A/N: Thanks for the feedback! I know this chapter is cutting it a bit close to my self-imposed deadline, but I hope it's worth the wait.

Chapter Twenty-six: A Lesser Man

I do not remember walking to the Tower of Ilium that day. I do recall leaving Oenone's house, feeling lost and abandoned. I could think of no way to alleviate this new burden. The thought of revealing my childish envy to Hector was shameful. These were feelings I would normally confide to Oenone, but she was the source of my grief. The only person I seriously considered speaking to was Cassandra, but comfort was what I wanted, and in my experience, Cassandra's words were rarely soothing. Instead, I chose a comforting place to ease my pain.

By the time I reached the top of the tower, my limbs felt like lead, and my skin was damp with perspiration. I sank down with my back against the parapet and wept. The tears that spattered on the uneven stone floor would be the first of many to stain the same spot over the years. I sobbed until I had no tears left. And, just as would happen in the future, I was left with an aching head and a foolish feeling. I will not pretend I overcame my envy that afternoon—indeed, I had to stifle jealousy throughout Oenone's pregnancy. But I came to realize that I would loathe myself if I could not at least pretend to be happy for my friend. She could not help the timing of her firstborn. That was in the hands of the gods; cruel though they could be.

On shaking legs, I stood. In my hurry to leave the citadel, I had forgotten to bring a veil, and I wished for it then. My face felt tender after nearly an hour under the blazing light of Helios. The skin around my eyes was swollen and irritated as well, so I did not wish to encounter anyone I knew on the way back to the palace. If a servant had spied me in that state, it would have fueled their frequent gossip sessions for days. In order to avoid such people, I stayed away from the main paths and marketplaces, choosing instead to take the narrow paths between quiet houses. I had never tread those streets before.

Within a quarter hour of leaving the tower, I was hopelessly lost. I was aware that somehow, I had ended up in one of the few dilapidated areas of the city. I was careful when passing a seedy tavern, but it was abandoned that early in the afternoon. I would have stopped any stranger I encountered and asked them to direct me to the citadel, but I saw no one but a young girl and her wooden doll. When I asked her if her mother or father was home, she smiled shyly and hid in a doorway. I could hear her giggles following me as I continued in what I hoped was the direction of the palace.

Soon I was desperate enough to consider demanding aid. If I shouted that the princess of Troy needed assistance immediately, surely someone would appear and guide me to the palace? I could not think of a better plan. Sighing, I placed my hands on my hips and prepared to scream. As I parted my lips, my eyes focused on a flash of gold-tinged, perfectly groomed curls in the distance. Lifting my skirts, I sprinted forward, grinning as I affirmed the identity of my rescuer.

"Paris!" I gasped out. He was leaning against a doorway with his back to me, but I knew it was he. Who else, besides baby Troilius, had so much gold in their hair? I moved closer—I was too far away for him to hear me. And then the door he was standing next to opened, and I was left speechless.

The girl who appeared on the steps was no more than sixteen years of age; somehow, I doubted she was married. She was pretty, with sleek black hair and long limbs. Her smile managed to look both coy and innocent. There were no words exchanged. In an instant, Paris' hands entangled themselves in her hair. His seductive smirk disappeared as his lips met hers. Then they disappeared through the doorway, slamming the door, and leaving the street empty.

My feet moved too quickly for me to control; my mind was struggling to accept this new truth. I was no stranger to the idea of mistresses. My father had had many. But in Troy, I had not seen nor heard evidence of any royal men having mistresses, save for Priam. It was a man's right, and I imagined that most of the princes had women they visited whenever they wished. But I assumed that because Paris had Oenone, he had no interest in other women.

How wrong I was.

As far as I can tell, that girl was one of his first affairs in Troy. In the early days, he went to great lengths to keep his women a secret. Over time, though, he grew careless. He made little attempt to veil his escapades with various maids, but he did not stop there. Often his brothers would have to defend him to angry men of Troy—soldiers, merchants, and sailors—who claimed they had caught Paris with their wives. Over the years, the royal family learned to overlook his numerous affairs, even to jest about them—myself included. I caught Paris with maids on a number of occasions and it eventually became something that I came to expect from him. I did not condone these affairs, but came to realize that he was no better a man than that. But that day was my introduction to the lecherous side of my new brother, and it left me shocked and disturbed.

