yippee! new reviewers!

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I made it up to him the next morning. He had suffered enough, poor boy. And it had occurred to me that I had—perhaps—been a teensy bit unreasonable. At any rate, we were both in considerably better spirits that day and cheered with the rest of the crew when we came in sight of land again. This was an uninhabited island, Kallias explained, one used by sailors from all the Achaean kingdoms to rest and resupply. Basically, a rest stop on the highway of the Aegean. It even had a scenic overlook—several, I imagine. With a long drop to the bottom.

I was more than happy to collect firewood and build a fire like a good little wife while the men hunted. When that was done, however, I left the few men who had stayed behind with me and slipped away to do some hunting of my own. I'd never actually hunted with a bow (or anything else, for that matter) before and wanted to try my hand at it. I was a pretty good shot and a better tracker than most due to my enhanced sense of smell and hearing. I was bound to get something.

After a few minutes of struggling through the tall grass and flowers with my dress, I paused and gathered it up into my hands, wondering what to do with it. I tried several different things, but found that it worked best if I tied the ends together between my legs. Voila—pants. Sort of.

The going was much easier after that and I soon picked up the scent of a deer. No, that wouldn't do—I'd never get it back to camp. I kept going until I picked up another scent; rabbit, this time. There we go. I followed the trail silently until I came upon my prey nibbling in a hollow. I made sure I was downwind and crouched down low, maneuvering my bow into place. I took careful aim, shot—and missed. The rabbit zipped away and I was on it in a flash in wolf form. Ah, well. I tried. I guess I'd do it my way.

I caught the rabbit just before it reached its bolt hole—the damn thing was fast—and swiftly broke its neck. I trotted back to my bow with my prize swinging jauntily from my jaws and changed back. I hastily spat the rabbit out and wiped my mouth. Note to self: spit food out before changing back. Yuck.

I examined my catch and frowned. It was all too obvious that it had been killed by an animal, not an arrow. How to fix that? Did healing work on dead things? I tried. Ah, what luck. The rents in its flesh closed and the neck realigned, leaving it smooth and fuzzy once more. Then I took my bow and shot it through the rabbit. There, that's better, I thought, looking over my handiwork. I retrieved the arrow, grasped the rabbit by its ears, and headed back. The wolf inside me was pleased—I hadn't been able to run free on the ship and it was taking its toll on me.

Back in camp, I proudly displayed my prize and accepted the laughing congratulations of the men, who skinned it and promised to make it a special treat. Draco returned with the rest of the men sometime later, helping to drag a huge boar out of the forest. It was a big, vicious looking brute with nasty, curved tusks and beady eyes. Several of the men were limping slightly or favoring various limbs. Draco himself was dripping blood from a deep gash in one thigh.

With a cry of alarm, I hurried over and dragged Draco onto a rock.

"Christ, Draco," I fretted. "That thing could have killed you."

"In case you haven't noticed," he said dryly, "we killed it."

I rolled my eyes, recognizing my own words. "Hold still."

I healed the wound and looked up to find the men staring at me curiously. I beckoned the nearest one over and healed him, too. By the time I was done with everyone, I was a bit light headed and had to lie down while the food cooked. Draco sat beside me and lightly rubbed my back while I dozed.

Foggily, I was aware that he was taking part in the conversation and joking around with the other men. He was learning quickly—he wasn't fluent, yet, but he was nearly there. You learn a lot faster when you have no other choice, I reflected. None of the crew spoke a word of English. It made a little bubble of happiness grow inside me to know that Draco could become one of us. We would come back after the war and live here and he would be happy.

I remembered Yiayia's assurance, "It's okay, we'll make him Greek." At church back in America, I'd seen many a Greek housewife who wasn't Greek at all, but had become Greek as a result of prolonged exposure to the husband's family. It's like radiation—over-exposure results in mutation.

Night had already fallen when Draco shook me awake and handed me a flask of wine. I drank gratefully, savoring the sweet, sharp taste of it and passed it on. We ate heartily, for this was the first hot food we'd had (well, beside fish) since leaving the mainland. It was delicious.

Afterward, several of the men produced instruments seemingly from thin air. There were several drums, a guitar, a lyra, and a bouzouki. As the musicians struck up a tune, several others got up to dance, executing amazing acrobatic maneuvers midair. I laughed and clapped along with the music, enjoying the skillful display. Draco, too, was watching avidly. I hid a grin. Unless I was very much mistaken, he'd be bugging the sailors to teach him for the rest of the journey. As song after song was played, we danced and taught Draco the kalamatiano, the tsamiko, hasapiko, syrto, and others. He got the hang of each very quickly and appeared to be enjoying himself immensely. I even learned a few new ones, probably native to Vouna.

Then the drums began a familiar beat and the men called out for me to dance. I protested, laughing, but they dragged me to my feet and spun me into the circle of firelight. I whipped off my veil and tied it around my hips for the chiftetelli—the belly dance. I shook my hair back and let the music take me. This, I could do. I might not be able to flirt my way into a club, but I knew I could render any man speechless with the slow, undulating movements that the chiftetelli called for. My cousin Anthoula and I were the best belly dancers in town. Christo and my other young, male, highly excitable cousins had gotten into more than one fistfight on our account—supposedly in defense of our honor, but I myself suspected that ouzo was the real culprit.

As I danced, I locked eyes with Draco and the world disappeared. I knew that, for the other men, I was merely a vision—untouchable and utterly unreachable. An empty promise. But for Draco...I saw my promise reflected in his eyes and it was anything but empty. After I danced, no one noticed us slip away in the flurry of dancing and food and wine. Or, if they did, they didn't show it.

