Cassandra and Apollo

Chapter 12

She paces the battlements like a caged lioness. The sun has dipped below the horizon; his work is done for the day. This is a good time to call him.

Nervously, she twirls the gold ring on her left index finger. It is dented from age and stained with the blood of a thousand wounds. But that is no matter, the magic will work. He will hear her. The only question is, will the god respond?

There are few lookouts on the wall, and they are far. That is good, she does not want them to overhear.

She removes the ring and places it on a cracked merlon. All she does is mouth his name, but it is enough. The ring flashes to bright flame, a yellow so light it is almost white. Soon, all that is left is a molten pool of gold over pale limestone.

"Cassandra."

His voice sends a ripple of desire through her, like a stone cast into a reflecting pool.

Steeling her features, she turns to face him.

He is exactly as she remembers. What else did she expect? He does not age, he does not scar or spot, his beauty is implacable.

"I wasn't sure you would come," she says.

Many years ago, she might have been able to read the subtle cues of his face. But now, their hidden meaning is lost to her.

"I said I would," he replies with his usual calm.

If he feels anything toward her, he does not show it.

"You did," she acknowledges with a nod. "But that was many years ago."

He looks at her evenly. "Was it?"

Knitting her brow, she takes a deep breath and cuts to the heart of it, "I called you to ask for a boon." There is no time for more.

He lifts his chin.

"So, ask."

He folds his arms over his broad chest.

"Paris and Hector will duel the Greek champions tomorrow. I believe Aphrodite will protect Paris, is that true?"

Apollo shows a hint of amusement. "Was that prophecy or deduction?"

"A little of both," she replies honestly. An old part of her is buoyed by the pride he takes in her shrewdness.

"What is your request?" He asks, but he already knows, and the tight line of his mouth proves it.

"Keep him safe."

There is no ambiguity in who she means by this.

"I know you cannot break the Sky Lord's decree," she quickly adds. "But if another god interferes, surely you cannot be blamed for following suit. You yourself said a single drop would break the dam—that if you intervene for Troy, the other gods would flood the field."

She expects him to flare with anger, bright and burning, as he did those years ago. But he does not.

He simply stares, eyes inscrutable.

"Why should I help Hector?" he says.

This catches her off her guard.

"Why?" she repeats.

The merest lift of a golden brow follows. He says nothing, awaiting her answer.

She knows Apollo dislikes her brother. Perhaps it is because the people of Troy worship him, and the sun will suffer no rivals. More likely, it is because he knows she loves Hector more than she ever loved him. But it is a different kind of love, she'd explained once. Her words had fallen on deaf ears, for gods will have no one, least of all a mortal, placed above them.