by Nadia Aidan
“Then why did you purchase me from Atallus?” She frowned. “What is it that you desire of me?”
She nibbled on her bottom lip, slowly inching away from him until her back once again touched the wall behind her. He understood her fear, but she had nothing to fear from him. He was not Atallus. He would never take a woman who was not willing. And when it came to this woman, her willingness was the only thing he desired.
How did he even begin to explain to her? That he was a practical, almost cynical soldier who didn’t believe in chance or coincidences. The gods orchestrated the lives of mortals, bringing them together for a single instance, a single purpose, or for a lifetime. And when it came to the gods and this woman, they’d certainly sent him a very clear sign.
As he’d sat in Atallus’ office listening to the men refer to her with a mixture of fear and awe, and had glimpsed the look of trepidation on the governor’s face while his soldiers spoke of her, Thanos had been overcome with curiosity to lay eyes upon the woman who could conjure such fear in the hearts of men. His thoughts had been noble at the time, and they’d remained so when he came upon her in the agora. He’d told himself he would purchase this woman then set her free so that she could have a life away from Atallus, where her spirit would not be broken.
Noble thoughts, indeed—he stifled a wry snort—until he’d stared into flashing topaz eyes and found himself captivated.
There was something about this woman—her steady, unflinching gaze, the fiery challenge blazing in her eyes, how she refused to be cowed even though her future was uncertain. Everything about her called to him, taunted him, daring him to breach her walls and master her. Such a challenge to a man of his nature was impossible to ignore, even harder to refuse.
She wanted to know why he’d purchased her. The response, even to his own ears, sounded absurd—because it was—but Thanos prided himself on honesty, so, instead of sparing her with a lie, he met her steady gaze and gave her the only answer that he could—the truth.
Chapter Two
Lamia’s mouth fell open. “Your pardon?”
“I said I have no need for a slave or a servant. What I have need of, however, is…”
A wife.
Yes, she’d heard him the first time, and she wanted to tell him her ears were just fine—it was his words that gave her pause.
His eyes softened then, obviously glimpsing her inner turmoil across her face. He seemed so earnest, so genuine, which puzzled Lamia. Thanos Aristaeus did not appear cruel, and it was apparent to all he was a handsome man—the chiselled muscles of his arms, which strained against his tunic, impossible to ignore by any woman, including her. She experienced a soft, warm stirring in her belly as her gaze unwittingly strayed to the sprinkling of dark hair along his broad torso, taut and defined. A man such as Thanos should have been wed by now. She had no doubt there were many women who clamoured for his attention, his affection.
“I know my words were quite unexpected, and I am sure you must think I am mad.”
That was exactly what she thought. He’d purchased her…to wed her? To purchase a woman as a concubine was quite common, as was a wife, but such arrangements were typically not made between a man of his station and a woman such as herself—a foreign slave.
Many would have seen it as an honour for him to even offer her a place in his bed as his concubine, a position far more elevated than most would think she truly deserved.
But Lamia was not honoured by propositions from a stranger, no matter that he wished for a wife instead of a whore.
“I assure you I have no intention of pressing you on this,” he said gently. “I know you need time to consider my offer, mull over the notion. And I shall give you that time—”
“Time?” Her eyes widened. “You purchased me to wed me. The way I see it, I have no choice in the matter. After all, you own me.” By law, he could command her to do anything, including wed him.
He shook his head, a frown marring his handsome face. “You are wrong—you do have a choice, as I do not own you and I will not force you. I simply ask that you consider my offer.” He gestured around the small space, and her eyes lit on his fine garments and expensively made weapons. “In Sparta, I am well respected. I could offer you a good life, a secure one. The way I see it, there is nothing for you here in Athens.”
She was incredulous. So, because she had nothing left, she should just cast her lot with him—a stranger? She bit back a snort. This was lunacy, and yet she acknowledged he was correct in many ways. There was nothing for her there—or anywhere else for that matter—but she had no desire to wed him, or any other man.
But what of him? She wondered of his desires. She knew he desired a wife, but she had a feeling there was more to his reasoning than he’d revealed.
“Tell me truly. Why is it that you seek a wife…and why have you decided that woman should be me?”
“Truthfully?” When she nodded, he let out an uneven breath. “I need an heir. I am a soldier—a general. With war coming to Greece there is the very real possibility that I could die, and I have no child, no son to carry on my father’s name.”
There it was, but Lamia knew that was only half of the story. The rest was right there in the crystalline depths of his eyes and a fist closed around her heart at the glimmer of sadness that crossed his face. He was lonely, and for just a moment she wanted to reach out and comfort him with the slightest touch of her hand against his. She wondered if he was a widower, if he’d lost his wife in the passing annos. But then she realised what she was doing and with a quick shake of her head she immediately set those thoughts aside. She could not feel compassion for this man. He was not part of her plan.
He’d spoken the truth. She had nothing left and no one to return to—all because of one man. Atallus. She intended to make Atallus suffer for all he’d done to her and Darius. She would snuff out his life, the way he’d so callously snuffed out the life of the only family she’d had left.
