Twenty-Four
The party was unlike anything I could have imagined. I remembered learning that men and women partied separately in ancient Greece. Here in Troy, however, the men and women mingled. And, it was actually kind of fun. I'm not one for partying but I found myself dragged onto the dance floor by several people, none of whom I actually knew, and I drank more than my share of wine and ate more than I'd eaten in a long time. People toasted Dionysus and drank heartily in his name. They also toasted Poseidon to give the Trojan princes a safe trip over his waters. The music was lively, the conversation loud and cheery. It was really hard to resist the festivities.
Paris gripped my hand tightly as he pulled me into the next dance. Despite all the attention he was receiving by the other upper class Trojans, he tried his best to keep me close. The other women in the room all eyed Paris hungrily, glaring at me like I was their competition. As if. My hair was limp, sweat trailing through the thick layer of makeup and I'm pretty sure there were sweat stains under my armpits. Paris didn't seem to mind any of that, though. Given how rosy his cheeks were and how glossy his eyes were, he was enjoying himself a little too much, and tried to rope me into his intoxicating merriment. My own head swam and I didn't have nearly the amount that he did.
For the first time since I arrived, I felt myself start to relax.
"Did I tell you how beautiful you look?" he asked, his breath brushing my ear.
"Several times," I said, with a dry laugh. "You, sir, are cut off from the wine bar."
"Oh, come now, I haven't had that much," he groaned.
He spun me around, the wine in my head sloshing about. He was trying to numb himself, to get rid of the awkwardness of being cast into the spotlight. "And you yourself, you're enjoying the wine too I see."
"Yeah, well, I'm a time traveller from the year twenty-twenty. I think getting drunk on wine to forget that for a night is perfectly acceptable."
It took me a slow, horrifying moment to realize that I had used my outside voice. Paris pulled away, his brown knitted in confusion as the room swayed. I had been thinking the words. My drunken brain decided it was a good idea to say it out loud. How could you be so stupid, Alexis?
"Paris... I..." What could I say? "I-I didn't mean that..."
I could tell that he was trying to process the information, his mind going through all our conversations. I thought for sure my cover was blown, but our conversation was interrupted by a young man.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," he said with a sultry voice.
Beautiful didn't quite capture the young man. He was ethereal, with mischievous eyes and an award-winning smile. He had porcelain skin that had been shaped from marble, and a physique to match. He was well aware of it too, for his rich, purple chiton was short, riding up his well-defined thigh and draped over one shoulder. His dark hair was entwined with grape vines, the plump fruits bobbing when he moved. His cheeks were soft and pink from wine, but his eyes were clear like the night sky. There was something about him that was both arresting and alluring.
"I have been meaning to introduce myself to you for some time," the young man continued, his gaze on Paris. "The rumours are true, that you have returned."
The response from the drunk prince was a shy, unsteady laugh, his head bobbing like the grapes in the young man's hair. "I'm sorry, I don't know who you are—?"
The smile that curled the young man's lips was feline, all teeth and ready to bite. I reached for Paris, red flags waving in my hazy mind.
"It's not important," the young man was saying. He pulled Paris towards him and whispered something in his ear, eliciting a hiccupped laugh from the prince. The moment was intimate, uncomfortably so, yet I couldn't walk away.
"May I have this dance?" the young man asked, tracing a finger along Paris' arm.
"Paris we should go take a break," I suggested, glaring at the young man. I tore the shepherd prince away, who looked dazed. "Excuse us."
If the young man was perturbed, he hid it well. "Come find me if you want some more fun, Paris, prince of Troy." Then his dark eyes met mine and I swayed. "And you, as well, Alexis."
I guided Paris away from the dance floor towards the main table and it wasn't until Paris was seated that I realized the man had called me Alexis. I spun around, squinting through the shadowy hall. The young man was gone.
Priam and Hecuba reclined on their thrones, observing their party though never fully participating. The queen had a tortured expression, as if she'd rather be tucked in bed reading a good book than face the draining party. But when Paris sat heavily next to her, that expression turned to warmth. She always regarded Paris like a delicate thing, as if he'd break or dissolve if she looked away. There was no denying that she loved her son, even if she did try to kill him when he was a baby.
"My child," she sighed, smoothing the hair from his shining forehead. "How much have you had to drink?"
Paris shrugged, the torch lights catching the glimmer of wine in his eyes. I scanned the hall again for the stranger before dropping into the seat next to Paris. From the head table, the party looked like a theatre production. No one wandered close to the table but they drank and partied all their cares away. I'd lost track of Hector a while ago, and I wondered if he and Andromache snuck away.
