by Harley James
What do I do? She’d been fully prepared to fix her life with a man who would never love her, but could she actually bear to look upon him every day knowing he’d played a part in her father’s death? And if she did, might the guilt of such a betrayal crush her one day?
Alexios laid the infant upon the makeshift bed, then turned back to her.
“I’m sorry, Sophia.”
A knot swelled in her throat to hear the strain in his voice. He didn’t seem like a man who apologized often. She dared not look at him, afraid she’d start crying again. You knew this road would be hard.
Yes, but she’d never imagined this. “We all make mistakes we regret,” she finally managed. She could feel the weight of his stare, the air heavy with storm and words he seemed to want to say.
“The plight of the priestesses reminded me of what happened to my mother so I was in a rage about Zenon…”
As his words died away in the cave, Sophia closed her eyes, envisioning Kassandra, so kind and generous with both time and love. As a slave, she’d been violated repeatedly by the Spartan councilman in charge of her protection. She’d even hidden her abuse from King Davos, intimidated by the councilman’s threats to young Alexios’s safety.
Sophia squeezed her fists at her sides. In the short time she’d been around Kassandra, the beautiful woman had been more of a mother—understanding, accepting, loving—to Sophia than Queen Eleni had ever been.
And how much more had that time Kassandra spent with Sophia cost her? Time she’d had to carve out between all her duties as a slave. The Queen had scores of attendants to see to her every need, yet could barely be bothered to spend time with Sophia. And when she did, their encounters were filled with lessons, corrections, and obligations.
Sophia opened her fists and looked at her palms, remembering how Kassandra would take her hands in her own, say a blessing over her before they headed up the mountain to search for a condemned child.
Sophia turned to face Alexios, her gaze tracing the fine etching of strain around his eyes. Eyes that could be cold or so very, very warm.
She would find a way to end slavery in Sparta. No matter the cost.
She cleared the lump from her throat. “I loved your mother, you know.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly, his body angling toward the now-sleeping baby on the feather bed. “Everyone loved Kassandra.”
Sophia nodded, not sure how she’d wanted him to respond, but knowing that wasn’t it, though it was true. Or mostly true. People either loved Kassandra or jealously hated her.
Especially Queen Theodora—envious of the slave woman beloved by King Davos. Despised even more so because the slave woman gave the king his only son.
Sophia still believed the Queen had given the order to have Kassandra killed during the Krypteia. Someday, she would uncover the truth, and there would be justice for Alexios’s mother. But for now, she needed to focus on the one thing that would make the biggest impact. Freedom was so much more important than her own needs.
Moisture dripped from the cave’s ceiling, splattering on her sandals. “Mantes is very loyal to you. I…I can understand how things happened.”
Alexios glanced at her swiftly, his eyes narrowing as he assessed her meaning.
It wasn’t a pardon. Forgiveness wouldn’t come that easily, not when the loss of her father was yet so fresh and painful. But it was a way to move forward. Seeing the mistake for what it was with its unintended consequences.
That was rational and uninfluenced by emotion.
How very Spartan of her. Wouldn’t her mother be proud?
Sophia suppressed a sad smile. “Mantes and Lydia envision you leading them out of slavery. I cannot help but agree. Especially when I’d thought the same all on my own.”
Alexios walked to the mouth of the cave. Lightning flickered on his profile and the gusts of wind snaking along the cave wall ruffled the hair at the nape of his neck. “I have never understood their blind faith in me. Most of the helots mistrust me, fearing that upon taking my father’s place as king, I will forsake them.”
She could tell that wounded him. “But you have a plan.”
He looked down at the cave floor.
There was something he wasn’t telling her.
“Alexios.”
“You are too full of light to understand my motives, Sophia.”
“You underestimate your own goodness, hiding it behind dark glowers and hard words. Twice now you have come to my aid when I am nothing but baggage to you.”
His lips curved appealingly, his suddenly warm gaze fastened to her breasts before tracking up to settle on her eyes, pushing her pulse into full gallop. “I am well equipped with both strength and stamina to carry extra baggage for untold distances.”
Her breath caught and held. She wrapped her arms about her waist. “Of that, I have no doubt, warrior. But speak plainly. What are you trying to tell me? Did you follow me all the way out here to tell me you reject my dream to revolutionize Sparta?”
He turned his back to the rain, facing her directly. He moved in so close it made it hard for her to breathe.
“As I have said, I cannot do this without you, Alexios.”
A muscle moved in his cheek. “Your plan and mine are at odds.”
Through the fierceness in his expression, she finally saw it.
Dear Gods. “You want to destroy them from the top down,” she whispered.
Of course. He would accept his father’s plan to put him on the throne so he’d have the power to destroy those who’d put him there.
“Instead of joining the Spartiates and the helots, you’d what…violently eliminate the elite?” She held her breath waiting for his response.
“Violence is all they understand.”
She exhaled heavily, bringing her hands to her temples. “Then you would be just like them. Why can’t you see that? Violence is never the path to a good life. Never the way to peace.”
He leaned down until his warm breath fanned her face. “Do you think we should bring sacks of wine and reading blankets to the battlefront when our enemies are bearing down upon us, ready to slaughter and lay siege to all we have built?”