She was indebted to Thanos for what he’d done for her, and she truly hoped he found a woman to ease his lonely nights—to give him the heir he so desired—but that woman was not her.
“I am sorry, Thanos.” She pleaded with her eyes for him to understand. “I will be forever in your debt for freeing me, and I will find a way to repay you, but I have no desire to wed you or any other man. I fear my destiny lies elsewhere.”
Thick lashes obscured knowing eyes as he studied her, and she fought the urge to fidget beneath the weight of his stare.
“I know not of what happened before I came upon you, though I have heard of Atallus’ cruelties,” he said finally, his expression gentle. “I can see you plan to go after him. The desire for revenge burns in your eyes, but I would not suggest it.”
“You have no idea what he did. I cannot just let him get away with it.”
Thanos’ gaze did not waver and Lamia knew what his next question would be.
She steeled herself to recount the horrible memories of Darius’ death and Atallus’ brutality, so he would understand why her desire for vengeance was so great, but Thanos never got the chance to question her.
A young soldier burst into the tent, his expression intense.
“General. We have spotted a band of soldiers advancing towards us. They move with great stealth as if they intend to come upon us by surprise given the late hour.”
Thanos snapped to his feet. “Do you recognise their crest?”
“Athenians, sir, about half a kilometre out.”
Thanos frowned and then his gaze slammed into her.
“Atallus. I would think he has not given up on you as easily as he would have us believe.” He turned to the soldier. “Break down camp and prepare to move out. We need them as allies against Rome. We do not want to fight them over her. Tell the men we will not engage unless they attack.”
“Yes, sir,” the soldier said with a crisp nod and marched out of the tent.
“Come,” Thanos said. “We need to leave now, and, once
we’re safely away, I think you need to tell me the entire tale of how you ended up with Atallus because it is now apparent you are no ordinary slave girl.”
* * * *
Lamia soon discovered one of the reasons why the Spartans were heralded as the most formidable military in the world. In minutes they broke down camp and were on the move, their battle horses taking them away from the advancing Athenians under the cover of eve.
Lamia rode with Thanos, her hands clasped around his waist, clutching him tightly as they galloped over the rough terrain. She had no idea for how long or how far they rode, but it felt like dawns, though it probably was just an hour before they came to a stop and set up camp.
Thanos put up his tent first and once she was settled inside he went back to attend to his horse and give his men instructions.
She sat huddled on the makeshift bedding, listening to the sounds of the men moving about camp, as she warmed herself beside the small fire. That was where Thanos found her when he pushed his way inside the tent.
The harsh planes of his handsome face were severe and riotous anger simmered in his eyes as he stared down at her.
“Who are you? I want the truth.”
The accusation in his voice ignited her temper. She had not brought this upon them. He had taken her—not the other way around.
“Do not look at me like that, as if I am some spy or thief. You brought me here, remember? You brought this on—not me.”
“I thought you were a simple Berber slave, but the governor of Athens does not send his personal guard to retrieve just a common slave.” His eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”
She glared at him, bristling at the offensive word he’d hurled at her. She was a free woman, not a slave. “My name is Lamia, and I am a simple Berber woman from Carthage—”
“I do not believe you—”
“Well, that is your dilemma because I speak the truth,” she snapped. “In Carthage, I worked as the swordsmith apprentice to an old soldier from the Persian army. One sun rising, Atallus came into the shop to purchase weapons from Darius. His beady eyes followed me the entire time.” She shuddered as she remembered that dawn—Atallus’ cloying eyes and the wretched, sinister air that clung to him.
“Later Darius told me Atallus had tried to purchase me from him, but Darius had refused. I was Darius’ apprentice, not his servant or his slave. Darius rescued me from the streets when I was just a little girl and raised me as his own after my parents died in the war. He was like a father to me, the only family I had. Darius could not sell me because he did not own me.” She swiped at the hot tears that had fallen against her will.
In the span of dawns she’d lost everything. She’d been ripped from her home, her entire world destroyed as if it had never existed, and now this man heaped his anger upon her—a man who might have saved her life, but had altered it yet again.
“Two sun risings later, Atallus returned with his soldiers. He burned down our home and kidnapped me. He left Darius to die in that fire,” she choked out, forcing back a sob.
She dipped her head, hating that she cried before him, but she found she couldn’t force herself to look away or blot her tears when he lifted her chin, his eyes now gentle.
“I am sorry.” He spoke softly. “I had no right to cast my anger upon you. You are the only victim in this, and I fear my actions have only added to your turmoil.”
He sighed as he released her chin, and she studied him when he dropped down beside her, his expression pensive. She sensed he had more to tell.
“What is it?” she asked finally.
He shoved a hand through his dark mane, his gaze locking with hers.
“I had every intention of letting you go. Yes, I want a wife, and for a moment I was convinced that woman was you—”
Lamia gaped. “But why? Why would you ever think such a thing? We have never even met—”
“I saw you…in a dream.”
“What do you mean you saw me in a dream?” She breathed out slowly.
