty hand.
It seemed fairly obvious but he answered, “A chimera cookie.”
There was nothing difficult to comprehend but Phainon blinked a few times. “May I try?”
Many chimeras were still waiting for their treat—Butterfly Cake stood in front of him as they spoke; earnest eyes unbothered by the delay—but he always baked extra just in case and shrugged. “Sure.”
He dropped the chimera cookie into Phainon’s cupped palms, careless where Phainon cradled and inspected it gently like there was something of interest in the bland, round shape. Then he nibbled the edge and his eyes widened before he tossed it whole into his mouth.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Mydei hurried to cut him off before he could speak, having shared a table with him numerous times in the past and earned bursts of excited praise for his cooking.
Phainon nodded, chewed slowly to savour the taste, and swallowed with all the obedience of a well-trained chimera. “Those might be the best chimera cookies I’ve tasted yet. Where did you get them?”
“I made them.”
“You did?” Phainon said, bewildered, only to shake his head with a small laugh. “Of course you did. What with those skills of yours in the kitchen.”
“Yet you claim to have tasted better.”
“Hey now, I said might. Perhaps another bite will help me make up my mind.”
Mydei huffed, caught between a laugh and an exasperated puff of air, at the shamelessness, yet reached for his pouch to drop another into Phainon’s awaiting hand. “Here. Now leave the rest for the chimeras.”
With that dismissal, he motioned over Butterfly Cake for her checkup. Last time, her ears had bothered her enough that she scratched more than she should, leg twitching with the urge to kick him away from surveying the site. From a brief glance, it appeared the gardeners had since resolved the issue and calmed the inflammation to nothing.
Despite Mydei withholding more food from him, Phainon made no moves to rise from the grass. He settled in at Mydei’s side to watch him work, long coat tails splayed across the grass, and the chimeras flocked to the newest person of interest. While Mydei was too busy to entertain, they softly trilled their demands for Phainon’s attention.
Somehow, Beagle Coconut found his way onto Phainon’s shoulder but he seemed uninterested in earning pets for himself. Instead he peered down at Fig Stew, curled up in Phainon’s lap to preen under Phainon’s hand running down his back, with the intensity of a cat hunting prey.
The rest of the session passed by uneventfully and Mydei sent the chimeras back to the main Garden. Since Phainon wasn’t technically permitted access to the private sections of the Garden, not that anyone would dare berate him for it, he dismissed Phainon along with the chimeras while he reported the few notable issues to the gardeners.
By the time Mydei finished up and returned to the public area, Phainon was nowhere in sight but he had already expected as much; their days were filled with the responsibilities that came with their titles. Outside of their scheduled spars, they didn’t have the time to regularly meet at leisure.
There were sporadic meals, training sessions that devolved into competitions, and even baths, but only if their paths happened to cross at an opportune moment. Otherwise, it was rare that their polite nods had the freedom to become anything more.
That was how he recalled the meeting of their eyes across Okhema’s streets—a brief acknowledgement before they turned back to the task at hand—but now…
“Mydei!”
He didn’t need to turn around to know who was weaving their way across the marketplace to meet him. Instead, he continued to leisurely inspect the pomegranates on offer until his battle-honed senses prickled with the sensation of someone behind him.
He soothed them with the knowledge of who was within reaching distance of his back and handed his chosen produce to the stall owner before glancing over his shoulder. “Deliverer.”
Phainon’s smile, ever present and undaunted, pulled higher at the corners and crimped his eager eyes as he took another, needless step closer. His hand landed upon Mydei’s bare shoulder, callouses catching skin as the air between them pressed thin so Phainon could peer around him to the stall.
“Purchasing pomegranates again?” he mused. “You’ve been going through them fast in recent days. They may be fruit but there’s surely such a thing as too many.”
Mydei kissed his teeth. “I won’t hear a word on excess from you.”
Because Mydei enjoyed food—he was picky about produce and butchered cuts, about cooking temperatures and times, about presentation. He fussed about them in ways a life in exile had seldom permitted yet he had worked hard to achieve anyway—but Phainon loved eating.
It was a lesson hard learned when the first meal Mydei cooked for all the Chrysos Heirs had been completely cleaned away in one sitting. Any pride Mydei felt had been punctured when he caught Phainon scrounging for extras in the kitchen when he thought no one was looking. Kremnoans and Okhemans disagreed on much but one thing they agreed upon was the inviolable duties of the host to their guest. Mydei would never accept a person leaving his table hungry and immediately put together another serving from scratch.
From then on, he was prepared for Phainon’s appetite to bring him back for seconds, thirds and fourths. He would try anything at least once but usually more; something Mydei had learned when his vexation over a matter he hardly remembered anymore had caused him to serve Phainon food below his usual standards. When Phainon polished off his plate without complaint, he had become morbidly curious about where Phainon drew the line.
His curiosity had succumbed to his conscience around the time Phainon ate a meal consisting almost entirely of a dromas’ red soil.
