Alexis of Troy (Book I)

ζ′ - Exhee

SIX

The storm let up some time through the night. By morning, the air was dewy and ripe with wet grass. The sky was orange and warm, the last traces of storm clouds thinning as the sun rose from its slumber. It was as if the world had been cleansed, giving me a fresh start on my journey. The waterfall that covered the cave had dissipated, save for the thin dripping trails that persisted.

I watched the sun rise in awe. I'd seen sunrises before. My apartment faced East, giving me a stunning view of the sun as it climbed over the city. For a brief time, the washed out city would be invigorated by the golden rays. In the dead of winter, when everything was miserable and dull, it was the one moment that seemed to create a sense of hope.

In Anatolia, it was an altogether unique experience.

Everything was already so vivid and bright. The sun amplified it and with the dew drops hanging on every leaf and blade of grass, the world sparkled. Birds serenaded one another, little creatures scampered through the trees. I even saw a deer, walking with an elegance only reserved for them. That sort of scene was a precious commodity in my time, which was battered with war, pandemics and a climate crisis.

"Did you sleep at all?" Paris asked, coming to sit with me.

He handed me a leaf-turned-plate with a pile of fruits drizzled with honey. I took it with embarrassing hunger.

"Not really," I replied between bites. "The storm kept me up."

That was a lie. I didn't want to tell him that I was scared to sleep because of the nightmares, and because of the false hope I felt when I first woke up. Part of me still hoped all of it was a dream. A fever dream even. Thinking about the disappointment left me hollow.

"The day looks to be fair, so we should set out before the sun sets," he said. "It's a few days' trek to my home so we'll need to keep our wits about us."

"A few days?" That didn't add up properly. "You wandered a few days from home to pick firewood?"

At that, Paris ducked his head sheepishly. "I have to confess... I wasn't really gathering firewood..."

"No kidding."

"I was travelling to Ilios," he admitted, while studying his hands. "My father forbade me to ever step foot in the city but I felt a pull, as if I had to go there. When you caught me, I was ashamed of my betrayal so I lied. I was going to go home but then decided to follow you."

I didn't blame him. From what I remembered, Paris was abandoned because of a prophecy that he'd bring the fall of Troy. In the end, a farmer took pity on the baby Paris and raised him in secret. If Paris went back to Troy and they found out that he was the long-lost prince, who knew what'd happen.

I licked the honey off my fingers with a teasing smirk. "Creepy, but I'll overlook it. And, no one would begrudge you for wanting to escape your home. I mean, look at me. I'm so far from home it might as well be a different world."

"I've never been anywhere," he sighed, kicking a rock through the grass. It skidded through the lusciously green blades, disappearing forever. "I've always wanted to travel, but my father is adamant that I don't. He says it's too dangerous for a farmer's child, but I think he's more scared of losing me."

"I'm sure he has his reasons," I said gently.

The shepherd prince shrugged. "If he did, he's not telling me. I think he's scared to lose the help he has on the farm." His laugh was dry. "Or, he's scared that I'm going to become a scholar. Working on the farm is a real man's job. It keeps you strong and sharp. Scrolls and texts make you soft and weak. That's what he always told me."