We stayed on at the island a couple more days to resupply and rest. I helped dry meat and fish and find vegetable matter that would keep. I asked Kallias how long the rest of the journey would take and he said he thought we should make it in a week, tops. I tried to be heartened by this—after all, I had survived about that long on the ship already. But the fact was that I'd nearly gone insane. I loved the sea. I adored it. But I would much rather be in the sea than floating on top of it.

"Kallias," I said as we loaded everything onto the ship. "Are you sure we have enough for the rest of the journey?"

"We have enough for a few days," Kallias said with a blithe shrug.

"A few days? But you said--"

"Well, we have another stop to make before we reach the Deloi," Kallias told me.

"Where are we stopping?"

"Vouna," he said, eyes twinkling down on me. "The men have been away too long. We will be passing right by—it wouldn't be fair to keep them from their homes. And it is high time you met your family."

"How are you related to me again?"

Kallias laughed. "I don't really remember. But I am related to you, and that's what matters." Draco joined us and Kallias clapped him fondly on the back. "Everything loaded?" Draco nodded, earning him another buffet. "You're a good boy, Tsichlo."

"We're apparently going to Vouna," I informed him as Kallias moved off, bellowing orders. "To meet my family and let the men spend time with theirs."

"More family?" Draco said incredulously, shaking his head. "How many of you are there?"

I frowned. "You haven't even met my whole family—the ones I knew about, I mean. You've only met Christo and his parents."

"And your grandparents."

"And my grandparents," I agreed. I looked up at him curiously. "What about your family?" His face darkened and I hastily added, "Extended family, I mean. Don't you have cousins and aunts and uncles?"

"Yes," Draco said, leaning his forearms on the rail. "My father's younger brother lives in Germany with his wife. They have a son, I think, but I've never met him. I met my uncle once, when my father died. I had to carry him the news myself since he refused to return to England." Seeing my confused look, he told me, "He disagreed with my father's affiliation with the Death Eaters rather strongly. You remember how I said I was planning an escape route from England? He was part of the plan."

"And your mother's side?" I prompted tentatively, not sure if it was a sore subject.

"My aunt Bellatrix," he said with grim humor, "is a murderous, bloodthirsty bitch. She's also the Dark Lord's right hand and completely insane. And she wasn't the only nutcase in my family—just the only one that's still alive. It scares me that she hasn't died yet."

I smiled crookedly. "My cousin Dimitri is in law school," I offered. "Since we're talking about insanity and blood lust."

Draco blinked and then laughed. He quickly sobered. "D'you think they'll like me? Assuming I live to meet them, of course."

It was spoken in a carefully nonchalant tone, but he didn't meet my eyes and his grip on the rail was a little too firm. It mattered more to him than he wanted to let on. It made me smile.

"They'll love you," I said gently, and leaned against him. "And don't talk like that. You're not going to die."

Draco lifted an eyebrow. "That so?"

"Yes," I said firmly. "You do not have my permission to die under any circumstances."

"Well, in that case..." Draco said sarcastically, but he was smiling.

Just then a burly sailor beckoned to Draco. "Tsichlo! Come, give us a song!"

"And your lady, too!"

I borrowed the guitar and Draco and I sang several songs, both Greek and British. When Draco's hands were needed, I continued playing while the men worked. The next time they took a break to practice fighting, I insisted that they teach me, too. I had run myself ragged the few days we were on the island, but I was still restless. I couldn't just sit around anymore. The sailors laughed, but humored me, teaching me the basics of how to use a knife and different defensive maneuvers. The activity kept me relatively sane, but I was nonetheless ecstatic when I awoke one morning to find that we had reached Vouna.

It was bizarre—like a mix of ancient and modern Greece. Or perhaps it was the ancient Greece that I saw in modern Greece. Whitewashed buildings and tile probably weren't recent phenomena, after all. Draco and I followed Kallias up the hill to the palace in a daze, trying to take everything in. He showed us to the rooms we would occupy for the next few days and assured us that bathing opportunities and refreshment would be provided. I flopped down on the low—wide—bed and sighed, stretching my legs as far as they could go. It was a welcome relief after the cramped bed we had been sharing for the past couple of weeks. I suddenly wondered how on earth Kallias had ever fit into it.

When at last I forced myself to get off the wondrous bed, it was to welcome a young girl bearing a tray of bread, fruit, nuts, cheeses, honey, and wine. I had at first been concerned about all the wine-drinking when we boarded Kallias' boat, but the wine really wasn't all that strong. It was more like grape juice with a kick. Draco and I started to eat, expecting the girl to let herself out, but she stayed. I paused, glancing at her questioningly, but she stood with her hands clasped behind her back, staring at Draco.

"Is there something my husband can help you with?" I asked, trying to mask my confusion and irritation with politeness.

The girl's attention snapped to me. "Oh, no, kyria. I'm to wait and show you to the bathhouse." She shot another glance at Draco. "I've never seen a xeno before. Are they very uncivilized?"

"Oh, to be sure," Draco answered for himself—very dryly. "I'm a complete barbarian."

The girl flushed and stammered an apology.

"It's—it's--" Draco looked at me for help. I guess 'it's okay' wasn't a phrase he heard much among the sailors.

"Entaxi," I supplied. To the girl, I said, "Then pirazi. He is a barbarian. Would you like some? If you're going to wait, you might as well eat."

"Thank you, kyria. I'll just have some bread," she said shyly. "The prince said you were his kin—from the mainland. He said you grew up as one of the Minmagikoi."

"So I did," I agreed. "But I was still--" I stopped myself. As Hermes had told me, the gods did not reveal themselves to everyone. "I still honored the gods, regardless. I came into my powers a very short while ago."

"Are they very different, the Minmagokoi?" the girl asked.

"Completely," I assured her.

"And the magoi who use the new magic?" she pressed. "We have some trade with them and I saw them once when we hosted them here at the palace. They didn't seem so different. But I saw another—a young one—and he wore the strangest clothing. It looked very uncomfortable."

