The Princess of Sparta: Heroes of the Trojan War (34 page)

Helen nuzzled into the crook of his arm, the steady drum of rain lulling her into sleep. “I’m perfect,” she whispered in his ear. “I belong here. Never let me go.”

Chapter 20

Questionable Conduct

PARIS DID not return to his chambers until the witching hour when he was sure the palace household would all be asleep. He and Helen stayed in the holy sanctuary for as long as they dared. They rested, they laughed, and they made love, both of them drunk on the affection of the other. But the moon sank beneath the horizon and soon a new day would dawn filled with all the responsibilities they’d rather forget.

It was Helen’s sober declaration that Agamemnon would kill them both if he found them together that finally forced Paris into action. As much as he regretted leaving her side, he returned to the palace alone, persuaded by Helen’s solemn promise that she could find her way back safely. Her nocturnal wanderings were well documented, but a missing prince...?

It turned out her concerns were well earned. The moment he stepped into his darkened chambers, Glaucus tossed him against the wall, his right hand around Paris’ throat and his left holding a dagger at eye level.

“You bloody bastards, what have you done with him!”

“Glaucus! It’s me.” Paris held his hands up in a non-threatening manner.

Glaucus was a temperate man, humble and well respected. But he once took down an entire crew of Dorian pirates when he thought Paris’ life was in danger. There was nothing more fearsome than the wrath of a man protecting his family, and over the years and their many travels, the captain had become something more than just the leader of Paris’ guard.

Glaucus released him, little of his anger abated. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve had the guard out all night looking for you. We were beginning to suspect the worst.”

Paris straightened his tunic, avoiding Glaucus’ scrutinizing eyes. “I... I wanted some privacy. I needed to clear my head.”

“Privacy? Are you mad? I’m half-certain these Greeks want you dead. Or close enough to it.” He followed Paris into the sitting area, his eyes narrowed. “Where were you really?”

Paris sped around Glaucus, walking to the balcony. “What does it matter? I am here now. You should call off the guard before they rouse any suspicion.” But he could not escape Glaucus for long. He followed Paris out, as swift footed as a jungle cat in the dark.

“Look at me, Paris.” A cold edge of reprimand laced his words. Glaucus’ loyalty went without question, and so too did his steadfast adherence to speak the truth. Paris reluctantly turned to him.

“You were with her, weren’t you?”

“That’s none of your business—“

“Wrong!” Glaucus snapped. “I was tasked with keeping you safe. What do you think will happen to you—to all of us—if this Mad King found you with his treasure?”

“He will do as he pleases, as he already has planned to do!” Paris stormed past him, kicking the small table out of his way as he went. “He doesn’t care about Helen. He doesn’t care about anybody save himself, and no act of mine will sway his course. This was a bullshit mission from the start, Glaucus. Don’t deny it.”

The captain squared his shoulders, a man prepared for a fight. “She is married, Paris. Before Gods and Men.”

“To a brutal pig who resents his vows as much as she.” Paris spat. But his argument sounded petty, even to his own ears. It didn’t matter if Helen regretted her vows to Menelaus, or if Menelaus preferred the company of his huntsman, as Helen said. The only thing that could break the laws of man was divine intervention. And who would believe him if he swore Aphrodite intended Helen for him?

Glaucus eyed the scattered furniture with a deep scowl of disapproval. “I have known you for many years, My Prince. Not once have you conducted yourself in a manner unworthy of a king. Don’t let this
infatuation
be the start.”

Infatuation? Was that what Glaucus thought was happening between him and Helen? That Paris would jeopardize their mission, their very lives, over an
infatuation
?

“You
do
known me, Glaucus. For many years.” Paris turned away from his captain’s scornful glare to face the wall, the will to fight draining from him. “We’ve seen the behavior of kings. They are cruel and lack common decency. Do you truly think I should conduct myself like one? I have always striven to be better than that.“

“But the princess—“

“
You don’t understand.
” Paris spun. He had spent a lifetime carefully guarding his thoughts and feelings. He could stand in the midst of ridicule and defamation without blinking an eye. But the torrent of emotions boiling inside him was something all his years at Hecuba’s court had not prepared him for. He was no longer in control of himself.

He held Glaucus’ gaze, striving to drive in the depths of how he felt. “I’m not flouting the will of the Gods, I’m trying to
listen to them
. My entire life I’ve dwelt in darkness, living in the shadow of an omen. But when I’m with Helen, there is no dark future. She
is
the torch burning the darkness away.” He struggled for words, desperate to give voice for what could only be felt. “I can’t go back to that void. Not after feeling her warmth. For the first time in my life, someone accepts me for exactly who I am.”

A prolonged silence followed his declaration. Glaucus stood in the doorway silhouetted by the dim light of the fading stars, a man struck by revelation.

“You love her.”

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t an accusation. It was the simple truth stated by a simple man.

Love. It felt like a tiny, infinitesimal word compared to what Paris felt. “There is no world for me without her in it. When I’m with Helen, I’m already home.”

Glaucus was a hard man, but he was not all made of stone. What tenderness resided in him was reserved for Paris. He knew the enormity of what Paris was saying. “That... complicates things.”

“Unbelievably so.” Paris gripped the back of a tall chair, feeling the weight of his conflicting duties pressing down on him.

