Father had really outdone himself this time.
The moment his posse had stepped through the door, they were shown the utmost hospitality. Slaves, with their garments freshly pressed, came forward to wash their feet with expensive oils and perfume that one would use to embalm the member of high royalty. The dining room was inlayed with the newest and most colorful mattresses, sofas, and cushions that money could buy, was already set waiting for them, with 2 slave musicians and 5 beautiful dancers. The guests were compelled to feast on the finest delicacies: oysters, crabs, rare marinated fishes, ripe grapes and figs, fluffy pitas, honeyed wines, roasted lamb and, of course, venison—on account of Artemis. The event itself was indeed very rich and extravagant, but then again. Melantriche's father could afford to be lavish. Perhaps this feast was actually a ploy to get into the other council men's good books, more than he already had.
During the arrival, Lyra appeared out of nowhere at Melantriche's side, ready to assist her out of her costume and to the dining room. The moment Melantriche was seated, Lyra bowed and rushed off to join the others in the kitchen to cook up more portions of supper. Melantriche sighed. They couldn't help but be stiff with each other with others around; for her to put a lowly slave on equal footing would be seen as scandalous.
She should've been happy to have been surrounded by riches, and pleased with herself for having done her duties for Artemis. But the fact that she would not be able to set foot outside again for another year washed over her like a wave of melancholy. Lyra was probably dying to know what happened at Brauron. She was once from a small city near Olympia, where women could walk about freely. She must've missed that, Melantriche knew, and she would've been very happy to ply the woman with the details, but she already left. Leida sat on Melantriche's left side, and yet she still was looking very displeased. With such a frightening look on her face, Melantriche didn't dare make any conversation with her other than,
"Mother, you look unwell. Perhaps you'd like to turn in early tonight?"
"I'm fine." Leida snapped, and that was the end of that.
And Melantriche was hardly ever around men, yet here she was, suddenly having a feast between a considerable number of them. She never liked being at feasts in the first place; they made her feel very rigid and self conscious. Currently, she was feeling especially fidgety, since she still felt the blond man's eyes on her. He watched her intensely from the sofa on the other side of the room, not the least abashed to display all his desires in a single state. Melantriche couldn't bear to even look at him. His gaze was enough to make her face run like a pot of molten iron.
And he wasn't the only one eyeing her. There was not a man in the room that hadn't acknowledged her with an admiring word.
"What a beautiful child you have, Adrianis." An old man crooned as he gazed admiringly at her. But rather than embarrassed, Melantriche felt pleasantly bashful, for she could tell by his gaze that he was also a kind and pleasant grandfather. He was small, tubby and wrinkled, with a long white beard braided into triplets, and he had warm brown eyes.
Adrianis was reclined at the foot of the table, holding a goblet of freshly poured wine. He swayed slightly on his forearm as he grinned, a pleasant red coloring his cheeks. Was he drunk already?
"Right you are, Philipeis! My pride and joy, little Melantriche is!"
"I can see why," another piped up from his portion of fish, "but tell us, Adrianis, who've you planned of marrying her off to?"
"I.. haven't thought of whom."
"Ah." An array of eyes lit up in the room, particularly the blond man's. His eyes were an inferno searing their way into Melantriche's skin. She felt fit to burst into flames. She stood immediately.
"Daughter," Adrianis called, looking concerned through his tipsiness. "Wherever are you going?"
"I am fine, Father." Melantriche echoed back, smiling weakly. "I'm just going out for fresh air."
Dizzily, she stumbled out into the hall, wanting out of public sight as soon as possible. As she wandered towards the courtyard, she grew to fume silently. It was annoying how men she didn't even know tried to dictate her fate. Perhaps they were hoping to have her father marry her off to one of their sons, or maybe even plot to have her for themselves. It would be the perfect opportunity for her father to gain ultimate ties with one of the other councilmen. If he offered his daughter, he could have any pick of alliances he desired. She shook her head, both repulsed and frightened at the thought. She didn't feel ready for marriage at all, despite being old as she was. And especially not to an old man. Her father would never let that happen... right?
She stared between pillars out to the garden. The flowers looked especially beautiful in the moonlight. A cool breeze swept through the yard, soothing Melantriche's red cheeks. She took a deep breath and took it all in. If she acknowledged the fact that she may be leaving here soon, then it all looked surreally beautiful.
She raised her hands to the top of her head and sighed again. Maybe now that she was out of sight, she could sneak off to see Lyra. She barely took another step before she heard him. Whirling around, she turned to come face to face with the blond man. He was only about 10 feet away from her, staring unsettlingly at her. Melantriche's stomach spun and churned.
"My lord," she uttered under shuttering breath. "Whatever are you doing out here?"
"I was in the mood for a stroll, I suppose." He spoke coolly, "I happened to be walking by."
That's a lie.
"But whatever of you, my Lady? You've been outside for a while now."
Melantriche felt the surface of a smooth cool pillar against her palm, held behind her back. "I don't like crowds," she murmured, "I'm used to being alone."
"That's a shame," he echoed back as he stepped closer, "for a creature as lovely as you, to never be allowed to put her fullness on display, a shame indeed..."
"Please, my Lord. Don't come any closer."
"Why ever not?"
"Because I'm afraid," Melantriche said bluntly as she shuffled backwards against the pillar. "You are frightening me."
The man chuckled, amused. The sound chilled Melantriche's spine. "I am intimidating to most, but you've nothing to fear. I merely wish to come to you with my open feelings."
"Open feelings?"
"Yes, Lady Melantriche." The man spoke boldly, his eyes alit with fire. His voice was no longer cool, but with a passionate burning. "I must tell you that I am deeply in love with you. I fell in love with you at first sight tonight, and I swear to you now that I'll go to the Underworld and back just to vie for your hand."
She knew it. She stared down at herself, and could've sworn that her chest was visibly pulsing. Her heart was beating so hard! But her face, somehow, felt cold instead of hot. Or perhaps that was because the fire had grown so intense it became freezing. Melantriche smiled blankly.
"We should return to the feast."
"Feast? Is that all you have to say? What of my feelings? Don't you feel the same."
"I don't even know your name, my Lord. I can't be in love with you just yet."
"My name is Belenis. I am the son of Bemus, the third councilman, and commander of the seventh Athenian naval fleet. When I go out to war, my heart will be strong, because you will be in it. I will dedicate the rest of my life to protecting you and this city. With me, you'll want for nothing for the rest of your days."
"Perhaps I will love you, perhaps I won't." She spoke softly, "Either way, you've promised you'd go through hell and back just for me."
She slipped past him and smiled again, and ignored his stare, bemused but determined. He would not easily be shaken off; by the looks of it, Commander Belenis enjoyed a challenge.
Well, she'd see about that.