Alexis of Troy (Book I)

κ′ - Eikosi

Twenty

"Paris, I think we're far enough away," I said as he dragged me further into the palace.

The place was a maze, and I'm sure he was just as lost as I was, but he was too frustrated to care where we were going. The wing we stood in was beautifully decorated with tapestries and large, white pillars, the standard Grecian architecture. We passed another courtyard. It was decorated much like the one we'd had lunch in, but smaller, and there were fewer plants. It was quiet and vacant, and Paris slowed to a stop. His hand clenched mine tightly, practically cutting off the circulation in my fingers, but I didn't mind. If anything, I couldn't help but marvel at the fact that his hand was so much bigger than mine and how it wrapped perfectly around my hand.

"Was it a mistake to come here, Alexis?" he asked.

I pulled my eyes away from our hands. It was a mistake, especially in regards to how terrible his family was. But I couldn't have him turning around and running back to the farm either.

"Your parents are real peachy," I shrugged, "but at least you have the chance to see Greece. And, from what I understand, only Hector will be going to Sparta, so you won't have to deal with your parents either."

"Hector doesn't like me," Paris sighed, rubbing his neck.

It was then that I noticed how exhausted he was. He'd left the man who raised and protected him because he needed to see who he was, and then he wound up facing a family who placed too much on his shoulders way too soon. We've been there for all of five minutes, and he was already being thrust into the Trojan ambassador role.

I stepped closer and placed a hand over his. "Hey, he doesn't know you yet, but give it some time. Did you see the look on his face when he found us? He seems kind of like a prick, but he looked excited to meet you."

From what I recalled, Hector was a real family man. He cared about his family more than anything.

"You're right," Paris said and leaned in to rest his forehead against mine. His voice was barely a whisper. "Thank you, Alexis. I'm glad you're here."

The gratitude and trust in Paris's puppy dog eyes wedged sharply into my sternum. I said all the right things, things I should be saying, and I felt horrible for it.

"Of course," I whispered back, not trusting to raise my voice. "Where else would I be?"

When he pulled back, my forehead felt cold, and my chest felt heavy. His cheeks were pink, and he wrung his hands nervously. I kept telling myself that we'd only just met, literally twenty-four hours ago, there wasn't time for any feelings. I had my honour to consider, duh, and this wasn't Romeo and Juliet. We were just two people who needed someone to lean on.

"What happened to Zoisme?" I asked, "saying that she was your slave? I thought you were letting her go?"

"It was the best I could come up with without having to answer too many questions," he sighed. "She was clearly with us and if I said she was a free slave or if I said nothing at all she'd be in more trouble."

His response was surprising. The whole time she travelled with us, he didn't acknowledge her at all. All along he actually did care.

"You probably should go speak to your family again. They'll be wanting to know what their precious Alexandros has been up to all these years." I nudged him to show I was teasing.

"Oh, gods, don't call me that," Paris groaned, but a smile played on his lips. "I know it's the name the queen... my mother... had chosen for me, but that's not my name."