Chapter 48
The dream came again, the same as the night before.
A red kingdom drowned in light. The throne hewn from blackened stone. That faceless queen. The golden being with wings of fire and a gaze like a god’s final promise. He hadn’t looked at me in the dream this time … he’d stared through me, like he was already inside my skin.
I woke with my mouth dry, the sheets clinging to me like vines. My fingers trembled as I pushed them back. Menelaus had called for me only minutes after I’d crawled out of the tunnel last night, leaving me no time to gather myself from all I’d seen.
By the time I’d stumbled back to my rooms, it had been almost dawn. Between Menelaus and the dream, I was exhausted. It was the only explanation for how I’d been able to fall asleep.
“Good morning, Your Majesty,” Alcmene called as she stepped into the room. Her smile fell as she took me in, but she didn’t comment on my haggard appearance. Her silence was a blessing as she helped me get dressed.
By the time she’d tied the last sash around my waist, the ache the king always left inside me had dulled into something harder.
“As soon as you’re with child, the king should stop calling for you,” she murmured, trying to console me.
I didn’t want to think about carrying his seed though, so I rose without a word. She fell in step behind me, looking over the scroll that held my schedule for the day.
“Breakfast first,” Alcmene murmured. “The nobles are gathered in the throne room.”
We turned down another corridor, the smell of roasted figs already threading the air.
“After that, the council chamber. Menelaus wants you by his side while he speaks of borders and spoils. You will nod when he glances, nothing more.”
I huffed absentmindedly, my thoughts on that room in the tunnel. “I know the scroll doesn’t say that, Alcmene.”
She grinned. “It might as well with how he acts.”
That was true.
Guards opened the doors to the throne room to let me in, but just a step inside I staggered to a halt so abrupt that Alcmene nearly collided with my back.
Theron sat at the long table, lounging as though the seat had always been his.
His dark hair was damp and swept back from his face, revealing brutal symmetry and lashes so heavy they brushed his cheeks.
The blue tunic he wore was rich and fitted, secured by a bronze clasp at his collar.
The sleeves were pulled high to bare muscled forearms.
Gone was the prisoner. The dangerous unknown. He looked like royalty.
Laughter rippled around him as the nobles leaned close, their jeweled hands fluttering toward his arm as though desperate for a scrap of his attention. Every word he spoke seemed to draw another chuckle, another conspiratorial nod.
“… and only after three days of sacrifice did he realize it wasn’t a priest he’d been bribing—it was the stable boy,” Theron said smoothly, the corner of his mouth tipping in mischief.
The nobles burst into laughter, wine spilling over goblets as they clutched one another’s sleeves.
A silver-bearded lord flushed red. “You mock sacred tradition, foreigner?”
Theron leaned back in his chair as though he owned it.
“Mock? No. Admire, maybe. If a stable boy can fleece half your fortune and still get you kneeling, perhaps he deserves the prayers more than a god.” His gaze slid lazily across the table, landing on the kyrios with a sting sharp enough to draw more chuckles. “At least the boy delivers results.”
The laughter came harder this time, reluctant and delighted all at once. Even those who scowled couldn’t hide their grins, though their eyes kept flicking around the hall, as if Menelaus might materialize from a shadow and demand to know what, exactly, they found so amusing.
Alcmene leaned toward me, her voice pitched low and dry. “Well. Doesn’t he look popular.”
“Indeed,” I murmured as I forced my feet forward. The nobles’ laughter dulled as they watched me. Theron’s gaze fixed on me as well, his eyes following every pace as if he could pin me where I stood.
The dais rose before me and the distance to my seat stretched like a gauntlet. I lowered myself into the chair rigidly, my palms flat against the cool stone arms. Across the hall, his eyes held fast. Watching. Hunting.
Ignoring him, I accepted a bowl of grapes from a servant and listlessly picked at the small red globes. My thoughts kept slipping away from the hall, back to the storage chamber … to the mound of dirt … to that pale shape rising through the soil.
A chair scraped against the floor, and I glanced up to see Theron rise in a single fluid motion. His fingers brushed casually along the table’s edge as he moved away from it, a predator testing the boundaries of its cage.
His stride was unhurried as each step cut through the chamber, and every noble head turned to follow him. He stopped at the foot of my dais, his eyes lifting to mine. His brazenness tugged at his mouth again, infuriatingly sure of itself.
“That look is dangerous, Your Majesty,” he murmured. “Stare at me much longer and I’ll think you’re flirting.”
My nails dug into the arms of my chair. “I wasn’t staring.”
His brows arched. “No? That’s a shame. I do enjoy an audience.” He leaned forward slightly, enough that the bronze clasp at his collarbone winked in the light. “But I think you’re lying.”
“What?” The word snapped out more acerbic than I intended.
