Fifteen

The further we walked from the farm, the lighter Paris' mood grew. It was as if a veil had been lifted and he saw the world in a new, exciting light. To him, there were endless possibilities now that he was free. He all but skipped as we made our way towards Troy. It was endearing, really, but the truth of his fate tugged annoyingly at the fringes of my mind. His upbeat attitude clouded the uncertainty of what we were walking into. He was royalty. His parents had wanted him dead because of a prophecy, so what kind of reception would he receive when he returned, alive and well? I doubted it'd be particularly warm.

Chiron and Melanippe were waiting for us off the main road. Chiron explained he would accompany us to Troy, but must return home after. The thought of parting with the centaur and his daughter weighed heavily on me.

"How will I make it without you?" I asked.

Paris had ridden ahead with Melanippe to scout out the path, and I walked next to Chiron.

"Don't underestimate your strength," the centaur said. "Apollo would not have sent me to you if there was not something worth shaping. And I cannot mentor you forever. The time is coming where you must take all I have told you and survive."

"If I make it to Greece, do you think I could come for a visit?"

I had no idea where Chiron's home was in relation to Sparta or Mount Olympus, but one could hope, right?

The centaur's smile was soft, placating. "I do not know if our paths will cross after this."

With the sun beaming pleasantly down on us the landscape wasn't nearly as terrifying as it had been my first night here. There were no looming, dark shadows that hid insidious lurkers. Even the trees looked harmless, as opposed to the gnarled ghastly things I'd imagined. It wasn't so bad here, I supposed. It was pretty. The air was humid but clean. There was no one around as from my group. There were worse places I could have been plopped into, let's be honest. There were better places too, but let's not dwell too much on the what ifs.

When Paris rode back, I climbed back onto the divine horse and we picked up our pace. As we rode, the prince prodded me with questions about my life and my home which I tried to answer, while being as vague as possible.

But it wasn't just because I didn't want to give away my truth. The more Paris asked about my family, the less I seemed to remember. I was pretty sure that my mom was an architect, but it was muddied. My dad was a scholar... though in what field?

My siblings? One had kids, right? That would be my brother... I think.

While Paris marvelled at my apparently outlandish family, each question tightened around my chest like a steely wire. Why couldn't I remember them? They were there, I could picture my parents in my mind... could I? No. Their faces were blurred. My siblings, even more faded. I couldn't even tell you what day it was... perhaps Sunday? Did that mean my parents were preparing brunch for the family? Did we still have brunch?

The mystifying questions plagued my mind as Paris rattled on about one day having such an illustrious family.

There was one thing I did know, however. I was forgetting my family.

Something bumped my elbow. Paris was staring at me with his round, chocolatey eyes, and it took me a moment to realize he had been speaking to me. The embarrassing heat crept up my neck to my cheeks.

"Sorry... what?"

"I asked what you were thinking about?"

"Oh..." I trailed off, my eyes tracing the picturesque scenery around me. "Just thinking about home, mostly. I kind of miss them."

And I can't seem to remember them.

I felt Chiron eyeing me with a frown.

"Have you been away from home for long?"

Paris tilted his head in a way that made me think of a puppy. He needed to stop. His naivety was only adding more weight to my guilty conscience. Any more and my chest might explode.

"Not really," I muttered. It had only been, technically, a few days. Or had it been longer? I couldn't even tell what day it was anymore. "I am a long way from home... but I'm in a new country so it's all just different." I rolled the acorn in my hand. "I guess I just miss my family."

Understatement of the year right there, folks.

"I'm sure you'll see them again soon."

Paris's gaze turned stormy with conflicting emotions. I wondered if he was thinking about the truth about his father and the fact that he was actually a prince of Troy. His whole life had been a lie and he was only now on his way to meet his biological parents.

"You know, we don't have to go see them," I pointed out gently. "We'll be able to travel to Greece with their help, but there are other ways too." I had considered asking Chiron, even if I knew what his answer would be.

"No, I need to do this," he said. The set frown on his lips was final. "I need to accept that this is my destiny. I'm a prince of Ilios." He dragged his long fingers through his curly hair. "It's strange to think of myself that way."

"Regardless if you're a prince or not, you're still Paris and no royal blood or title is going to change that."

"Thank you Alexis," he said, his smile soft.