“No, but—”
“You are naïve if you think the world will ever be free of violence. It is the way of man.”
She grabbed his hands and brought them up between them to press against her chest. “We have to protect ourselves from our enemies, yes, but can’t we try to foster equality within our own people?”
He shook his head, eyes snapping amber fire. “Why can’t you just leave this alone?”
Make him see. She brought his hands up and kissed his scabbed and scarred knuckles. “Because slavery is evil, and I will never turn my face from those who suffer under its heavy burden.”
He stared at her. Into her. She didn’t blink, didn’t flinch. She opened up and let him in like that day so very long ago during the flogging ceremony. Let him see and feel and touch her desire for equality, peace, hope.
Her ever growing desire for him.
Outside the storm pummeled the trees, howling at the mouth of the cave.
Inside, a storm of another sort.
I will break the chains of your anger with my love, warrior.
Chapter 11
She’d kissed his rough hands and spoken more eloquently than all the smooth statesmen who thought so highly of themselves.
How could someone from her privileged background be so unselfish, so levelheaded? Alexios yearned for more of her touch even as his gut told him to push her away.
“Do you have any idea what you would bring upon yourself if we wed? I have many enemies. Most I have fairly earned due to poor choices, as you have learned firsthand.”
When Sophia’s eyes softened, he jerked his hands from hers and lurched back like she was a coiled serpent.
“You charge into battle when the odds are stacked against you, yet you fear what it takes to find forgiveness.” She shook her head. “It is ne
ver too late to make amends, Alexios. Who would you start with?”
“It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. A cracked glass cannot be fixed.”
She stepped toward him and poked him in the chest. “I don’t believe that. Not for a moment. Anyone can remake their life.”
Such beautiful goodness. Such unrealistic optimism. Theodora would eat her alive. “Do you ever grow weary of carrying the hope of an entire people?”
She smiled. “Soft rope corrodes the dry stone.”
He wanted to trace the curves of her bold mouth with his fingers, lips, tongue.
No. She would not make him feel these soft things. He took a deep breath. What was he doing here?
Wasting time.
Time he could be using to sow seeds of discontent among various members of the Assembly. Inciting insecurities. Fanning the flames of discontent about who was favored and who was not. Building and stoking unrest until the whole system collapsed under the weight of its own self-doubt.
They would be so distracted, so weak, they wouldn’t even see the sword until it was too late.
People always opened their eyes too late.
The camel never saw its own hump.
He shouldn’t have searched for Sophia. Surely her brother, the king, would be able to protect her from Queen Theodora. She was not his responsibility. Nor was the child lying so quietly, so innocently, in sleep.
Both were a hindrance.
An encumbrance.
The firelight flickered against the cave walls, and the wind and rain continued to pour their fury onto the mountain. To trap him inside this cave with the truth that was standing right in front of him.
Stop fucking lying to yourself.
He would be damned to the deepest Hell for his unworthiness, but he could no longer deny he wanted this beautiful, brave woman. Her forgiveness, her softness and light. Her heart.
Even her goddamned revolution.
He stiffened his back so he would not look as weak as he felt. “I would make amends with your father first.”
Her eyes widened fractionally. Your surprise is no greater than my own, princess.
She smiled sadly. “I would that you could. Whom else?"
“My mother.”
She frowned. “I don't understand. You were close to your mother.”
He stared hard into Sophia’s blue eyes so, for once, he wouldn’t envision the pool of red spread out in the gravel around his mother’s body. “I didn’t protect her when she needed it most.”
Sophia’s head tilted slightly, her fingers coming to rest on his arm, sending sparks racing through him. “You cannot be everywhere at once, Alexios.”
“No, but it was the night of the Krypteia. I should have been on guard. I should have been nearby.” Instead, he’d been feeding his anger at the gymnasium, fighting.
He could tell she wanted to ask more about that night, but she refrained. “Why would you give up a life of privilege?” he asked.
“Why should one person be above any other simply because of the whims of the Fates?”
He smiled at her lack of reverence for the three goddesses who wove the fates of the Greeks. “Have you no fear of anything, my boar-crushing princess?” He patted her hand awkwardly, then moved to sit down on the dirt beside the fire.
“Having forfeited any chance at love, the only thing I fear is failing at my dream of seeing a stronger, more united Sparta.”
Alexios’s heart pounded on a slow throb. “You think you won’t be loved?”
She remained silent for a time. “My mother told me I would never find a mate to give me strong sons for Sparta if I didn’t change my ways. Find a way to curb my passion. Temper my enthusiasm. Stop being so dramatic. I told her I’d rather throw myself off Mount Taygetos.”
They laughed, then hushed when the baby stirred. They sat for a long while, listening to the storm, glancing between the baby, each other, and the flames.
He was the first to speak. “You really do need to be careful. You’re a target for my enemies, including my father’s wife. I suspect Theodora has used poison hemlock more than once. Make sure you only drink what you see decanted from a pitcher that’s been tested. You might also want to send out a few attendants to the temples and sanctuaries to check for curse tablets with your name upon them.”
