Alexis of Troy (Book I)

ιγ′ - Dekatriah

Thirteen

Paris sat, surrounded by three beautiful women. The whole scene reminded me of a lamb cornered by three wolves, and a chill ran down my back. Obviously, the two women with Athena were also goddesses, no doubt Aphrodite and Hera. Given the way they stood before Paris, strutting their stuff, they were here for one reason: the golden apple. Paris was the one Zeus had selected to present it to the winner.

As if to confirm my suspicions, the shepherd prince shifted. In his hands, I saw the prize.

Paris held the golden apple. It shimmered as if it had been dipped in gold and was so tacky, I almost wondered if they'd grabbed it off the shelf at Target. From my understanding, aside from the golden skin, it had no other attributes except as a trophy.

I shouldn't be surprised. This was, after all, a Greek legend, and it was ridiculous to think it had stopped going just because I was plopped into it. I was an added obstacle. This was the moment that pieces started to fall in place for the fate of Paris and Troy. He would choose the goddess he thought was the most beautiful, and she would give him her promised prize.

But that wasn't right. The timing of it was off... the golden apple myth happened years before the conflict between Troy and Greece. It was the myth that set Paris' fate in motion, but the golden apple was a present for Peleus and Thetis on their wedding day. You know, Achilles' parents. Chiron mentioned that he'd already trained Achilles, which meant his parents were already married.

Was it me? Did I change it?

I pushed those thoughts away. It was important right now. Right now, what was important was that this game was happening right now. Whatever I'd changed, I was hoping the results of the game wouldn't. Aphrodite had to win.

I swallowed, debating what to do. A part of me wanted to stop this, to spare Paris from his inevitable demise. He wasn't the coward I'd read about, and he certainly didn't deserve any of the garbage the gods threw at him. Besides, he wanted to escape Troy and make a life for himself. Was that such a bad thing?

As tempting as that was, I still didn't really know the rules of the game. My interference could trigger changes to the story. So far, nothing had happened, at least that I could see, but that didn't mean things weren't changing. If I stepped a little too far out of line, then this story, and possibly history, was toast. Like the Golden Apple myth. The timing had shifted. It was no longer the spark at the beginning of Achilles' life.

The smartest choice, no matter how much it pained me, was just to let it go. It wasn't like much happened right now anyway. He was going to pick Aphrodite, give her the golden apple, and then I'd have a little more time with him to figure out the next best course of action.

Applauding my mad planning skills, I ducked behind a boulder to give myself a front-row view. I wasn't going to deny that this was an opportunity of a lifetime to witness what I'd believed was just a legendary story. I mean, I was literally watching Paris pick who he thought was the most beautiful goddess. There was some sick pleasure in knowing that it wasn't going to be Athena.

My eyes widened as her words finally clicked. She had told me that she wanted to win for once. She wanted to change the outcome, and I hadn't been sure of what it was but now—

A frustrated scream cut through my thoughts. I looked up to see Paris standing in front of Athena, not Aphrodite. He held the apple out to Athena. I wanted nothing more than to smack that smug expression off her face.

"Why don't you come out now, Alexis?" Athena called.

It took a heartbeat for me to realize she'd said my name. The other two goddesses glanced my way. Instead of moving forward, I shrank back. They knew I was watching. Of course, they knew.