I laughed. "I daresay it did. The Minmagikoi can be very strange indeed. The young man you saw was probably wearing clothes of their style."

"How do the new magoi dress, then?" Draco asked a little haltingly.

"Like us," the girl said. "Like any normal person would."

"Not in robes, then," Draco murmured in English. "Strange."

"Not so strange," I disagreed. "Can you imagine how hot those huge robes would be? What's your name?" I asked the girl.

"Demetroula," she replied, eying the fruit with intense interest.

"Well, Demetroula, I'm more than ready for a bath," I said, handing her an orange. "Lead the way. We can leave the food here to finish when we get back."

Demetroula led us through winding passageways and bright courtyards to the bathhouse which was quite literally an entire house devoted to bathing. There were several baths—a large one, presumably for public bathing, and others surrounded by gauzy curtains for privacy.

"Can you remember the way back?" Demetroula asked, leading us to one of the private baths.

I nodded. "Thank you."

"My duty but also my pleasure, kyria," she replied cheerfully. "I'll leave you towels and fresh clothes on this bench here. I'll be by this evening to take you to the feast."

"Thank you," I said again. "I look forward to it."

As soon as she turned her back I undid the clasp at my shoulder and let my dress fall to the floor. I stepped into the bath and collapsed, sighing with pleasure. I opened my eyes to see Draco standing above me, looking like one of the statues dotted throughout the building. He entered the hot water somewhat more decorously but seemed just as relieved. He let out a long groan as he settled back, closing his eyes.

"I think this might be heaven," I remarked, moving away from the submerged bench to float on my back.

"It certainly seems like it after that sorry excuse for a bed," Draco agreed. "I don't think my neck will ever be the same."

"We'll see about that," I said, and motioned for him to turn around so I could rub the afflicted area.

I had to kneel on the bench to give the massage—the water came up to Draco's chest when sitting down but tickled my chin in the same position. Draco seemed to melt as I kneaded his neck and shoulders. I moved up to his head and used the frothy substance I took to be shampoo of some kind and was quite pleased with the light scent it gave off. When I finished my ministrations, Draco returned the favor—and then some. He had to physically lift me out of the bath when we were done since, between the hot water and Draco's attentions, my muscles had turned to jelly. Badly made, watery jelly at that.

We dressed and exited the curtained bath. I was still rubbing my hair with a towel—I hated it when my hair dripped onto my back. I secured it with a pin that Demetroula had thoughtfully provided and looked at my husband with a mix of affection and irritation. His hair stood up in wet spikes, but I knew they would dry perfectly into that hazy area between scruffy and rakish. A sweep of a comb would then render them dashing and sophisticated.

Even though my hair was always—dare I say it, supernaturally—perfect, I knew that plenty of girls would like very much to have him drawn and quartered or at least hanged for the crime of having such well behaved locks. I've found that, in general, women tend to regard their hair as an adversary that must be beaten into submission—or in some cases, negotiated with—every morning. Regardless of my own happy alliance with my hair, it was my duty to be indignant on behalf of all womanhood.

"What are you thinking?" Draco asked, somewhat apprehensively.

"I was just thinking that we are quite possibly the best looking couple in the history of the universe," I said with a smile and looped my arm through his.

"And just think of what that means for our children," Draco said lightly, then shuddered. "I hope we don't have girls. Boys will be on them like flies on a warthog's--"

"Yeiasou, kyr Tsichlo!" one of the sailors hailed him as he passed us, saving me from having to make a response to this troubling notion. He gave the two of us a wicked glance. "Enjoy your bath?"

I frowned after him. "Why does everyone always assume we have nothing on our minds but sex?"

"Oh, that's easy," Draco said with a grin. "We've been married less than two weeks and have spent the duration of our marriage cooped up on a ship."

"Fair point," I admitted ruefully. "Do you want to explore the town a little bit? Just to prove that we can, in fact, engage in respectable past times, of course."

"Of course," Draco agreed, slipping an arm around my shoulders. "But not yet. I have something else in mind."

"You're kidding," I said incredulously. "You can't possibly--"

"Ari, what are you thinking?" Draco said severely. "Ye gods, woman."

"What in the world are you talking about, then?"

"I was referring to the plate of snacks in our room," he said with a disapproving glance at me. "I'm hungry again."

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After a reviving snack, I unearthed my little bag of gold and silver coins that I had won off of Draco's fight and tied it to my belt.

"Where did you get that?" Draco asked curiously as he dug through the trunk trying to find his own money bag. He found it and peered into it. "D'you think they'll take English coins?"

"Probably, as long as they're real gold and silver" I said with a shrug. "And, to answer your first question, I placed a few bets on that fight."

"What did you bet with?" Draco asked.

"The money that I was sure you'd have," I said with a grin. "I knew you'd win."

"Your faith in me warms my heart," he said dryly. "Almost as much as your faith in my money."

"What's the date?" I asked suddenly. "It must be nearly May by now."

"I have no idea," Draco said, looking surprised. "I can find out, though. Hold on."

Draco reached into the trunk again and pulled out his wand, which I hadn't seen since we left my grandmother's. It was a strange thought. He flicked it and muttered some sort of mumbo-jumbo and it emitted a puff of smoke. The smoke then formed the numbers 4-28-03. Very handy, I thought approvingly.

"Four days until my birthday," Draco cried gleefully. "Twenty-three."

"You know, there's a muggle song that used to be really popular," I said thoughtfully. "One of the lines of the chorus is, 'nobody loves you when you're twenty three'."

"Nonsense," Draco said, locking his wand back in the trunk. "You will. You can't resist me."

"Actually, I was thinking of taking a year off," I said, forcing myself to keep my voice light. "Don't worry, though—only until you turn twenty four."

