by Harley James
His face flushed. Her praise wasn’t laced with flirtation, but some heavier, seemingly conflicting emotions—resignation, sadness, patience?—that made warning bells clamor in his head.
What was she about? He glanced back at her, unable to help himself. She stood on the sand, as fine of shape as any goddess the greatest sculptors had ever carved. As always, her essence seemed as in tune to him as his was to hers, yet this time, there was something different about her gaze. Like she waged an inner war, and he was the source of her struggle.
He frowned. If she only knew.
Stop this. Gods, she would make him crazed. “As you have hopefully learned, it is unwise for a maiden to be out here alone. Especially after dark.”
Her chest expanded with a deep breath. “I fear nothing by your side.”
His chest expanded on a rush of pleasure, but he savagely choked it. Vanity blossoms, but bears no fruit.
It was time to put this encounter to bed.
Bed. Lush legs. Dark hair fisted in his hands. Blue eyes cloudy with desire…
Athena, gird me against my weakness.
It had been too long since he’d sated himself in a woman’s charms. Too long since he’d practiced any pretty manners.
Not that he should care.
He cursed and ducked underwater to swim downstream to the opposite side of the river. He knew every bend, boulder, and tree stump along this swath of water. It had been his refuge all those excruciating agoge years.
As he got older, he had less and less free time as they were required to spend more hours training. He’d graduated from agoge at twenty-one, and now, at twenty-four, commanded his own platoon.
Alexios resurfaced to find Sophia standing upon the far shore watching for him, bathed in moonlight. When she waved, that solemn look still upon her face, he fought the urge to continue swimming downstream until he reached the river’s end in the Laconian Gulf.
Ridiculous.
It was a small matter to go back and retrieve his clothes.
When he emerged from the water, her gaze remained on his as the water streamed down his skin.
“What are you still doing here, you foolish girl?” he barked, even though he’d just told her it wasn’t safe to wander the woods alone at night.
Her lips parted. “I…um…I’d have a word with you, if you don’t mind. You know, after you…” She waved vaguely at his nakedness and cleared her throat.
The urge to smile rode him as hard as the lust in his blood. So he glowered instead. “You could have spoken to me a dozen times in the last few weeks, but you choose now? What did you think I’d be doing at the river other than getting naked?”
Her answering scowl seemed to relieve her discomfort at his refusal to dress. “I’m sorry. I need to speak with you about a private matter. I didn’t want anyone else to see us talking. It’s vital.”
He couldn’t begin to imagine what it might be. “So important that you are putting your reputation at risk?”
“I believe you a man of honor. You present a callous façade, but your behaviors offer clues for those who chose to see more than what they expect.”
He raised an eyebrow. What to say to that? He’d guessed she was an intellectual, but he’d rather she turned her character mining upon someone else.
Except not Lysander, her betrothed. The man wasn’t half the soldier she deserved.
He swore as much at her intrusion as at the direction of his thoughts. He had no business concerning himself with whom she married. He returned to his clothes, quickly dressing.
Her sandals swished through the sand, his skin warming at her approach. When he turned to face her, she was standing so close he could reach out and draw her into the heat of his chest. Oil of almond and citrus teased his senses. His fingers flexed.
“Well? Have your say, Princess, and be gone.” Whilst I still have my wits about me. “You can take my sword in case you run into any trouble. I will retrieve it on the morrow.”
She threaded her fingers together in front of her. “I will wait for you to escort me home. In the meantime, I would have you listen to me.”
He sighed and shook his head, placing his hands on his hips. “Look, I don’t know what I can do for you, but get on with it. It looks like I won’t find peace until you’ve had your say.”
She clasped her hands in front of her chest again, but this time a compelling little smile played about her lips. “I believe you want a different Sparta—one where the helots are free.” On the last word, her fingers flew apart in a gesture that looked like she wanted to hug the heavens. “I want the same, Alexios,” she continued in a rush. “I know it will be difficult, but I believe we can do it. Together.”
He stood there and blinked. Once. Twice. Three times.
What?
Had he heard correctly? Of everything she could have said, this was quite possibly the most absurd. He narrowed his eyes, pulling his eyebrows low. “You are addled. I am a soldier who thinks of nothing but fighting, warm meals, and willing women.”
She shook her head emphatically as she took a step toward him. “No. No no no. Your lies may work on others, but you will not deceive me. I have known you since your flagellation. I was only twelve, yet you looked at me like an equal. You let me inside, warrior. Do not try to deny it.”
His whole body stilled. So, she’d never forgotten that shared look either.
He shoved the flare of pleasure away as he bent to gather his shield. “I am no longer the boy you saw in the flogging pit.”
Her hands entreated him. “You are him and more. I know you care for the helots. Your mother—”
Heat surged up his neck into his face. “Not one word!” Dark rage and an impotent frustration replaced any softness he’d begun to feel. “Not one word of her shall pass your aristocratic lips!”
She shook her head. “I won’t be silenced, Alexios. Nor can I allow you to ignore the treachery of Sparta’s ways. Treacheries I want to abolish like the Krypteia, which took your dear mother. But I can’t do it without your help as King.”