In the lead up to one of their Chrysos Heir dinners, Castorice had joined Mydei in the kitchen for instructions on one of his recipes learned from his time in Aidonia’s peripheral territories. While they waited for the broth to simmer, Mydei kneaded the dough for the extra loaf to fill Phainon’s stomach and Castorice reminniesced on their student days.
Supposedly, Phainon had been a particularly troublesome student. Not because he lacked ability nor ambition but because he often snuck whatever food he could manage into the classroom regardless of how many times he was caught. Censure and punishment had little effect on his eating habits, and he became rather irritable without frequent snacks to hold his hunger at bay, so the teachers gave their tacit permission by ignoring his wrongdoings so long as there was enough plausible deniability. The one exception was Anaxa, who fired bullet holes through Phainon’s snacks and threatened to make his brain match.
Out of everything in the world, perhaps food was the one thing Phainon knew how to be greedy for.
Everyone had their vices and Mydei wouldn’t fault Phainon for this one thing, which made his eyes gleam with an uncharacteristic eagerness for something that would belong and benefit him alone, so long as it didn’t affect his health.
“Here,” Mydei said and placed a few chimera cookie into Phainon’s eager hand without waiting for him to ask.
He lifted one of the biscuits, shaped after a chalice, and squinted at it. “They’re red,” he remarked, not quite a statement nor a question, before tossing it into his mouth that stretched into a grin with a single crunch. “Pomegranate. Oh I see now.”
Mydei hummed as Phainon raised another biscuit, round in shape except for the dull points emerging from the top and bottom—a pomegranate. His usual supply had gone into flavouring and colouring the biscuits. Since Phainon was preoccupied with savouring his snacks, Mydei paid for his pomegranates and shuffled away to free the stall for the next customer.
There was nothing else for him to buy but he tucked himself a side street that branched away from the marketplace and he lingered deep enough that he wouldn’t obstruct any passerbys. His business was finished, yet he didn’t leave. Nor did Phainon.
The excitement had mellowed from Phainon’s gaze, yet he was still so earnest when he met Mydei’s eye. “Delicious as always.”
As always. It wasn’t a baseless claim. Of everyone in Okhema, Phainon was best placed to judge because he ate more of Mydei’s food than anyone else. The day after their encounter in the Garden, Mydei had spotted Phainon across one of Okhema’s courtyards and nodded with the expectation of a cordial smile and wave back. He made it five steps before Phainon tapped him on the shoulder and asked whether he had any chimera cookies on him.
It became routine: whenever they caught a glimpse of each other, Phainon would seek him out. For chimera cookies off all things. It was difficult to believe the small baked goods were worth the effort for Phainon, at one point, to chase him down several winding backstreets after noticing his trailing chlamys. Yet the more they met, the more chimera cookies on Mydei kept to hand that never brought satisfaction to anyone else.
They were rivals on the training grounds and comrades in battle, fellow pursuers of the Flame-chase and bearers of their peoples’ hopes. They understood each other in ways that seldom others could match, but it was founded in conflict held within the boundaries of respect.
Like a child whittling a branch into a sword that grazed skin without bruising it, he sharpened his tone to return Phainon’s comment with a jab, “Still doubting my skills in the kitchen?”
He chuckled and replied with the same sharpness, chasing down the lingering sweetness of the biscuits with its familiar thrilling taste. “You’re putting words in my mouth.” He shook his head and exhaled close to a laugh. “Is it so hard for you to believe in an honest compliment?”
Mydei’s eyes narrowed, head tilting, at the sincere reply far from the usual retorts they batted at each other like wooden swords, leaving red welts that faded in the blink of an eye and retaliatory swing.
Honest compliments were far from unusual. After all, Kremnoans withheld honey from their words, finding no need to embellish when the genuine truth was far more pleasing to the ear. He received compliments from his fellow warriors and the Kremnoan children who admired his strength, his fortitude, his tenacity that defied even death.
Similarly, flattery from Phainon wasn’t unusual. But only when it came with company: a well-timed feint and jab that forced strained praise from his winded guts, a new personal best in his strength training that came with an appreciation for his body, a motivational competition on an expedition against Titankin earned recognition for his strategies and battle prowess. It was part of a push and pull Mydei had become accustomed to, familiar and comfortable with, when it had been unknown before his arrival in Okhema. It was no way to treat the crown prince, and no way to treat the Deliverer, and that was precisely why they indulged in it all the same.
However, this was different. Yet he spent too long trying to discern why—to unravel the strangeness of Phainon’s behaviour, of the sensation flitting through Mydei’s unsettled body suddenly urged to move but with no destination—and the meaning of Phainon’s words slipped away along with his chance to respond. It was near imperceptibly when the reaction was contained to the corner of his lips but Phainon’s smile faltered.
Before the awkward silence could linger any longer, Mydei pushed ahead. “You better hurry to Dawncloud before the council makes you stand trial for your poor timekeeping.”
At the reminder of the meeting he was expected to attend, Phainon heaved a quiet sigh and eased his lips into a smile. Not the one he had worn to greet Mydei nor speak of flattery. This one was friendly to the point of distance; a separation maintained under the guise of politeness.