I fell silent after that as we headed down into the town. I felt kind of strange. He was turning twenty three. I hadn't really thought about it all that much but right now it was hard to ignore the fact that I was barely eighteen and married to a man five years older. And what about college? Were there acceptance letters waiting for me in the village back at Greenwood? Would I even go to college? After everything that happened, college seemed almost like a joke. And now I couldn't imagine not coming back to Greece. What was I going to do with my life? I shouldn't be facing this question yet. I shouldn't even be worrying about it for another few years. I was eighteen, for God's sake.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Draco asked, stopping and facing me.

I hesitated. "Draco...does it bother you?"

"Does what bother me?" he asked confusedly.

"That I'm so much younger than you," I mumbled, not looking at him.

Draco paused like he was trying to figure out what I was talking about and then laughed. "Merlin, I'd completely forgotten. You really do seem much older than you actually are, you know. And, no, it doesn't bother me to have a young, nubile, highly attractive virgin as a wife. At least, you were a virgin on our wedding night."

"Pig," I said, slapping his arm lightly. We continued into the town and I tucked my hand under his arm. "In that case, I'll buy you a really nifty birthday present."

"With the money you won by exploiting my body," Draco affecting indignation.

"I prefer to think of it as taking advantage," I replied, and stopped to look at a beautiful woven tapestry depicting the contest between Arachne and Athena.

"What's that?" Draco asked curiously, looking over my shoulder. "Who are they?"

"That's Athena," I explained, indicating the goddess. "And that's Arachne. She boasted that she could weave better than Athena and Athena called her on it. After Arachne lost—miserably—she tried to hang herself but Athena took pity on her and turned her into a spider so she could weave forever."

"Oh," Draco said dubiously. "That's...er, nice."

"Look at that one," I said, pointing. "That's me."

"Pardon?"

"My namesake," I clarified. "She was the daughter of Minos—the king of Crete."

"What happened to her?" Draco asked. "What's she giving to that man?"

"A sword and a spool of thread," I said with a smile. "That's Theseus." I drew my finger farther down the tapestry to where Theseus was fighting the Minotaur. "Theseus came to Crete to rescue the Athenian youths meant to feed the Minotaur in the Labyrinth of Knossos. Ariadne gave him the sword so he could kill it and the thread so he could find his way out."

"And they got married after?" Draco asked, inspecting the tapestry. "It looks like they did. She's sailing away with him."

"Well, yes. There are several stories," I said. "Some say that they forged an alliance between Athens and Crete—Theseus was prince of Athens—and others say that Theseus abandoned her on the island of Naxos. Some say that the god Dionysos then wed her and others say that he had Artemis kill her because he was angry that she tried to run off with Theseus. Another story goes that Artemis killed her out of pity because she was so sad without Theseus. The only thing the stories agree on is that she left Crete and suffered greatly."

"Greek myths are so. . . uplifting," Draco said, looking uneasy. I peered at him, thinking he looked kind of sick.

"I wouldn't read into it too much," I said, tugging him away from the tapestry. "My mother just liked the name, that's all."

"How come your family calls you Katerina and I call you Ari?" Draco asked me. "Which is your real name, anyway? Grey introduced you to me as Ariadne."

"Ariadne is my middle name. Ancient names aren't all that common in Greece," I said. "They prefer Christian names—and my grandmother's name is Katerina. I was always Kahtia or Kahti at home and Ariadne at school." I grinned. "I liked the idea that I was named after a princess so I made my teachers call me Ariadne. It just stuck."

"Were you born here or in America?" Draco asked. "You always refer to Greece as your home."

"I was born here," I said. "My parents spent a lot of time here even though they lived in America."

"So you have dual citizenship?" Draco asked, and I nodded.

"Why so many questions?" I asked curiously.

"Just trying to distract myself," he replied, rubbing his head. "I don't very well all of a sudden. Which was your first language?"

"I'm not sure," I said, surprised. "I can't remember a time when I couldn't speak both. I should ask Yiayia when we get back."

Draco smiled, but it looked somewhat forced. I suppressed a shiver of fear. He really wasn't sure if he would come back. I opened my mouth to say something, but he shook his head curtly and I subsided. Instead, I bought us each a stick of souvlaki tonibble on as we wandered from stall to stall. This appeared to cheer him up. They say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. This may be an exaggeration, but only a small one. Food won't cure all a man's ills, but it will certainly help matters a great deal.

We passed a tavern and a shout went up from a group seated outside. It was the sailors from Kallias's ship. Draco raised a hand in greeting and headed in that direction.

"You go," I said, disengaging myself. "I can't have you loitering around while I buy your present."

"Are you sure?" Draco bent his head to kiss me, glaring at a passing youth who had been staring. "I don't like the idea of you wandering around by yourself."

"I'll be fine," I assured him. "Honestly, Draco. I'm not a child."

"No, you're a woman," he said bluntly, but he sighed and released me after a moment.

"Alright," he said reluctantly. "I'll come find you in a little bit."

I watched as Draco was enveloped by the seething mass of back-slapping, arm-punching testosterone and turned away with a faint smile. He would come back alive and well. He had friends here, now, and every opportunity to make a life here. I was determined to do all I could to ensure his safe return. Right now, there wasn't much I could do, but there was a little something I thought I could do for his sudden 'illness'.

It took some searching before I found what I was looking for, but I eventually succeeded. The old woman selling various charms listened as I described what I wanted and displayed several specimens for me to examine. I picked up one of the small blue eyes made of glass and held it up.

"And these have protective charms that extend beyond the mati?" I asked, and she nodded.

"They serve as wards against most lower-level curses cast with the new magic and some more powerful ones," she told me, "as well as against bad luck and the mati."

"Perfect," I said. "Which one is the most powerful?"

"This one," she said. "And it's ten gold coins."