Horrific images of his mother tumbled through his mind. A Spartiate had killed her during the state-sanctioned terrorizing of helot villages, many slaves tortured and killed, all to create fear and prevent rebellion.
Mantes had found Alexios and brought him to where Kassandra’s bloody body had lain upon the road outside her village, a spear protruding from her belly. It hadn’t been a quick death, yet he hadn’t arrived in time to save her.
To even say goodbye.
“I want nothing to do with your hopeless revolution.” It wouldn’t bring his mother back. Sophia was full of nonsense if she thought he’d be part of her plan. He had a plan of his own. One that would destroy the aristocracy that tortured his mother and branded him a bastard.
One that didn’t include him sticking around to see the fall out.
Only when they were all destroyed would he find peace.
“How can you say that?” Sophia cried. “The Sparta we know today is not sustainable. A Sparta where no babies are killed and all people are free is a city state that will live forever! Can’t you see it?”
He did, if only for a moment. Until the pretty picture washed away in a flood of his mother’s blood.
Sophia’s fingers curled around the edge of his shield. He leaned his face down to hers, using the expression that always made his platoon hurry to do his bidding. “Do you really think I care?”
“You’re still here talking to me.”
Right. The little chit would not get the best of him. Or get a rise out of him, which was happening on multiple levels. He moved around her, headed back toward the trail that had brought him here.
“Help me…in Kassandra’s memory. She dedicated her life to helping mothers and saving babies… Alexios, please don’t walk away, not you, too. I…”
Her words choked off so abruptly his heart started to pound.
Don’t look back. You should never look back.
He stopped, cursed violently, looked to the heavens, then finally turned around. He saw her draw a great breath and suddenly felt as though he was about to be pushed off the steepest cliff of Mount Taygetos. He grew lightheaded to see her lower lip tremble.
“Sophia, do not—”
“I would have you as my husband.”
He was at her side in an instant, the skin of her upper arms soft and smooth against the calluses of his hands. “Have you completely lost your senses? We are from opposite dynasties, and I am the reviled bastard whom no one trusts, in case you had forgotten. No one would have it.”
The moon glistened upon her teeth when her lips parted. “So you’ve already thought of this.”
Damn her eyes. Her skin, her hair, and her bewitching mouth as well.
He released her, backed up, and shook his head to clear it. To negate her. “Take your revolution to Lysandros.”
He should have never pulled the man from the engorged river during the floods.
“I don’t want Lysandros. Only you can help me foster trust, change hearts, and heal divisions because you straddle both worlds. I can’t do this without you.”
Alexios’ pulse raced. How could she speak the very words his mother had spoken to him? She, too, had believed in an inclusive Sparta with him as the force for change. She had almost convinced him.
Standing over her grave one cold night, he’d learned better.
He didn’t know yet how he was going to demolish the aristocracy, but he would come up with something. And if he died in the process, so be it. Vengeance would be his.
“An impossible and naïve dream. But I wish you luck, princess.”
She stopped him with a hand on his chest. “You don’t have to like me, just work with me. This is bigger than us.”
Her passion was intoxicating, dangerous, and…
Futile.
How could he even be considering her outrageous idea? Someday, she would find out the truth.
Someday, she would hate him.
He squeezed her fingers briefly before lifting them from his chest. “I shall see you home now.” He’d reached the edge of the sand by the trees when she called out.
“You force me to play all my cards then.”
The hairs rose on the back of his neck. He stopped and turned around, the moonlight so bright everything was in focus. The dead boar looked enormous next to her slim form. He clenched his teeth, imagining what might have happened to her had she been out here alone.
She stared at him for a long while, her jaw set in that inner-struggle manner once more. He straightened, lowered his shield. A fluttering and a tightening in his gut. Strange sensations he did not welcome.
Why didn’t she say anything?
And why was he waiting for her to even speak? His pulse was driving him harder than when he’d raised his spear against the Corinthians. Go. Turn and walk away before it’s too late.
But her face, so full of pain, held him captive.
“You shall take me to wed and help me see this through, Alexios, or I swear by all the gods that I’ll name your attendant—the helot Mantes—responsible for putting the viper in the basket that killed my father.”
A cold, dry wind blew through Alexios, though the night lay humid upon his skin.
She’d uncovered the truth and was willing to lay down with the devil to advance a goal of her own.
Chapter 6
Sophia locked her knees to stand her ground as Alexios ate up the space between them. “You play a dangerous game when you make assumptions you cannot prove.”
His low voice made the air seize in her throat. Truly, the man was fierce.
She looked up to meet the snapping fire in his eyes, girding herself with purpose.
He doesn’t have to like you.
Or even love her.
By the sword, she couldn’t love him either! The attendant who lived under his roof was responsible for her father’s death.
Sophia swallowed back a wave of grief. Her purpose was bigger than her heartbreak. Her purpose involved untold numbers of present and future Spartans.
Her mourning…only her.
The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.
Mantes and his mother Lydia had run to her even before news of her father’s bite had reached the Assembly. Mantes had begged for mercy, confessing that King Tychos had never been the target.
