Fourteen

The biggest obstacle turned out to be Paris's father. Chiron had agreed that we would meet him and Melanippe on the road.

Paris and I stood in Agelaus' cramped hut as he paced back and forth, a frown etched on his lips. Agelaus was a weathered man, used to toiling in the sun all day. Even though his hair was greying and the sun had traced lines across his forehead and the corners of his eyes, he was solidly built. His deliberate thoughtfulness was the reason Paris was standing here today, but at the same time, I was anxious to get out of there. The sooner we made it to Troy, the better. The way the farmer paced, we could be here until next week.

Paris stood rigidly beside me, hands clenched in white-knuckled fists. I hadn't told him everything. It was too much of a risk. What I did tell him evidently had been enough to short circuit him. He refused to meet my gaze for long, his anger bristling. And here I'd half hoped we'd gotten over the distrust. I thought the goddesses would have said something during the judgement, but I suppose my abrupt arrival threw a wrench in the plans. Now I was left picking up the pieces of their recklessness. Again.

Thankfully, none of the pesky deities reared their beautiful heads, but my body still thrummed with an ominous vibe. I had to survive and get to Greece. I almost died once, surely it wouldn't happen a second time... right?

"I can't let you go," Paris's father said at last. "It's too risky."

"I need to go," Paris argued, "I can't just walk away from this."

"No, son..."

"Enough!" Paris yelled, slamming his hands on the table.

I winced at the force, while Agelaus raised an eyebrow. He crossed his arms. You had to hand it to the guy. He maintained an enviable coolness in the face of Paris' anger.

Obviously, I'd been in Troy for like thirty seconds, so I didn't have much say much, but in that time, Paris struck me as calm and gentle. Even when he wouldn't speak to me, his temper had remained tepid. The outburst was rattling. What was worse was that his anger was because of me. In those seconds, he looked more like a prince than a shepherd with his steely, unwavering gaze, jaw lifted slightly as he stared down his father.

"You knew who I was the entire time, and you kept me here, hidden away. You should have told me," Paris continued. "Instead, I had to hear the truth from her."

Without even looking in my direction, he waved his hand dismissively at me and, boy, that hurt. Even if he was angry at me, I didn't deserve that drive by. He chose me as his prize even, that had to count for something. Okay, yes, I was aware of how that sounded, thank you. I'm still no one's prize, but that was beside the point. The important thing was I genuinely thought telling him wouldn't make him angry. He told me he never felt like he belonged and I sat there pretending like I didn't know the reason.

My gaze danced between father and son. It was like watching a showdown. Who was going to draw first? I'd rather not be there for the gunfire, though. This was a personal battle, and I felt more like a nuisance standing there.

"I think I'll just give you a moment alone," I muttered.

Neither of them looked my way as I ducked out of the house, hiding the burning embarrassment scrawled across my cheeks. Their deep, troubled voices followed me outside into the afternoon air. I clutched the acorn until my fingers were sore.

Inside was stuffy, but outside, the sun sat high in the sky and relentlessly shone down on me. Everything felt damp, the smell of the farm more pungent. The humidity frizzed my hair, and sweat pearled on my forehead, upper lip, armpits and, well, everywhere. I was used to such a dry climate; I wasn't built for humidity. I was built for harsh winters and dry summers. I've never been particularly fond of my home, but now that I was pulled out of it so abruptly, I missed it.

The homesickness slammed into my chest so hard I sagged against the wall of the house under its weight. It wasn't the first time, but it still hurt. It was so heavy that, for a moment, all I could do was gasp as I struggled to breathe. I missed my home and my job and all the modern luxuries that came with the twenty-first century.

And seeing Paris and his father, I realized just how much I missed my own family. I missed my mom and her uproarious laugh and dad's teddy bear hugs. And, as annoying as they were, I missed my brother and sister.

Days had passed here, was it the same back home? Did my family even know I was missing? Were they looking for me? Or did I disappear entirely from their lives, and I no longer existed?

Somehow that thought was worse.

I rubbed my face in the hopes of scrubbing them away when someone cleared their throat. I lifted my head and latched onto the woman who stood a few feet away. No, not a woman. A goddess.

Wonderful.

She'd been sculpted to perfection with blonde hair coiled into a thick braid on top of her head. Her angelic features stood out with her hair tied back from her milky white, flawless skin to her bright blue eyes, round face and heart-shaped, pink lips. Her dress was thin, so thin that in the sunlight, I saw the silhouetted, full curves of her body. It was a rather provocative outfit, but it fitted the goddess of sexual love and beauty.

Full-figured and owning it. I wish I was so confident.

Aphrodite smiled sweetly and silently motioned for me to follow her. I took a step and hesitated. This was bordering on deja vu, and I didn't want a rehash of the same crap I'd endured with Athena. I was learning that dealing with gods required a great deal of caution and cunning. Neither of which I was particularly affluent.

Evidently, she registered my hesitancy because she stormed up to me and grabbed my wrist, dragging me off despite my incoherent protests. She didn't stop walking until we were far enough from the farmhouse not to risk being overheard.

"What do you want?" I asked, crossing my arms. "Is it your turn to have a go at messing with me?"