The sound of water filled the air, a trickle over stones, like a river. Chiron led us towards the water and it was there we decided to rest. I climbed off Melanippe, my legs stiff and sore. With the sun beating down on us, the promise of a cool dip in the river was alluring.

"We shall rest here for a bit," Chiron nodded, "I will find us something to eat."

I waded into the crisp, clear water and sighed contently. Paris let Melanippe roam, grazing and swishing her tail to combat the heat. He joined me in the water, sighing as the cold settled on his legs.

A raven circled overhead and we found ourselves staring out at a hilly plateau. Anatolia was rocky and forested, but there were places like the plateau that were untouched. Endless greenery, rolling hills that reminded me of the Sound of Music. All that was missing was Julie Andrews, arms wide, serenading us with her enchanting voice. There wasn't even a breeze, just a nourishing silence that I never would have found in my time.

Paris crouched and combed wet fingers through his dark hair. Then he glanced at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes. I barely had time to register what he was about to do until I felt the icy drops hit my face.

"What?" I gasped, glaring at him. "You splashed me!"

Paris was laughing and splashed me again. My glare turned playful and I retaliated, catching him with a spray. He yelped and waded away from my reach. He was grinning like a kid in a snowball fight and I rolled my shoulders.

"Is it a war you want?" I said, wading towards him.

"War? Who said anything about a war?" he teased, catching me by surprise again.

He splashed harder this time, the water dousing me. As I sputtered and wiped the water out of my eyes, he drew closer. With the back of his hand, he brushed the drops off my cheek, his eyes alight with excitement and something else.

Desire.

"Paris," I whispered, my voice snagging in my throat.

He smiled gently and leaned closer, his lips inching dangerously close to mine.

"You there! Please, help!"

A woman's voice cut through our moment like a blade through flesh. Paris pulled away as if struck, sucking in a sharp breath, while the blood rushed to my ears, drowning out every other sound. We exchanged a fleeting look, then I was looking for the person who interrupted.

At first, I thought it was Athena. But the voice was much deeper and raspier than Athena's. And it didn't hold the same authoritarian tone either. In fact, the voice sounded scared.

We both turned as a young woman, not much older than us, rushed towards us. She looked like she hadn't had a bath in... well, forever. Her hair hung limply around her shoulders and was so greasy and dirty that it appeared as black as her beautiful skin which shimmered like the velvety night sky. Her brown eyes were wild as they darted back and forth, scouring the land for any potential threat. A simple smock, beyond worn out, fraying at the edges with a hole by her shoulder drowned her tiny frame, though I noticed the roll of muscles in her limbs. She was small, but strong, despite her current state.

The material of her smock might have once been white, but now it was patchy gray. She was barefoot and, judging by the way she limped, I knew from experience that she was in pain. My feet throbbed in tandem with each step she took.

We climbed out of the water as Chiron reappeared. The centaur must have been close enough to hear the girl, who had shrieked and staggered back away from my mentor.

It wasn't her appearance, nor the nauseating odour that caught my attention. It was the heavy, lead cuffs that encircled her red wrist. A broken chain dangling from each cuff indicated she'd somehow managed to break it. I knew instantly who I was looking at but Paris beat me to it.

"You're a slave," he gasped, eyes wide. "An escaped slave..."

"Please," she said, knees buckling. Her accent was different from Paris', indicating she was not from Troy or maybe not even Greece. I couldn't tell where from though, not that it mattered. "I need help... I have been walking for days..."

"We cannot help you," Paris snapped, grabbing my arm.

"Paris—" I started to protest, but he cut me off.

"If we're caught with an escaped slave we'll be signing our lives away as well," he said, dragging me away from the girl. "Prince or not, I can't save us from that fate."

Chiron was approaching the girl slowly and she whimpered, scooting back out of his way. I squirmed out of Paris' embrace and held out my hands in an attempt to placate the girl.

"It's okay, he's not going to hurt you. He's a friend."

"You are a long way from home, girl," Chiron remarked. The tone was surprisingly dark and I shot a glare his way.

"Can we be a little more civil?" I spat. "This girl clearly needs some help. Chiron, do you have any poppy to help calm her nerves?"

With a curt nod, Chiron handed me a small vial containing milk of the poppy. I took it, but he grabbed my wrist.

"Be careful how you proceed with this girl," he warned in a low voice. "She is not what she seems."

I yanked away from him. "You are just as bad as Paris. We can't just leave her there. She needs our help."

