The Belial Warrior (The Belial Series Book 9)

by R. D. Brady

  But even as she imagined it, she knew it was just a dream. There was no out for her. Not with Agamemnon waiting in the wings to rule Sparta. Not with Clytemnestra’s life in the balance. And not with her duties as both the ring bearer and the future queen of Sparta. She shook her head. “I cannot.”

  “You can,” Achilles insisted, pulling her close. “Leave with me now.”

  She gave herself a moment to enjoy the feel of him, to breathe in his scent, knowing the memory of this moment was going to have to last a lifetime. Then she pulled herself from him. “You would have me turn my back on my family? On Sparta?”

  “I would have you follow your heart. I would have you choose a life of love over one of duty.”

  “I will have love,” she responded fiercely, because the idea of anything less was too difficult to contemplate. “It will not be like this, but… I will love my children. I will love my brothers, my sister, my family. It will be enough.”

  “You would give up our love? You damn yourself to a life without passion.”

  Helen’s voice was soft. She knew what choosing a life with Achilles would bring. “Our love is like a roaring fire,” she said. “But fire consumes everything in its path. It destroys everything that it touches. And that would be our fate. If I choose you now, like this, the ramifications would go far beyond you and I. They would ring out through Greece and the world. The fire we start will become an inferno.”

  “I would risk it. I would risk it all for you.”

  Helen took a step back, shaking her head. “But I cannot.”

  Achilles looked as if she had struck him. “You choose duty?”

  Her heart breaking, she fought to keep her voice even. “I do.”

  Without another word, Achilles turned and walked away.

  Helen watched him go. With each step he took, the impulse to run after him, to tell him she was wrong and that they should be together, grew stronger. But she smothered those thoughts. Duty had to come first. Not just to Sparta, but to her sister, and to the legacy of the ring bearers. Following her heart was not her path.

  And when Achilles disappeared from view, she straightened her shoulders, ran her hands down her dress, and let out a breath. Time to meet my future.

  Chapter 21

  Agamemnon walked through the festivities, his wrist still smarting. A fire breather let out a burst of flame, causing the people around him to gasp and then laugh. A juggler kept four small sacks afloat. Women wandered through the crowd providing food and drinks.

  The bitch hadn’t changed, he thought, except maybe to grow haughtier. Still, he knew what her answer would be; she would stop at nothing to protect her sister. Even letting me choose her husband. Agamemnon smiled. It was why he had allowed Clytemnestra to finally come back to Sparta.

  He scanned the crowd and spotted Tyndareus’s dark head. Tyndareus was smiling and chatting—very unlike his usual stoic self. Apparently marrying off this daughter agrees with him.

  Tyndareus had really outdone himself for this event. All of Greece seemed to be in attendance, yet there was room for all. Of course the greater families, such as Agamemnon’s, were given preferential treatment and extra servants, but even the lesser houses had their comforts met. By bringing all these families together, Tyndareus had unified Greece, if for only a few days. And Agamemnon knew that that type of political capital needed to be expanded, not diminished. Now on to the next part of the plan.

  Tyndareus caught sight of him and smiled. “Agamemnon! Wonderful to see you.”

  Agamemnon shook the older man’s hand, noting the king had lost a little strength since they’d last shook. Looking closer, he saw the slight gray cast to Tyndareus’s skin. Something plagued the king. He was not long for this world. Probably why he insisted on seeing Helen married.

  “I was hoping to bend your ear for a moment in private,” Agamemnon said.

  “Of course, of course. Excuse me,” he said to the group he was with.

  He and Agamemnon walked a short distance from the crowd. “It is good to have all my children here for this occasion,” said Tyndareus.

  For a moment Agamemnon wasn’t sure what the king was referring to—then he realized he had meant Clytemnestra. “Yes, well, I hoped it would bring you joy.”

  “It has. You’re a good man, Agamemnon, and a good match for my daughter.”