I counted out ten and found I had one left. Ah, well. I wouldn't be here that long, anyway. I handed over the coins and accepted the small wrapped parcel in return. That done, I wandered about aimlessly, worrying about Draco. I was concerned that he had fallen victim to the mati—the evil eye. I myself had never had trouble with it. I, like my grandmother, had always had the ability to dispel negative energy.

Draco had never given any indication of being susceptible to it—he was much too self-confident and strong character-wise to let other people's bad vibes affect him. If he was feeling it now, whoever was directing it at him must feel very strongly. But who could it be? We hadn't even been here a full day. Suddenly I felt the need to find him. Surely Bellum couldn't have found us here?

As if he could hear my thoughts, Draco appeared at my side.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking me over. "You're frightened."

"Is it that obvious?" I asked.

"Only to me," he said. "Your eyes get sort of dark and shadowy when you're scared. What is it?"

"I'm not sure," I said nervously. "Here—I know your birthday's not for a few days, but I want to give it to you now."

I gave him the parcel and he unwrapped it curiously, revealing the blue eye in a gold setting. He slipped the chain over his head and picked the charm up off his chest to look at it.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's a matochandro," I told him. "A charm against the evil eye." Seeing his incredulous look, I continued hotly, "It's true. That's why you were feeling sick before. The evil eye is cast by a person who is envious of you or harbors bad feelings for you. That particular charm also protects against some spells and curses cast by your kind of magic."

"Why did you want to give it to me now?" he asked, frowning at the glass eye.

"Because someone cast the evil eye on you," I cried, frustrated. "Look, whoever cast it feels very strongly if you're feeling its effects. And who could possibly feel that strongly about you when we just got here? What if Bellum somehow found us or--"

"Ari," Draco interrupted. "Hush. I'm glad I have it."

"You—you are?" I pulled back a little to look up at him. "You believe me about the evil eye?"

"Well, the last time I didn't completely believe you, you almost got raped," he reasoned. "I'm not inclined to repeat the mistake. And I do feel much better now."

"Oh. Good." I touched the charm lightly with a finger. "The woman who sold it to me said it would protect you from most little spells and some more powerful ones. I don't know how much use it will be to you, but I thought..."

"I'm sure it will work," he assured me, tucking my arm through his "I didn't want to make you nervous, but there was someone following me. I'm not sure who he is, but he didn't look completely Greek—I thought, anyway. He had blue eyes, for one thing. So don't worry, alright? I'm on top of it."

"Some say blue-eyed people are more likely to cast the evil eye," I remarked, resisting the urge to look over my shoulder. "It was probably him."

"People certainly were giving him a wide berth," he agreed. "Why aren't I getting the same treatment?"

"Your eyes are silver," I said. "That's not so bad. Athena herself has gray eyes."

Draco turned to wave to one of the sailors we had passed, calling out a greeting. When he turned back around, he looked grim but not worried.

"He's following us," he said.

I didn't react but gathered my magic to me so it hung about us like a protective cloud. Whoever this guy was, he couldn't do anything to us at the moment—magically, at least. Did he use the new magic or the old? Damned if I was going to get close enough to smell him. If he didn't use the new magic, did that mean he wasn't connected to Bellum? Draco hadn't known about the old magic—did Bellum?

We returned to our rooms to find Demetroula waiting with a few other girls. When I voiced my confusion, Demetroula smiled and pointed to the pile of clothes and jewelery waiting on the bed.

"I'll change in the other room, then, shall I?" Draco suggested, hastily snatching up his own pile of clothes and retreating into the small antechamber.

As soon as he was through the door, the girls pounced on me like a pack of hyenas, whipping my dress off and stuffing me into a new one faster than you can say 'opah!' Then they attacked my hair. winding it and twisting it around gold wire and jabbing it with pins. It reminded me very much of Callie—minus the leather and spikes. Soon they were stabbing me in the eye with kohl and rubbing something onto my lips with a tad more force than was strictly necessary. One girl lassoed me with a few necklaces while the others slapped bracelets on my wrists and ankles like shackles. My sandals, interestingly enough, they left alone, opting instead to anoint me with sweet smelling oils.

I didn't even have time to protest. The entire process took about ninety seconds, tops. The trio stood back to survey their handiwork while I swayed dizzily before them. I apparently passed muster, for they smiled and held up a mirror so I could see for myself. The new dress was a dark blue patterned with gold and belted with a white sash. The clasp at my shoulder was gold, as were my jewelery and the wire holding my hair up in an elaborate headdress.

I was startled to see that my hair had lightened from the sun and my skin was darker than I'd thought. My hair, normally so dark it was almost black, was now streaked with lighter bronze and, in places, dark almost-blond. Where Draco turned a toasty gold in the sun, I turned brown, like whole wheat toast. Taken together with the dress and gold, I felt very exotic. It was kind of exciting.

In the mirror I saw Draco emerge from his hiding place, fully dressed in a kilt like Kallias' but in black and patterned with silver. He had a gray sash slung across his chest in place of a vest. Technically speaking, the gold and blue charm I'd given him didn't really go with the color scheme, but he still looked damn good.

"I haven't worn this much clothing in a while," he said ruefully, tugging at his sash. "How do I look?"

"Don't fish for compliments," I said, crossing to kiss him lightly on the cheek.

He smiled sardonically and touched my hair lightly. "Try not to poke my eyes out with that, won't you?"

"I'll try," I promised. "I feel like I have a bouquet of pineapples on my head."

"Well, then, shall we?" Draco said, looking at the girls expectantly.

They nodded and led us through the halls until we came to a large courtyard filled with talking, laughing people, cooking meat, and meat that looked like it could have been talking and laughing—or at least bleating in terror—not too long ago. Kallias stood and beckoned to us and we made our way through the throng of people to sit at his table. His grandparents (the king and queen) sat a table raised above the rest along with five other couples. That must be the most immediate royal family, I thought. The ruling couple and their children.

