Xenia expected to cry as she lay falling asleep, thinking about Lucius. She didn't. Instead, she felt anger building at the injustice of a life cut too short She also expected for him to haunt her dreams, but that didn't happen either. Instead, it was the face of the man she'd killed, whose name she didn't even know.
She had bathed in the lake they were camped beside, but she still felt as if the blood were on her. It was a fitful sleep she slept despite the luxurious furs she'd been given to sleep on. She woke up many times though she refused to open her eyes for fear she would see the face in the dark as well.
When she finally did open her eyes at the morning's first rays, it was the face of the man who called himself Ares that she saw first. Had he even slept? She could have sworn he's been sitting there on that log in the same exact way when she'd gone to sleep.
"Ready for your first day of training?" he asked.
Was it wrong that it excited her? She had found herding sheep the dullest occupation in the world. Sheep were the dumbest animal God had ever made, and she had hated that her life revolved watching them.
Going after these monsters, especially the one who had killed her brother, gave her more of a sense of purpose. It gave her a chance to create security instead of waiting every day helplessly with her people for when they would be attacked and slaughtered mercilessly like a wolf came among the sheep. She was not a sheep, and she had killed many a wolf in her time.
"More than you know," she replied.
sss
He filled his lungs with a fresh breath of air through his nostrils. He could almost smell the incense that would fill his temples again with her at his side. She had always been his best warrior, his princess.
It had been a long time since he had felt so in control and satisfied. It had been even longer since he had seen the unadulterated anger burning in her eyes, her finest quality and what had drawn him to her in the first place.
Ares would be lying to himself if he said it didn't hurt that she didn't recognize him or even believe he was who he said he was. But how could he expect it any other way? She was living a different life with no memory of her past life. That's the way it was with mortals. So why did it still hurt?
One in a billion. That's what she had said to him. It was hundreds of years ago now, but to him, it seemed only yesterday. It had given him all the hope he needed to keep trying. She looked just like she had in Ancient Greece, hair black as midnight but eyes as bright as the bluest sky on a sunny day. Day and night. They had always represented the paradox of good and evil in her to him.
This he knew and had learned the hard way: for them to finally have that ever so slight chance, he had to help her embrace her evil side. Because the straight and narrow path had never held any room for him on it.
"Eat first. You'll need it." He offered her grapes, ashamed he couldn't make a complete feast appear like he used to.
She took them and tried not to eat them too quickly, but she didn't quite manage to hide her overeagerness. Fruit that didn't grow wild was no doubt a scarcity to her and likely did seem like a feast. He should have offered her something last night. He forgot sometimes how much sustenance was needed when you weren't a god.
"Where's my sword?" she asked even as she plucked off the last grape with her teeth.
By the gods, she could make his pulse race without even trying. Nevertheless, that part of their relationship would have to wait. Though personally he'd always thought of combat as their own personal brand of lovemaking. The mind games they played were what flirtations were to other couples.
"An infant doesn't start off running. We must start with the basics, my dear."
He led her over to a tree with a low-lying limb that was capable of holding her weight. "Lay down on your stomach," he commanded.
She looked at him with distrust. "This is how I learn to fight with a sword?"
"The first thing you must learn is not to question my methods."
She did as he said grudgingly, getting down into the crunchy leaf debris. "Now jump up and grab a hold of the limb above you and pull yourself up."
She did though she quickly lost her grip on the branch and fell to the ground before she ever completed a pull-up.
He had her do it for forty-five minute. Her hands were covered in splinters by then though she had never complained until he'd asked her to stop. "I don't see how that is teaching me anything."
He took one of her injured hands in his. He thought she might pull away at first because he'd become used to her pulling away over the years, but she didn't and allowed him to pull the slivers of wood out, which he did very gently.
"You'd be surprised what that might help you accomplish one day," he said, "but the main purpose is to build your strength. You struggled with the weight of the sword at my temple. This will help."
She opened her mouth to argue and then thought better of it. She'd wanted to disagree, not desiring to admit to any weakness. It made him smile. She had strength where it counted on the inside. Muscle could be built a lot easier than spirit.