  “It is as a member of your family that I wished to speak with you.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Not yet.” Agamemnon gazed across the guests. “You have assembled all the families of Greece here. It is an honor to the kingdom of Sparta.”

  Tyndareus stood taller. “Helen is a worthy prize for any man. All of Greece knows of her virtue.”

  “Yes.” Agamemnon drew out the word. “Her beauty is legendary. Which is why I think you may have a problem.”

  Tyndareus laughed. “How can a beautiful daughter be a problem? Now an ugly one, that is an issue.”

  “Yes, well, beauty brings its own problems. And Helen brings the kingdom of Sparta. Whoever takes her hand also takes control one day of a fierce fighting force.”

  “Making her all the more attractive.”

  “True. But there may be some who are unhappy with how this competition plays out. The winner will be happy, yes. But what of the losers? What if they decide Helen should rightly be theirs? This competition could lead to war among families.”

  “It would never come to that.”

  “Are you sure? Wars have been fought over less.”

  Tyndareus frowned. “I had not thought of that.”

  “Let me propose a simple solution. Before any of the games begin, have all competitors pledge that they and all their armies will support the winner and this marriage—and that if anyone, at any time, attempts to interfere with the marriage of Helen and her mate, they will defend that marriage against all.”

  Tyndareus looked away, his hand on his chin. “It is an interesting proposition. What made you think of it?”

  “I am only thinking of the peace of Greece.”

  Tyndareus clapped him on the shoulder. “I knew I was wise to allow you to marry Clytemnestra.”

  Agamemnon felt the old resentment rise up inside. But not Helen. “Thank you. I am honored to be a member of the esteemed kingdom of Sparta.”

  “I will think on this. Now go enjoy the day.”

  “As you wish.”

  Agamemnon bowed before heading back to the festivities, leaving Tyndareus to think about his proposal. Agamemnon was sure the king would make sure everyone took the pledge. It was in his best interest to do so.

  Agamemnon smiled at a serving girl and accepted a glass from her. He took a sip of the strawberry wine. He wasn’t sure yet how the pledge would benefit him, but he knew it was a card that would be useful in his deck.

  And one day, he would play that card to his great benefit.

  Chapter 22

  Five months later

  Helen stood staring at her reflection as Leda and Adorna fussed over her red gown. Her hair had begun to grow out, as was the custom, and Helen was getting used to her hair being occasionally in her face. It was now held back by a wreath of flowers.

  When the games ended months ago, Helen had been unsurprised that Ajax had beaten every opponent soundly. There was some grumbling about the fact that Menelaus had not been there to fight on his own behalf, but the truth was, Menelaus was well-liked and respected, and that went a long way to soothing bruised egos. The pledge each of the men had sworn at the beginning of the games helped as well. Helen was not sure where her father had come up with that idea, but it had been a stroke of genius.

  It also helped that every family had been invited back for the wedding. And so it was that all the same players had now arrived to take advantage of Spartan hospitality once again.

  Clytemnestra was seated on the lounge nearby, one hand on her belly. Her baby was due soon. Helen had worried Clytemnestra would be unable to make the wedding, but Clytemnestr
a had insisted nothing would keep her from it. “You look beautiful, Helen,” she said.

  Helen grinned at her through the mirror. “As my twin, isn’t that like complimenting yourself?”

  Clytemnestra’s smile dimmed. “No one would mistake us for twins these days.”

  Helen and Leda shared a concerned look before Leda walked over to Clytemnestra. “Both of my daughters are beautiful. And you, my dear Clytemnestra, glow with the beauty of that little girl in your belly.”

  Clytemnestra’s smile reappeared as she rubbed her belly. “She will be wonderful.”

  Leda laid a hand on Clytemnestra’s belly as well. “Yes, she will.”

  A knock sounded at the door, and Adorna hustled over to it. “That will be Pollux. He’s early.”

  But when Adorna opened the door, it was not Pollux who stood there, but Menelaus.

