Chapter Eighty-Nine
The ride south in spring was jubilant. Excitement buzzed as tangible as the insects that had awakened with the warmer weather.
Most of these women were meeting Hirtus and his men for the first time, and along with fighting, there was one thing on their minds.
Many of the women had been married before and learned intimacy from their husbands’ harsh hands.
They had heard from those like Safak that this could be entirely different.
In some ways, it reminded me of the excitement I had felt in the days before my marriage, when I had believed my union would be one of love and passion.
But there was none of that naivety here.
Very few if any of the women were seeking a relationship with genuine affection.
They would take who they desired, leave when they wanted, and ride back to Themiscyra content that they had chosen their destinies.
All except me, that was. I was burdened by the affliction of affection, and it filled my every thought.
We met the Gargareans in a land of deep undulating hills, where the grass was so soft it was like a sponge beneath the horses’ feet, and the flowers grew in so many shades of yellow, it was as if Chloris had forgotten all other colors when she cast the petals.
The men had set up a camp partway into a valley, a sensible location, low enough to be sheltered from the wind but elevated so that if the rain fell, they would not become flooded.
Their camp, like ours, had grown in numbers, yet the man I sought out found me first. His arms were wide as I approached.
“Hirtus.”
I embraced him even more tightly than I had before. While I provided all the security I could for my women, there were very few who could instill that same feeling in me the way that Hirtus did.
“This is quite a surprise, Queen Otrera.”
A blush of color shaded my cheeks. “You have heard?”
“I believe every man has heard of the great warrior women who fight on horseback.”
“It is a strange role I have found myself in. Never did I envision myself as a queen.”
“And yet you seem to have found your home within that role.” He glanced behind me at the sea of women and horses. “I assume you have brought all your women here to us for a reason? Other than to escape your notoriety farther north.”
He went to laugh, but the short chuckle strained in his lungs and transformed into a dry cough, one that sounded unnervingly familiar. As Hirtus covered his mouth, he saw the concern that flashed across my face.
“A leftover from the winter chill, that is all,” he said. “And now that we are reunited, walk with me. Tell me why it is you have come.”
As we walked toward the edge of the camp, I glanced back over my shoulder. People from both groups were already greeting their relatives, embracing one another with laughter and cheers and more than one stifled sob. With a nod to Damaris and Althea, I followed after Hirtus.
“We have traveled down here to learn from you, from all your men. I have told the women that you will train them. That you will turn them into warriors, like you did with me.”
I had not for one moment thought that Hirtus would turn me away, but a crease etched in his forehead, the deepness of which filled me with fear.
“That is the only reason you came? From what I hear, you need no training. If anything, it is my boys and men who will learn from you.”
“Then that is what will happen. We need opponents. We need to fight.”
“And that is all?”
“That is all.”
He would gain no peace from learning the truth of Ares’s potential role in our lives, and the fewer people who knew, the better. Yet Hirtus knew me well enough to sense the omissions in my words.
“That is the only reason that concerns my women and your men,” I conceded. “I have a more personal reason for the visit too.”
Finally content with my answer, Hirtus nodded.
“We shall set up space for the women to train and fight now, assuming they do not need rest first?” Hirtus suggested.
“They are well rested. This morning was the shortest part of our journey.”
“Very well then. Perhaps to get them motivated, we should start with a demonstration by our strongest fighters. One-on-one?” His eyes glimmered with excitement.
“You believe you can still take me?” I asked, the excitement of the impending spar tingling in my bones.
“Me?” he asked with a grin. “Oh, I am not the strongest fighter here anymore. Age has got the best of me. No, there is someone else for you to fight.”
* * *
I wondered if Ares was watching and laughing or if it was in fact a moment of his own engineering. For the first time I saw Cleon after losing his child, we were standing on opposite sides of a makeshift stadium, weapons in our hands. Yes, it was surely a game of the gods.
His appearance took me by surprise more than his presence.
The hair on his face had grown thick with dark curls, like one of those wild animals who grew dense coats through the winter and had not yet fully shed it.
Several tattoos now marked his skin, ringed around his biceps and thighs, with another intricate pattern wrapped around the lower part of his chest. But his eyes remained the same.
His eyes, with their deep intensity and soft glow, pools for me to gaze into.
Or would have been had it not been for the fact that I had to beat him.
“Strike him down!” The women’s cheers thundered around us as I padded in a circle, Cleon following my lead so that we remained equidistant.
We had been given wooden swords, the kind normally used for training.
They were weighted with metal and offered the same feel as if we were fighting with blades.
Though a blow would likely not kill us, it would most certainly cause a bruise.
“You are queen of the Amazons. Strike him!” Thalassa’s voice rang clearly out through the others, and though I registered it, I did not act on her demand.
Instead, I spun my sword around in my hands, not once losing balance or control, a flashy display of nothing more than my skill.
“This is not how I had envisioned our reunion,” I said as I mock lunged toward Cleon.
He saw the movement for what it was and did not so much as shift his footing. He smiled. “You envisioned a reunion. That is enough for me.”
He swung his sword, though I knocked it back. The cheers roared again, mixed with jeers. The spectators were hungry, ready for a true fight.
I swung lower this time, hoping to use Cleon’s height to my advantage, but he blocked the strike and knocked me back. The force of his block was harder than any strike I had encountered beyond fighting Ares. I swung around, using my sword as a pivot, and when I halted, I looked squarely at him.
“You should know that I have been blessed by the gods,” I said.
“Is that so? Then show me.”
There was no holding back. One strike after another, we danced, the clattering of wood spraying splinters into the air.
More than once, Cleon almost caught me on the shoulder and then the hip, but each time, I maneuvered out of harm’s way.
It was when he went for my stomach that I saw another opportunity.
My arms were high, and with no way to block his strike, I threw my sword sideways and knocked his blade out of his hands.
I reached and grabbed my weapon with my very fingertips while Cleon was still struggling to make sense of what had happened.
By the time he made a move for his sword, I had reclaimed my own and was standing beside him, the edge of my blade perpendicular to his neck.
“I believe this means I have won,” I said.
Even as the women raced toward us, cheering, and both Damaris and Thalassa slapped my back before hoisting me into the air, my eyes remained fixed on Cleon.
Through all the noise and jostling, he too looked only at me.
And when the women finally lowered me to the ground, I took a single step toward him.
“We need to talk,” I said.