Aphrodite raised a slender eyebrow with a scoff. "I don't care about Zeus's games. Athena might have been easily swayed, but the only thing I want is to fix this situation and take back what's rightfully mine."

She meant the golden apple. The one Athena stole from her.

"That still doesn't explain why you're here."

"Athena had told me you were a little slow," Aphrodite sighed, "I was hoping she was exaggerating. I'm here because I can help you get to Mount Olympus and back to your world."

"The last time a goddess promised me that she betrayed and abandoned me."

"Yes, but Athena has always been competitive, and she figured you were her only chance at finally winning that apple. Besides, you know there's at least one god in your corner, right?"

I was still unconvinced Apollo was on my side, but sure, why not. At the very least, at least I had Chiron. Aphrodite took my hand in hers and smiled.

"I only want to make things right. Paris chose me, and he always chooses me. If I send you home, this whole mess will be fixed, and I'll get the apple."

"It's that simple," I said blankly, tugging my hand away from her. "No strings attached."

"The only thing you need to do is get that boy to Troy," she said, "Hector leaves for Sparta soon, and you and Paris will need to be on his ship. Paris must meet Helen and fall in love with her before things are altered further. I presume you noticed the golden apple game happened later than it should have? Things are changing, Alexis, rapidly."

I tried to swallow, but the thick lump in my throat bobbed painfully—cool cool cool cool. I was responsible for changing things. Athena failed to mention that my interactions here would be permanent. She'd failed to mention plenty of things. I guess learning about them now was better than never.

"Right, easy. What if they don't believe Paris is the prince?"

"Leave the logistics to me," she said with a wink.

I tried not to shudder at the memory of Athena winking at me. Aphrodite only wanted the golden apple. If getting me home did the trick, then I should trust her.

Still, she was an Olympian.

Then there was the fact that if I brought Paris to Sparta, his fate was sealed. I couldn't let his story disappear, but by doing so, I knew exactly what I was sending him into. I'd promised to help him escape Troy, not become prince of it. I hated to admit it, but I think I was starting to care about the shepherd prince.

That revelation made what I said next all the more difficult.

"Fine, I'll get Paris to Troy, and then you get us to Greece. Paris will meet Helen, fall in love and then you'll take me to Mount Olympus," I said, sticking out my hand. I hoped my poker face was as good as I liked to think. She stared at it for a moment before wrapping her hand around mine.

"I won't abandon you like Athena," she promised and kissed my cheek. "Good luck Alexis, and hurry."

When I blinked, she was gone.

I stood there for a long time, staring at the field, holding the acorn to my chest. Eventually, a hand rested on my shoulder, jolting me out of my stupor. I whirled around to find Paris watching me with a tilted head. An angry frown tugged his lips down. Over his shoulder hung a bag.

I dropped my gaze as my cheeks warmed.

"Paris, I'm sorry you had to find out the way you did," I start, but he waved a hand to silence me.

"What matters is we are going to Ilios," he said curtly. "My father can't keep me here anymore. It's time I claim what's rightfully mine."

"Your dad... uh... father, only wanted to protect you," I said, hurrying to match his pace. "And I honestly thought you knew about that... If I'd known, I wouldn't have..."

"Told me?" Paris glanced at me. His look was steely and hurt. "You would have continued to hide that I was a prince, even though it has nothing to do with you. How did you even know?"

"I..." I trailed off with a shrug. "Athena told me... Look, there's not a lot I can tell you, Paris, and I'm sorry for dropping a bomb on you like that..." I winced at his confused expression but pressed on. "I was only trying to protect you, just like your father."

"My father?" he wrinkled his nose. "My father refused to let me go to Ilios because he was afraid that I would leave him to become a prince. Well, look at me now."

"He was trying to keep you safe!" I blurted, and Paris skidded to a halt. "He saved you, Paris, raised you, and all he wanted was to keep you from... from..."

"From what?" he asked, his brown eyes staring intently at me. "Alexis, what aren't you telling me?"

This was my chance. I could tell Paris his fate, and maybe that small change would be okay. Maybe sparing him would be a fix that didn't impact much... I squeezed my eyes shut.

"He just... he wanted to keep you safe from the life of a royal," I said quietly, "it's a dangerous life. I know the simple life of a shepherd isn't something you want, but it might be better than what lies in the city. I think he wanted to give you a chance at a better life."

I didn't have to look to know he wasn't buying it. He knew I was hiding something. His hand guided my chin up so my eyes met his. The fierceness in his expression was inspiring and intimidating. His chin was taut, his eyes searching. He might suspect that I'm hiding something from him, but his love for his father was undeniable.

"You are a strange girl, Alexis," he murmured, his thumb rubbing against my cheek. The storm had passed, though he still looked wary. "You know things you shouldn't know. I think you might be a prophet."

I let out a shaky laugh. "Not exactly, but sure, let's go with that."

"Well, then, prophetess, let's meet up with Chiron and go to Ilios," he said, extending his hand for me to take.

Slowly, I threaded my fingers with his, and as we made our way towards Troy, we were both one step closer to facing our fate.