Ma raised her eyebrows. “I don’t suppose you heard him.”
I couldn’t look at any of them. An awkward quiet fell over everyone except Daria, who was still talking about her hat. My face burning, I wished I’d stayed dead at the bottom of the sea.
Pa clapped a hand on Markos’s shoulder. “Perhaps you’ll come along to the market with me to fetch some fresh bread.” I almost choked on my coffee. From his voice, I knew it wasn’t a request.
Markos knew it too. I held my breath, remembering how rude he could be if he thought his honor was being insulted, but he only said, “Yes, sir.”
They left and then, laying a finger aside her nose, Kenté whisked Daria up on deck. Just like her to make herself scarce when someone else was getting in trouble.
I was alone with my mother. “Why didn’t Nereus come back with you?”
“He spoke enthusiastically of seeking out a certain tavern. I didn’t have the heart to tell him it’s been closed these many years, since I was a girl. And the building was quite falling down, even then.” She frowned. “I wonder how long it’s been since he sailed out of this harbor, that he didn’t know.”
Her piercing glinted as she wrinkled her nose. “Probably I’m meant to be giving you the woman’s side of this talk right now.” She stared into her coffee mug. “Be responsible, mind your reputation, come to me if you’ve any questions, and so on. But let’s just skip it, if you don’t mind. You’re grown, and it’s not my business.” She sighed. “I know I’ve never been very motherly.”
“You do not have to start now.” My cheeks were hot. If I had any questions about sex, she would assuredly be the second to last person in the world I would ask. “Really, it’s fine.”
“He seems nice enough. But, Caro, don’t let it get too serious. People always like to think they can overcome having different backgrounds.” She shook her head, and I sensed she wasn’t just talking about Markos and me. “It isn’t so easy.”
I didn’t want to think about that right now. “I wonder what Pa’s doing to Markos?”
“Putting the fear of the gods into him, I expect.” Ma tapped the table. “Now. This morning I suggest we visit some of the finer shops in the garment district—you’ve nothing to wear. Tychon Hypatos is a councilman, and a friend of the Archon. He and his wife are wealthy people. You can’t go up there looking like a shipwrecked scalawag.”
“I would like new clothes.” I paused. “I want a jacket with gilt trim. And more waistcoats like this one. And a pair of fine leather boots.”
“Dresses,” she said flatly, in her bargaining table voice.
“No dresses,” I countered.
She cleared her throat. “Sometimes I wish I’d been around when you were a little girl. When I might’ve bought you pretty things. Braided your hair.” She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “Things that mothers do.”
I saw her as if for the first time. Responsibility had put crinkled lines around her eyes, and her faith in her family made her tall and strong. Was it too late for the kind of love Pa and I had? Maybe we were both too prickly and stubborn. I could respect her though.
“All right,” I said. “Dresses. But no stays.”
She cracked a wry smile. “I suppose that’s what I get.”
“Ma,” I began. Glancing down into my coffee, I gathered my words. “I should’ve trusted you. I’m sorry.”
“All forgotten.” She waved a hand. “You’re like Nick, that’s all. Depending on no one but the river.”
“No,” I said hoarsely. “Not the river.”
“Ayah?” To my surprise she grinned. “Is that the way of it? I’d begun to suspect. You know, Jacari Bollard himself was chosen by she who lies beneath. And he discovered a trade route that changed the world. Maybe you’re more Bollard than you think, eh?”
“Oh.” Her words had reminded me. I dug in my pocket. “I forgot. You can have this back. I never did get to use it.” I laid her Bollard brooch on the table. The morning sun glinted on the raised gold stars.
She pushed it back at me. “Keep it. You never know—you might need it someday.”
Turning the brooch over in my hands, I wondered. Was I Bollard or Oresteia? Both? I rather liked to think I was something else entirely. Something new. I tucked the pin into my pocket. Maybe we can leave things behind, yet still hang on to the best parts of them. The parts that matter.
We went up to Market Street, where I commissioned a new wardrobe, paid for with the pouch of silver talents I’d discovered in Vix’s hold. I stood squirming in my underthings while the shop girls drew tapes around my breasts and hips. My best gown was to be green silk, with a black pattern. The seamstress draped the fabric around me, as Ma nodded in approval.
I didn’t see Markos again until that afternoon.
Tychon Hypatos’s house was a sprawling estate, set back off the road and surrounded by a garden of sculpted trees. I came up the shell-lined walk to see Antidoros Peregrine sweeping the front door shut behind him. He wore a wide-brimmed hat low over his face.
I bobbed my head. “Lord Peregrine.”
“Miss Oresteia,” he said with a tip of his hat as he passed me.
I did not waste any time barging into the sitting room. “What are you up to?”
Markos looked up from a book. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“That was Antidoros Peregrine going out the door.” He opened his mouth to deny it, but I cut him off. “And don’t you dare say it wasn’t. I recognized him even with the hat. Why are you having meetings with notorious Akhaian rebels?”
“If you must know, he’s the one who came to Valonikos to meet with me. He wants me to see the way they do things here. Did you know their Archon and their council are all elected by the citizens?”
“So?”
“So Peregrine believes we might be able to make a new Akhaia, one founded on modern principles. He thinks I could help his cause.”
“He thinks you’re a political opportunity!”
He snapped the book shut. “Perhaps he just wants what’s best for Akhaia.” I caught a glimpse of the title printed on the cover of the thin volume. A Declaration of Principles: Being a Manifesto Concerning the Incontestable Rights of the People. “I thought this would please you.”
“You ought to be careful, is all,” I muttered. “You know he didn’t like your father.”
“He didn’t agree with my father,” he corrected me. “Did you know I was never allowed to read this?” He gestured to the book. “My father ordered all copies burned. Peregrine has some compelling arguments, particularly regarding political power consolidated in the hands of the—”
“Oh? You think this Archon doesn’t have power?” I demanded. “All men with power take advantage. Doesn’t matter if they’re born or elected.”