If Praxis thought the Feast of Hera that year couldn’t get any worse, he was mistaken.

As of yesterday, Astara was now married to his stepbrother, and the news that Corinth had thrown off the Spartans was giving all of Argos a fear that war was coming. Damian’s refusal to help the Corinthians meant likely doom for the city, and Praxis had wasted no time in sending a messenger to Cypselus to let him know to expect no aid from Argos.

As bad as things were, they got even worse on the third day of the feast when Praxis’ mother failed to get out of bed. It was nearly midmorning by the time that Lysandra pointed out she hadn’t seen Doris all morning, and the two found her gray and ashen under the covers of her bed.

“Mother!” said an alarmed Praxis as he rushed to her side. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

“I feel a little weak today,” said Doris, coughing at the end of the statement. “I think I’ve overdone it, Praxis. I think I’ve worked too hard to set up this feast and now my old body is punishing me for it.”

That seemed to be an understatement. Though Doris had looked sickly yesterday, today she looked like death herself. Doris could barely move under the covers, which she needed to stave off the chill that she’d developed. Praxis had his doubts about whether it was really a chill due to the nature of the beaded sweat on her brow.

Something within her was playing havoc with her body, and for the first time in his life, Praxis was deathly afraid of what might happen to her.

Thankfully, Lysandra seemed to know just what to do. She was able to delegate her duties for the rest of the feast to another friend of hers while she helped to take care of Doris alongside Praxis. It wasn’t a hard job, seeing as Doris spent much of the daylight hours asleep while trying to recover her strength, but Praxis appreciated the gesture all the same.

Though he felt no closer to understanding Lysandra, he was appreciative that she cared enough to help him with his mother.

It was late that evening when Doris woke up from her long nap only to find Praxis sitting by her bed. Darkness had fallen and Lysandra had already made the trek back to her house, leaving the two of them alone.

“You’re still here,” said Doris quietly, shocking Praxis in the process.

“Mother, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve just been run through with one of those swords you carry,” she teased. “Can you get me some water?”

He brought a cup to her lips, allowing her to drink. Doris smacked her lips together once she was finished drinking. She then took another drink and then another.

“I’m so thirsty but I can’t seem to get enough water,” she whispered once the cup was empty.

“I’ll get you more, just hang on.”

It took two more cups of water before Doris had enough. She slumped back into bed, her eyes open but still looking weary.

“What is the latest news today?” she asked suddenly. “What’s been going on in the city while I’ve been sleeping.”

“Well, the feast is a great success,” said Praxis with a smile. “All your hard work hasn’t gone unnoticed. The people have missed you today, or so I’ve been told. I’ve barely left your room since this morning.”

Doris waved her hand. “The feast is a great success thanks to Lysandra. She’s a good person, and I enjoyed her help greatly. If the city has anyone to thank, it’s her.”

“You’re being modest again, Mother,” said Praxis, chuckling. “Not that Lysandra isn’t great but you know you carried most of the burden for this feast.”

“Tell me something, will you?” asked Doris, changing the subject. “War will come, won’t it? This business with Corinth and Sparta. There will be a war between them.”

The smile fell from Praxis’ face as he remembered Cypselus and Agemon. “I believe so. I don’t think the Spartans will let the Corinthians just walk away from the alliance. They are too aggressive and bloodthirsty to allow that kind of disrespect.”

Doris let out a small sigh. “And here I hoped that peace wouldn’t end so soon. Not counting your business with the Cynurians, we’ve had a few years of peace here in Argos. I hoped it would last longer.”

“War always comes sooner or later,” said Praxis. “The big question on everyone’s mind is whether or not it will involve Argos.”

“Do you think it will?”

Praxis thought about it for a moment and then shrugged. He knew the answer he wanted to give to his mother, but he also didn’t want to upset her. He chose a middle ground response instead.

“I’m not sure,” he replied. “I think the Spartans will choose to focus their attention on the Corinthians. But whether or not Corinth should stand alone is another matter.”

Doris made a knowing face. “Say no more. I understand where you’re going with that.” She let out a loud sigh. “War. War is definitely coming then. In a way, I’m not surprised. I just hope that I’m dead and gone before it arrives at my doorstep.”

Praxis reached over to grab her hand. “You have many more years to live before you can succumb to talk like that.”

It was Doris’ response that contained the shock of his life. The old woman looked at him simply and shook her head.

“I’m dying, Praxis.”

For what felt like several minutes, he had no response to that. He could only stare back at his mother, his mouth open in surprise.

“It just feels different this time,” she continued finally after the moments of silence. “I know my limits and I’m afraid I’ve exceeded them. This is my punishment. I know my body is shutting down and I don’t have long for this world.”

“Shh,” said Praxis, trying to get her to stop. “Don’t talk like that.”

“The sooner you accept it, the less it will hurt,” replied Doris. “I’ve had the entire day to accept it, and now I finally do. It’s quite all right, my son. Everyone dies sooner or later. I’ve been able to live a very long life, a happy one for the most part. I don’t have any regrets about dying, only that I’m leaving my son without being able to see what the rest of his life holds.”