By sunset, I gave up trying to reach the citadel. I was far from the street where Paris was, and completely disoriented. I sat stiffly on a broken parapet and watched the sun disappear into the ocean, leaving wispy trails of coppery orange in its wake. In the distance, I could see the Tower of Ilium, but I was too weary to puzzle out a route to it. Instead, I waited. I know it sounds silly, but I had faith that Hector would find me. It did not matter that I never visited that part of the city, or that my husband probably did not expect me to stray far from our home that day. Had you known Hector, you would understand his fierce protection of the ones he loved. It was that protection that I relied on.

Before the sun fully immersed itself in Poseidon's cool waves, I heard hurried footfalls behind me. I unfolded my hands to smooth my skirt and spoke in a voice that sounded too flat to belong to me. "I'm lost," I informed my husband. My cowardice kept me from turning toward him, but it did not stop him. He stood directly in front of me with his arms crossed, staring down into my face.

"You certainly are," he acknowledged, the anger in his voice grating. I locked my eyes on the dusty ground, avoiding his. "Tell me, my wife, what it was that drove you to explore regions of the city that the nobles avoid."

If I had wanted an argument, I would not have made such an effort to hold in a scathing remark about certain members of nobility who undoubtedly visited the area more frequently than I. Reason won out over my frustration. I would not be the one to lower Hector's esteem of his brother; in time, Paris would do that well enough on his own.

"I did not mean to visit these areas," I said evenly. "I went for a walk and lost my way."

"And you did not think to have someone more familiar with the city accompany you?"

His barely restrained rage was more than I could handle after such an emotionally tiring day. "I wished to be alone," I snapped, rising from my seat on the parapet. "I want nothing more than to return home. Will you take me there?"

The ire in his hard eyes flickered at my words, and the muscles along his jaw tensed. With obviously forced calm, he gestured toward a narrow, ragged opening between two walls. It had escaped my attention entirely. I marched through it, feeling his body only a step behind mine. We continued in strained silence for some time. Then the alley split in two, and I hesitated.

"This way," Hector said softly, taking my hand to guide me toward the left. He was significantly calmer than he had been, and I was relieved. The silence lingered as we wandered the tortuous alley, but it was comfortable. I marveled at the way my husband navigated the labyrinthine turns of the alley. If not for his presence, I would have felt more hopelessly lost than I had all day.

"Are you unhappy?" he asked abruptly, slowing his pace. "Do you miss Thebe?"

In truth, I had not thought much about my old home, and my memories of the place were not as vivid as they had been. It had taken over a year, but I had come to fully accept Troy as my home. "No. I no longer think of Thebe as my home."

He shoved his free hand through his already chaotic curls. "Did Cassandra make some sort of prophecy, then? Did you argue with Oenone? Are you angry with me for being absent so often, or is it that you prefer my absence—"

"Hector, stop."

He halted completely and turned his distressed gaze to me, but continued his frustrated questions. "Which is it, Andromache? I thought we had overcome this. If you feel you must travel as far from the palace as possible to find peace…I am concerned. You could have been harmed—"

"Oenone is with child."

I meant to infuse my tone with joy, but I sounded more ill than happy. My words were supposed to divert Hector from finding fault with himself or our marriage, but as soon as they left my lips, I knew they would have the opposite effect. He blinked slowly and bit his lip, looking more like a confused child than a grown man.

I had been so absorbed in my own dreams of parenthood that I'd completely overlooked his. Perhaps he felt no envy, but he certainly felt the same deep pain that struck me so keenly. A bright flush spread rapidly across his face, and he turned away from me. Realization jolted through me, leaving my stomach in coils.

Surely he wasn't blaming himself for our childlessness?