"Our cousin, Ariadne," Kallias announced to his table without preamble. "And her husband, Dragon. But we call him Tsichlo. You'll sing tonight, won't you, lad?"

Draco grinned as Kallias slung an arm around his neck. We sat and Kallias proceeded to introduce us to the rest of the table.

"My brothers you know already," he said. "So. At the end there is Alcaeos and his brother Aias, Danaos, Barates, Ceas, Hylas, and Idaios,. The girls are Evadne, Galatea, Iolanthe, Katina and Kassandra—my sisters; they're twins—and little Hyrmina. All cousins, of course, except Hyrmina and Barates. They're cousin Lasos' children. Lasos is first of us in line for the throne after his father. And here he is; Lasos and his wife Achaia. Ision and Clymene, Lysimachos and Ianessa, and Peiros and Melanthe."

"You haven't introduced my baby," Ianessa—no, Clymene—said, cuddling a gurgling, cooing bundle of cloth.

"Ah," Kallias said, squinting. "That's...hmmm."

"Stachys," she supplied, smiling tolerantly. "You've also forgotten Melanthe's Menelaia and Ianessa's Nikias."

Two toddlers appeared seemingly out of nowhere, climbing into their mother's laps. Unfortunately, I was seated next to Ianessa—and her small son. Nikias stared at me solemnly, as if sizing me up. I resisted the urge to scoot closer to Draco and stared back as repressively as I could.

"Welcome, cousin," Ianessa said warmly, leaning over to kiss my cheek.

Nikias took this as an opportunity to seize my earring and tug unmercifully. With a strangled noise of protest and pain, I tried to pry his fingers off. Ianessa had turned to chat with Clymene and was ignoring my battle with her offspring completely.

"What are you doing there, little man?"

Draco leaned over and presented a finger to Nikias, who released my earring and transferred his grip to Draco's finger. Draco plucked the Nikias from his mother's lap after a brief inquiry and settled the little boy on his own knee, bouncing him up and down. The little fiend crowed with delight and gabbled in Greek baby talk, which Draco ignored and continued speaking animatedly—if mostly incorrectly—with Kallias. I glared at them both while I made sure my earlobe was still there. I suddenly remembered the little girl I'd found in London and how she had instantly taken to Draco as well. Wasn't it against the laws of nature or something for assassins to be good with kids?

The food was served and I was just helping myself to some roast pig when Ision—or possibly Lysimachos—looked up, grinning.

"Ah, here he is—late, as usual." He smiled at me, eyes twinkling. "Someone you know, cousin."

"What?" I turned around and my jaw dropped. "Christo?"

"Surprise!" Christo grinned and reached out as if to ruffle my hair, then thought better of it and kissed my cheek instead. "Scoot over."

Dazedly, I did so and continued to stare at him as he sat down and greeted Draco, who looked delighted at his arrival. With effort, I closed my gaping jaw and settled for narrowed eyes and pursed lips. Christo turned and flinched slightly at my expression but didn't stop shoving meat and potatoes simultaneously into his mouth.

"So?" I asked pointedly.

"I'm a mage," he said. "Like your Dragon. And I have a very little bit of old magic—I have the points of the compass in my head and I can tell when people are lying."

"How long?" I demanded.

"Kahti," he said placatingly, "I would have told you if I could. But you didn't have the magic—or at least, everyone thought you didn't--"

"Everyone?" I asked shrilly. "Everyone? Who, exactly, is everyone?"

Christo cringed. "Eh...Yiayia, Mama, Anthoula, and Eleni. Well, and Papou, but he thought it was just as well that you didn't have it. He doesn't really like it. I'm the only one with the new magic but the others all have much more old magic than I do."

"And they all know about Kallias and Vouna and—everything?"

"Mm. Yes," he said reluctantly. "Yes, they do. Anthoula is still at school and Eleni has Mina to deal with, otherwise they'd be here."

"So you're not studying medicine," I said in a flat tone of voice.

"No, I am!" Christo protested quickly. "I didn't lie about that. But it's magical medicine. I'm also training to be a kinigos."

"A hunter?" I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I think he means an Auror," Draco interjected. "I told you about them, remember? A dark wizard catcher."

I scowled and stabbed moodily at my food.

"Kahti, don't be mad," Christo pleaded. "I wanted to tell you, I swear. But secrecy is essential to both societies. I would have been breaking the law if I told you."

"You could have told me when I got here," I said accusingly. "Don't tell me you didn't realize what was going on when Draco and I showed up."

"Yiayia told me not to," he said, as if that were a perfectly good reason for a grown man not to tell me something that had apparently been weighing heavily on his conscience for years and years.

Sadly, it was a perfectly good reason.

"Hmph," I said, and glared at my food.

Draco squeezed my shoulder comfortingly. "Come on, Ari. If you could forgive me, you can forgive him."

Oooh, they were ganging up on me, the bastards. Fine, then.

"Of course I forgive him," I said with a sweet smile. "How are you enjoying your food, Christo?"

"Eh? Oh, it's—it's good," he said uncertainly, and attempted a dashing smile. "Not as good as your cooking, though."

"How kind of you to say so," I said politely, and returned to my food, replying to both Draco and Christo with polite monosyllables whenever they tried to engage me in conversation.

I was getting really, really sick of being kept in the dark. I was going to have a long chat with certain family members when I came home. All these years, I thought Christo simply went to a boarding school. All these years, I'd had another set of family members I'd known nothing about. I felt cheated. This was such a wondrous, beautiful place, and I hadn't been allowed to to experience it.

"Come, cousin," Kallias said, interrupting my brooding thoughts. "I will present you to my grandparents now. Tsichlo, too."