"Are you having a lovely time, Alexis?"
I tore my eyes away from the party, surprised by the acknowledgement. Hecuba and I had spent little time together, even if we had been segregated together. She had her own tasks as head of the household to deal with. She didn't bother with guests like myself. To no surprise from anyone, Priam was still cold, and I had yet to find a way to approach him without making a fool of myself. Could be the whole kingly title or the way he looked down his nose at me. Or the way his eyes seemed to bore into my soul, rooting through my deepest, darkest secrets. Pretty sure he was bound to figure out before everyone else that I was not from his time.
For the record, I wasn't too fond of him either.
"Yes, I am, thank you," I smiled.
Paris caught a slave carrying a jug of wine.
"This is Alexis' first Trojan party," he piped up, watching the slave pour the wine intensely.
"It seems to be yours as well," Priam said, raising his eyebrows. "Are you sure you haven't enough wine, boy?"
Paris shrugged again and took a hearty drink of his wine. I had no doubt he was spiting his father. "I've been to parties before and I'm fine, father."
Hecuba sighed and glanced at me. She leaned in as if we were two friends trading secrets. "I have yet to say this, but I do appreciate you bringing my son back to me. He told me it was your idea to come home."
Home. I felt my chest tighten with homesickness. This wasn't Paris' home any more than it was mine. It would only corrupt us both.
"You're welcome. I guess."
"Where did you say you were from, dear?" she asked.
"Oh, I didn't—"
"Your accent is not Grecian, nor is it from other parts of Anatolia." Hecuba tilted her head, staring at me with those crystalized eyes. She was smiling, her words motherly, but those eyes were sharpened, ready to cut.
A sharp pain knocked against my skull, drowning out the party. Home—where was home, anyway? I could have sworn I had the answer. I know I came from the future...
"I'm from far away," I said, though I wasn't sure if that was the right answer. "If you'll excuse me, I need to use the bathro—uh, relieve myself."
A confused "Alexis?" from Paris followed me as I rushed away from the table, pushing my way through the crowd. The pain in my head was like someone taking a hammer and pounding a nail into my skull.
I stumbled into the hallway, the crisp air rushing into my lungs like a surprised gasp. I pressed my hands against my temples, a hot, iron taste filling my mouth.
"Alexis? Alexis are you alright?"
One hand gripped my shoulder while another found purchase against my cheek. Through blurring tears I saw Andromache, looking lovely in a royal navy peplos, her hair beaded with delicate jewels to catch the light. Her makeup was softer than mine, more natural-looking, and she had no baby resting on her hip.
She was alone.
Already the headache was subsiding, growing into a distant memory.
I wiped my eyes and smiled shakily at her. "I-I'm fine," I mumbled, forcing myself to straighten. "I just needed some air."
I'd always imagined she was older than me, but looking at her now, she was young, in her early twenties maybe.
"These parties always get carried away," Andromache said. "But it's the last night before the convoy leaves, so they should make the most of it."
"Where's Hector?" I looked around. Wherever Andromache was, Hector was never far behind.
"Hector is with our son. He wants to spend as much time with Astyanax as he can before he leaves. I was about to bring them both some food."
That was both surprising and not. Rather than spend his last few hours in Troy drinking himself into a coma, Hector would rather spend time with his wife and child. I felt a little more respect for the Trojan hero.
"He really loves you both, doesn't he."
Andromache's face always softened when she spoke of her family, much as it did now. She nodded, her hands clasped in front of her. "Ilios always comes first for him, but I know I'm the one who has heart." She smiled and, in a sudden gesture of acceptance, placed a hand on my arm. "I hope you and Paris will have a similar love as ours. Hector is only hard on Paris because he loves him and wants to see him succeed. I want the same for you, Alexis."
"Wow, that's—" the words caught in my throat. After days of glares, cold shoulders and non-committal replies, her confession is disarming. I can't bring myself to correcting her either, and instead smile and take the win. "Thank you, Andromache."
"Are you well enough? I could have someone escort you back to your room."
I wasn't sure what she meant by "well enough." I felt fine. Better than fine, actually, though that could have been the wine. "No–no it's okay. I should get back to the party and check on Paris." I smiled. "Right, well, see you around, Andromache."
"Have a good night, Alexis," she said, studying me with a doubtful frown.
I lingered in the hall as Andromache drifted away, the wine and party adrenaline weighing my head down. The coolness of the evening breeze drifting through the pillared entrance braced me for the sweltering heat from within the hall. If I went to my room, would anyone even notice? Paris would find ways to entertain himself and Priam would no doubt be thrilled I was out of the way.