It wasn’t worn for Mydei. Instead, Phainon allowed Mydei to witness the weight of his title settle upon him.
“As unfortunate as it is, I can’t call such a thing impossible.” Still, he lingered long enough to ask: “And how will you be spending Descent Hour while I’m forced to listen to the council’s ramblings?”
“Inspecting the barracks.”
“Right,” Phainon said, slowly nodding, with obvious reluctance to follow the conversation to the foregone conclusion of a farewell.
He stared, unblinking, as though Mydei could somehow save him from the council’s chattering of more sound than substance, constantly struggling to accomplish one thing when twenty were ever pleading for their attention.
Only a sudden black tide incursion could grant Phainon leave, so Mydei offered another chimera cookie as consolation. “See you around, Deliverer.”
He smiled down at his palm and curled his fingers around the chimera cookie, tucking his hand safely in his pocket. “See you, Mydei.”
Despite the farewell pinned to their pressing agendas, neither of them rushed to leave. They waited a moment longer, as though one of them had something to say but Mydei’s mind was blank as he watched Phainon’s lip dip beneath the nibble of his teeth.
With so little said between them, yet more than the silent acknowledgements that had come before, they parted ways.
Those brief moments of eye contact, of a small smile met with a stern but welcoming nod, became the distant memories of bygone days. They were replaced with proper greetings, polite conversation, and an exchange of chimera cookies. First once every few days, then every day, and finally multiple times a day.
Okhema was only so large and it was natural they crossed paths as they moved about the busy streets. But any time in the past where Mydei may have glimpsed white coattails or bright eyes above the crowd only to continue with his tasks had now become an occasion for Phainon to approach him.
For Kremnoans, humility was derided as a detriment—a warrior either possessed the strength, instinct, intellect to conquer upon the battlefield or they perished. To possess and denigrate the qualities others strived for, one’s lauded by Nikador themselves, was a grave insult and a sign of insecurity—so Mydei was far from modest and never pretended otherwise. Yet he tested his chimera cookies each night and could never claim in good faith that they were valuable enough for Phainon to diligently seek him out at every turn just for a taste.
The most he could do was ensure they were worth the effort. The chimeras’ dietary restrictions kept their biscuits subtle in flavour and suitably simple in design but there was nothing stopping him from preparing a second batch. A smaller one, intended to feed a single mouth, but that allowed him to focus on elaborate styles and flavours.
Today’s chimera cookies had been shaped after the sun and moon, alternating between warm spices and sweet fruits that had helped colour the dough. Unfortunately, Phainon would have to be satisfied with a smaller portion than usual.
“I’m really sorry about this, Lord Mydei,” Hyacine apologised for the third time, voice panicked where it was steadfast in the face of the most brutal injuries.
Mydei had been dragged by Phainon into the Courtyard by one arm while the other was held to his shoulder by a few stubborn tendons and little else. Hyacine hadn’t even balked before she began treatment.
As the physician that treated him and the Kremnoans well, he owed her much and reassured her, “It’s not a problem.”
He didn’t meet her eye. Not out of offence but because they were both preoccupied staring at the same thing.
Heedless to their owner’s plight, little wings fluttered as Little Ica munched on what should have been two mouthfuls of chimera cookies taken in one. Mydei offered another moon-shaped biscuit and their beady eyes opened at the scent of food beneath their nose. They trilled before snapping their jaw shut so fast that only his warrior’s instinct allowed him to lose the biscuit and keep his fingers.
When he had offered the regular chimera cookies, he gained the utterly new experience of Little Ica refusing his food. His bewilderment had faded fast when they dove to nudge the smaller pouch with a nose keener than the finest hunting hounds. They devoured the handful of chimera cookies on offer without preamble but their large, dark eyes voraciously demanded more.
Before Little Ica could shove their face into the pouch, Hyacine ensnared them in her arms with the fluidity of a physician that had been forced to restrain several uncooperative patients in the past. “Apologise to the chimeras for me too. I’ll personally bring some more any who miss out because of Ica. Although, they might not live up to yours.”
It was a generous offer with a single issue.
“These aren’t for the chimeras.”
Her brows furrowed with her confusion, and then the effort of restraining Ica as they began to squirm. “Were they yours?”
Mydei shook his head. “It’s not worth troubling yourself over. Here.”
He grabbed another handful and Hyacine’s hand came before her thoughts, realising what he had given her once it was too late to refuse. Rather than argue, she thanked him and had a taste before Little Ica could snatch them away.
“These are incredible.” She took a second one for herself and pacified Ica with another. “No wonder Ica wanted them so badly.”
“The recipe is my own but it’s no secret. If you want it you can have it.”
“I would really appreciate it!”
The recipe was far from complex but he wasn’t in the habit of writing ingredients and instructions down when he recalled them just fine. He would need to remember to note the recipe down to send over teleslate when he had a free moment. For now, Hyacine had offered to meet him outside the hectic Courtyard and pass along a thorough update on one of his warriors that had overworked themselves to the point of injury. Once he was fully informed, he would set off for a home visit to quash any ideas of making the same mistake twice.