If anything, I believed I was somehow at fault, but I knew instinctively that arguing this would only make him feel worse. If he discovered how sorry I was that we lacked the child I longed for, he would not easily forgive himself. Thus, in my shock at seeing my powerful husband so vulnerable, I made a decision to lie to him. I would pretend that Oenone's joy brought me no pain. I would say nothing of my desire for a child of my own; and hopefully, my act would make Hector stronger.

"Surely you can abandon your princely restraint long enough to show your enthusiasm," I chirped, pleased that I was able to accomplish a cheery voice with little effort. "I can hardly wait for the little prince or princess to be born! You'll be an uncle, Hector!"

His bleary eyes showed that my false excitement left him completely unaffected. I guessed his anguished thoughts: uncle is a far cry from father. But I would not give up.

"Well, you'll be one of forty-nine uncles; but you will be the child's favorite. I wonder how early Oenone will consent to allowing her child to sit upon a horse?" I mused, searching his face for some sign that my act was serving its purpose. He still appeared to be agonized by the news, but now he was obviously confused by my cheeriness. "We can dote on the babe, and it will be such fun! Best of all, we will not be woken in the night by its cries. I do not envy Paris and Oenone the task of soothing their cranky child at night!"

His expression remained flat, but he expelled a long breath. "I suppose I should congratulate the fortunate couple," he muttered. Already he was assuming the demeanor of a proud uncle and burying his torment deep within him. "I am surprised Paris has not shouted the happy news all throughout the city."

As it turned out, Paris did not even announce the news at the evening meal. Hector and I did not make it to the palace in time for supper, and I was ravenous. I ordered a maid to bring us a platter of fruit and dried meat, although Hector said he was not hungry. When the servant delivered the meal to our chambers, I casually asked if there had been anything of interest at the dinner that we had missed.

The maid was clearly disappointed that when asked for gossip, she could not provide it. "Little was said of your absences, my lord and lady. Princess Oenone missed the meal yet again, and Prince Paris also did not attend. Nothing of interest occurred, to my knowledge."

Hector frowned, evidently disapproving of my means of gathering information. I dismissed the girl and tore into a fresh date.

"Perhaps she has not told Paris the news," Hector mused, pacing across the room.

I swallowed a bite of the sweet fruit. "I am sure she's told him. It is strange that he chose not to announce it, but maybe he wishes to wait until his wife is well enough to join him."

"That could be," he agreed, but still he paced. His anxiety served to increase my exhaustion.

"Speak to him if you think something is amiss, love, but do not worry so much," I requested finally, placing the platter by the door before curling up on the bed. His measured steps matched the rhythm of my heart, and provided a calm beat that eased me into a warm sleep. Soon, though, the pacing stopped, and against my will, I sped toward full consciousness. I felt Hector's broad hand caress my temple and then it too was gone. When I managed to pry my eyes open, the room was empty.

As weary as I was, I could not fall asleep again. I dozed fitfully until the crash of the bedchamber door opening made me shoot into a sitting position. "Hector?" I shrieked, but it was not his voice I heard. The source of the soft sobbing became clear when a blur of tear-soaked white robes flew onto the bed next to me, much as I had barged in on her earlier that day.

"Oenone, darling, what's the matter?" She clung to my gown, dampening it with her tears. She looked no better than she had that morning. Internally, I was in a state of panic. Had she learned of Paris' affair? I could not bear to see her so hurt.

"He's leaving," she sniffled.

I stroked her hair soothingly, though I did not understand the situation. "Did you tell him your news?" She nodded into my robe. "And was he excited?"

"He is ecstatic," she admitted. "I have never seen him so happy. But then he told me that he is leaving."

My hand continued squeezing hers, but I frowned, suddenly worried. "Hector has said nothing of a voyage."

Oenone met my eyes, miserable. "Hector is not going. Priam has assigned Paris to be an ambassador, of sorts. I do not understand it! It's some sort of position for his second son, and it is important."