“Well, not you, exactly. There was a woman who wielded a sword—I never saw her face.” His lips crooked into a small smile. “When I visited the Oracle, she told me my destiny was tied to this woman—a foreign woman whom I would meet on the other end of a sword.” His gaze never once wavered. “She told me I would wed this woman. I thought you were her.”
The Oracles were renowned for their prophecies…their accuracy. Her heart thudded faster in her chest. If the Oracle spoke the truth…
She shook her head. No. The Oracle must have spoken of someone else. For her destiny was not tied to this man, but to Atallus. Returning to Athens to seek Atallus’ death—that was her only destiny.
“You said you had every intention of letting me go,” she interjected, deliberately changing the subject. “I sense that something has now changed.”
He nodded, but he appeared guarded as he spoke. “Atallus sent his men after you under the darkness of eve to kill you and us if it came to that. I sense that his humiliation at being bested by you ate at him.” Thanos sighed, frustration heavy in his voice. “But we have no time for these petty squabbles right now. War is coming to the city-states of Greece and we need to be united. I cannot jeopardise our tenuous peace with Athens for anything…or anyone.”
She had an idea as to the deeper meaning of his words, and somehow knew his altered plans did not bode well for her and her plans. “What are you truly saying?”
“That if I let you go, Atallus will find you and he will kill you.”
“So let him try—”
“I cannot. I am honour bound to protect you.”
She shook her head. She was not his property—his responsibility. What did he care if she died trying to kill Atallus?
“But you do not own me. Of your very lips you said you purchased me and that I was free—”
He placed a single finger against her mouth, halting her words. That’s when she glimpsed the weariness in his eyes. This ordeal weighed upon him, and she had no doubt he now regretted freeing her.
“You are free, but since by all accounts I am your last owner, and you are a woman—” He cleared his throat. “I must see to your welfare until you are under the protection of your husband.”
“What?”
“If you were my freed helot in Sparta I would have arranged for you to be married, but I see no reason to adhere to the laws of my homeland since we are not in Sparta, and you are not truly my slave…”
“But?” she snapped, when he didn’t rush to finish.
“But I cannot release you knowing that soldiers are after you. I know you wish to return to Athens to seek revenge, but I cannot in good conscience allow you to go, nor can I seek revenge on your behalf so that you shall be safe—at least not now. I simply cannot jeopardise Sparta’s truce with Athens.”
“So you want me to journey to Sparta with you?” she asked, knowing already that he did. He was basically holding her prisoner, because his honour demanded it.
“I am bound by the laws of Sparta, and my honour. You will be safe with me, and under my protection. Once the threat from Rome has passed, you will be free to go to seek your revenge.” He shrugged then, a small glimmer lighting up his tired eyes. “Of course, if you were the wife of a Greek citizen, charges could then be brought against Atallus for his crimes against you—”
She glared at him. “I see that you find my situation amusing, but, to me, I find none of this humorous—”
“And I did not mean to make light of your situation.” He sobered, or at least his voice grew serious, but Lamia did not mistake the twinkle of amusement still brimming in his eyes. “I was simply explaining your options—all of them.”
He thought this was funny. Her only options were to either go with him to Sparta as his charge or go with him to Sparta as his wife.
Her nostrils flared in anger. “I will not wed you. And you cannot force me to stay and journey with you to Sparta if I do not wish it so—”
His actions wer
e so quick and quiet that he had her by the arm before she could even gasp. In an instant the man before her was Thanos—the soldier. He trained his steely gaze on her.
“Let me be clear, Lamia. If you try to leave, I will find you. I will not let you endanger this truce—nor will I let you dishonour me. In Sparta a man’s honour is everything. I will not send you to your death, and that is final.”
He released her and stood. Moments later he stormed out of the tent.
She’d angered him—well then, that made two of them.
She glared at the flap of the tent. Thanos may have been the general of the world’s finest army, but she was certain he’d never met an adversary such as her. If he thought she would simply bend to his will and do his bidding because he said so, then he was sorely mistaken. He’d spoken of his honour, but what of hers?
There was no honour in allowing the man who’d killed Darius and kidnapped her to continue to breathe, as if the lives he’d shattered were meaningless. Her destiny was to return to Athens—and she was bound by her honour to deliver death to Atallus’ door.
Chapter Three
Lamia felt a gentle nudge against her shoulder. With a sleepy moan, she stretched out her arms and legs, easing the knots in her still sore muscles.
The rasp of the soft wool across her skin jolted her fully awake, and for several moments she was startled to find she was not on the cold, hard earth of Atallus’ floor. She looked about the unfamiliar room, while at the same time the events of yestereve flooded her mind. A sigh trembled out of her. She was no longer Atallus’ prisoner, his slave.
She was safe.
Stifling a yawn, she blinked her eyes as she struggled to adjust to the faint light in the small space. That was when she saw him, and her breath thinned in her chest as her blurred gaze clashed with his.
On this day, his crystalline blue eyes were translucent as the sky as he peered down at her, his raven hair curling around his shoulders. His locks were wet—from a bath, perhaps—and the heavy tendrils clung tightly to his skin. Her attention left his face to travel the length of his body, and she stilled, her breath catching in her throat as she stared at him.