He had a clear view of the Courtyard’s entrance when a familiar face entered with a child tucked in one arm. Since Mydei was stood in equally clear view their other arm rose in a greeting across the open space—a calm untouched by the chaos of the Courtyard at his back that could be heard over the walls—and Mydei returned the gesture with lazy wave while Hyacine searched for what had captured Mydei’s interest.
“Hello, Lord Phainon,” she said but her attention was swiftly diverted to the young boy in his arms, expression gentling at once. “And Cylon. That’s quite the bruise on your forehead. Mind telling me what happened?”
The boy’s lips thinned. Beneath a large bruise darkening across his forehead and brow, teary eyes turned away and he shook his head harder than he should with an injury like that.
“He fell from a tree,” Phainon explained in the boy’s stead, “trying to rescue a chimera.”
Hyacine nodded sympathetically. “That was very kind of you. But you have to remember to be kind to yourself, too, and look after your body. Chimeras are very resourceful but, if you’re really worried, you can always mention it to an adult or a gardener.”
The boy didn’t respond but he didn’t hide his face either when Hyacine prompted him to look at her so she could check his pupils.
“It shouldn’t be too serious. Any dizziness?” The boy shook his head again. “That’s a good sign. I can find someone to take it from here, Lord Phainon. Thank you for bringing Cylon all this way.”
“It was no trouble,” Phainon said with a laugh as light as the boy in his arms, no match for muscles trained to haul a greatsword without tiring.
No trouble—until Phainon attempted to set the child on his own feet. Then his hands bunched into Phainon’s coat and refused to let go. The fall must have been quite the shock and there was nowhere safer than the arms of Okhema’s revered hero who had rushed to his aid.
Phainon blinked but laughed off the change of plan. “A few more steps is nothing. Are you available at the moment, Hyacine?”
She glanced at Mydei but he waved away her silent doubts. “Feel free.”
She struggled to organise her thoughts but gathered herself with a firm nod. “Wait a little longer in my usual room. We’re almost done here.”
“Got it,” Phainon said but didn’t walk off immediately. Instead, he eyed Mydei. Suspicion was too harsh a word as he surveyed him up and down. “Did you get complacent on the training grounds in my absence and make a mistake?”
He kissed his teeth at the blatant taunt. “No. My health is nothing to concern yourself over.”
Both a returned barb and a reassurance, Phainon accepted it as the latter and his shoulders slackened with relief. The possibility that Mydei had been injured, enough to visit the Courtyard, during the mundanity of life within the city’s walls was absurd yet Phainon had allowed it to trouble him. If it were anyone else expressing such doubts, it would have been an insult to Mydei’s abilities, an assault on his pride, yet the instinct swelling in his chest to grab at Phainon wasn’t entwined with the need to demand a duel.
“I’m glad to hear it.” Phainon’s voice overflowed with sincerity rather than his previous goading. “Then we’ll leave you both to finish things up.”
Before he could take a single step, Mydei interrupted, “Hold it.” He beckoned Phainon for his spare hand and his brows pinched but he unquestioningly extended a hand. “You forgot these.”
The sight of chimera cookies eliminated Phainon’s confusion in an instant but Mydei didn’t have the chance to admire how the slightest details in his face, too minuscule for Phainon to pay deliberate attention to, lifted.
Instead, he patted Cylon’s head for his attention and tossed the chimera cookie into his hand. “All warriors shed tears. What matters is that wallowing is not all you do.”
Held shut between his teeth, the boy’s lips quivered and his brimming tears finally spilled with a sharp hiccup. He quickly swiped them away and stiffly nodded, shoving the sun shaped cookie into his mouth.
It was time to let them enter the Courtyard so Hyacine could finish her report and tend to the boy without delay. However, with Phainon’s head dipped to gaze at Cylon, the back of his head was exposed to Mydei’s gaze, catching on the leaf settled amidst his hair.
He reached to delicately pluck the stem before it could crumble into a flaky mess. But the slightest graze of metal jerked Phainon’s head back into Mydei’s palm where they both paused. It was difficult to tell through the gauntlets but the hair seemed soft, thin and silky, as it ran through his fingers. Most helpfully, Phainon remained rigid until Mydei reclaimed his hand.
“A leaf,” he explained with a flick of the offending item to the ground.
Phainon’s eyes followed it down and he laughed, short and breathy. “Right.”
No more time to waste on idle chatter, Phainon carried the boy into the Twilight Courtyard.
“Where were we?” Mydei prompted Hyacine to continue where they left off.
Yet Hyacine stared at him curiously, blinking eyes as wide as the companion floating at her side except churning with far more thought. Although Mydei had stared down rival kings and warriors, Titankin and black tide creatures, cold steel hungering to claim one of his endless lives, it was Hyacine’s gaze that left him oddly discomforted.