Sophia believed him, but couldn’t get him to reveal who’d been the intended target, nor at whose behest he’d carried out such a nefarious scheme. Certainly, he’d been a pawn in some aristocrat’s intrigue. One day the plot would be unmasked, and then she would deal with the offender.
As much as she grieved for her father, she would never betray Mantes and Lydia to the Royal Guard. But she couldn’t tell Alexios that she’d already spoken to Mantes or else her coercion scheme would stall right here on the banks of the river.
It would be a utilitarian marriage only. She would gladly sacrifice a love match for a better Sparta. Tough choices needed to be made, no matter how much emotion tried to interfere.
Papa had been a rational man. And hadn’t he’d told her to marry this man? Surely, he’d been imparted celestial wisdom as he’d wrung the final dregs from his life. So it couldn’t be a betrayal to marry the man who housed the one responsible for father’s death.
Could it?
She rubbed her eyes, her shoulders slumping. “It’s not an assumption. Herodion saw Mantes purchase a viper from a Persian merchant the day before my father’s trip to the temple. Mantes was absent from his work duties after that, only to return shortly before my father’s unfortunate accident. I know it’s all true because I made inquiries after Herodion’s report on all this last week.” She sighed. “I have yet to understand Mantes’s motive, but he brought the viper that killed my father, Alexios. If you agree to my terms, your attendant and his family shall remain safe.”
His body crowded her, making her air scarce. “The terms of your blackmail entail marriage…for a lifetime?”
Blackmail. Yes, that’s exactly what this was. Why honey coat it? She’d have to soil her hands to see this thing through. Get used to it, Sophie.
She licked her lips and tried to suppress a shiver. He had a fresh cut on his neck where his pulse beat hypnotically. She wanted to reach out and touch his swarthy skin right there. It would be deceptively soft, wouldn’t it? And warm. Even now, standing so close, the radiant heat of his beautiful, scarred, battle-honed body seemed to wrap around her.
“Marriage for a l-lifetime. Y-yes,” she whispered, her throat aching with the need to cry. How I miss you, pater!
Alexios’s hooded, glittering eyes tracked down to her shoulder where her himation had slipped. She eased the cloak up again—her fingers inching up her arm as though they slogged through quicksand—yet it did nothing to calm the wild fluttering in her chest.
Grief and attraction, a sick mix of feelings. It rooted her feet to the ground.
The backs of his fingers came up to brush against her cheek—the simple gesture more precious than all the jeweled tiaras piled up in her room. How barren I must be. Her eyes drifted shut as she turned into his caress, reopening when he abruptly sucked air in between his teeth and stepped away from her.
“What makes you think I care what happens to a helot boy?” he asked roughly.
She blinked for a moment to regain her wits, suddenly chilled with the withdrawal of his body heat. “You gave him a chance when no one else would.”
Born with a palsied right arm twenty-two winters ago, Mantes had been deemed unfit by the Spartan Council of Elders. Left to die of exposure, he was the first baby Lydia saved, and the only one she’d ever kept for herself.
Alexios had taken Mantes into service three years ago despite his disability. Anyone who thought the Spartan king’s bastard was a brute had only to remember the patience he’d shown the helot boy from the beginning. Now Mantes’s confidence was such that his impairment was hardly noticeabl
e.
Alexios stopped pacing to glare at her. “You overestimate my esteem.”
She shook her head slowly. “I think not.”
“Why would you even consider keeping such a treasonist secret? What about vengeance? Don’t you desire it? Everyone knows how much you loved the king.”
There was a very simple answer to his question—turning Mantes in would destroy Lydia, and Sophia loved Lydia more than she desired vengeance. But Alexios had to believe she was ready to hand Mantes over to the Royal Guard. She needed him.
“Retribution will not bring back my father,” she finally replied. “Sparta’s future—equality—is more important than my need for revenge.”
She exhaled slowly, her pulse rate and sadness easing the more she focused on her goal. Lies, bluffs, and all this false posturing were like knives in her belly. It felt so much better to live the truth. To look ahead to a better future.
She rubbed her chest, feeling lighter than she had in weeks.
More like herself.
Good would win in the end. She would stubbornly cling to the belief if it killed her.
Alexios glanced down at his shield. Sophia caught the slight lift and fall of his broad shoulders as he inhaled, then exhaled. He brought his gaze back to hers, but even by the bright light of the full moon, she could read nothing in those amber depths.
“Sounds logical. How very Spartan of you. But, no.”
“No? No, what?”
“I don’t agree to your terms.”
“But—”
“Enough! It’s the middle of the night, princess. It’s a wonder King Niketas hasn’t turned the entire countryside upside down looking for you. Now, if you are not disposed to walk with me, I will be obliged to send a charioteer for you.”
He surged into the olive grove, his shield knocking branches aside like a battering ram.
She hurried to catch up. She would be hard-pressed to find another opportunity to get him alone like this again. “I am very good at sneaking out, so I doubt I’m even missed. We need not fear my brother finding out unless you insist on razing through the trees in this fashion.”