Chapter 11 The quickest way to a man's heart
Blumeia’s ominous warning left a mark in Aeon’s heart long after they had departed through the wormhole in her mother’s basement lab, inconspicuously hidden behind heavy drapery.
“Have you even visited Avonstone recently?” Aeon asked. “With a wormhole right in your workplace, it would have been totally convenient—”
“Of course, I have… Avonstone is my home, too. But I can only do that when Berion is away. So I have to produce a lot more of my elixirs and tonics for him to trade. And so far, the business is doing well to keep him away.”
“Why don’t you just divorce him?”
“I can’t… the Queen Mother wouldn’t be pleased.”
“What does she care?”
Phaedra shook her head. “She made the match. Divorce is out of the question. Don’t worry about it. I can handle Berion like a broom.”
“Should I be worried about what Aunt Blu said earlier?”
Phaedra swallowed hard. “Never ignore an augur’s words, my love… but don’t we all encounter challenges in life?” she said, letting out a sharp breath. “I raised you well… your father taught you about things not even I could comprehend. So don’t worry… as Blumeia had said, you are strong enough to overcome it.”
“I know… but I wish I could stay forever young, can’t I? Adult life can be quite complicated.” Aeon chuckled.
“That’s true. Pretty soon, you will meet someone who will rock your world… sweep you off your feet… then he’ll take you far away to start a new life full of roses and promises. That’s how it starts. Then the rose blooms will wither… and all you have is love, and hope it endures. You have to make sure you’ll find a man who loves you more than you love him…”
Aeon wanted to tell her all about Diego, but she couldn’t muster the courage to do so. Not just yet.
“Did my father loved you more than you loved him?”
Phaedra’s lips quirked at the corners. “I just said that so you’ll up your standards in men, dear. They come in different shapes and sizes, but they’re all good at making promises. I want to be sure you meet someone who will love you with everything he’s got. Me and your father loved each other immensely… enduring, even beyond death. Honestly, I can still feel his love right now.”
“Really? How?”
“You’ll know when the right man comes along. Come on, let’s get dinner ready. Your stepfather will be here soon.”
“Okay… I’ll just check out on something at the shed,” Aeon said, smoothing down her skirts. “I’ll be back in sec.”
“Sure. I’ll fire up the oven while you do that… and pick up a bunch of thyme and rosemary on your way back, will you?”
She nodded and dashed out into the garden, half-running toward the shed.
Socrates curled up, napping by the door. The dog’s ears perked up, his tail wagged as she neared, but all around was dark and quiet, save for the cricking of the crickets in the trees. No sign of the twilight visitor she was expecting.
“Alright… so I guess it’s not tonight, either, huh?” she muttered under her breath, ruffling Socrates’s fur. “It’s okay… I just hope he’s alright and not floating among the waterlilies somewhere, the same way he showed up before…”
She gave her dark surroundings another sweeping glance and walked away, grabbing a handful of herbs along the way. A dull pain cried in her chest, pooling tears in her eyes.
As the early evening bathed the kitchen in a warm, golden glow, mother and daughter bustled in a harmonious rhythm. While Phaedra dressed the chicken, Aeon placed the herbs on the chopping board, inhaling the fresh aroma of thyme and rosemary.
“I don’t get it,” Aeon chirped. “We only get to have meat when Berion is in the house… why can’t we have it when it’s just the two of us here? And I’m not considering leftovers— did he put you up to this?”
Phaedra blew a sharp sigh. “Because it is healthier for the both of us to have more vegetables in our diet. Having meat all the time weakens the heart… but we must stay strong. Do you understand?”
Aeon chuckled. “You mean… you’re killing him slowly with food?”
“The quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach… I’m sure you’ve heard that line before…” Phaedra said, flashing a crooked grin. “The chicken is ready. Let me help you with those herbs…”
With deft movements, Aeon skillfully wielded her knife, slicing through the vibrant assortment of vegetables before her. The rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board filled the air as they skillfully chopped vegetables and onions, their hands moving in perfect harmony.
The comforting aroma of herbs and spices mingled with their conversation, creating an atmosphere of warmth and intimacy. Amidst the culinary symphony, they delved into deeper matters—matters of the heart, of love, and the complexities of navigating a world dominated by men.
“I don’t understand what the queen was thinking when she made that match with you and Berion. She must be absolutely half-witted. She should have chosen a man like my father,” Aeon said, shaking her head.
“Lower your voice,” Phaedra hissed. “Volke wouldn’t have become the alpha king’s luna if she’s senseless and half-witted. She had her reasons for making the match, and no one questions it. Besides… there’s no one who is half the man your father was… Hamil will always be the only man my heart beats for. So keep the queen out of this conversation, alright? The match was made. I’ve accepted it, and that’s that.”
Aeon jerked her chin up. “Now I remember… Aunt Blu stopped coming here when you married Berion, right? She didn’t like the match, either—”
“Blumeia had warned me about it, and just like the warning she gave you… she said I’ll overcome it. And I have… it’s my fate,” Phaedra said, shifting her gaze toward the mortar and pestle. “Why don’t you crush some salt and peppercorns and leave the chopping to me?”
Aeon nodded, wiping her hands with a kitchen cloth, and dropped a chunk of rock salt into the mortar.
