“I agree with the king,” Theron said lightly. “Let Sidon see the prize they failed to take. Nothing unsettles an enemy faster than beauty they can’t touch.” His eyes slid to me as if he was daring me to enjoy the thought.
Achilles’s jaw clenched tight enough to crack, a scowl cutting across his face, but he said nothing more.
I sat rigid, shock colliding with something deeper. A pulse of longing. A secret thrill that curled in my chest. If Menelaus was truly going to take me, then I would be leaving the palace. At last, I would see beyond these suffocating walls, beyond Sparta itself.
Menelaus ignored them both. “You will come. You will be seen. I’ll have no more arguments.”
I bowed my head, trying not to look too eager in case he changed his mind. “As you command,” I said, the words tasting of victory.
The feeling was short-lived.
Menelaus grinned. “Itishow I command,” he stated, reaching a hand out for me. “Now to my rooms. The thought of war makes my cock thicken.”
My insides lurched, heavy and sinking, as though the floor itself had given way beneath me, and heat scorched my face. Against all reason, I risked a glance at Theron—
He caught it and winked.
I let out a shaky breath, half praying his magic would work, half terrified it wouldn’t.
Achilles’s gaze burned into me. His lips curled into a frown at the look Theron and I had traded, and the shadow that crossed his face as I followed the king was darker than any battlefield cloud.
I forced my steps forward, every inch of me rigid. My sandals scuffed acrossthe stone, the palace guards falling into line behind me until we reached the double doors of Menelaus’s chambers.
Inside, he sat heavily on the bed. His tongue dragged across his lips as his hand waved me closer.
“Undress, my beauty,” he ordered, his voice thick with arrogance and lust.
I stared at him, aversion creeping up my spine. My fingers twitched at the ties of my chiton—hating, loathing, bracing—as I slipped them loose one by one. The silk slithered down my shoulders, pooling at my feet. His eyes tracked the fall, heavy-lidded and greedy as he drank me in.
He didn’t look tired at all. Why wasn’t he going to sleep yet?
He leaned back against the cushions, a predator certain of the kill, and crooked a finger. “Come.”
My body moved though my soul resisted, each step dragging me closer until his hand closed around my wrist and tugged me down onto his lap. He shifted me easily, positioning me astride him. Panic rose, choking, in my throat as he reached for my breasts. My heart thundered, terror and rage tangled together. Theron had lied.
Suddenly Menelaus’s weight shifted. His chin dropped and a grunt rumbled in his chest and his whole body sank beneath me.
“My king?” My voice cracked in disbelief as I stared down at him. He didn’t answer.
I bent close. His head lolled sideways, his mouth slack. A harsh, uneven snore rattled out of him. He was asleep.
I stared, unblinking, my lungs seized in suspense. Theron had said he would fall asleep every time he wanted me, but I … Theron had done it. He’d actually done it.
A wellspring of hope burst in my chest, so fierce it left me swaying. Mene laus—snoring, slack-jawed, powerless. For once, I was untouched. For once, I wasfree.
But even as the thought lifted me, a thread of dread wound through it. How long would it last? How long before Theron’s spell thinned, before the king’s eyes snapped open and the cage slammed shut again?
An hour? A night?
The thought of it ending clawed at me. And with it came another darker, more dangerous one … how much better it would be if this sleep were eternal. No spell. No waking. Just silence, forever.
He had passed out before, from wine or exhaustion, but I’d never dared then. His snores never meant safety. One shift, one stir, and he could wake in an instant. The risk had always been too great.
But this … this was different. This was no drunken stupor. This was magic, heavy and unnatural, wrapping him in chains stronger than iron. For once, I believed he would not wake for at least a few moments.
My gaze got caught on the sword at the bedpost, its hilt gleaming in the firelight as though it had been waiting for me. Before I could think better of it, I slipped off the bed and seized it, the weight solid and hot in my grip.
I stepped closer. My shadow spilled long over him, and I raised the blade high.
