They drifted through the room with practiced grace, laughter spilling from them in silken traps meant to ensnare. Men at the tables shouted their approval, their greedy hands and mouths open as the women slid into laps, poured wine, and scattered their practiced lies.
One drifted toward Achilles.
Polyxena. She’d been a favorite of the king before I came into the picture. Menelaus was fond of having her “entertain” me at feasts and in his chambers when he was tired of seeing me with Hetairis, pressing figs to my lips while she laughed at nothing, her voice honeyed just to see me flush. She enjoyed it, making me squirm, knowing that I didn’t want her touch.
Now her hips rolled with each step, bells at her ankles chiming with every sway. Torchlight slid across her oiled skin, making her gleam seductively. Without hesitation, she swung onto Achilles’s lap, folding herself against his chest as if she had always belonged there. Her nails scratched lightly down the lines of his shoulders, her hair spilling forward to veil half his face.
Over her shoulder, her gaze caught mine. The corner of her mouth curled, a taunting sneer that tasted my jealousy before I’d even drawn breath to hide it.
I frowned, confusion prickling beneath the heat. Why was she looking at me? There was no way she could know. My nerves stumbled and I forced my face blank as she bent lower, her lips almost brushing Achilles’s ear as her eyes locked on mine like a challenge. Achilles’s jaw flexed. His hands remained at his sides, refusing to touch her, but the air between us still thickened until I could hardly breathe.
Achilles’s chest rose once, hard, then stilled. His jaw locked, a vein pulsing at his temple.
My cup trembled in my hand. I lowered it fast, pressing my nails into my palm.
“Tell me,” Polyxena murmured loud enough for those nearest to hear, her hand tracing down his chest, “is the great captain as disciplined as they say? Or can you be tempted?”
A roar coiled in my throat. Achilles’s fingers twitched, then closed around her wrist. Her expression faltered as he peeled her from him, setting her aside as if she were nothing. She stumbled, the bells at her ankles jangling harsh in the hush that swept the hall. Achilles rose, towering, his shadow spilling long across the floor. Without a word, he turned on his heel and strode from the room, his cloak flaring behind him like a banner of defiance.
Menelaus frowned, his gaze locked on Achilles retreating. He leaned back, lips pressed thin, calculation etched deep into the lines of his face. He stared at the door long after it closed, the silence tightening the room around me. My chest constricted with every breath, nerves bracing for the moment his attention snapped from the doorway to me.
“Polyxena,” he suddenly called, his tone deceptively smooth. “Come. You’ll attend me and my queen.”
Dread sank its claws into me at once. My skin went hot while something inside me twisted tight.
Polyxena startled. Her eyes flicked to the door Achilles had vanished through, wide with disbelief, as if she still couldn’t fathom how he had cast her aside so easily. For the first time, she looked less like a siren and more like a girl caught off guard, bracelets clinking too loud as she moved.
She gathered herself quickly though, weaving toward us with her usual sway, though her steps carried an edge of haste.
Menelaus’s hand seized my wrist, but I kept my face still, my lips curved in something that might pass for obedience, even if on the inside, I was nothing but trembling revolt.
My body betrayed me though. My shoulder angled toward Achilles’s empty chair, as if some part of me reached for him. But Menelaus’s grip tightened on my wrist, dragging me back, anchoring me to the place where the doll-queen lived.
There was a fracture inside me, one that had begun when I’d lain with Achilles and it tore wider now, the obedient figure swaddled in gold on one side, the shadow-cloaked woman who lived for midnight on the other. Two selves straining in opposite directions, splitting me clean down the middle.
As Menelaus pulled me toward the shadows of his rooms, each step felt wrong, as if obedience itself were erasing something I’d only just discovered in Achilles’s touch.
And I was afraid at how easily it might be taken from me.
Chapter41
Wisps of steam clung stubbornly in the corners of the room, thinning but refusing to vanish. The water of my bath lapped at my chin. I stared at the marks across my thighs, my wrists, my ribs, the fresh bruises that Menelaus had given me in his eagerness tonight.
Roz hopped lightly onto the side of the tub. Its long red tail flicked as it leaned close, pressing a cool nose against my ear. I exhaled, the corner of my mouth twitching though I was in no mood to smile. “I’m sorry I was cross the other night,” I murmured. “I brought hotchgotten for you.”
A high squeak burst from it, and in a flash, Roz was gone from my side, scampering across the floor to the low table. It nosed at the folded linen eagerly until it uncovered the golden, buttery treat waiting beneath.
I wished something as simple as hotchgotten could makemehappy.
The door creaked and I froze. Roz startled, its pale eyes flashing toward the sound before it darted away, leaving a scatter of crumbs in its path as it vanished into the shadows.
Achilles stepped inside, the hard lines of his shoulders drawn tight as he crossed the room. He stopped at the edge of the bath and lowered his gaze. The silence enveloped me, more complete than the water holding me afloat. His eyes dragged across me, over the bruises, the cloth clutched to my sternum, the strands of wet hair plastered to my face. He didn’t look away. Didn’t grant me even that mercy.
My grip tightened on the linen until my knuckles whitened beneath the water. Steam drifted between us, caressing his jaw and catching on the faint tremor in his breath. Still, he said nothing.
The longer he stared, the louder the air seemed to hum, until I swore the silence itself was screaming.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I forced out at last. “Menelaus is obviously suspicious. If he finds you …” My throat locked. “You need to leave.”
