Twenty-Nine
When I'd long lost track of time and my body sagged under the weight of sleep, Zoisme's voice wafted through the dark, tugging me into consciousness. I had taken to rubbing the little acorn Dryope gave me. The little nut was so small and simple, yet it had become something of a worry stone.
"Is it true what they said?" she whispered.
"What did they say?" I shot back, though I already had an inkling I knew.
"That you were kissing Master Paris," Zoisme replied in a flat voice.
Silence filled the space between us. For a long while, the gentle rocking of the boat, the creaking groans of the wooden hull grew from white noise to oppressive. The small space was confining and I was suddenly crawling out of my skin. An urge to escape was strong, to run away from the conversation that was being presented to me.
I stared at my lap, though I couldn't make out my fingers, let alone the acorn. I'd long since grown used to the dark that encompassed us. At first it was terrifying—I'm pretty sure a rat scampered across my foot—but then my thoughts wandered, and I found it the perfect for thinking. Now it added an extra protection from Zoisme.
"We didn't kiss," I sighed, resting my head against the wall. "Paris literally only kissed me on the forehead. Hardly counts as anything."
"That doesn't matter. It is an indecent act for an unmarried woman to be seen with a man, let alone a prince of Ilios. You're already not in good standing with the anax and queen. And now that you are a fugitive, if you are caught, you will suffer the consequences."
"They wanted me to marry him," I protested. The dark was suddenly suffocating. "I can't marry him, Zoisme."
"Yet, you are infatuated with him."
The statement hung in the air like a hot ray of sunlight. She had said it so matter-of-factly that it knocked me off balance. "Why would you say that?"
From within the dark came the ruffle of fine material and a soft sigh. "It is as obvious as the infatuation Paris has for you. You would make a fine match, Alexis, and it would not be so bad to be a princess of Troy. You could do a lot worse."
"I can't marry him."
"Why not?" Her question made me hesitate a second too long for her liking. She sighed again and I imagined her staring at the far wall, her face twisted in deep thought. "If you really cannot marry him, think of your reputation. You will be seen as a harlot chasing after a prince. You spurn marriage and you ruin your chances at a decent life."
I bit back a snarky response. I didn't care about my reputation. It wasn't like I was sticking around forever. "I don't intend on sticking around for long. That's why we're here, hiding on a ship that will take us to Greece. There I will find what I need to take me home." And if Zeus insists on being difficult, I knew how to force him.
Zoisme must have read my thoughts. "If it's not for your reputation, think of Paris. He is allowed to have fun, but if he shows interest in someone, it should be within his class."
Paris did have a lot more to lose than I did in this world, even though men were allowed to sleep around. Blending in was proving not to be my strong suit, which meant I was a target for speculation. And, because I was associated with Paris, people would probably be making assumptions about him as well. He was a nobleman, and I was, well, just Alexis.
"You're right," I sighed, "and I don't intend on stringing him along. I just need to get to Greece and then you won't have to worry about me and our reputations."
Our conversation came to a screeching halt when heavy sets of feet stomped over us. I felt Zoisme stiffen and I cowered back into the wall. The ceiling groaned under the added weight and we heard husky, muffled orders being thrown about. A familiar voice chimed in, though it was too low to make out any words and my grip tightened around the acorn. Hector was on board, which meant, so was Paris.
The trap door creaked as it was thrown open, light spilling into the centre of the room. We were pressed into the shadows, though the sudden brightness made my eyes burn. I searched for Zoisme and our fingers twined together. She nudged me with her shoulder, a silent gesture to remain quiet. Someone descended the small stairs, weighed down by the crates. From our hiding place we couldn't see anything, and I prayed that whoever was coming into the storeroom would drop the supplies and leave.
"Did you hear about the young prince's whore?" came a gruff voice.
"Oh, the one who escaped this morning?"
"Yes. I heard she had a strange disposition. Hector is relieved she's gone. Caused too much of a headache for the king and queen."
"With their mysterious son showing up out of nowhere, I don't blame them."
My fingers squeezed the acorn, its little apex digging into the palm of my hand. Sensing my irritation, Zoisme squeezed my other hand, a silent gesture of support and warning.
"I've heard rumours about the pretty prince... how he fancies his drink and the company of women a little too much..."
The door slammed shut, cutting off their conversation. Luck was on our side. Nothing happened, aside from the anxious adrenaline coursing through my veins the entire time. The men deposited the rest of the supplies swiftly, without so much as a glance around the storeroom. Zoisme and I sagged in relief. I pressed a hand to my cheek, the heat from the tension enough to burn my flesh. Their words stung like nettles and I forced myself to take deep, long breaths to steady my emotions.
Activity overhead had grown until the only thing we could hear were the stomping, running and yelling from the crew. I no longer heard Hector, and we were forced to sit quietly as the ship was prepared for departure.
At some point, I must have dozed off again, for the boat gave a lurch and I toppled over. My shoulder hit the ground, the sharp pain startling me awake. It was a miracle the acorn stayed in my hand. Gently I tucked it back into the deep fold of my gown and picked myself up.
"What's happening?" I gasped, rubbing my shoulder.
"We're leaving," Zoisme replied.
I glanced at the ceiling, my stomach knotting. My plan had actually worked! We were on our way and no one had caught us. I pressed my hands to my mouth to contain the squeal of delight that almost slipped. And then the boat dipped and that delight soured into nausea. There was a splash of water against the far wall, and a round of cries from above.