Draco and I got up and followed Kallias to the dais where his grandparents sat. They greeted us warmly and cordially, but with little sincerity—at least on the king's part. My grandmother's cousin--the queen—seemed genuinely pleased to meet us. Next we met Kallias' parents and aunts and uncles. They were nice, but I'm sure they had too many nieces and nephews as it was without me and Draco thrown in.

Luckily, the dancing began then and I joined the women for the first dance. Gradually I forgot about my irritation with Christo and Draco, who was guilty by association. Some of the dances I didn't know, but I picked up the steps quickly and my cousins were there to help me. Clymene and Melanthe especially were lively and cheerful and had me smiling and laughing with them the entire time.

When I stopped to get a drink, I noticed Draco and Christo seated in a shadowed corner, apparently having a rather heated argument. I drifted closer and sat with my back to them, sipping water.

"I could help you," Christo was insisting. "I'm basically finished with my training—and I've done well in all my courses. Why pass up an extra man?"

"Because you have no experience to speak of," Draco said firmly. "Training is all well and good but you've never actually been out there doing it. You've never fought in earnest—never killed."

"And I suppose you have," Christo said belligerently.

"Yes," Draco said simply, his tone suddenly going flat and cold. "Since I was sixteen. So trust me when I tell you it's very different outside the classroom. It's war, Christo, not a game."

"I understand that," Christo said, sounding chastened but determined. "But there's no way to just ease into it. No one's going to go easy on me until I gain enough experience."

"True," Draco conceded. "However, I'm going to have enough trouble just getting Ari to safety without having to worry about you as well."

"You don't have to worry about me," Christo said stubbornly.

"Yes, I do," Draco said. "Ari would--"

"Wait, just listen—I have the old magic," Christo interrupted. "I don't have very much, but everyone with the old magic has a certain amount of—immunity—to the new magic. Because it's a god-gift, you know. That would be useful to you."

"Really," Draco said thoughtfully. I didn't turn around, but I imagined him running a hand through his hair. "Tell me, are there others like you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Others with both the old and new magic, who wish to fight the Dark Lord," Draco elaborated.

"Oh, yes," Christo said fervently. "Everyone has heard of the great evil in the north. Plenty would be willing to fight."

"And the old magic," Draco continued. "Is it any good, taken by itself? Can you make war with it?"

"In a manner of speaking," Christo said slowly. "Wizards have magic, but they're still human and can die like any other human. The Achaeoi use bows, spears, swords, knives—all sorts of weapons. But we enchant them. Old magic is especially effective, because if it's set by a powerful old-mage it can punch through practically any magical barrier. The Achaeoi place great store in archery—they have the best archers in the world. And we have the Amazons. They would be more than willing to fight."

"Are there people with old magic outside of Greece?" Draco asked. "I've never heard of anything like it in England."

"There probably is something like it in England and you just don't recognize it for what it is," Christo said. "But, yes—there are servants of the old gods in Egypt and Persia—or what used to be Persia—India, the Far East, the Americas. All over the world. There must be some in England."

"I'll tell you what, Christo," Draco said slowly. "I will take Ari to Scotland and see her safe. I'll talk to the leaders of the resistance and see what they're situation is. If they need reinforcements, I'll contact you. In the meantime, you rally whatever forces you can. Then, if necessary, we can figure out how and when to get them to England."

"Alright," Christo said grudgingly. "I'm coming with you to Delos, though."

"I'm glad of it," Draco told him. "You've spoken to Kallias about tonight?" Christo must have nodded, because Draco said, "Good."

Now, that was interesting. I waited and listened for any more interesting tidbits, but none were forthcoming. Draco was instead teasing Christo about some girl or another. I got up and was about to rejoin the dancing when Clymene and Melanthe converged on me with their respective bundles of joy.

"Here, meet your nephew," Clymene said, placing little Stachys in my arms before I could protest.

I held him gingerly and looked down at the small face, which was scrunched in dismay. He looked like he was deciding whether he was disgruntled enough to throw a fit. I tried to hand him back to Clymene, but she settled him more firmly in my arms and went to get a drink.

"You look like you've never held a child before," Melanthe admonished. "What will you do when you have your own children?"

"I don't plan on having children for a long time," I said fervently. "If ever."

"Bah," she said dismissively. "Every woman wants to have children. You're just afraid of the idea of motherhood. You'll get over it."

My grandmother had told me much the same thing, but I personally had my doubts. I looked down at the drooling, squirming worm in my lap and shuddered. Perhaps the biological clock would start ticking sometime in the future, but for now I remained revolted by the notion of pregnancy—of a parasite living in my stomach and then crapping it out after nine months of hell. I was terrified by the very idea.

"Practicing, are we?" Draco sat down next to me, smiling down at the baby. Melanthe's daughter Menelaia clambered into his lap and smiled coquettishly up at him. Draco tickled her gently but didn't take his eyes of me. Melanthe got up with a vague excuse about finding Clymene. Stachys started to whimper and I tentatively tried joggling him a bit.

"Ari," Draco said. "Have you—I mean—there are potions that women take to--"

"Don't worry about it," I said. "I've got it covered."

"Oh," he said, sounding relieved. "Good. I'd be thrilled, surely, but it isn't really the most convenient time for a child."

"To put it mildly," I agreed dryly. "So you want children, do you?"

"Of course," Draco said, giving me a surprised look.

I felt my stomach sink. I hated the idea of disappointing him, but at the same time my entire being balked at the thought of having children of my own. It was all I could do not to drop Stachys on the spot and run away. Instead I did the next best thing and handed the baby to Draco who easily accommodated both children and made my escape to the dance floor. I didn't have to think about it right now. I wasn't in danger of getting pregnant and Draco wouldn't even consider it until after the war was over. Perhaps by then I'd have developed some maternal inclination.

