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 thekýrioswith 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 thestorage 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 beingcaptivated.”
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.”