Despite her friendly demeanour and appearance, her mind was sharp and her will unwavering when it came to the good of her patients. Mydei had stood on the receiving end of her scrutiny numerous times in the past but never gained immunity to her gaze that latched onto the most weakness. If she ever traded her commitment to healing for a nimble but lethal weapon, she would be a formidable opponent.
“So those chimera cookies,” she began, politely neutral yet failing to mask the odd glimmer in her eye, “were for Lord Phainon?”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t give him the entire bag.”
“No.”
It was a good point and one he hadn’t considered that until now. This whole thing began when Phainon pilfered treats intended for the chimeras, which meant he couldn’t lay claim to them all and was forced to return if he wished to sate his appetite. Except, ever since Mydei began baking for Phainon’s taste alone, there was no reason not to hand them over in one. It would save Phainon the trouble of constantly diverging from his daily tasks to meet him.
He hadn’t noticed his frown until it pulled deeper as Hyacine giggled into her hand and he asked, “What?”
“It just reminds me of how eager Ica was to see you too. That’s the power of free food. The best way to someone’s heart is always through their stomach!”
Again, his frown deepened. That seemed like an odd angle to impale someone. Not only would the chest plate deflect any attacks to the stomach but the upward angle wasn’t conducive to a powerful blow to the heart.
“Perhaps in the case of poison,” he acquiesced, but such a tactic lacked honour and was reserved for the lowest of hyenas.
“Poison? No no!” she sputtered with a frantic wave of her hands. “I meant—like how I train Little Ica with treats! Like, if she comes to me when I call her then she gets a treat. Or people who don’t receive much attention from the chimeras will bring chimeras cookies the Garden. That way, even if they don’t have treats, the chimeras will still be happy to see them.”
He squinted. “You speak of bribery.”
Her mouth dropped open wordlessly, then closed again as her nose scrunched. “I suppose you could look at it that way.”
“I understand now,” Mydei assured her, hoping smooth away her perturbed expression. “Continue with the report.”
Her stare could only be described as skeptical but he pointed behind him at the Courtyard, where Phainon and Cylon were waiting, and she finished relaying the injuries and recommended treatment plan. Dutifully, Mydei listened and committed her words to memory—all of them.
This entire time, Mydei had failed to realise he was treating Phainon like a prized pet.
They didn’t encounter each other the next day since Phainon had been dispatched to the Grove of Epiphany under request from his old professor. That was one of the last places Mydei’s responsibilities ever took him so there was no chance for their paths to cross.
But Mydei was informed of Phainon’s return the next day by a pale head bobbing above the morning crowd of Marmoreal Marketplace. At once, he met eyes that had found him before he found them, lifting with the smile curling Phainon’s lip beyond the usual friendliness extended to others.
As Phainon dodged through the crowd and stopped at Mydei’s feet, he wasn’t much different from a dog trained to return to its master, tail wagging and eyes eager with anticipation for his reward.
“Good morning, Mydei. How have you been since we last saw each other?” he asked. Like they were old acquaintances kept apart by large swathes of land and time rather than a few hours journey between Okhema and the Grove in a separation that lasted a mere day.
“Fine.”
Phainon hummed at the curt reply that, alone, should not have deterred him. If something could be said in a single word then Mydei would use just the one. If something could be conveyed through actions alone then Mydei would act.
Yet his eyes flitted across Mydei’s face with a focus reserved for battle and competition, for deciding victory and defeat. Mydei didn’t know the battlegrounds nor the stakes but held his gaze without reservation, knowing best how to meet Phainon head-on even as he was met by a cutting intensity.
“Was the produce not up to your standards today?” Phainon teased at his reticence, and potentially foul mood, in an attempt to jostle free a more telling reply.
“It was.”
Phainon’s brows twitched and smoothed again as he shifted his weight between his feet. “Glad to hear it,” he said, tinged with confusion rather than any sense of his so-called gladness.
He may as well get this over with.
“I don’t have any chimera cookies,” Mydei deadpanned.
Phainon blinked at him, once, twice, as Mydei’s words tumbled through his mind until the meaning settled with the same gradual ease as sediment on the riverbed. “Ah.” He looked away, cupping the back of his neck as though he needed to guard an overexposed weaknesses. “Right. I did hear that the Garden had petitioned the Council for a decree prohibiting the unapproved feeding of chimeras.”
Letting his assumption stand, Mydei hummed.
“So where are you off to now?” Phainon abruptly asked, moving the conversation along in its usual course that ended with them promptly parting ways.
Mydei arched a brow and jostled the sack slung over his shoulder, full of produce that needed to be put away. “Home.”
“Of course,” Phainon said with a small laugh that sounded too distracted to be right. “I can accompany you.”
They stared, equally surprised, which should have been Mydei’s right alone when the words had come from Phainon’s mouth. Yet he had the audacity to appear stunned that the offer had made it past his lips, even if he didn’t rescind it.
Both self-effacing and nervous Mydei realised slower than usual. Despite how obviously it sat in the slight crease of Phainon’s brows and his tucked lip, it was so rarely seen upon the man—who charged into battle alongside Mydei’s immortal body as though he, too, could shake off Death’s hand—that Mydei almost failed to recognise it.
