There was great cheering as the army rode back through Troy.
Evangelia held the reins in one hand, her left arm throbbing in pain. She was slightly pale but managed to smile.
Andromache and Priam were waiting on the steps of the palace. Paris and Helen where no where in sight.
"Father."
Hector turned. He had quickly dismounted his horse and was getting ready to run up the steps. He stopped at the sound of his daughter's voice. "What's wrong?"
"Get me down," said Evangelia softly.
Hector came over to her. "Are you hurt?" He held out his arms and she slid into them. She couldn't cover her wince when their arms bumped. Hector scooped her up and carried her up the stairs.
"It's my arm that's hurt, not my legs."
Andromache's smile faded. She ran down the stairs and met them. "What happened?"
"It's her arm," said Hector.
Evangelia managed to smile at her mother. "It's only a scratch."
Hector bowed his head to his Father. "Father."
"What happened to her" asked Priam as he followed his son and daughter in law down the hall.
"I got shot with one arrow," said Evangelia, over her Father's shoulder at her Grandfather. "And you'd think my arm was cut off."
Hector set her down on her bed. "I'll go for the doctor." He turned, kissed Andromache quickly and was gone.
Evangelia worked herself back into a sitting position. She still kept her hand clamped over the wound. She tightened her grip and winced in pain.
Andromache set a basin of water on the bedside table and picked up a towel. She wet it and sat down next to Evangelia. "Hand," she demanded.
"No," said Evangelia. "Wait."
Priam was standing behind Andromache, narrowed his eyes.
"Evangelia, move your hand," said Andromache.
"Mother, it's not half as bad as it looks," tried Evangelia.
"Evangelia, move your hand," said Priam, quietly but firmly.
Evangelia looked at her grandfather for a long moment. Then slowly started to move her hand. The dried blood fell to the blankets. As soon as her hand was free, fresh blood dripped down. The broken arrow shaft had made a mess.
Andromach's eyes flickered but she clamped the towel over the wound.
Evangelia winced and caught her Mother's wrist. "Not so hard."
Hector almost knocked Helen to the ground. "Where's the doctor?" he asked her.
"Finishing up with Paris," said Helen. "What's wrong?"
Hector said nothing and continued down the hall. Anger burned in him against Paris. Paris had brought disgrace on Troy. He had run in the face of danger! Hector's eyes blazed.
"Hector!" cried Helen. She grabbed his arm but he kept going, dragging her down the hall. "Don't hurt him, Hector. Please!"
Hector shook her off him and threw door to Paris's room open violently. It crashed back against the wall.
The doctor calmly finished cutting the thread on the stitches and stood.
Hector glared at Paris.
Paris flinched and lowered his eyes.
"I have need of your services."
"May I ask for who?" asked the doctor.
"My daughter."
"She'll be fine," said the doctor. "All though she should not go to the battle tomorrow."
Hector nodded. "Very well. Thank you."
The doctor left the room and Hector turned around.
"I'm going to fight tomorrow," said Evangelia.
"No, you're not," said Hector. "I have declared that neither side will fight tomorrow. Out of respect for the dead."
Evangelia stood. "See, I can move it. It's only stiff."
There was a knock at the door and Hector opened it.
Helen stood there, her blue eyes standing out on her pale face. It had taken a good deal of her courage to knock on the door. "Is the Princess alright?" she asked.
Evangelia moved into her line of vision. "I am well."
Helen bowed slightly then turned and glided back down the hallway.
Hector shut the door. "That was well, what you did."
"She was frightened. My anger against Paris."
"Was?"
"What's done is done." Evangelia disappeared behind the screen. She winced as she moved her arm but managed to strip her tunic off. She slipped into a white and yellow gown and came out. "We cannot take back the past. No matter how angry we are or how hard we try."
Paris looked up as the door opened and Evangelia stepped in. he looked away.
She came forward and looked at the neat stitches in his leg. Then she looked at Helen. "Well stitched."
Helen blushed.
Evangelia looked at Paris. "You have a talented woman."
At last Paris looked at her.
She looked at him coolly but not angrily. "I thank the gods you're alive, Uncle," she said quietly.
"You don't mean that," said Paris.
"But I do."