Relic

XXXV: Aprilus 28 Year 242, A.H.

I pass from person to person like a baby on her Water-naming day. I hardly feel the hands and the arms and lips on my cheek. I am numb and reeling simultaneously. I wonder if I’ll ever feel normal again. Did I really just win the Archon Laurels?

It seems impossible. True, I’d harbored aspirations of winning. I even once believed that I stood a chance. But after Jasper’s discovery and after I realized that the novelty of my Chronicle might backfire upon me, I stopped fantasizing about victory and started worrying about the very real possibility of punishment. Anyway, even if I hadn’t written such a risky Chronicle, who was I to seek the Laurels? The first Maiden Testor in one hundred and fifty years? A girl who hadn’t started training until three months before the Testing? Mother was right to be dismissive.

But something swayed the odds in my favor. What was it?

Just as I finish extricating myself from the suffocating embrace of my father’s aunt, Jasper approaches with his parents. I’m not sure what to expect, no matter his “happy to have an Archon in the family” remark. Everything has changed. I watch as my parents straighten their Feast-day clothes; clearly, they’re a little apprehensive too.

The Lex demands that our parents speak first, and I’m relieved. Even though Jasper is smiling at me, I wouldn’t want to utter anything foolish in this dicey situation.

My father bows to Jasper’s parents. “We thank the Gods that they returned Jasper and Eva home to us safely. We are blessed, as two Testors were lost in the Lex-sanctified quest.”

Jasper’s mother nods in acceptance of his words, clever in their focus on our safe homecoming. It was the only prayer that my father had offered on our last night in the Aerie, when our two families were gathered together.

The iciness of Jasper’s mother is apparent, but she knows better than to say what she really thinks. That I’d robbed her precious son of what should be his—of a title that someone in every generation of her family had held since the Healing. That I don’t deserve it. That the Triad should never have let a female compete in the first place. She wouldn’t dare utter such statements in front of the Chief Archon. Or me, now.

“You will come to our home afterward? To Feast with us?” my father asks.

She cannot say no. It would do me dishonor as the new Archon—and my father as Chief Archon. Not to mention that my father didn’t insult her by explicitly inviting her to celebrate my victory. Just our homecoming.

Jasper is still beaming at me. He’s acting truly happy with my victory, not upset by his own loss like so many despondent Testors around us. I’d like to believe that he’s the friend I’d been hoping he was. But I wonder what’s really behind that smile.

Our meeting is interrupted by a visit from Ian and the Chief Basilikon. Jasper and his family bow to their relative and then take their leave, while my mother and I do a deep curtsy. The once-automatic gesture feels strange in my stiff and filthy Testor uniform. My pack weighs me down as I bend—but I strive for Maidenly grace.

“You should be very proud of your Eva,” Ian commands rather than observes, using the full power of his Chief Lexor voice.

“She has done honor to the Gods, and her family,” my father answers, and I swell with pride at his words.

“Her Chronicle was most powerful,” the Chief Basilkon says, echoing my father’s words on the stage. I can’t quite tell if he’s praising me, or begrudgingly accepting my victory, or lying about the whole thing. Maybe he itched for punishment instead of Laurels, but he has some secret reason for publicly forgiving my impropriety. My father’s position, maybe? I can’t help but think about Eamon’s words from his journal—I can no longer ignore the truth of what I’ve learned. Had he learned something about the Chief Basilkon? Something that would compel the Basilikon to excuse the irregularity of my Chronicle? Perhaps so he can hold me under his sway?

“Enjoy your thirty days with her. After that, she’ll be off for her Archon training,” Ian directs. As if he could order happiness.

My father places his arm around me. “We’ve already planned. We will relish every tick.”

The other two chiefs of the Triad turn to leave. My parents and I assume our genuflections and curtsies. Then, arms linked, we head home.

The walk, which once seemed quite long, is but a few steps. In ticks, we are through the door. Everything seems impossibly luxurious after so many days on dogsleds and in crevasses, so many nights in igloos and tents. Especially since the tables of the solar and dining room—heaped high with fruit, beautifully sculpted breads and cakes, roasted fish and fowl—are already laid out for a great Feast.

“How did you know?” I ask.

“What do you mean, Eva?” my father asks back.

“How did you know that I’d win? You said ‘we’ve already planned.’ Even though you’re the Chief Archon, you couldn’t have possibly known that I’d be named the new Archon and thrown together a Feast of this magnitude just today. And if it’s been Jasper that had won, his family would be holding the Feast today.”

My parents shoot each other an inscrutable glance. My mother answers, “Eva, it seemed impossible that you should lose. You can’t imagine how you moved the New North people with your Chronicle at the Gatherings. We had never heard so wrenching a tale of the end. That poor girl.”

The contraband in my pack reminds me of something. I carefully extricate my father’s Relic: the mirror that earned him the role of Chief Archon. “I would have met my end were it not for this,” I say, my voice hoarse. “Thank you for allowing me to take it.”

My father nods solemnly and replaces the mirror on its spot on the mantle, faced toward the Sun. “Eva, the Gods have blessed you with a special gift. To see the hidden truth that lay within the Relics. And to tell that truth so powerfully. No other Testor has ever had that talent. Not in the entire history of the Testing.”

My eyes well with tears. He speaks of truth, but he means stories. My mind turns to Nurse Aga at whose feet I began to learn storytelling. I step close to them. I am awestruck by their compliments. “Truly?”

“Truly,” my father answers.

“Truly,” my mother echoes, with a sniff.

I think she’s holding back tears. But I see a grimace. For the first time in siniks, it registers that I’ve spent too long in these exact same clothes. In the warmth and closeness of the stone building, I realize the problem: I don’t smell Maidenly.

“Eva, you really must bathe before our Guests arrive for the Feast,” my mother manages in her whispery Lady voice. She can only hold back her Lady ways for so long.

My father glances my way, and nods. “That would be wise, Eva. I noticed your—umm—aroma in the town square. I didn’t want to embarrass you before we arrived home.”

I laugh. After all that I’ve faced these past twenty-eight siniks—body-wrenching cold, hunger, suspected conspiracy against me, near-death drops—the last thing I thought about was how I smelled. Yet back at the Aerie, it’s one of the first things I’ve got to tackle. My shoulders slump in relief. I am home. “I’m hardly embarrassed, Father. I would love nothing more than a long, hot bath.” I also welcome the excuse to lock myself in my bedroom and hide the amulet and altar that I’ve been carrying.

My mother smiles. Not only have I stepped into her realm, I am happily agreeing to her suggestions. For once. “I’ve already ordered your Companion Katja to prepare it.”

Katja? I’d almost forgotten about her.

I turn to give my parents a hug before racing upstairs, but something makes me hesitate. I’m excited and relieved to see them, but everything feels just a little too easy. Their Feast preparations, the Archon Laurels, Jasper’s amiable reaction. So I give them a smile and a wave. Still, my own stench reminds me that I am Maiden once again. I must also keep the stench of my secrets hidden.