Theodosia

c h a p t e r o n e

T H E O D O S I A  O F  S P A R T A

"You there – halt!"

Before the strange man could cross the threshold of her exhibit, Theodosia burst out from behind the wall, pressing the sharp blade of her sword against the flesh of his neck. Without having to ask, Theodosia knew exactly who this funny looking man was – he was the new nightguard. He wore the same navy-blue ensemble the old men did.

Theodosia hated the old nightguards. She would know that outfit anywhere.

The moment the cold metal of her sword made contact with the skin of his neck, the man's breath hitched, and his hands went up on instinct. Theodosia resisted the urge to laugh. His base reaction is to surrender.

Strange.

The man was short, dark-haired, and ultimately silly-looking. He looked nothing like the old nightguards – notably being considerably younger. Theodosia was always taught to respect her elders, but those old men were mean and callous. Not an ounce of her respected any of them – so, by default, she had no reason to respect their replacement.

Especially not when he was clutching a list – obviously not originally his – in his right hand.

Theodosia recognized the worn stack of papers well; he was here to lock her and her fellow exhibits away like animals at the zoo. She wasn't surprised that those brash old men had passed down their tyrannical rules – it would have been more surprising if they hadn't.

Why should they all be locked away like animals for the nightguards convenience? It's not their fault the nightguards aren't strong enough to handle them. Why should they be punished for a bunch of old men's shortcomings? Theodosia wanted to explore – learn – but before the sun set every day, that chance was taken from her. But not this time.

She wouldn't let this man lock her away tonight.

"Who are you?" she questioned, her eyes narrowing. The man searched her gaze, taking in the dark look in her bright eyes. He looked terrified, Theodosia noted, like a gazelle about to be eaten by a lion.

She once again had to fight a smile.

"La-Larry Daley," he stammered, glancing down at the blade. Another thing Theodosia found interesting was that she didn't have Larry Daley backed against a wall. He could have escaped the blade easily, but he kept his hands up, and his neck against the blade. "I'm-I'm the nightguard. I'm new!"

"Larry Daley," she repeated to herself out loud, a mischievous smirk beginning to play on her lips. "What a funny name. It suits you. So, Larry Daley, where are you from? I saw you attempting to sneak into our exhibit – are you a spy for those Athenian fools?"

Of course, he wasn't. The Athenians shared the Greek exhibit with the Spartans – they didn't need to spy. The two societies faced each other, telling a story of an ancient war while also educating those who came to see them on old civilizations. The nightguards would pull an iron fence divider over the platform they stood on before sunset, and all they could do was stare at each other from behind it.

But Larry Daley didn't know that, or hadn't figured it out – she could tell by the way his eyes bulged at the suggestion.

"No! No, I'm from Brooklyn. I'm not – I'm not a spy from...Athens."

"Brooklyn?" she asked, moving so she was facing Larry, the tip of her iron sword pressing into his jugular; enough to scare him, but not enough to draw blood. "I've never been to Brooklyn. You're a funny man Larry Daley from Brooklyn. I'm Theodosia, of Sparta. You say you're the nightguard. What happened to those old men?"