He tilted his head, violet eyes glinting. “You’re lying about not being captivated.”
A bitter, disbelieving laugh scraped from my throat. “Captivated? By you?”
“Why not?” His smirk curved higher, shameless. “The court seems to think I’m worth their wine and laughter. Unless you’ve found someone else more worthy of your attention this morning?”
I forced my grip to loosen on the chair. “Entertaining fools is easy. Any jester can do it.”
“True,” he said lightly, as if I’d just agreed with him. “But tell me—how many jesters make you this angry before breakfast?”
Annoyance burned under my skin. “I suppose you must feel proud, finally convincing the king to let you out of your cage.”
His eyes caught mine and I forgot for a moment … to look away. “Cage?” He leaned in slightly, his voice cool and dangerous, each word honed to cut. “I could have walked out of mine any time I wanted.”
The words slid under my skin, and I opened my mouth to respond, but he wasn’t finished.
“The real question …” His gaze swept down my body, lingering long enough to make my stomach knot. “Who’s going to let you out of yours?”
The air left me in a rush, as though he’d stolen it.
Gods, I hated him.
“Get away from me,” I hissed, my hands trembling as they clenched against the arms of my chair. The words tore out raw, shaking with rage. I knew I was caged, every breath of this palace reminded me, but how dare he name it. How dare he say it out loud.
His smile deepened. “Why?”
“Because I don’t trust you.”
“Good.” His eyes glinted. “Trust makes things dull.”
He stepped closer, his voice softening into a silken rasp that grazed my skin. “Tell me—did you dream of me?”
I blinked, frowning in confusion. “What?”
His head tilted, his smugness never faltering. “You look like a woman who woke up burning.”
Heat flared up my neck, and my hand twitched at my side.
Theron angled closer, bringing himself to eye level as if we were sharing a secret. “I could help with that.”
I forced myself back against the throne and lifted my chin. “Stay out of my way.”
“I would,” he murmured. “But you keep stepping into mine.” His grin spread easily, disarming, as if he hadn’t just gutted me with words. Then he eased back, the predator disguising itself again just as the doors boomed open.
My brow rose as Menelaus strode into the hall, robe trailing, guards at his back. He wasn’t supposed to be here this morning. His gaze cut across the nobles restlessly, and he carried the edge of a man who hadn’t slept.
“Out,” he barked, his voice booming around the room. “All of you. I’ll keep my captain and our new pet. The rest—leave us.”
My gaze flicked toward Theron before I could stop it. If the insult stung, he gave no sign. Only the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth, as though the king’s words were nothing more than entertainment.
The courtiers hurried toward the doors, their heads bowed low to avoid the king’s eye.
Menelaus’s gaze snagged on me when I hadn’t moved yet.
“You too, wife,” he said as his eyes trailed over me like a hand.
“Try not to vanish to the storerooms for another round of charity when you leave. I’d hate to find the palace empty because you’ve fed half the realm. ”
The mockery burned.
Not because I was ashamed of what I’d been doing, but because he dared to ridicule my attempts to ease the suffering he ignored. My tongue ached with the things I wanted to throw back at him. But if I said a single word, he’d shut every door I’d pried open.
Achilles’s shoulders locked, his jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth might crack.
The tension radiating from him wound tight and lethal, though he kept himself still.
“Word of Helena’s generosity is spreading through all of Sparta, Menelaus,” he snapped.
“The people have stopped calling her Helena the Beauty. They’re calling her Helena the Benevolent.
Helena the Giver. They say she’s the only boon this kingdom has had in years. Maybe you should appreciate that.”
Menelaus’s lip curled. “Is that so? We’ll see how long their gratitude lasts,” he growled. “Especially when our hunts have been so fruitless.”
A silence followed, uncomfortable enough that it felt as though I’d stepped into the middle of a conversation I wasn’t meant to hear. I watched the exchange, confused by the momentary shift in the air. My thoughts snagged on the hunts again. The secrecy. The urgency.
What was he really searching for in those woods?
And why did Achilles’s eyes darken at the sound of it?
Theron was silent for once, his gaze tracking between me and Achilles, narrowing and searching, as though he’d caught the edge of a truth half hidden. A beast sniffing at the first trace of blood.
A chill cut down my spine. I forced my eyes forward, my fingers tightening around the folds of my chiton until the fabric bit into my palms.
Standing up from the throne, I moved with as much grace as I could summon, Alcmene falling in step behind me.
Menelaus’s laugh drifted after me. “She still looks like Helena the Beauty from where I’m standing, Achilles. The view’s just as fine from the back.”
I walked on, my embarrassment hidden beneath the sway of my skirts. I felt the bars of the cage Theron had named, closing around me with every echo of his laughter.