  He caught Helen’s gaze in the mirror, and his jaw dropped. Helen looked back at him just as surprised. She had not seen him in years. Menelaus had not been at the competition, and he had been in Thrace ever since—until last night. When he had arrived in Sparta, Helen had not wanted to speak with him. She rationalized she had a lifetime to get to know him, and she wanted one more night of freedom.

  But now as she looked at him, she saw that the years had been good to the boy she had known. They had put muscle on his frame, and a man’s deep angles on his face. The dark blue of his tunic brought out the green in his hazel eyes.

  Leda hurried forward. “Menelaus.”

  Menelaus tore his gaze from Helen and kissed Leda on the cheek. “Queen Leda, your beauty only grows over time.”

  Leda smiled. “Thank you, my dear.”

  “I was hoping I could have a word with Helen before the ceremony.”

  Leda glanced back at Helen, who nodded. Leda smiled at Menelaus. “Only a few minutes.”

  Menelaus bowed low. “Yes, my queen.”

  “I need to go check on the boys anyway,” Clytemnestra said, struggling up from the chaise.

  Menelaus strode across the room and helped her to her feet. “I did not see you there. You look lovely as well. How are you feeling?”

  “Like an overstuffed turkey.”

  Menelaus laughed and placed his hand gently on her swollen belly. “And my niece?”

  “Active.”

  “She will be a fine addition to our family.” He held out his arm and escorted Clytemnestra to the door.

  Helen watched the exchange in disbelief. How could two brothers be so different? The warmth in Menelaus’s voice and eyes was undeniable.

  Leda tucked a flower into Helen’s hair and whispered in her ear, “He is a good man.” Then she followed Adorna and Clytemnestra from the room.

  When they were alone, Helen and Menelaus stared at one another. Helen felt the silence growing between them. Finally she gave a small bow. “It has been years, Menelaus.”

  He nodded, shifting from foot to foot. “I am sorry I could not be at the competition. I had already obligated myself in Thrace and could not break my word.”

  “A person’s word must be upheld.”

  “Yes.”

  Silence fell again. Helen struggled for something to say. But her mind was blank.

  Menelaus crossed the room and came to stop before her. “I am not good at flowery words or speaking in riddles. Would it be all right if we spoke plainly?”

  Helen let out a sigh. “That would be wonderful.”

  Menelaus gave her a tentative smile. “I know this is not how you would have liked to have chosen your mate. And I know that someone else is in your heart.”

  Helen’s eyes widened.

  Menelaus shook his head. “I don’t fault you for it. You and I—we do not get to marry for love. We marry for duty. But I do not think duty means love is not possible.” He took a breath. “I would like to make one simple request of you.”

  Helen nodded slowly, nervous about what he would ask.

  He held out his hand. “Do not close your heart to the possibility of love between us. Give us a chance to have a happy union.”

  Helen looked at the man before her. He was not Achilles. But he was a good man. And he was to be her husband. She had seen the marriages of people who had set themselves against one another from the first. She did not want that kind of marriage. So she pushed Achilles to the side of her heart and made room for the man who had spoken so tenderly to her sister. She grasped his hand. “I would like a happy union as well.”

  Menelaus smiled and squeezed her hand gently. “Then let it be so.”

  Chapter 23

  Athens, Greece

  Nine years later

  Helen crouched low on the building, scanning the street below. It was late, and the heat was oppressive, with no breeze to stir the air. But Helen looked to the sky, and suddenly a light wind blew over her. She smiled in relief.

  “I don’t think that’s what your powers were intended for,” Pollux said next to her.

  “Really? Because keeping me focused seems an excellent reason for them.” Then her head whipped toward the end of the street as an electrical pulse raced through her.

  “How many?” Pollux asked.

  “Six. Two nephilim, one Fallen, three humans.”

  “I’m on it.” Without a sound, Pollux leapt over the side of the building. Castor appeared from the shadows and joined him.