After the feast, Draco and I retired to our rooms accompanied by Demetroula, who dismantled my hair. I insisted on doing the rest myself, however. The only person allowed to undress me beside myself was Draco. I slipped into a gauzy night shift and lay down on the bed, thinking about Draco's mysterious plans for tonight. His placement of his wand and a knife underneath his pillow did not go unnoticed. I pretended not to see, however. Clearly he thought I would go to sleep blissfully unaware that anything was amiss and if that made him feel better, I would let him think so.

Draco lay down with his back to me and muttered, "Good night."

I rolled my eyes. He was so transparent. His every movement practically screamed 'I Have a Sneaky Plan'. He was probably waiting for me to fall asleep so he could go about executing said sneaky plan. I tried to lie still to give him the illusion that I was happily and peacefully asleep, but I couldn't. I felt as if every shadow held a threat and every window had some unseen danger lurking underneath. Eventually I sat up.

"Ari? What's wrong?"

"I need to run," I said, clambering up from the bed and heading for the window.

"What? No, you can't do that," he said, pulling me back down.

"And why not?" I inquired testily.

"What if someone sees you? They'll just think you're a wolf."

"No one will see me," I said confidently.

"No," he said firmly.

"I'm sorry, did you think you had a choice in the matter?" I asked coolly. "I'm leaving."

"You will not," he growled.

"Just who do you think you are?" I demanded, jerking away.

"Your husband," he snapped. "And I say you're not going anywhere."

"Is that the best you can do?" I sneered, and turned to leave, but something stopped me.

It wasn't that I couldn't move—I could have if I really wanted to. It was more like a sudden loss of interest, a sort of enforced docility. I suddenly noticed that the ring on my left hand had become warmer than usual. I gave it an experimental tug and found that it wouldn't budge. The sudden docility fled as quickly as it came and I looked up at Draco, who wore a classic deer-in-the-headlights expression. I took a deep breath.

"Draco," I said, very calmly. "Explain."

"Later, Ari," he said, shifting uncomfortably. "This isn't the best time--"

"Now." The word shot out of my mouth like a whiplash.

Before he could answer, however, I sensed rather than saw a sudden movement behind me. Without looking, I seized the intruder with my magic and threw him against the opposite wall, pinning him there so he stuck to the wall like a squashed fly. He was dark(ish) and probably had some Greek in him, but he was blue-eyed and had a certain strangeness about him that spoke of an outlander heritage. Ah, so this was what Draco was preparing for.

A second later, men were bursting into the room. Kallias, Christo, and several of my newfound relatives formed a semicircle around the stranger with swords and knives drawn. Draco had a knife in one hand an his wand in the other, though I hadn't seen him move.

"Take him and get out," I ordered.

Kallias looked faintly surprised to be addressed in such a manner, but obeyed. They marched the man out at sword-point and Draco and I were once again alone. I crossed my arms and waited expectantly.

"It's a wizard's ring," Draco said tiredly, sitting down on the bed. "I told you it was binding."

"Binding isn't the word I would us in this situation," I said acidly. "An oath is binding. A legal document is binding. This is—this is bondage. You can just make me do whatever you please?"

"I can't make you do anything," he retorted. "The ring's magic just makes you more...open to suggestion. And I have to consciously invoke my right as your husband for the magic to work. It doesn't do it automatically."

"I see," I said coldly. "So what other 'rights' does this ring protect?"

"Magical marriage rings are very old," Draco explained. "Only very old families still use them. They were used originally in Medieval times to ensure pure bloodlines and make married life a little more—er, comfortable."

"For the man," I interjected. Draco nodded. "What do you mean, ensure pure bloodlines?"

"The ring binds the wife to her husband physically," Draco told me. "It makes adultery impossible. For the wife," he added. Seeing my look of outrage, he said impatiently, "I'm not saying it's fair. It's just how they work. Look, I would have told you about it before but we're already bound to each other. It seemed kind of redundant."

"Anything else?" I asked with an edge to my voice.

"It will let me find you, wherever you are. But there is one good thing about these rings," he said. "They were made to protect women from rape. I don't know how the oath we swore works, but that ring will prevent any man from touching you sexually. Except me," he added as an afterthought. Was that a smirk on his face?

"And you said that you had to consciously invoke your 'right' as my husband to order me about for the ring to make me biddable and obedient and 'open to suggestion'?" I asked.

Draco nodded. "Ari, I wouldn't have done it if it weren't absolutely necessary."

"Perhaps it wouldn't have been necessary if you had seen fit to tell me what was going on," I suggested.

"I just didn't want you to worry," Draco said, running a hand through his hair. "Is that such a bad thing?"

"No," I said a little more gently. Then I picked him up with my magic and slammed him against the wall as I had the mysterious intruder. "But if you ever use magic to force me against my will again, I will leave you. There may be no one else for me, but I'm willing to make that choice. I will not live with a man who wants to control me."

"Never again," he promised.

"Swear it," I ordered.

Draco nodded. "On the Styx."

"Good."

I let Draco drop to the ground and crossed to the window. In moments I was outside and running for the hills on four legs. I ran hard and fast, as if I could outrun my fears if I pushed myself hard enough. I knew why Draco had done what he did, and could even understand it—to a point. I knew that leaving would have messed up his plan, but that was no excuse. He should have told me from the beginning.

It was sweet that he didn't want to worry me, I suppose, but come on. Did he think I was stupid? It was obvious that something was going on. As if I wouldn't notice. And then he had to go and use magic to get his way. No one had ever meddled with my mind before and it scared me badly. The sudden loss of control over my mind and body was terrifying. I could forgive him for using whatever means necessary to cope with a potentially disastrous situation, but that didn't mean I would let him get away with it.

No one—no one—could put me on a leash on me, husband or no.

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oh, dear, oh, dear--a lover's quarrel! What will they do? Actually, it's really not that exciting. See you next chapter

shai