“That…”
“Ignore me!” Phainon burst before Mydei could reply in full. “It was said in jest.“
The answer that eluded him just a moment ago suddenly struck him and he scowled. “Whether in jest or otherwise, a warrior stays true to their words.” Mydei declared and turned to walk away but glanced over his shoulder when no footsteps fell to echo his own. “Have you grown roots? Or will you stand by your offer?”
The realisation slackened Phainon’s anxious face before he grinned and he closed the distance in long strides. “And what if I offer to carry your purchases for you?”
“Waste your breath all you like.”
Phainon laughed and, in place of the usual silence, that laughter accompanied Mydei home. It proliferated his days as Phainon continued to pursue him like an ill-trained hunting hound latched onto bad habits rather than scents. Although Mydei had no chimera cookies to offer, Phainon greeted him just as enthusiastically and his eyes carried the light of the Dawn Device as Mydei answered his questions about his morning, afternoon, evening and other such mundanities.
Weeks passed without any apparent reward but that did nothing to deter him. The only change in Phainon’s behaviour was that he chose to follow on Mydei’s heels.
He insisted that their destinations laid in the same direction, that his schedule had unexpectedly cleared, that he suddenly recalled a task in the same location. He offered up any number of excuses to accompany Mydei to the training grounds, the barracks, the dining hall—all without a trace of ulterior motives. He didn’t ask for chimera cookies. He didn’t ask for anything except to walk at Mydei’s side.
In one day, they met in the morning marketplace, after which Phainon followed Mydei to the training grounds and left once it was time for the Kremnoan training regimen to begin. Then again in the afternoon when Mydei had been debating what to eat for lunch before Phainon appeared to tease him for the wrinkle to his brow and suggest they try somewhere new under Castorice’s recommendation. Finally, Phainon found his way into the kitchen where Mydei had been preparing dinner for the Heirs, but he knew better than to offer a hand and lingered out the way to watch Mydei work.
Although neither of them spoke, the kitchen felt different with company. The sound of Phainon’s steady breathing and the feel of his eyes prickling at Mydei’s back was enough to remind him that someone else was present.
Yet it didn’t bother him in the slightest when he glanced over his shoulder, catching Phainon’s gaze on the way up from where he had been observing Mydei’s bare hands with a strange intensity.
“Come here,” Mydei ordered.
Without resistance, Phainon pushed off the wall he had been plastered to and held Mydei’s eye as he manoeuvred the kitchen in measured steps. Mydei was the first to look away as he turned to the stew simmering on the stove and lifted the pot lid with a spoon in hand.
As soon as the air shifted, fabric rustling, with Phainon’s arrival at Mydei’s side, he turned and shoved the spoon to his lips. They parted immediately, easily, to accept whatever Mydei saw fit to give him, and Mydei withdrew the spoon as quick as he had foisted it upon him. Beneath the black collar, stark against his pale skin, Phainon’s throat bobbed with a swallow.
“Well?” he demanded when Phainon didn’t comment.
“It’s good!” he blurted from behind the fingers hovering by his lips. “Really good!“
What was he meant to do with such enthused but bland feedback. “Any improvement?”
“None at all.”
He arched a brow. He could taste it for himself and measure the truth behind Phainon’s flattery.
Instead, he set the spoon aside and secured the pot lid. “Then everything’s ready. Make yourself useful and take this.”
Together they moved the dishes to the table where the other Chyrsos Heirs that called Okhema home had gathered. Each month they made an effort to share a table. Some seats remained empty, for the Heirs that chose not to attend and the ones who could only attend in the memories held by their vacant chairs, but it didn’t dampen their spirits.
“It’s delicious, Dei,” Tribbie praised, beaming at the savoury pie. “The best thing we have ever eaten.”
One of the trio said the same thing every month but Mydei accepted their heartfelt proclamations all the same. “Thank you. There’s plenty to spare so have some more. If not, I can make it for you again.”
“We wouldn’t want Snowy to go hungry,” Tribbie said with a truly apprehensive scrunch of her nose that brought rise to quiet laughter around the table.
Phainon sheepishly chuckled. “No need to hold back on my account, Lady Tribbie. Mydei always makes sure I’m well fed.”
His eyes narrowed but Phainon smiled rather than smirked, empty of the coy taunts he used to goad Mydei into his chosen battleground. Despite the recent lack of snacks to fill his stomach, Phainon‘s declaration was as sincere as his earnest offer, once the table was cleared and the Heirs content to scatter knowing they would come together again, to accompany Mydei home.
Their homes were separated by half the city at least. Mydei resided in the Kremnoan district while Phainon lived in the city centre and they both knew it so Phainon didn’t proffer the excuse that their destinations lay in the same direction. He didn’t make any excuses. He simply offered to keep Mydei company and Mydei accepted.
