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Chapter: The Bonds of Friendship

Akantha threw open the door to her chambers and marched into the room. Olgaya was only two steps behind, and she closed the door much more gently than it had been opened, while Persus assumed his standard post out in the hallway.

“Am I so low!?” Akantha shouted at no one in particular. She grabbed a nearby clay pot and hurled it against the wall, finding great satisfaction in the sound it made when it struck the wall, as well as the sound of the pieces scattering across the stone floor of her chamber. “Everyone seems to know what is best for my life except for me!

“My lady,” began Olgaya patiently, but Akantha cut her off.

“Don’t start, Olga,” Akantha snapped, rounding to face Olgaya. She was obviously beyond reason. Her eyes were as red as her cheeks, and if there were a pot of water on her head, it would likely be at a brisk boil by now. “I don’t need another person telling me what to do, or how to be!”

“You know I don’t judge your thoughts, my lady,” Olgaya said calmly. “It’s not my place to do so and even if it were, I wouldn’t.” Olgaya’s features were as calm as the surface of a summer lake, but her eyes were as hard as a thousand year old glacier.

Akantha reached for another pot to hurl, but paused before her fingers touched it’s clay surface. Her eyes narrowed and she turned slowly to Olgaya. “So you would not judge my thoughts, but rather my actions? Is that what you’re saying, Olga?” Akantha could barely control her voice, she was so outraged.

Olgaya’s eyes locked with Akantha’s and she held her gaze for a moment before tilting her head in acknowledgment. “As I have always known, my lady is wise,” Olgaya said softly.

Akantha’s heart had slowed only slightly, but thoughts of further pottery deconstruction had left her head. “Go on then, Olga. How do you find my actions wanting? Please, I invite your learned judgment,” she spat as venomously as she could.

Olgaya was unfazed, and began to slowly walk into the room past Akantha, toward the simple bench next to the window. Akantha remained exactly where she had been, furious at the thought of her best friend failing to offer any kind of solace in this, one of her most difficult moments.

“My lady has known for years that this day would come. Your mother has supported you at every turn in the past and she was right to do so, just like she is right today. It is time for you to take your place among the Hold Mistresses and establish your own claim on these lands.” She sat down on the wooden bench before continuing, “You cannot do that without a capable Protector,” Olgaya said coolly. “The World of Men is not a kind or forgiving place, and even with the best warriors and the most capable leadership, most Citadels fail to survive their first decade.”

“You think I need you to tell me that, Olga?” Akantha interrupted. “Really, I had expected more of your proffered wisdom than this,” she spat.

Olgaya continued in the same calm tone with which she had begun. “Your sisters-“

“Half-sisters,” Akantha corrected abruptly.

Olgaya cocked her head for a moment. “What do you mean by that?”

Akantha opened her mouth to say something, but stopped. Her shoulders slumped a little and she turned to the bench on which Olgaya was sitting. “I don’t know, Olga. They’re my sisters, even if Hypatios Nykator is their father.” She sighed and began walking toward the window. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have insulted you just now,” she apologized before sitting down on the end of the bench opposite from her friend.

Olgaya smiled, and Akantha found herself once again jealous of her best friend’s appearance. The freckles which covered Olgaya’s face, the curly dark red hair which seemed to be always bouncing, and her not particularly striking features combined to present a very plain, simple looking girl of average height and build. But appearances were deceiving, as Olgaya was stronger than average and possessed tremendous reflexes which Akantha had also envied since she was a young girl.

Akantha, on the other hand, had straight blonde hair, blue eyes and skin that looked as white as Stone Rhino tusk under the winter sun. She was taller than average, and her frame was more than proportional for her height. But Akantha would never be confused with a man, which was also a burden at times. It seemed that any proper-fitting clothing accentuated features she sometimes wished she could hide, prompting cowardly whispers about her future child-bearing prospects. She hated the attention her appearance often brought, but she knew that such attention was also at least in part due to her station in Argos’ society.

But being judged on her appearance, and being told how she ought to fit into society had always struck a rebellious bone somewhere deep within her. She knew that she was capable, and she knew the responsibilities she was destined to bear. Akantha didn’t recoil from those responsibilities in the least; in fact, they were the only good thing about being born into the life her mother had given her. She couldn’t wait for the opportunity to take her place among the leaders of the world and prove herself to be just as capable as her ancestors.

“It’s all right, my lady,” Olgaya replied, still wearing her sweet smile. “This has been a stressful day, and from the look of things tomorrow’s not going to be any easier.”

Akantha nodded her head and forced a laugh. “No, I don’t think it will be.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she looked out the window, seeing the Argos Citadel in all its splendor.

Every rival Hold Mistress was envious of Argos for its geographic location, which provided consistent water for the surrounding farmland, as well as a strong defensible position at every possible approach.

The terrain was conducive to growing grains in the summer, and there were even some grasses which managed to survive deep into the winter, allowing Argos to maintain a much larger quantity of livestock than her neighbors, making all forms of industry and agriculture more productive than they might otherwise be.

Argos had seen her share of wars in the past, but under the rule of Polymnia Zosime and the protection of Hypatios Nykator, no conflict had ever really threatened the safety of the Hold. The people were strong and hard workers, applying themselves even more diligently to their daily labors as a result of the high degree of security afforded them by their leadership.

And that was what House Zosime owed her people: strong leadership and sage guidance. Without Zosime’s rule, Argos’ enemies would descend upon her like a plague and destroy everything the Argosians had worked so hard to achieve.

“Why should I have to choose from among Nykator’s men? It’s not fair!” Akantha blurted before thinking. She really wished she could gain better control of her tongue at times.

Olgaya nodded, sympathy crossing over her features for a moment. “You’re right, it’s not fair.”

“Then why?!” Akantha continued, allowing the impulse to smash the glass window with her fist to pass harmlessly into and out of her mind.

“Because it is tradition,” Olgaya said simply. “Because it is what the people need from you.”

“The people need for me to accept one of those sycophantic, self-serving animals as my most trusted companion and ally?” Akantha said sharply, but she took a breath to calm herself before she got too hot under the collar. “What are you saying, Olga? I am sure I don’t yet have your full meaning.”

Olgaya smiled again, this time with a flicker of fire in her eyes. “The people need for you to be strong, and to make the best choice you can, given the circumstances. Life is not about doing what is best; it is about doing the best you can with what you have.”

“So you’re saying I should allow Uncle Nykator to choose my Protector for me?” Akantha snapped.

“No, my lady. I am saying that if you want to be the leader your people need you to be, you must do the best you can with what is available to you,” Olgaya reiterated smoothly. “And you must let the people see you do so.”

Akantha thought about this for a moment before clenching her fist and beating it gently against the window sill. “Am I nothing more than a piece in a game, or prey for one of those self-absorbed men who fancies himself a hunter closing in for the kill?” Her teeth were gritted, but she was losing the fire she had started with.

Olgaya found Akantha’s gaze and held it for awhile before quirking her lips. “A piece in a game, most certainly. But…” the freckle-faced lady in waiting paused and then giggled.

“But what?” Akantha asked shortly, her patience wearing thin.

“Akantha…you’re the hunter,” said her closest friend in the world.

The Deposed King