After that game of Petteia, Father began teaching military education after lessons with the other students. We soon exhausted everything that Sofia had to offer on that front; Father purchased literature from Polemos, and though I knew it must have been exorbitantly expensive he never complained. This lasted three years, during which Al developed the new way of war that Father had hoped she would. She called it the phalanx ; a formation consisting of long spears so as to keep the Sahalians at a safe distance while engaging them. It had a few missing details, but Father assured us that Polemos could help with that.

On top of the basic and special education I was receiving from Father, I was beginning to enjoy Mother’s lessons in weaving. Our favorite part of the day quickly became when Mother would let the girls work on our own projects independently, allowing free time to socialize.

“Eros likes to write outside, by the light of the sun.” Iris said. “Sometimes the light of dusk will catch his face in a way that just needs to be captured by an artist. I am deadly curious about what he is writing.”

Thalia turned to me. “He’s one of your Father’s students. What do you think he’s writing?”

“Well, Eros isn’t a boy I pay much mind. So, give me a moment to recall.” I explained. “While he isn’t quiet by disposition, he doesn’t contribute much during lessons… Unless Father happens to be instructing us in poetry. So, it’s likely that’s what he is authoring.”

“What could he be writing about?” Wondered Iris.

“Or who.” Ophelia pointed out.

“Philena, what did you mean by he is a boy you pay much mind to?” asked Thalia.

“He just doesn’t stand out to me.” I answered.

“So, who does?” pressed Iris.

I shrugged my shoulders.

“Spare us Philena,” Ophelia insisted, “you have to tell us which of your father’s students has your eye.”

“I talked to you about this,” said Ella, rolling her eyes. “She’s sworn to secrecy.”

I raised an eyebrow and giggled. “Who told you that?” I asked.

Ella blinked twice. “You aren’t?” she said.

“No, and I haven’t an inkling as to how you came to that conclusion,” I told her.

“I just assumed,” she explained. “There are so many hushed whispers about you.”

Iris balked. “Then why haven’t you told us what happens during lessons?” she asked.

“Since when have any of you been interested in history, geometry, or arithmetic?” I replied.

Ophelia huffed. “Philena, I never thought you capable of such brazen lies,” she said. “You know that’s not what we mean.”

Thalia added, “Dearest, you must tell us what boys are like when us ladyfolk aren’t around.”

“You forget that I am around and a member of the lady folk,” I pointed out.

“Trivial,” dismissed Thalia with an impatient wave.

I put down the needle. “Well, there’s Evander,” I told them.

“Oooh, the first son of Leander,” interrupted Ophelia. “He’s the third man in the city. Is he cute?” she asked.

“He’s very intelligent and kind…” I said, trailing off.

Thalia raised an eyebrow. “Your hesitation betrays a ‘but’,” she observed.

“But he gets pushed around by Gregory a lot,” I completed, voicing Id’s argument against him.

Iris frowned. “Could be worth the social standing,” she said practically.

“Who’s Gregory?” asked Thalia.

“Yeah,” agreed Ophelia. “I haven’t heard of him either.”

“Who’s his father?” asked Ella.

“He’s the second son of General Aegeus,” I answered.

“Oh. Not a first born and not even a Patron,” Thalia pointed out.

Ophelia questioned “Why is your father teaching him?”

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“I don’t know for certain,” I answered, “but I believe it has to do with my Father’s overall philosophy.”

“What philosophy?” asked Iris.

“As he likes to say, ‘There is wisdom in strength and strength in wisdom. Thus, it is foolishness to keep the two separate,’” I provided. “Since Gregory is the son of a General, yet does not have the burden of becoming one, Father likely believes Gregory to be a promising boy whom he could develop into this worldview.”

“Seems disrespectful to the rest of the Patrons, if you ask me,” stated Ophelia.

“I’m sure your brother, Luke, is in agreement,” I said pointedly.

“Is he strong?” asked Thalia sheepishly. “If he is the son of the General, one would think he would be.”

I gave her a smirk. “Very,” I said. “He is becoming quite the sculpture.”

Iris narrowed her eyes and returned my smirk. “That’s an interesting choice of words,” she said. “Jacinta asked of strength, an attribute. Yet, ‘sculpture’ indicates appearance.”

Thalia’s eyes widened and tilted her head forward. “Philena, have you seen Gregory without his tunic?”

I hesitated in answering, unsure how to explain. “Father has recently added exercise to the boys’ lessons,” I told them, “and, well, they move weights while lacking chest garments.”

“He brings you to these exhibitions?!” exclaimed Ophelia, raising her voice in shock.

“I said no such thing,” I said in Father’s defense.

“You spy on them?!” accused Ella, similarly offended. “Philena, you fiend,” she added, suppressing a smile.

“How do you do it?” asked Thalia with a coy grin.