In such a short amount of time, their lives had become so thoroughly entangled. He had to commend Phainon’s ability to meet his responsibilities despite wiling away so much time meeting Mydei wherever he happened to be. Yet Mydei never tired of a pursuing gaze latched onto him, of their conversations, of Phainon’s presence silently treading at his side without demanding more—that Mydei be more than he already was.
When they reached Mydei’s door it was time to bid farewell and a restful night’s sleep. The routine and acceptably polite words that could be spared for anyone were prepared on Mydei’s tongue.
What left Mydei’s mouth was a curt statement: “I don’t have any chimera cookies.”
Phainon’s brows twitched and his smile, so carefree as they discussed antique weapons, caught, more befuddled than dismayed. “I’m… aware?”
“I haven’t had any on hand for weeks.”
“Again,” he said with a slight laugh contrary to the searching flit of his eyes across Mydei’s face, even as he jested, “I know when I have and haven’t eaten.”
Made sharper and firmer by Phainon’s evasiveness, Mydei pressed, “I have nothing to offer you. Yet you keep coming back.”
The unspoken question hung in the air.
Phainon swallowed, glanced away and back to Mydei because true cowardice didn’t suit him. Didn’t suit either of them but, somehow, they had ended up here. “Is that a problem?”
“No,” he admitted the short, undeniable truth. If Phainon was unwelcome he would have told him as much and let the sting of rejection keep him away.
“So why mention this?”
For someone so proud of their quick wit and academic achievements at the Grove, Mydei was uncertain whether this could be called complete foolishness or wilful ignorant, and which would be the greater insult.
A single insult and Phainon would grab hold of it and use it to steer the conversation elsewhere. Mydei kept his aim steady as he demanded, “Explain to me.”
Phainon’s weight shifted between his feet but Mydei knew he wouldn’t run. The facade of blissful ignorance faltered as his smile pulled nearer to a grimace. “Explain what?”
Why he pushed against the flow of busy streets at a glimpse of red. Why he stretched his time so thin with leisurely strolls that he was forced to run from the wrong place to the right one. Why he conjured excuses to stand at Mydei’s side like he wanted to belong there and be missed when he was absent.
“Why you come back.”
But Phainon smiled, amused with self-deprecation rather than condescension, like the answer was embarrassingly obvious yet the one humiliated wasn’t Mydei.
He braced himself with a deep breath, almost pained aa it rattled through him. “Because I enjoy it. Make no mistake, your chimera cookies are the best in Okhema but they were a convenient reason for me to… for us to meet.” He heaved an exhale, a quiet laugh collapsing into a sigh and a helpless little shrug. “I wanted an excuse to see you.”
Mydei’s eyes narrowed. “What need do you have for excuses? Nerves don’t suit you, Deliverer.”
Cowardice, nerves, excuses—they weren’t suited to either of them. Perhaps Phainon had been the one to doggedly chase him but Mydei hadn’t refused him when a single rejection would have drawn a boundary that Phainon was too softhearted to push.
So of all the questions Mydei wanted to ask, not only Phainon but also himself, the question of why Mydei had allowed it, encouraged it, revelled in it wasn’t one of them. He already knew the answer and the sudden onset of clarity made his ears tingle with the blood rushing to stain them red.
“I can’t help it,” Phainon answered bashfully low and quiet, too consumed by his own embarrassment to notice the heat in Mydei’s face. But his voice rose again when he declared with as much confidence as he could muster, “I truly… I truly like you, Mydei. More than I can describe.”
His lips thinned as he willed the heat to leave his face, attempting to force the blood back down to his heart, too quick, too loud, through sheer determination. “Speak more plainly.”
He chuckled despite Mydei’s grumbling, short and, unmistakably, fond. So potent that Mydei was the fool for never seeing it before. “How much more plain can I be?”
“You can like many things. You claimed to like the plate of red soil I fed you,” he scathingly reminded him but it was lacked the heat to scald.
Phainon tilted his head and blinked slow, finally taking Mydei in. Whatever he saw curled his lips, steadying his smile with his footing, and he retorted with renewed arrogance, “If it’s so easy, you should demonstrate.”
A taunt. Because the truth was as clear as his tattoos upon the surface of his skin. Obvious enough that Phainon had suddenly, belatedly realise that he wasn’t at the disadvantage he thought. They were on even ground.
Never one to surrender, Mydei bit out a sharp fine.
Before either of them could waver, could retreat from the line they had danced around and finally smudged beneath a tentative foot turned irrevocably bold, Mydei grabbed Phainon by the lapel of his coat. He hauled him closer, as close as he could get, and Phainon stumbled across the half-step between them before their lips pressed together.
It was more pressure than movement, graceless and messy, as Mydei watched Phainon’s eyes widen, fabric clutched in Mydei’s fist jumping with a hitched breath. But he knew he wasn’t mistaken about Phainon’s hesitant, nebulous feelings nor his own that had revelled in Phainon choosing to be at his side. In Phainon wanting and wanting Mydei of all things while Mydei wanted him in return.