“Is there a way we can fight fate? Because I find it overly abstract,” Aeon said, wrinkling her nose as she pounded on the hard crystal. “If humans were truly gifted with a free will, albeit held responsible for our choices and actions, then why accept everything as though fate rules our lives? Is it some trick devised by the gods so we’d stick to some grand plan?”
“I don’t believe there’s a god with a grand plan. Fate is a complex idea you would understand only when you’ve gone through a cycle of life… while free will relates to our choices and actions in the present, fate is the sum total of the effects of our past actions that influence our present.”
Phaedra tossed the chopped herbs and crushed salt and pepper into a bowl and mixed it with her hands, then coated the dressed chicken with it.
“There’s too much herbs left,” Aeon said.
“No, nothing goes to waste,” Phaedra said, flashing a smirk as she shoved the rest of the mixed herbs into the hollow interior of the chicken. “There… see? Now, let’s get this bird into the oven.”
“Cool… I wish I had your talent in cooking—”
“Then start spending more time in the kitchen and watch me do it, so you’d learn. Cooking isn’t a talent, it’s a skill.”
“Then maybe I’m not fated to cook…”
“Fate is like a thread that weaves through the choices we have made, the choices we are making, and will make in the future. If you choose not to learn how to cook, then you’ll never acquire the skill. Our choices direct our actions… we, therefore, create our own fate. Why don’t you start chopping those onions?”
Aeon listened intently, her eyes focused on the task at hand, but her heart was open to the wisdom that flowed from her mother’s lips. Phaedra spoke with a quiet strength, her words carrying the weight of experience and a deep understanding of the nuances that shaped a woman’s journey.
“I want to learn and become a good cook, but why does it have to be a woman’s role to do that? I’m sure men can learn it the same way.”
“We live in a world where that is the norm. It stays like that until something or someone breaks it—”
“How do I break it?”
Phaedra cackled. “You want to break it? All by yourself?”
“Yes. How do I do it?”
“Pumpkin, breaking the norm cannot be done by one person among many. It takes a greater part of the whole to effect change. But you can start by changing your own mind… changing your self… and create ripples. Who knows? With those ripples, you might strike the vault that moves the universe off its hinges.”
“Mother… how do I know if a man loves me?” Aeon sniffed.
“I really don’t know how, but you would know… it’s a gift we all have. Wait. Are you crying? Did someone hurt you?”
“No— no, no, it’s— the onions— I hate chopping onions,” Aeon said, letting out a chuckle.
“Oh, well… it’s a good sign when chopping onions makes you cry… but not when some brainless imbecile breaks my daughter’s heart. I won’t stand for it.”
“But why do you stand for Berion? You don’t love him… and clearly, he doesn’t love you the way a husband must love his wife—”
“This is my journey, Aeon, and I will walk through it the best way I can. You have a journey of your own… and I am confident that whether you can cook or not, you will traverse it with enough strength and wisdom. You are my daughter, after all…”
In that moment, as the evening bathed them in its golden hues, Aeon realized that her journey was not just about finding love and intimacy, but also about embracing her own authentic self. With her mother as her guide, she would navigate the intricacies of being a woman in a male-dominated world, forging her path with grace, passion, and unwavering determination.
And as the aroma of their delicious dinner filled the air, a sense of profound gratitude washed over Aeon. She was blessed to have a mother who not only shared her wisdom but also guided her to discover her own inner strength, encouraging her to carve her own destiny into a world yearning for the radiance of empowered women.
But just then, the familiar clatter of Berion’s boots shattered her composure.
“Mm… that smells delightful,” Berion said, as he stuck his nose in the air. His voice rang like grating rocks. “There’s nothing better than a good meal after a hard day’s work, eh?”
“Did you make a good trade this week?” Phaedra hollered from the kitchen as she took out the chicken from the oven.
“Every single vial sold,” Berion said, puffing out his chest. “And I got advanced orders paid out front. Aeonice… would you be so kind to take my boots off my feet? I’m quite exhausted from the ride.”
Aeon’s brows arched as she drew in a sharp breath.
“No— I’ll do it,” Phaedra chimed, scampering toward her husband. “Her hands reek of onions. You don’t want that stench on your good leather, do you?”
Berion sniggered. “Of course… this is a good pair made by none other than the queen’s cobbler. No one in the Everglades owns one like it, eh?”
“So, what news do you have from the capital? Anything good?” Phaedra said, unbuckling a boot.
“Well, someone who works in the castle told me something intriguing… and they’re not making it public yet, so I’m one of a privileged few who knows—”
“About what? What’s going on in the palace? Did they find the Crown Prince? Is he alive?” Aeon asked.
“You’re a dolt, girl… the Crown Prince didn’t make it out of that ship, remember? How do you expect them to find him at the bottom of the vast ocean? I’m sure the sharks have gotten to him first… not to mention the rest of his men. A feeding frenzy for the big fish, I imagine,” Berion chuckled. “But… the palace is preparing for a quick memorial for the fallen Herrick, and the coronation of young Prince Alexander soon.”
“That didn’t sound so intriguing,” Phaedra said. “Everyone could guess the same without much thinking—”
“Ooh… but that’s not the interesting part,” Berion scoffed. “And this is not a rumor… there have been reports from several villages where men and women have gone missing, like they just upped and vanished with no trace. My best guess? There’s an organized revolt happening at any moment. Mark my words.”