She moved closer to the fire to warm her hands. “See? Here is another example of your goodness. Mayhap you’d find a more positive response from everyone by revealing what’s truly underneath your forbidding façade.”
“There are those who take advantage of goodness.”
“Yes, but those who esteem and respect you for that goodness surely outnumber those who would do you harm.”
Her trusting nature both warmed and worried him. “As a bastard, my position is already upon shaky ground. If I am to be king one day, I cannot afford any show of weakness.”
She considered that for a moment, the firelight caressing her furrowed brow.
She is fast becoming my weakness.
The realization made his hands begin to sweat, his pulse to quicken. The very whimsy and unconventionalism that drew him to her was precisely what endangered her.
“Are you cold?” There were so many ways he could warm her.
“No. I’m too angry at the Elders to be cold.” She shivered, grabbed a stick, and poked at the embers, sending sparks snapping into the air.
Little deceiver. Why was she lying now?
“The best way to show strength is to not let opinions sway you from your course of action. Many already know I am set on marrying you and disapprove.” She pinned him with unflinching eyes. “But we don’t need their permission. To be honest, I believe more people would support us than we might suppose. It’s just that the naysayers are always the loudest.”
He could not refute that truth, nor resist his smile, enjoying her ardor.
“What? I’m serious.” She frowned at him.
He chuckled. “Oh, I know you are, little rabble-rouser.”
She got to her feet and planted her hands on her slim hips. How he desired to set his hands upon those long, fine legs, slide her peplon up, and lose himself in her flesh.
“You call me a rabble-rouser yet you are the one who thinks with his fists.”
“Fists are effective.”
“Alexios.”
“Sophia.”
That drew a smile. But he wasn’t in the mood for smiles.
He wanted her sighs.
Her moans.
The cold wind whistled at the mouth of the cave, whipping the smoke from the fire toward them. Sophia quivered violently. Gooseflesh rode up her arms as the air swirled her dark ponytail around her neck. He watched the rise and fall of her chest, faster now, the longer he fixed his gaze upon her.
Her cheek would feel like the smoothest silk gliding across his belly.
“Come here, princess.”
She bit her lip, flushing a compelling shade of pink in the orange glow of the fire.
“I would not traverse the entire mountainside, only to have you summon your death by ague,” he explained.
She stepped around the baby and stumbled, falling into the crook of his shoulder where he lifted his arm. She pushed rebellious strands of hair from her eyes as she righted herself, pressing against him in ways that did little to calm either of them.
“Blast. So clumsy! Why am I always so inelegant? You don’t have to answer that. Please don’t. Anyway, I’m grateful you found us. I’m sure we would have survived with the nymphs’ help, but we would have been bone cold. How long do you suppose it’ll be until this storm spends itself dry? Think we’ll have enough wood?” She kept her eyes on the sleeping child as she continued a mindless sort of chatter. “They’re quite amazing, aren’t they?”
Alexios nodded, fighting a smile at her attack of nerves. The she-dragon has grown timid in the lion’s lap. “I don’t have much experience with children, but they are a wonder and very fragile.”
He
angled his head toward her, her lemon and lavender scent mingling with the wood’s smoke and her jabbering to weave a dangerous contentment around him. He closed his eyes, savoring the uncommon sensation, wrapping his sheltering arm tighter against the soft curve of her hip. Her body grew pliant, sagging into him incrementally.
He didn’t dare draw too large a breath for breaking the spell.
When she rested her cheek into the crook of his neck, her babble only sporadic now, he could no longer stop his fingertips from exploring the length of her satiny thigh. Her shudder echoed through his body, shooting blood to his phallus. Her skin, her hair, her scent, those wondrous curves and hollows. Her fire and her awkwardness. Her honor and whimsy. Her courage and naiveté.
She was intoxicating in all her contradictions. In all her impossibilities.
He leaned over her hair, lips grazing the sleek, inky strands. “Are you borne of Sirens?” he whispered.
Her head lifted slowly until her blue eyes fastened to his, a provocative gleam in their depths that made his gaze drop to her lips and his fingertips curl into her thigh.
“I would sing to you if I thought it would ensnare you,” she answered. “But coming to me of your own free will would be most sweet, warrior.”
Seven hells, he was already caught.
His head lowered to claim her mouth, fierce from the wait and wonder. The touch of her lips to his drew a low groan from them both. She poured herself into the kiss, shifting in his arms, but it wasn’t enough.
He pulled her fully onto his lap, facing him, his cock hard and burning between them. But with her, with this one soul, a tenderness wrapped around his urgency. He slid his lips down her neck to nuzzle and lick the hollow where her pulse beat like the wings of a red-footed falcon, his hands skimming up her ribcage to cup her breasts.
This lady in his arms…what was this?
It can mean nothing but trouble. Release her.
His fingers pulled the ribbon from her hair, his hands tunneling into the silky strands as soon as they were free.
Let her go lest she bring you both down.
Her teeth grabbed at his bottom lip, sucking, her fingernails raking back the linen of his chiton, drawing a welt and a growl. His chest muscles flexed at her raw, hungry touch.
