Alexis of Troy (Book I)

λα′ - Trianda Ena

Thirty-One

We ate well that night. A feast with the sacrificed goat to appease the gods. Despite the unsettling feeling I experienced while witnessing the sacrifice, my hunger was too dwell on the cause of death. It had been as merciful as possible, Paris assured me, and given us a meal worth of the table on Olympus.

The others drank until they were stumbling and slurring their words. I stopped after the first glass of wine. The incident with Dionysus had successfully cured me of any need to get drunk. Paris, on the other hand, had no qualms about drinking. He kept up with the crew, drinking and playing games long into the night, his cheeks flushed pink, his brown eyes glossy. His hair frizzed in the cool air, a crown of dark curls framing his face like a halo.

Hector, too, loosened up with each glass he drank. Though he didn't mingle with the men, he was ever watchful, a small, lop-sided smile etched onto his fire-touched face.

I was given my own space to eat, away from the prying eyes of the drunken men. Paris had made it clear I was off limits, but as the night went on, the men grew more reckless, Paris less watchful. After a man winked lewdly at me, I set my plate down and slipped away.

Belly full, I wandered back to my tent, eager for a good night's sleep and to avoid any unwanted situations. The tent had been prepared like a bedroom—comfortable, cozy and warm. There was a mattress laden with furs and blankets for added comfort. The ground was cushioned with a soft rug. A table had been placed with an array of items I would need for the journey. Cassandra had made sure to make my trip as comfortable as possible, even if it were to be packed up the next morning. It sure beat sleeping on the hard ground with nothing more than a sleeping bag. Where did we get our camping trips so wrong in my time?

Zoisme hummed an abstract tune as she fluffed the pillows. I watched her for a moment and then stepped inside. Her back faced me, but she whirled around, tension flashing through her body like a bolt of lightning. She looked ready to fight.

Cassandra's warning broke through the drunken haze. With the excitement of leaving Troy and Hector discovering us, I'd forgotten about what Cassandra had said. Zoisme was not who she seemed.

"I'm sorry," I said, putting my hands up. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Zoisme uncoiled and gestured to the bed. In the blink of an eye, the humble slave returned. "I was just making your bed. I hope it's comfortable."

"Thank you." I drew closer, watching her out of the corner of my eye as I sat on the mattress. "Where do you intend to sleep?"

"I don't intend on getting much sleep."

Zoisme glanced toward the entrance of the tent and I realized what she meant. My body went cold and my heart was a rabbit scrambling about its cage. The men beyond were still awake, their laughter drifting in with the breeze.

"Oh." I had a feeling I wouldn't get much sleep either now that I had that in my brain. "Surely they won't do anything. They wouldn't disobey Paris."

Zoisme shrugged. "Paris is a new authority. They will test his word. And do you trust Hector to stop any of them?"

She had a point. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. The strands were heavy with salty humidity. The luxuries like shampoo and conditioner I used to have at home were so far away. If I ever made it back to my time, I would never take them for granted.

"What am I doing?" I mumbled. "I didn't even think about what it'd be like travelling with a crew full of men. I just... I need to get home."

It wasn't directed at Zoisme, but she approached and knelt before me.