White lashes fluttered low over blue eyes thinned by his wide pupils as the surprise gave way, melting into desire that made Phainon grab at him. Not to pull nor push but simply to hold—hand at his nape, hand at his waist—as he kissed Mydei back. They moved steadily, patiently; more restrained than expected for something that had been building for so long and finally reached its tipping point.
Phainon pulled away to catch his breath in a sharp, desperate inhale, and licked his lips like he was chasing a lingering taste. “Those weren’t words.”
He evened out his own breathing with a deep inhale through his nose, catching the scent of his own cooking that had sank into the fabric of Phainon’s coat. “Actions speak more plainly than any language.”
Yet, for someone who prided themselves on taking action over espousing empty words, Mydei had missed the true meaning barely hidden behind Phainon’s actions these past few weeks.
Phainon laughed, a small thing under his breath that broke against Mydei’s tingling lips. “You weren’t quite clear enough the first time. You should say it again. To ensure we’re on the same page.”
Mydei huffed like a dismissal but hooked a clawed fingertip through the leather strap across Phainon’s chest and tugged. “Fool. Come inside first.”
By the time they were satisfied kissing each other breathless it was already Parting Hour. Phainon made no excuses to leave and Mydei made no suggestions of his own when Phainon trailed after him into the kitchen. Within a few quints they were seated in Mydei’s andron with a batch of fresh chimera cookies; a recipe he had devised but didn’t have the opportunity to create before he abruptly cut off Phainon’s supply.
Leaned against Mydei’s side, as sticky as the glaze on the biscuits, Phainon thumbed the corner of his lip and licked away the crumbs. “You really do make the best chimera cookies.”
As though Mydei needed proof of Phainon’s claim about Mydei’s own abilities, he raised a biscuit to Mydei’s lips. He rolled his eyes but took it between his teeth and chewed thoroughly. The taste wasn’t quite as he envisaged since he was forced to round out the measurements for a couple ingredients with substitutes but Phainon had no complaints as he shoved another in his mouth.
“I’ll make more tomorrow,” he promised, which meant he would need to stop by the marketplace in the morning.
Phainon fluttered his lashes, so painfully exaggerated as he crooned, “Just for me?” And bit into another cookie.
“Yes,” Mydei answered bluntly and Phainon’s next succession of quick blinks was more surprised than playful. Mydei tried to knock the sense back into him with a flick of his forehead. “Or did you think I was feeding the chimeras cinnamon?”
Phainon’s lips wordlessly parted and closed again before he hid them behind his half-eaten snack. “So all those chimera cookies…”
“Were for you.”
“So why did you stop?” Phainon asked but didn’t give him a chance to reply before he laughed through his nose. “At first, I thought you were trying to get rid of me. It was a relief when you accepted my offer for company.”
Mydei cleared his throat and Phainon straightened, attention fixed on Mydei’s sudden bout of nerves. “It came to my attention that… I had treated you similar to a pet.”
Phainon stared at him, stared and stared and stared, with a blank face impossible to read. Until the mystery crumpled, shoulders caving inwards, beneath his unrestrained laughter. His overwhelming elation shook the foundations of his valiant features and physique, brightening them into something more beautiful and real than the marble statue of a lauded hero.
“It’s not funny,” Mydei toothlessly groused when Phainon’s hands clutched his stomach aching from his unceasing laughter that Mydei hoped never found reason to disappear entirely.
It took a little longer for Phainon’s chortling to taper off but he gave a consolatory pat to Mydei’s shoulder. “And how exactly did the idea get into that head of yours?”
“Hyacine compared my treatment of you to how other’s train their unruly pets or earn the favour of others.”
Another snigger slipped past Phainon’s lips but it was short lived as he rose onto his knees and stretched to set his hand on the curved head of the kline, leaning and looming over Mydei with a crooked grin. There was enough space on the kline for Mydei to shuffle backwards and open more space between them, enough to breathe without every inhale being warmed by Phainon’s scent, but he simply arched a daring brow and remained in place.
“You can treat me like your pet if you want. I don’t mind,” Phainon murmured, warm against Mydei’s jaw.
He clicked his tongue. “Shameless.”
“Do I need shame now? I thought you preferred honesty. For example, when you ran your hand through my hair the other day, it was surprising but far from unpleasant.”
“So you enjoy being pet. Like a dog.”
Phainon hummed without a hint of denial nor indignity, lidded eyes gazing down at Mydei without wavering, and Mydei met his unspoken challenge by raising his hand. His knuckles grazed Phainon’s temple as he brushed his pale bangs away from his forehead; a futile act when they promptly fell back into place but Phainon leaned into the light touch and Mydei continued up towards the crown of his head.
The first scratch of his nails across Phainon’s scalp made his eyes fall closed. As Mydei pet his head, running his hand through his hair and massaging his scalp, Phainon’s body drooped like a puppy nodding off to sleep until he surrendered completely and lowered himself to lay across Mydei with a content sigh.
The chimera cookies were still unfinished on the table. That was fine: they could finish them once Phainon had his fill of Mydei’s attention. Although, there was no telling when that would be. Phainon could be a little greedy after all and Mydei was never one to stop him.