“Thalia! You too?” said Ella, keeping up her affronted act.

“Come now, Philena shouldn’t be the only one to have fun,” Thalia smirked.

“This is all very unbecoming,” insisted Ophelia, putting down her needle to cross her arms. “Philena, you really shouldn’t do that sort of thing again. You could be caught – what would your mother think? What would everyone think?”

I gave her a knowing smile. “I can’t be caught,” I said.

Ophelia looked at me for moment, then yielded. “If it were anyone else, I would argue, but I’m sure you are speaking the truth.”

“Guilt is not dependent on detection,” argued Ella. “Your transgression is real whether or not you are caught. How would you feel if one of the boys were watching you change?”

“I doubt a boy would mind as much as one of us,” Thalia pointed out.

“Trivial.” dismissed Ella.

I sighed and picked up the needle again. “Very well. I shall stop spying on the boys,” I said, recognizing her point.

----------------------------------------

A little over a year later Ella’s marriage would be arranged, to everyone’s surprise, to Luke; the first son of the first man of the city, Atticus. Father allowed me a few days of freedom to help my friend prepare for the ceremony and her future as a wife.

During the main celebration I noticed Atticus standing away from the main ceremony, quietly sipping at his wine. I approached him “So, how did Stavrus pay the dowry?” I asked while taking a sup of wine.

“Beg pardon,” said Atticus, taking his attention from the dancers and directing it to me.

“To have equaled your son, Stavrus would have either sold everything he had or bleed himself dry,” I said. “I’m curious: how did he pay?”

“Ah, well, he did agree with you,” admitted Atticus. Then after a pause said, “We agreed on his political support to be the price.”

“Luke is only worth a speech?” I asked with incredulity.

“A few speeches and motions,” he clarified.

“Wouldn’t everyone know that his words in support of you is due to family ties and not the truth of the matter?” I pointed out.

“He wouldn’t always be in public support of what I have put forward, but rather introducing it himself,” he said, then smirked. “Wouldn’t want to look to much like a tyrant now, would I?”

“He’s being awfully frank with us,” noted Al.

I asked him, “Why are you being so open with me about this?”

Atticus looked into his wine glass, then answered, “Because keeping the truth from you would be unwise.”

“Keeping the truth from me specifically? Why?” I pressed. “Is it because I’m a miracle?”

“Miracle? Why use that term?” Atticus inquired.

“It’s the term you used,” I said.

“When?” he asked.

“When we first met. After I predicted the coin flips in the forum, you said ‘This child is a miracle. She is a gift from Gravity’,” I recalled.

Atticus blinked, then chucked to himself. “I suppose I should not be surprised that you remember that,” he said.

“So why freely give me this inconvenient truth of yours?” I asked, returning to my original question.

Atticus sighed. “Because of who and what you are,” he answered cryptically.

“And yet the truth of who and what I am is kept from me,” I pointed out.

Atticus gave an apologetic smile. “Your father has the best understanding of the matter, and he has insisted it is to your benefit that you remain in ignorance for the time being,” he explained.

“And how long shall I be blind for?” I questioned.

Atticus shrugged his shoulders. “He’s never been precise on that,” he admitted. There was a moment of silence before he changed the subject. “So how was Ella yesterday?” he asked.

I chuckled. “She desperately wanted to play the tyrant, but she kept herself in check to spare us that,” I said with a wry smile. “Most of the time,” I added.

Atticus returned the smile. “That’s a good sign,” he said, chuckling as well. “It shows how she handles stressful situations.” He took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders. “My son will have a happy marriage,” he added, smiling more warmly than I had ever seen before.

“How was your wife?” I asked.

“I am told she believed herself Queen of Sofia,” he said, laughing.

I had to catch myself from spitting wine through my nose. “Then how is your marriage?” I asked.

Atticus smirked. “As long as there is no flaw to be found, it is fine,” he joked.

“You seem very nonchalant about having a contentious wife,” I observed.

“It has taught me many things,” he explained. “Chief among them being the virtue of patience.”

“Did you know this about her before the wedding?” I asked him.

“Just the same as a rider knows a wild stallion,” he answered, taking another drink of wine. “Much like such a rider, after mastering my wife I have found everyone else to be far easier.”

We watched the wedding celebrations for a while before my gaze eventually drifted to Luke and Ella knit together.

“When will we be married?” pined Id.

“Atticus?” I said, absently thumbing my wine glass.

“Hmm?” he responded.

“Why am I not married yet?” I asked, not fully expecting an answer. “I am older than Ella.”

“Keep heart,” Atticus assured me. “Aristocles has a husband picked out for you. He’s just waiting for the right time.”

“Could he be Maximos?” wondered Eth. “Or is it one of the students?”

Whoever Father had appointed for me, I was forced to watch all my friends and even Rhea be wed first. Through all this, Father never once broached the subject.