Alexis of Troy (Book I)

λδ′ - Trianda Tessera

Thirty-Four

It was dusk by the time we docked. Everything was shrouded in a gray haze, the evening sun casting long, dark shadows around us. The water had turned from clear blue to black as the boat rocked into the port town's wooden dock.

I'd long since dried from yet another near-death experience, but the chill of shock and the evening breeze would not relent. I huddled in my blanket, not daring to move from my spot the entire trip, even though my bladder was ready to explode and I was so hungry I could barely think about anything else. If I moved, I'd attract attention, and I didn't want Achilles or any of his men paying attention to me. I didn't want them to get any ideas. Someone eventually brought me some more water and bread and patched up my shoulder, but other than that, everyone left me alone. That suited me fine. It gave me more time to think up a plan to escape. The rowers didn't even pay much attention to me. I'd noticed the chains locking them to their seats and realized that they had no choice but to sit and row.

Slaves. All of them were slaves.

I thought of Zoisme again. The pang in my chest knocked the breath out of me. If she was alive, at least she wasn't here, tethered to the boat. Abandoning her like I did soured whatever was left in my stomach. I can't believe I actually did that, after everything we'd been through together. That I'd dragged her into all of the madness. She didn't deserve any of it.

To distract myself, I tried to come up with an escape plan. Swimming was not an option. Poseidon had left me alone after Achilles picked me up, but that didn't mean he'd strike if I jumped in the sea. Not to mention Achilles would easily catch me. Biding my time was the only option. Once we were on land, and the opportunity presented itself, I'd make a run for it. Hardly foolproof but it was better than nothing.

Thankfully, I didn't get sick for the rest of our journey, and though my limbs were sore, I was feeling stronger. If I could get away from Achilles, then I could figure out a way to Sparta. To Paris.

I hoped Paris was okay and that Hector had managed to get him to safety. They were travelling to Sparta right now, where Paris would meet Helen and then all would be right in the world. Except that I was still stuck and stuck with Achilles of all people. As his prisoner. On a boat. In Ancient Greece. With a crew of wolves sniffing around, searching for a chance to pounce. I had no idea where in Greece Thessaly was, but it was in the opposite direction of where I was meant to go.

I understood then what it felt like to be stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Achilles was not how I imagined the great hero. He was quieter than expected, but you know what they say about the quiet ones. Well, that and he was a freaking hero. He was known for being cold and ruthless, and for being favoured by the gods. His destiny would change the tides of the impending war... Yet he was young, younger than I imagined. There were traces of his youthfulness in the roundness of his cheeks, in the mischievous tilt of his smile.

My chance for escape came when we docked. Everyone was busy getting things ready, Achilles was nowhere to be seen, and the plank leaning on the dock was unsupervised. Gnawing on the inside of my cheek, I climbed to my feet and, ignoring the unsteadiness from sitting too long on a boat. My legs prickled after falling asleep, but I bit down and ran for the exit. Oh, I couldn't wait for my feet to touch solid ground. I was never going on a boat ever again.

The crew watched me run but no one stopped me. Just as I reached the exit and thought I was in the clear, I was hoisted off my feet, an iron band wrapped tight around my torso.

Screaming, I wiggled, kicked and struggled, but the grip around my waist was solid and unflinching. I was thrown over the man's shoulder like I weighed nothing. In all my struggling there was a flash of blonde hair, the smell of salty leather.