Pherenike - Chapter 60

“Even after sparing your brother’s life, do you plan to be a king without an heir? What if your brother fathers an heir eventually?”

“It doesn’t seem like Deucalion would father an heir with a woman other than you.”

Not unless he’s on his deathbed, maybe. He mocked her, then stood up.

Suddenly, Deucalion’s name and love flowed from Actor to Pherenike, like a dam bursting and a river flooding. This was unprecedented. Pherenike was astounded.

“Or are you going to bear his heir?”

“Actor Pelagon!”

She thought she should feign outrage at this point, to appear innocent.

But the voice she spat out involuntarily was laden with emotions she couldn’t identify. It wasn’t really anger towards him. She wasn’t angry at anyone.

It was more like she was strangling herself.

Actor asked coldly in return.

“How is that different from the insult you just threw at me?”

“Insult? This is purely in your favor.”

“In my favor… Of course, it would be good for you, Pherenike. You wouldn’t have to deal with someone like me anymore.”

He left the bed. Pherenike called after his retreating back.

“….Why did you invite Deucalion to Lykke, then? Why did you make him and me cross paths?”

“I thought you might smile at him.”

Could there be anything more foolish sounding? Pherenike scoffed.

“But when you actually laid eyes on him, it didn’t matter if your eyes smiled or not, it grated on my nerves. It drove me insane.”

“…”

“Ridiculous, isn’t it? Just having Deucalion in your sight.”

“Actor.”

Without another word, Actor left her chamber. He didn’t return for ten days.

It was on the tenth day that Pherenike had a dream. She dreamt of him.

It was a night when the crackling of the hearth fire sounded like insects singing on a summer’s night. The north wind from Thrake rattled the wooden windows.

But her room was warm and peaceful. Lying on her side in bed, she cradled her significantly larger belly in the dream. The weight and discomfort seemed to irritate her slightly in the dream.

The warmth in the room softened Pherenike’s sharp mood. Her eyes fluttered open and closed, half asleep. In her dream, she saw a small fire blazing in the center of the room.

Actor was seated by the hearth, resembling a young huntsman living in a mountain cabin, tending to a bowstring and arrow, and whittling a small piece of wood of unknown use.

In the dream, he was still the king of Evdokia, and the room was the queen’s chamber. Yet, the man sitting alone by the fire seemed a little more youthful than usual.

The shadow of his father, the late king Epicydes, had momentarily vanished from his stern young face. He appeared more relaxed than the Actor she knew by day and softer than the one she knew by night.

Pherenike always thought Actor bore a striking resemblance to his deceased father, King Epicydes. However, the Pherenike in the dream thought that he didn’t resemble his father as much.

Actor then glanced towards her on the bed. The corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly in a curve. She knew it was his version of a smile.

It was her first non-nightmarish dream about Actor. Otherwise, he had always been a figure in terrible dreams, his role in her dreamscape was lethal but narrow.

In her dreams, his actions were no different from the bizarre monsters she had encountered in the many nightmares of her youth: giant snakes with horns, lions with human heads, giants resembling wicked gods with dozens of arms and heads, and humans sprinting on all fours.

In Pherenike’s dreams, Actor always did the same thing. Like a slave condemned to repeat a single, simple task for a lifetime. He wielded the sword of King Epicydes, struck down Deucalion, severed the wrist of his deceased brother, and after completing these acts as if they were the most natural things, he finally turned to her.

He approached her covered in Deucalion’s blood. She pondered the knife concealed in her bosom, as if she could kill him.

In her dreams, Actor wasn’t an invincible son of Pelagon. This false belief always gave her hope in her dreams.

Pherenike awaited him as if awaiting the monster in her dreams as a young girl. The young girl who had only repeated the cycle of being caught, killed, and waking up at the moment of being torn apart by claws or bitten to death, eventually succeeded in fleeing to the very end of the world.

She ran breathlessly, hoping the terrible dream would not shatter until she reached her goal.

She began setting traps for the monster and waiting. Waiting and waiting, even if death and repeated failures awaited at the end.

*Thrake: In ancient Greece, Thrake was believed to be the dwelling place of Boreas, the god of the north wind. Located in the northeastern part of Greece, today’s Thrake is divided between the Greek and Turkish territories in the eastern part of the Balkan Peninsula.