"Priam does not know of your pregnancy, Oenone. When he finds out, he will delay this voyage, whatever it is. Paris would never want to leave you, especially not at a time like this." I did not know if there was truth in my words or not. Among Priam's sons, Hector held almost all the power. Though the competition was understated, each brother struggled to make his worth known to the family, especially their father. I could not imagine Paris giving up whatever opportunity Priam had offered him.

Thankfully, she believed my tale. "Do you think he will stay?" she murmured, her words shaky.

"I am sure of it. And he will be so enthusiastic about your baby that you will wish he had gone instead."

"I hope so," she sighed, sitting up.

"Stay here until Hector returns. You don't want the servants to see you and spread rumors, do you? Stay until you calm down."

When Hector returned, he did not question Oenone's presence in our bedchamber. He kindly escorted her home. I concentrated on staying awake and alert until he entered again, leaning against the closed door and sighing.

"Come to bed," I pleaded, alarmed by the shadows under his eyes. He obliged, listlessly moving to the bed and lying beside me, gazing at the ceiling. I propped myself up on my elbows when he did not close his eyes. "Sleep."

"I cannot," he said blankly. "My father is a fool."

I had never heard Hector speak a word against his father. "Oenone said he had some sort of assignment for Paris?"

"He made Paris an ambassador for Troy," he said, in a dark, mocking tone I had never heard from him.

I traced a line from his wrist to his shoulder with one finger. "I don't understand why this upsets you."

"He is a fool!" he spat, an ember of rage in his eyes. "Paris has none of the qualities of an ambassador. My father wants to send him, on behalf of Troy, to negotiate treaties with other kings. Tell me, can you imagine Paris calmly spending days dealing with kings?"

I imagined Hector's new brother impatiently discussing trade routes with stubborn kings, and felt nauseous.

"No. My dear brother has little knowledge of politics," he continued disgustedly. "And he has even less knowledge of diplomacy and court behavior. How will he know what is best for Troy, when he has spent most of his life in the mountains? And will he be polite and firm when a negotiation does not go his way? His temper will get the best of him, and we will end up with more enemies than we have now."

"Your father is an intelligent man," I argued, though now I was less sure. "He will not send him off without training and help."

"He is instructing him on the details before he leaves," Hector replied, his voice a low growl. "But his first mission will not be easy, and even with a lifetime in Trojan court I doubt he would be prepared. He is going to Sparta, to discuss the problem of trade."

I knew enough about Trojan control of the Hellespont, and all trade to and from India and Egypt, to understand the enormity of the situation. However, I did not know anything of a specific situation involving Sparta. "What did Sparta do?"

"Sparta has always resented us for our location," Hector said simply. "They hate the ship fees they have to pay, and the control we have over Eastern goods. But ever since King Menelaus came to power, they have given us more problems. He is the brother of the High King of Mycenae, and they have joined together in an attempt to force us to lower our ship fees, and perhaps trade more with them."

"What sort of attempts?"

"Two years ago Spartan ships rammed two of our warships, trying to get through the strait without paying the fee. Our ships caught up, of course, and we exacted a suitable price." I shuddered a little, wondering how gruesome this payment had been. "They have not been so foolish since, but they do attack smaller shore towns in the Troad."

I was beginning to understand the graveness of the situation. "Have you tried to negotiate before?"

"Only casually. Both nations are too stubborn to reach a suitable agreement."

"But your father trusts that Paris can accomplish something," I concluded, doubt seeping into my voice. "I hope Oenone can convince him to stay.

"He will not give up a chance to appear important," Hector sighed. "He will not think twice about leaving his wife to pursue a chance at recognition.'

I rose to extinguish the torches. Night settled in, as heavy as our thoughts. Already Paris had proven that he was not the man we first thought him to be, and now Troy's relations with Sparta rested in his hands. However, I still clung to the hope that he would return a better man, or, in truth, simply a man at all. Perhaps he would make a fine ambassador for Troy. And if he did not, Aeneas could salvage the situation.

We never dreamed that Paris could do so much damage.