A flurry of images flashed through my mind. The ship capsizing. Plummeting into the icy depths of the Aegean Sea. I'd be buried in the sea, never to return home again.
"Oh, god." I squeezed my eyes shut against the acid coming up my throat. "This is how we die, isn't it?"
Zoisme clicked her tongue. "No. Not at all. The waves must be higher than anticipated. They will even out."
"How do you know that?" I whined, and then groaned again. "I think I'm going to be sick..."
"Have you never been on a ship before?" Zoisme's voice was laced with confusion and I realized that my whole lie was built around coming to Troy from distant lands. Which she knew, since Paris told anyone and everyone to explain my strangeness.
"Uh... yeah, about that. I didn't actually come from the sea," I replied. My voice sounded weak and Zoisme was forced to lean in closer to hear me. "We travelled by land. Way safer and better than this."
"You will grow accustomed to the sea soon enough," Zoisme assured me, though her voice was stiff. "For now, close your eyes and steady your breathing. Once Master Paris has deemed it safe, he will come fetch us. Some fresh air will do you some good as well."
Even though it was dark, all I could muster was a nod. I leaned my head on the rough wooden wall. My stomach was rolling and sloshing in tandem with the waves outside, which never truly settled. Paris hadn't told me how long we would be in the storage room. I felt the urge to run up the stairs and into the fresh, salty air, if not to ease the nausea.
"How long until we reach Greece?" I asked.
"It'll be just close to three days to reach Sparta," Zoisme replied. "Sailing there will be easy if Poseidon is on our side, though we'll likely have to camp on nearby islands at night." She must have read my mind because she added quickly, "the waters are dangerous at night and Poseidon's whim is swift and unpredictable. It is safer for us to camp at night on land."
A night on land? I would take that over seasickness any day.
****
An eternity had passed. We filled the time with a spattering of conversation, mostly light and casual. Zoisme opened up a bit more about her family, explaining she had come from a land of densely packed forests that hid ferocious beasts only found within legends. She had been a horse tamer in her former life, skilled with a bow and arrow.
As she spoke, a little voice in the back of my mind pondered if she was really telling the truth. Perhaps she was trying to distract me or fill the void with stories. Whatever the truth was, however, I couldn't determine.
The intense rocking of the sea outside gave way to something calmer, though the boat never stopped rocking. My stomach cried for sustenance but when Zoisme offered me some bread, a surge of nausea hit. I drank all the water I could, which sat unpleasantly in my stomach. All the while, there was a steady rumble of footsteps, yelling and banging from above.
In an attempt to placate the seasickness, I dozed on and off. My butt had long since gone numb, my legs stiff from their folded position. The stagnant, salty air was heavy and warm, and the cured meats, oils and wines from the supplies mingled to create a thick aroma that clung to my skin. I'd long since adjusted to the dark, and could make out faint outlines of shapes around the room. Zoisme shifted beside me, her soft breathing indicating she was sleeping.
Just when I thought I couldn't take hiding anymore, a pair of light treading footsteps approached the trapdoor. I nudged Zoisme gently as the door creaked open. Another flood of sunlight spilled into the room, this time sharper and more burning than the last. However, by that time, the light was darker, heavier, bruised by the night. We'd been travelling longer than I expected. A whole day concealed within the cramped storage room.
"Alexis?" came a soft, coaxing voice.
I sat up, my heart flipping into my throat, relief and elation swelling like a balloon. Zoisme stretched and rolled her shoulders. When I climbed to my feet, every joint and bone cracked and popped, my feet tingling from sleep. When I took a step, the boat dipped and I stumbled forward, into Paris' arms.
He was sun-kissed, his touch hot. He smelled like the spray of the sea, crisp and salty, the sun adding a hint of spice. His arms were sure and steady as he held me and I melted into him. In the heavy-lidded light, I saw excitement pinching his soft cheeks, the sparkle of an adventure in those chocolate eyes. He was dark with a tan, his blue peplos wrinkled and damp from life on the ship. With the gold-leafed circlet resting on his dark curls, he looked like a proper prince of the sea.
But there was something lurking just under the surface of his excitement. The faint bruising under his eyes, a chasing aroma of wine on his breath. I recalled the conversation the two members of the crew had earlier. Paris fancies his drink...
The warning from Zoisme rang in my head but now that I was with Paris, it seemed irrelevant.
"Are you alright?" he muttered.
"Yeah, totally," I replied. My voice was hoarse. "Are you alright?"
Cracks formed on the edges of his expression. If I reached forward I could chip away at the cracks, revealing the vulnerable truth. He smoothed his expression quickly, and gave me a forced, sunny smile. He lifted my hand, his lips brushing my knuckles. Despite the luxury he was now afforded, his hands were calloused and rough. The last traces of the shepherd prince he'd been when I first met him.
"Much better now," he said. "Although, we must now face my brother. He is in an amicable mood, though it is unpredictable like the sea." My blood chilled, though there was nothing Hector could do now except either throw me overboard or take me to Greece. I wasn't sure he wouldn't do the former option. "I'm sorry it took me so long to fetch you. We have been busy with the ship, although we are preparing to dock for the evening. Trojans must be careful not to push Poseidon's goodwill."
Land. Oh, how I wanted to be on steady ground. I collected the fabric of my gown and straightened my back. I stepped into the darkening light and looked up to see an ombre sky, the first traces of stars blinking awake. There was no point in delaying the inevitable now. Time to face Hector.
"Great," I said, setting my jaw with determination, "let's get this over with."