Alexis of Troy (Book I)

η′ - Ochtoe

"Paris, I need you to get up," I whispered frantically. "Paris?"

Paris' mouth opened and closed, a fish gasping out of water.

My attention slipped to the ropes. There had been a gentle give, just enough to give me hope. I would have missed the conversation entirely if it weren't for the hand yanking my hair out of my scalp as one of them pulled me up.

"Instead of eating her... You think we could get a decent coin for this girl?" the stocky cannibal asked, dangling me in front of his friends. "I mean, she's pretty enough, and the slave market is always looking for pretty things."

"With that hair? She'll be branded a gorgon or a witch," the tall cannibal chuckled. "We should just kill her. Bad luck that hair is."

"Not in Greece it isn't," the cannibal holding my hair pointed out. "They like red hair."

"Some people will pay for a witch," the stocky cannibal pointed out. The way he leered made me shiver. "And she doesn't look all that dangerous."

"Screw you," I spat, which only elicited a round of amused laughter.

My head was jerked backwards to rest on the lead cannibal's shoulder. He reeked of wine, sweat and rotting breath—a horrific combination for my already knotted stomach. When I tried to push away, his grip tightened on my hair, needles of pain jabbing through my skull.

"Don't be too hasty, pretty thing," he said, "we'll get to that part soon. Perhaps it is worth earning some coin. We'll fill up on your friend. Consider this your lucky day."

"Oh, well, in that case," I said through gritted teeth.

The other two climbed to their feet and approached us. I was a rabbit, my heart racing, my eyes darting around frantically, searching for any potential escape. Paris' eyes were open again, staring at me in confusion and horror. I gave him a reassuring look, thankful the androphagi were focused on me. Despite the warmth of the fire, my body was icily rigid. It would be hard getting through all three of them, but I had one teeny element of surprise on my side. They didn't think I was capable of fighting back.

"Not so feisty now, is she?" the stocky cannibal smirked. He reached out and wrapped a lock of my hair around his finger. "Who gets first dibs?"

"Who do you think?" the androphagi who held me shot back. "I'm in charge here. I get first—ow, gods!"

Yeah, like hell, I'd let them do anything. With as much force as I could muster, I slammed the heel of my foot down, driving it into his sandaled foot. The hit sent a scream of pain through my beat-up soles, but it had the desired effect. The cannibal yelped, his grip faltering enough that I could pull myself away. I shoved the shorter androphagi, the sudden momentum propelling him back toward the fire. The tall cannibal reached for my arm. I spun around, my elbow catching him in the chest. He gasped, and I staggered back, squealing in delight. I threw my arms in the air. I did it!

"Oh, god, I did it," I gasped.

I had never been in a fight before. It had been a life-or-death situation, obviously, but still. The sting in my elbow and foot was proof that I didn't know what I was doing.

I dropped next to Paris and swept his hair back from his forehead. His eyes were clearer, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. When I touched his head, he sucked in a sharp breath and grabbed my hand.

"I'm fine," he whispered. His words were sandpaper against his throat, sending him into a coughing fit.

"Come on, we need to get out of here," I said, easing him into a sitting position.