“No, you did not,” Aristotle said, surprisingly firm after the diss. “But I assure you we have vital reasons for being here. We only need a few moments of your time to explain.”
Not so much as a muscle twitched on the face of Olympias. “Time that I do not have.”
The philosopher finally stood to put himself on the same level as their hostess. “I would expect better treatment after all I’ve done for your son, my lady. I’ve come to learn of a threat that poses great danger to that very boy.” He glanced at Alexander, who sat quietly in a chair located in the corner of the room — he seemed to be analyzing every word, every movement, content to wait for more information. “I highly recommend you take a seat and hear us out.”
Olympias eyed the man, not moving for what seemed to Sera like a full hour. But then she finally smiled, acting as if she’d been doing so since the moment they met. After a brief nod of her head, she took a seat in the biggest chair in the room, one that was draped in silk and appeared to be made out of solid gold. She looked for all the world like a queen on her throne.
“Very well,” she said in a stately manner. Then her eyes found a spot on a couch, right next to Sera. “Please, sit.” Somehow she’d turned things around to make Aristotle seem like the obstinate one.
But the philosopher was unfazed. He plopped down ungracefully and started talking. “We’ve uncovered an assassination plot.”
For the first time, the lady’s demeanor broke a little — eyes widened in shock, a little tremor in her mouth. And Sera knew why. She probably thought Aristotle was talking about her plan to have King Philip murdered. But she recovered and waited to hear more.
“Someone wants your son dead, Olympias,” Aristotle continued. “And I can’t tell you why or how we know, but we do, and we know that she is coming here to do it. We must work together to prevent it from happening.”
“And why should I believe you?” Olympias responded. Sera wanted to growl like the dogs earlier — she really didn’t like this woman.
“Because you trusted me for years to tutor your son and raise him in the ways of wisdom and light. If you doubt me, or refuse to protect him, then I’d have to conclude that you have your own ill tidings planned for the very near future.”
The tension in the room was strung as tightly as a piano wire. Sera held her breath.
Olympias waited. And waited. And waited. She had the patience of a crocodile. Finally, she answered, and Sera didn’t know if she would ever breathe again when she heard the words.
“You must be talking about my new friend. The woman named Tilda.”
DAK WANTED to stand up, scream and yell, demand answers. But he was so stunned by what Olympias had said that he just sat there, staring at her. The others reacted the same. Alexander’s mother knew she’d gotten them good.
“She told me this might happen,” Olympias continued when no one questioned her statement. “We’ve been meeting at the market, and she’s become a very good friend. She’s so . . . different, with that red hair that shines in the sun like fired iron. I can hardly wait for our meetings. In fact, I’ve invited her to come and meet Alexander soon. It’s not often I allow guests into my home.”
Dak closed his eyes for a second and shook his head. What in the world was going on here?
Alexander spoke next from his chair in the corner. “Would someone please explain this nonsense? My teacher says that someone plans to kill me, and then my mother says her new market friend told her this would happen. Explain.”
Dak looked at him in awe. The heir to the hegemon sat with his ankles casually crossed, leaning back, and yet he radiated a sense of command. It even seemed to affect his mom. She stammered a bit and then did her best to answer.
“Tilda is a wonderful, sweet, compassionate person, my son. She told me the entire story of how these . . . children” — she gave a very nasty glare to each one of them — “had escaped their homes and fled to our land, bent on causing trouble. I won’t bore you with the details, but suffice it to say that they have a vendetta against my beautiful friend, and she told me they’d come here, saying wicked things about her. Her wisdom and foresight is evident.”
Dak couldn’t take another second of this ridiculousness. “She’s brainwashed you! That’s what she does. All nice and sweet until she stabs you in the back. Ever think there’s an actual reason we’d come here to say bad things about her? If she’s so perfect, why would she have to warn you that we’d . . . warn you about her?” Dak groaned. He was sounding like an idiot.
Sera seemed to agree, shooting him her special look. “What my friend’s trying to say is that this woman, Tilda, is really good at convincing people to do what she says. She’s the leader of a . . . group that’s very . . . evil.” It was her turn to groan.
Dak hid his smile. At least he wasn’t alone on the idiot train.
Olympias stood, folded her arms, and took a few steps forward. “I think I’ve lived long enough, seen enough, met enough people to be able to take care of myself. I know when a soul is good, and when a soul is . . . what was the word you used?” She looked at Sera. “Evil, I believe. Yes, I know. Trust me, I know very well. . . .” She trailed off with that last part, her gaze going distant, and Dak knew she was thinking of King Philip. The man who’d broken her heart and stood in the way of her son’s ascendance.
“Olympias, please.” Aristotle used a soft voice. “Please listen to us. Please trust us. I spent a good part of my life teaching your son — preparing him for a great future. I couldn’t bear it if he were to lose his life. Alex is in danger, and I firmly believe that it’s all because of this woman. This . . . Tilda.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” she responded. “I’m well protected anyway. When she comes here, if I sense any —”
“Mother!” Alexander shouted. He jolted from his chair and practically charged to where she stood — Dak thought for a split second he might tackle her like a rogue linebacker. But he stopped in front of her and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Did you tell this woman where we live? Where our home is? Did you?”
Olympias appeared shocked by the outburst, eyes wide, leaning back from her son. She finally nodded timidly, and Dak wondered if maybe she was snapping out of her brainwashed delusion of Tilda.