STARS LIGHT THE path laid out before them. Though from where Alexios lies, one star shines out all the brighter. She has stars in her eyes, clusters of them shining bright. He reaches for her hand —lazily resting on his chest. "Are you ready to return to Sparta?" Irene asks, glancing down at him, his head resting on her thigh.
He draws in a deep breath and brings her palm to his lips. "I don't think I'll ever be ready," he admits. On the slopes of Mount Taygetos, his life had been forfeit —a boy with the courage to stand up for his baby sister. His life had begun and ended in Sparta all thanks to the false prophecy delivered through the Pythia at the Cult's bidding. He'd come back a blade with no name —a misthios— and now he would tear down those who tore his family apart. Irene smooths her fingers over his brow.
The Eagle Bearer feels a strange sensation in his stomach as the Adrestria enters the Lakonikos Kolpos. Barnabas tells him they are entering Spartan waters. It should feel like a homecoming, but all he remembers is the bottom of Mount Taygetos. Irene stays at Alexios' side, her hand resting atop his —thumb running over his knuckles. It helps soothe his troubled mind but does nothing to calm the storm brewing within her. She bears no love for Persia asides from the old general who raised her and her house by the sea, but Persian blood flows through her veins, and Sparta has a keen dislike of all things foreign.
Come midday, the Lakonian coastline is in clear sight. Myrrine's ship is already moored in Gytheion, a small fishing village south of the polis. The Adrestria docks next to the Siren Song. Irene dares not step foot onto the dock, let alone on Spartan soil. "I will stay with the ship and crew," she tells Alexios. He frowns, oblivious to her trepidations. Alexios wants her by his side. "What if they discover who I am?" She asks, voice hardly above a whisper. Irene imagines the animosity Spartans must feel toward Persians since Leonidas' death have not lessened in time. If it is true the Cult has infiltrated the highest rankings of the Peloponnese League, she expects they will have no qualm about handing her over to the Order either.
Alexios finds it easy to forget who she is—she's of noble birth, both a princess and a demigoddess— but to him, she's just Irene. The headstrong and benignant woman he loves. He presses his forehead against hers, taking both her hands. "I can protect you," Alexios murmurs. So long as he has breath in his breast, he will not let the princess come to harm.
Irene smiles, nuzzling his nose with hers. "Against all of Sparta?" She asks softly, threading her fingers through his. His kiss is slow and filled with longing though they have yet to part. Myrrine waits on the dock with her arms crossed, impatient. Alexios kisses her forehead and steps onto the dock too.
"I'll tell Ikaros to keep a watchful eye." On cue, the golden eagle dives down and perches at the railing next to Irene. Myrrine motions for him to follow and he does, though he spares one last look back at the Adrestia —Irene is stroking Ikaros' feathers, smiling at the proud bird.
IKAROS SWOOPS DOWN toward the deck, squawking. Clutched in his talons is a bundle of narcissus and asphodel flowers. "Are those for me, Ikaros?" The eagle cheeps, dropping the flowers at her feet before perching on the helm's railing. Irene scoops up the small bouquet and scratches the feathers on the underside of Ikaros' neck. His wings spread a fraction and he coos like a pigeon. "Do you think he's okay without you watching his back?" The golden eagle cocks his head to the side and bounces from foot-to-foot on the railing.
"So little faith," the Eagle Bearer laughs. Irene turns from Ikaros and smiles. In two strides, Alexios has her in his arms again. They'd only been parted for five days, but after having one another as a constant presence for almost two years, it felt like a short lifetime. Irene rests her hand on his cheek, skimming over his him for any new injuries —there aren't any.
Soon after Alexios returns, the Adrestia pushes away from the dock and back into the Lakonikos Kolpos. The Two Kings of Sparta have each given him a task to complete, both are nearly impossible but it is the only way to prove loyalty to the nation that doomed him as a boy. Pausanias requests a Spartan victory in the Olympics, and Archidemos wants Boeotia secured for Sparta. In return, the Two Kings will release his childhood home and reinstate both his and his mother's citizenship.
Though the Spartan grip on Boeotia slips each day, it is the Sanctuary in Olympia they must sail to first. The Eagle Bearer has been charged with escorting the Spartan pankration champion, Testikles, from a small isle off of Messenia to the games. The brute of a man believes oiled muscles grant him the strength of Herakles. He's perhaps the most un-Spartan Spartan Irene has ever met, fond of humor and pranks and wine. Barnabas and most of the crew are enamored with the Olympic Champion. Though Irene swears if they do not arrive in Elis by the day's end then she will be the one to defeat the contender to spare her ears from his constant and repetitive gibbering.
Alexios laughs at Irene's annoyance then offers himself up as a sparring partner —to help the champion limber up before the games. Testikles has a few flashes of brilliance, leaping, kicking, grappling, and throwing Alexios to the deck. The Eagle Bearer is quick to rise back onto his feet, falling back into a boxer's pose, fists raised and ready. The champion's head swings around to Barnabas, cheering, and Herodotus chanting an old Spartan poem. Alexios' fist whirls around and cracks Testikles on the jaw. He falls like a stone, then wakes moments later, demanding sweet wine and someone to oil his muscles.
Alkibiades is waiting on the docks, eyeing another pankration fighter —the reigning champion— when they depart the Adrestia, Testikles in tow. "Irene, my sweetling!" The Athenian cries, the scent of wine heavy on his breath. It's been too long since he saw his dearest princess and her misthios. She returns Allie's embrace and laughs at the sloppy, quick kiss he places on her cheek. His attention turns to Alexios and the Spartan champion.