Glaucus walked silently to his side, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. They had spent most of their lives at sea, the captain and his prince. And for true salt-tested sailors, tales of sirens and merfolk were as commonplace as news of the harvest. The Impossible was not a vague concept for those who risked their life every time they set sail. It was a familiar wind that rose when least expected. And in that wind, even a cursed and discarded prince deserved some small measure of happiness.

“When we left on this mission, I knew it would be dangerous.” Glaucus spoke softly. “I agreed to come because at the end there was a promise of home, that you wouldn’t be an outcast any longer. Every man on our crew would die to see that day. But if you have already found it, we will fight to help you keep it, My Prince.”

Paris clasped Glaucus by the shoulder, overcome by the man’s loyalty. He knew he did not deserve it. He could only hope one day he might. “Thank you.”

“Do we abort the mission?”

Paris shook his head, still uncertain which course of action he should take. If the Gods were kind, they’d give him a sign. “Give me a day to work this out.”

Glaucus shifted nervously. If their mission was perilous before, Paris had just steered them into uncharted territory. “A word of precaution?” he offered. “This king is picking at you piece by piece, trying to find some weakness. We don’t benefit from giving him more opportunities than necessary. Deliver your father’s message, and deliver it fast. Or Agamemnon might send one of his own.”

Like my head in a box...

Paris felt the events cascading around him like the sands of an hourglass steadily draining out. The might of a kingdom was determined by three factors: the size of its lands, the strength of its arms and the treasures of its craftsmen. Agamemnon already had two of the three. And Paris knew where he would try to acquire the third.

“I’ll consider it.”

It was sage advice. Glaucus always gave sage advice. Paris suspected he was going to need all he could get in the days to follow. He turned to his bedchambers, hopeful to get an hour of rest before facing whatever Agamemnon had in store. His hand barely touched the latch before Glaucus called out one last time.

“Would you die for her?”

How many nights had they sat around the fire chastising men for that foolishness? How many times was Paris forced to step in and save a poor countryman from throwing his life away in some hopeless cause? Paris never understood what would impel a man to act in such a manner. When he answered, it was not without a touch of irony.

“A thousand times over, yes.”

Glaucus grunted. “Better for her if you live. Remember that in how you proceed.” He ducked his head in deference and disappeared out of their chambers.

Chapter 21

The Offer

HELEN HAD scarcely slept for fear she would wake and find this new happiness was only in her dreams. She kept waiting for shame to cripple her, for the heavens to rain lightning on her wicked soul, but there was a spring to her step, and the only thing reigning in her soul was unabashed joy. She felt like dancing.

She entered the megaron the following morning with a radiant smile on her face, a smile she saw reflected on every servant who crossed her path. Even Aethra put aside her dour frowns and joined in Helen’s festive mood.

“The sun’s burnt through the clouds, My Lady.” Aethra took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp scent of wet earth. “There’s nothing like a spring squall to wash away the rot. There’ll be wild flowers in the fields soon.”

“It’s amazing, isn’t it.” Helen inhaled deeply herself, the bouquet of myrrh and juniper mingled with the smoky remnants of festival bonfires. “When all the world appears dead, a new spark of life is found.”

A spark is all that’s needed to ignite a flame
. She blushed, vividly remembering that blaze ripping through her body. Just the thought of Paris was enough to cause her heart to race and her body to ache with longing.

Few people stirred in the throne room. Most of the palace guests slept as heavily this morning as they had drank the night before. Of the few courtiers lining the hall, five huddled together over a smoldering brazier, quietly placing bets on the chariot races of the afternoon. Menelaus was the leading favorite. But if his heavy snoring this morning was any indication, he would hardly be at his best performance.

"Princess!” Nextus waved her over to the brazier, a fond smile gracing his angular face. The steward was one of the few Mycenaean officials who did not curry favor with Agamemnon by snubbing the royal women. “Perhaps you can clarify a matter for us.”

Aethra cast her an amused glance. They had both been hounded non-stop for information about the Trojan delegation. Helen had been luckier than her poor matron in escaping their attentions. She stepped up to the fire and warmed her hands. “And what matter would that be?” She smiled innocently at the steward, amused.

Nextus had difficulty sustaining his focus under her direct gaze. He pulled his hands away from the flames, an awkward titter to his voice. “I... uh,
we
were not sure what odds to place on the Trojan prince. You have seen him handle a horse. Do you think he will provide fair competition?”

Helen laughed. She had expected gossip and warmongering. She should have known these men cared only for the metal in their purse. “He is certainly full of surprises. I’d challenge the judgement of any man who bet against him.”

“But against your husband...” Nextus prodded.

Helen sighed, deciding it was not as fun as she hoped provoking the nobles. “Menelaus... is a special case. There are few men who could challenge him,” she ruefully admitted. “But if there is one, I wouldn’t be surprised if it were the Trojan.”

She took her leave, Nextus’ doubt infesting her happy mood. Paris would take the field with Menelaus again today. She trusted he could defend himself should her husband lose his temper, but it was a danger she rather he avoided. She rushed across the hall to a refreshment table and poured herself a cup of mulled wine. It was early for the spicy drink, but she needed something to steady her nerves.