Praxis felt the lump in his throat grow larger. “Is there anything I can do for you? Make you more comfortable? I don’t like where this conversation is going, Mother.”

She smiled and patted his hand. “No, I didn’t expect that you would. You’ve always been a proud but stubborn boy, my son. You were gifted with bravery in spades and I can’t tell you how proud of you that I am. And that I always will be.”

Doris took another moment to cough before settling her eyes on him. “You remind me . . . so much of him.”

“Of who, Mother?”

The next two words surprised him to his very core.

“Your father.”

Praxis didn’t know how to respond to that. Wasn’t it only recently that he asked her about him and she shut him down coldly? For his entire life, Doris hadn’t been in any hurry to tell him about his father, and most of the time she was content to pretend that he never existed.

So what was different about today?

“There are some things that are best left for the right moments,” continued Doris, seemingly answering his question. “I think now is perhaps the right time. I’ve held off telling you about your father because after all these years, I’m still angry with him for abandoning us. The pain of his absence has never lessened.”

“You’ve never really told me what happened to him,” said Praxis quietly. “I don’t even know if he’s still alive.”

“I’m sure he is,” said Doris. “I would be able to feel it if he were dead. Evander is still alive, and I know it.”

Evander. It was a name that Praxis hadn’t heard in years. The name of his father, the former ruler of Argos all those years ago.

Normally, it only took the name of Praxis’ father to put Doris in a bad mood but today she actually smiled once the name left her lips.

“You look so much like him now,” she said, looking at Praxis. “One look at you and it’s easy to see that you’re his son. And he was just like you as well. Evander in his youth was confident almost to the point of madness. He was a great warrior but his only downfall was his pride. He had too much of it for his own good, and it was because of that pride that we find ourselves in the situation we’re in today.”

Praxis was hanging onto every word. For so many years, he’d wanted some piece of news about his father—anything that could tell him where he came from—and now his mother was offering it up like it was free information.

“Where was he from?” asked Praxis. “Why do people still call me foreigner? That must mean he was from outside of Argos?”

Doris started to nod. “He was from Messenia, and he only came to Argos when he was still a young man in his mid-twenties. But thanks to his fighting skills, he quickly found himself on top of the city. Back in those days, he was so attractive. I couldn’t help but fall for him, and that’s how I found myself a young mother with two small boys. You were only three when your brother died but I think his death caused your father to crack. He was already dealing with famine in those years, when the entire city didn’t have enough to eat. Though he was an excellent warrior, you can’t fight an invisible enemy. He didn’t know what to do, and the city was starving and blaming him for it. When you coupled that with the death of his youngest son, I think that was the breaking point.”

“So Evander fled,” she continued. “To where, I do not know but I always assumed he went back to Messenia. My life has never been the same ever since he left. For the longest time, I despised him for what he did. I had good reason to do so. Who just abandons their young wife and son? When Damian took over and offered to marry me, I gladly did so. It was a better fate than I would have had otherwise. He didn’t like your father either, and so he made it a law that no Argive was allowed to utter your father’s name. Because I was still young, foolish, and hurting, I went along with it.”

“So that’s the reason,” said Praxis quietly. “Why no one would tell me about him? Most of the people my age are too young to remember him but whenever I’d ask someone older, they would refuse to talk about it.”

Doris nodded. “It’s taken nearly twenty years for most in this city to forget your father, but I still haven’t. And I know he’s still out there. The reason I bring this up is because if something happens to me, I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone in this world. I want you to find him. I want you to know who your father is, and more importantly, I don’t want you to stay here in the city with Damian and Xanthos.”

Doris gave him a pointed look, and she didn’t need to explain her reasoning. Praxis had long suspected that it was only because of his mother that he still lived in Argos. If not for Doris, Damian would have exiled him from the city for good a long time ago.

Doris started to cough again. “I wouldn’t want you to stay here if I couldn’t protect you. I also want you to know about the man you are, and the man you came from. I know it’s bothered you your entire life. It’s time for you to find out.”

Praxis swallowed the lump in his throat. “There will be plenty of time for that someday. You’re not gone yet.”

To his surprise, his mother smiled at him. “No, but I know my time is limited. And I’m not going to hold back my secrets from you anymore. You deserved to know. I just hope you don’t blame me for hanging onto them as long as I did.”

He shook his head. “I don’t blame you. I know it was hard for you. I suspected there was a lot of pain in those stories.”

“There’s no pain when I look at the man you’ve become. I’m so incredibly proud of the man you are today,” said Doris. “Now give your mother a hug and then get some rest. I won’t be able to stay up for much longer.”

Praxis gave her a long embrace, and Doris was asleep mere moments after he let go. Walking back to his room, it took him a while to get settled for bed, and once he was laying down, he found no prospect of getting any rest.

His mind was racing with too many questions. He thought hearing the answers from his mother would settle some of those questions but it only raised more of them.

Where was his father now? Was he still in Messenia? Would he even remember his son?

More importantly, would he even want to?