Golden Age (The Shifting Tides, #1)(21)

Dion immediately saw that he’d timed his arrival poorly. ‘I can see you’re busy, First Consul. I apologize for arriving unannounced. Perhaps we can discuss this another time.’

Aristocles ran a hand over his face. ‘No, it is I who should apologize, Dion of Xanthos. I will speak with you, but now I must go and discuss an important matter with one of my fellow consuls. You will rest tonight at my villa and we will discuss what brings you here.’




Chloe was in the kitchen unpacking the day’s purchases at the market with Aglea, a stout servant with white hair tied at the back of her head. As she unwrapped a hunk of goat’s meat while Aglea added coals to the cooking hearth, Chloe’s mind was elsewhere. She was worried about her father, who was brooding in the reception with a cup of red wine. He was more careworn than usual of late, and not for the first time she wished she was a man, so she could help him with his work at the Assembly.

She heard old Hermon speaking in low, respectful tones and then her father’s louder voice. ‘Ah, I had completely forgotten. Of course, show him in.’

A stranger’s voice greeted her father and then Aristocles called out. ‘Chloe? Come here. We have a guest.’

Chloe exited the kitchen and stopped in her tracks. The young man from the sailboat earlier in the day was looking at her and smiling. She had barely paid attention to him before, but she realized now that the tunic he was wearing marked him out as no common sailor.

He had short, unruly, sandy hair and tanned skin, with an oval face and sunburned lips. His square jaw was clean-shaven and his build was lean and athletic. Intelligent brown eyes sparkled as his smile broadened.

‘Chloe, you remember Dion, King Markos of Xanthos’s youngest son? Dion, my daughter Chloe.’

‘Lady.’ Dion gave a short bow.

‘The last time you two met you were quite young, is that correct?’

‘It was six years ago,’ Dion said, still smiling. His expression was full of mischief; he was enjoying her discomfort. ‘I was fourteen.’

‘Which means Chloe would have been thirteen.’

‘I’m sure she doesn’t even recognize me,’ Dion said.

Despite herself, Chloe reddened, then she became angry, but she fought to keep her expression calm.

‘She has certainly grown,’ Dion said. ‘Your daughter has become a beautiful woman, First Consul.’

‘I do remember you,’ Chloe said tightly. ‘You were always curious, if I recall correctly. But curiosity can cause harm, particularly when there are grave matters at hand.’

‘Daughter!’ Aristocles rebuked. ‘What an odd thing to say. Dion, I apologize for any offence.’

‘None taken,’ Dion said lightly.

‘Chloe, fetch wine would you? Actually no, have Aglea serve the wine. Come and sit with us. Please take a seat, Dion. We shall dine informally at the high table. I know you Xanthians don’t object to breaking bread with female company.’

‘I’m honored, First Consul. It’s kind of you to invite me to your home.’

Chloe issued instructions to Aglea and then sat at the table, opposite Dion, who was looking out the window at the terrace. Aristocles sat at the head of the table and Dion at his right hand. Both men rose before sitting down at the same time as Chloe.

‘Now, Dion, I know you said the city is well, but how did Xanthos truly fare in the tremor?’

‘Many were frightened and still are, but we were fortunate. A few fallen stones . . . little more.’

Aglea came to pour the wine. Chloe drank to disguise her discomfort, for Dion’s eyes kept turning to her before flicking back to her father. She sipped too much, and the tart liquid burned the back of her throat.

She started to cough uncontrollably. Both her father and Dion looked alarmed.

‘Daughter?’ Aristocles started to rise.

‘No—’ Chloe held up a hand. ‘I’m fine. Aglea? Water, please.’

Some gulps of water soothed her chest, and as her color returned Dion once more grinned at her maddeningly.

Aristocles asked Dion about his family while Aglea served a cold meal of cheese, fruits, and olives, along with bread baked earlier in the day. Dion ate heartily but drank sparingly, praising Aristocles for the meal.

‘I must also express my admiration for how quickly the damage to the city is being repaired.’

Aristocles nodded sagely. ‘Soon enough it will be as if the tremor never happened.’

‘The repairs to your own home are stout and strong.’

Aristocles frowned and then he chuckled. ‘You have a keen eye. Yes, there was damage to my home. The stoutest walls are no protection from the gods.’ He turned grave. ‘My youngest, Sophia, was almost killed.’

Dion’s eyes widened. ‘First Consul . . . I had no idea.’

‘You could not have known,’ Aristocles said. ‘Now—’

‘One of the eldren saved her,’ Chloe interjected. ‘Yet some of the consuls speak as if they are our enemies.’

Aristocles sighed. ‘Daughter . . .’

‘Some are of that opinion in my father’s court,’ Dion said as he regarded her. ‘My mother always said otherwise.’

‘Enough of politics,’ Aristocles said shortly. ‘Now, Dion, tell me again what brings you here.’