Testikles marches forward, gleaming at the praise and applause from those gathering on the dock. Their cheers are a bandage for his wounded pride after having lost to the Eagle Bearer. "I likes to be oiled!" He proclaims, rubbing his meaty hands over his stomach.
"We that's obvious." Alexios rolls his eyes, arms crossed. Irene and Herodotus exchanged worried looks, the champion is in no state to compete —it's likely not even a night's sleep could rid all the wine from Testikles massive frame —oiled muscles do not hold the key to sobriety.
The brute laughs. "You knows," Testikles smiles, spreading his arms wide and lurches forward at Alexios. He deftly steps out of the way, never expecting for one moment it could go so wrong. The fool trips on a coil of rope and platter of fruit then pitches forward. A mighty splash and plume of water bring several more bystanders to the edge of the dock.
"Testikles?" Barnabas calls.
Nothing.
Then the tip of a black-fin breaks the surface next to the dock before submerging again. All stare, aghast as the water blossomed red in the moonlight. A few air bubbles rise, then Testikles' dirty loincloth and shreds of his exomis float to the surface.
"Looks like you're the champion now," Alkibiades remarks, tapping Alexios on the shoulder. Irene steps back from the edge of the dock and pats Barnabas on the back as he mourns for the champion. "Why don't you rest for the night in the guesthouse?" Allie proposes, looking between the misthios and princess. "We'll leave for the Sanctuary of Olympia at first light."
Allie's offer is one they cannot refuse. The villa in Kyllene is a comfortable change after having spent so much time on the Adrestia. Irene slips off her linothorax cuirass, laying it next to her kopis and broken spear. She can hear Alexios and Alkibiades discussing the games in the courtyard as she settles back among a pile of floor cushions and pillows.
The princess is asleep when Alexios slides into the room —she looks serene caught in the realm of Hypnos. He pulls off his armor, sinking into the palette at Irene's side with a contented sigh. If every day could end with him lying next to her —he wouldn't care what the fates threw at him. She shifts, sensing his presence, and seeking out his warmth. Alexios wraps Irene in his arms, kissing her temple and tucking her head beneath his chin. He can vaguely feel her lips twitch into a smile against his chest.
Alexios is left with no choice but to take the Spartan champion's place in the pankration. Sparta would need to be represented in every event if they stood a chance of winning the games. Irene finds him before the event starts. She isn't supposed to be in the contestant quarters, but it isn't her fault the guards are indolent. Her hands go to the closures of his cuirass, unknotting the ties. Alexios recognizes the nimble fingers immediately and turns on the stool to face her. "Come to watch me win?" He asks, smirking.
She scoffs, catching the breastplate before it can hit the ground. "Come to watch someone chip a few pieces off your ego." Alexios frowns as her hands slide down his arms, working the laces of his vambraces loose and slipping them from his forearms.
"Irene," he laments, one hand gripping onto her thigh.
"Alexios," she says in the same chiding tone, but then her expression softens. The princess takes his face into her hands and kisses his forehead. "Don't die."
Alkibiades notices her leaving the contender's quarters and calls her over. The pankration will begin soon, and he wants to be sure Irene has a good view to watch her misthios climb the ranks and emerge a champion. He escorts her to the front row of the stadium. Leander, the event overseer, quickly takes to conversing with Allie as the crowd of spectators grows —the pankration was among the most popular of the games.
"What a specimen," Allie muses as Alexios steps into the chalked ring, facing his first competitor. Irene only rolls her eyes at his antics. The Eagle Bearer finds her in the crowd as Leander introduces the Kallias, a previous pankration champion. She can't help the wave of heat that rises to her cheeks under his intense gaze —focused only on her. Alkibiades smirks.
Irene can sense the question forming before he has a chance to ask. "It is still none of your business, Allie," she remarks, cutting her eyes at him.
He holds up his hands, feigning innocence. "Of course, of course," he chuckles as the first round commences.
Orion hardly seems like competition for Alexios —he yields after a nasty blow to the ribs. Applause takes the stadium for the unknown contender as Leander rises to announce Erastos as the next opponent. The second round ends nearly as quickly as the first, but Alexios will have to wait to face the reigning champion, Dorieus, after being named the victor of the day.
He escapes mostly unscathed —having split three knuckles and taken a particularly nasty blow to the jaw and nose. His opponents fair far worse, though. Irene dunks a cloth into an amphora of water, dapples away the dried blood on his upper lip before running her thumb and forefinger down his nose. "Not broken," she assures him. Alexios offers her a haggard smile as Barnabas and Allie join them under the tent.
"Astounding!" The old sailor exclaims. "To think I could be a companion to an Olympic champion." Irene laughs as Alexios brushes aside the praise —he's only doing what he must to regain a place in Sparta.
"You're even better at sparring than I am," Alkibiades remarks, his usual simper fading to something akin to discomfort. The Athenian doubles over, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the smooth, white marble street.
Irene kneels at his side, worried, hand resting on his shoulder. "Allie?" He groans, and she knows what is wrong when he meets her eyes. "Poison," she hisses, looking back to Alexios and Barnabas. Alkibiades mentions attending a celebration at the Leonidaion with other esteemed figures and Olympic judges before the pankration took place, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Regardless of what Allie says, Alexios decides to investigate for himself. The princess grips onto his wrist as he turns. "Be quick, Alexios," she breathes, "I do not know how much time he has." The misthios nods and sets off with cold determination —no one hurt his friends and lived.