"Alexis," Paris sighed.

"Go get some food and water for her," I ordered.

If they wanted to be selfish bastards then so be it. I knew what it was like to be alone and helpless. I wasn't going to turn away from someone else who needed help.

"Hey," I said gently.

She stared back with her round eyes, the whites of her eyes standing out starkly against her dark skin. When I reached out, she shied away from my hand. I hesitated then dropped my hand.

"You're okay now—what's your name?"

"Zoisme." She watched me warily, though I could see the edges softening.

"Cool, okay, Zoisme. My name's Alexis. Mr. Groucho is Paris and the centaur is Chiron. You know, the safe centaur? Anyway, he's not going to do anything to you, I promise."

Paris handed me a bag and a waterskin. His look was suspicious but I waved him away. I turned back to Zoisme, who stared hungrily at the bag and waterskin. I handed the latter to her.

"Here, take that. I also have some fruit and dried meat."

I rummaged through the bag as she inhaled as much water as she possibly could bear. When I gave her the food she devoured it in seconds. It was as if she hadn't had food in a while. Meanwhile, Paris hovered behind me, anxiety rippling off him. Zoisme felt it, and eyed him warily as she polished off the pear. Chiron was probably off sulking and nursing his wounded pride.

As she licked the juices off her fingers I shot Paris a glare, which was returned in kind. I didn't care that she was a slave. I didn't care that if we were caught we'd be in trouble. She was in trouble now. Thankfully, she found us first.

"Can you tell us what happened?" I asked after she'd had her fill of food.

Zoisme swiped the back of her hand across her lips with a shrug. "My brother and I were part of a slave caravan heading to Troy. The anax and queen are hoping to present the Spartan Lord Menelaus with gifts and slaves in order to keep the peace."

"How did you escape?" Paris asked.

"My brother..." Zoisme looked down, hands clasped tightly on her lap. "He managed to break the chain from the wall and when we stopped for a break, created a distraction while I escaped." Her eyes grew misty. "He sacrificed himself so I could be free."

"I'm so sorry about your brother," I said, "at least you're free now."

"I only wish I was brave enough to save him," she muttered. She pressed a hand against her mouth to stifle a sob.

"Alexis, we should be going," Paris said, resting a hand on my shoulder.

The touch was possessive, commanding. I was expected to obey him without question. Obviously, he still didn't know much about me.

I shrugged him off, eyes narrowing. "If you don't want to risk it then you can carry on without me. I'm sure Chiron would love to accompany you."

"Alexis, you don't seem to understand the seriousness of the situation," Paris said as his hands clenched and unclenched.

"I understand enough to know that no one should be a slave," I shot back. "It's archaic and cruel. Look at her—she doesn't deserve to be treated like an animal."

The confounded look on his face showed I was thinking with my twenty-first century brain. Times were different and slaves were more commonplace. Archaic, sure, but I was standing in archaic times. Paris wasn't used to people admonishing slavery. It was just something his world accepted and practiced. Seeing it in person was way different than reading about it in a textbook.

Not that it meant anything. The girl still needed help.

But did any of that matter? I glanced up at Paris. "She's free now, who cares how she escaped? Zoisme, you should come with us. We're going to Troy, we can find you better clothes and you can probably slip away undetected."

Paris grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. "Can I speak with you for a second?"

Like I actually had a choice in that question. He dragged me away from the girl, his brow lowered.

"This is a bad idea."

"Because we could get caught?"

"Yes we could get caught." He threw his hands out. "But something doesn't feel right about this either... She doesn't seem right..."

"You sound like Chiron. Look, all we have to do is get to Troy, get her sorted out and then we part ways. No questions asked."

"A lot can go wrong during that time," Paris said, glancing at Zoisme. The girl hadn't moved from her spot, her hands still tightly clasped together. "I don't trust her and we're still days from Ilios."

"Do you trust me?" I asked.

His eyes clouded over and for a moment I thought he was going to say no. Not that I'd blame him. I'd kept secrets from him... still kept secrets from him, and I was asking if he trusted me. Despite the golden apple and his apparent fascination with me.

"Fine. We take her to Ilios but no further. And we're not telling her anything about us either." He glanced at the slave again and I knew he meant about his lineage.

"Deal," I nodded. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet." His brown eyes were like stone. "I still don't trust her."

As we wandered back to Zoisme, I silently hoped that I wasn't the one making the mistake.