  Helen stayed atop the building and ran toward the approaching group. She leapt to the next building, rolling as she hit the lower roof. She sprinted along it and jumped to a still lower roof. Then she ran to the edge and jumped off the side, using the wind to cushion her fall as she landed directly in front of the group.

  “Hello, fellas,” she said. “Looking for someone?”

  The man in front let out a yell and raised his sword.

  Helen eyed the nephilim and Fallen. “Lie down on the ground. Now.”

  Three of the men dropped to the ground.

  The other four men backed up, their eyes wide. One of them growled. “You’re the witch.”

  Helen smiled. “Hey, you called me a witch. That’s nice. Most people use a b instead of—”

  The men surged forward. Helen kicked the first man in the chest, and he dropped to the ground with a scream. A second man approached her from the side, but she caught him in the ribs with a sidekick, then grabbed his shoulders, twisted him, and pushed him toward the third man, who was almost upon her.

  “Behind you!” Pollux yelled.

  Without looking, Helen kicked backward, catching the man in the groin. She spun around, grabbed his head, and brought her knee up into his nose, crushing it.

  She saw her two brothers lounging against the wall. “You two could help,” she said.

  Castor waved her on. “Nah, you’ve got it.”

  As Helen stomped on the ankle of the man whose ribs she’d cracked, the man he’d fallen on managed to get to his feet. He pulled out a serrated blade.

  Pollux let out a low whistle. “Oh, my friend, you really don’t want to do that.”

  Raising the blade above his head, the man charged at Helen. She stayed where she was until the last second—then she smoothly stepped to the side. Her hands covered the man’s and helped him bring the knife down—right into his own stomach. Eyes wide, he let out a puff of air and fell to the ground.

  Helen stepped back and looked at her bloody hands. Great. She glared at her brothers. “Now do you think you could help?”

  “Oh, sure thing.” Pollux stepped forward. One by one he snapped the mortal men’s necks, including those of the nephilim and Fallen. They couldn’t leave any witnesses to report back to their leader.

  But for the moment, he left one man untouched—the one Helen had kicked first. Castor grabbed that man by the shirt and yanked him up. The man screamed. Pollux looked over at Helen. “I think you broke his sternum.”

  She wiped her hand on one of the men’s tunics. “I think I don’t care.”

  Castor turned back to the man. “Who are yo
u working for?”

  The man groaned.

  Castor shook him. “Who. Are. You. Working. For?”

  There was fear in the man’s eyes. “Zeus. Aeropus has offended Zeus. We have been ordered to make him and his kind pay.”

  Helen shook her head. She wasn’t sure why she had expected to hear anything different. It was the same answer they’d gotten from every other man they had questioned over the last nine years. Someone was tracking down the Fallen and calling themselves Zeus. And although Helen and her brothers had been able to get ahead of some of the attacks, they had come no closer to finding this “Zeus” now than they were when she first got the ring.

  “And how did ‘Zeus’ speak with you?” Pollux asked.

  “He,” the man groaned, “he appeared in my village to some of us who had gathered. He told us he needed our help to wipe out a great evil.”

  “Right. The all-powerful Zeus needed the help of a few mortals,” Castor said.

  “What does he look like?” Helen asked.

  The man stared at the ground. “We never saw his face. No one dared to look upon the king of the gods.”

  Helen sighed. Great. Yet another dead end. “How do you know it was Zeus?”

  “Because he said he was. And his men—the power they had. He was truly the king of the gods.”

  Castor and Helen exchanged a look.

  “What do we do with him?” Pollux asked.

  Helen looked at the man. “What will you do if we release you?”

  “I am sworn to Zeus. If I fail, my family will pay. I will never stop trying to—”

  Pollux snapped his neck.

  Helen cringed, even though she knew it was a blessing. Years ago, when they had first started on this mission, Helen had insisted that they let the mortals go. But that had been no gift. “Zeus” found those men and killed them himself—and he killed not only the men, but their families. After that, Helen agreed that it was best to kill whoever they captured—if only to spare their innocent families.