(Xena's POV)

Argo slowed her pace, coming to a pause at the crest of the hill. Black sand beaches were visible to the east, and beyond them, the broad expanse of the sea. I could spy no ships on the horizon, but I imagined myself standing upon the bow of a proud, sturdy vessel, where even the waves fell away beneath my stare. There is no freedom, nor confinement, that can match the open water. It is the struggle of life at its most basic: the insignificant will of the oarsmen against the dictates of wind and weather. Why does a boat sink or sail? Some say it's determined at the whim of the gods, but I've always believed that you can make your own fate—if you have a good enough crew.

I glanced behind me and found the bulk of the cavalry just barely visible. I had ridden ahead of my troops, per Atreus's suggestion. Apparently, my habit of taking annoyance with everything was "affecting morale." I told my captain to take his morale and shove it where the sun don't shine, but I also took his advice. I'd come close to gutting one man this morning, and my restraint would only wear away as the sun rose higher. I was forced to concede that putting some distance between us would keep my blade clean, at least for now. I hadn't realized how far ahead I'd ridden until I turned and saw them in the distance. The entire column was so damned slow.

"Am I leading soldiers or tortoises?" I asked irritably. Argo flicked her tail, disinterested, and I sighed. "Leave them, then. You and I are going hunting."

I've never ridden a horse that knew my mind like Argo did. She seemed to choose our path without any direction from me. We descended the hill on the western side, heading inland toward the foothills and denser trees. If Gabrielle were hiding, it would have to be in there.

Gabrielle. I could put her out of my mind when I needed to, for hours at a time; yet somehow her face would return unbidden when I least expected it. It was like a part of her had burrowed way down deep beneath my skin, and I wondered how I could get her out again with hurting myself in the process. I hated the very idea that anything, anyone could affect me like this. I didn't do sentimentality. I didn't get attached, not anymore. So why now? Why this?

Argo and I threaded our way through the trees. I scanned the ground and the low brush, searching for a print or a pattern of trampled undergrowth, some sign of human passage. The hoof prints had made it easy to track her this far, but those prints had dried up along with the rain. I was on the verge of turning back when I noticed a place where the soil looked lighter, as though it had been overturned recently. Frowning, I dismounted and drew my sword, poking it around in the dirt. The point of the blade struck something solid, and I hastily began to scrape away the soil. At last I uncovered what was buried beneath: a discarded cuirass, stamped with my seal.

Gabrielle had been here. How long ago? I sheathed my sword, pondering. The overturned soil had been stamped by foot, but not wet down—that meant that she couldn't have dug these holes until after the rain stopped. This morning, then, or sometime later. Her pace was slow, and I could probably catch her before nightfall if I pressed Argo hard.

What would I gain? I might recover Kyros. I might have the satisfaction of putting them both to justice for treason, for being runaways, for breaking my trust. But the rage wasn't as strong in me as it had been two nights ago, and my desire for vengeance had ebbed away into a dull, throbbing ache in my chest. There was another instinct taking over now—the one that told me to let her go.

"Damn you to tartarus," I growled.

And then I turned back.

...

"We need to move faster," I urged, lowering my wine goblet. "We're giving the Spartans too much time."

"With respect, Conqueror," began one of the captains from Phillipi, "we can't hide an entire army. The Spartans will know we're coming, regardless of how fast we approach. Maybe they know already."

"Do you take me for a fool? I'm not suggesting we wear branches on our helms and disguise ourselves as a moving forest. I'm saying we're too slow. The faster we move, the less time they have to fortify their defenses. We can't catch them unawares, but we can attack before they've had time to gather their full strength from the provinces."

"As you say, Conqueror," he conceded. At least he was smart enough not to argue. "But the mountains will be an obstacle."

"We're not crossing the mountains," I said impatiently.

"But the Amazons-"

"The Amazons won't be a problem," Atreus interrupted, speaking for the first time. "We have a treaty signed by their queen. It grants the army safe passage along the edge of Amazon lands. It will save us a fortnight of travel."

I nodded, indicating that Atreus spoke truly.

"This is good news." The Phillipian smiled slowly. "Good news indeed. I will pass your word along to the rest of my officers. We will be ready to move again at dawn."

"Good," I acknowledged. "Dismissed."

He took leave of us. I sipped my wine absently.

"You've been quiet, Atreus."

He didn't answer this statement. Instead, he lifted his eyes to mine and said, quietly, "You chose not to chase after Gabrielle."

"I don't see how that's relevant to military strategy," I replied icily.

"Not everything in life is about conquest, Xena."

I looked at him sharply. Not only did he have the audacity to use my given name, but his provocation was also clearly intentional. These words had been pondered, premeditated. I felt as though I was about to be lectured, and the notion made me angry.

"You are a commanding officer in my army. I pay you to keep my men in order, not to give your opinion on matters that don't concern you. You're out of line."

"Then let me speak to you not as your captain, but as your friend. I don't believe Gabrielle wished to hurt you."

"To hurt me? She's a runaway servant, and she broke a prisoner out of confinement. She broke the law, Atreus."

"But that's not what you're upset about."

"You don't know what you're fucking talking about," I growled. We both knew his words struck too close to the truth.

"You're upset because she grew on you."

"Shut up, Captain."

"Because you like her and she disappointed you."

"Shut up!" I hurled my wine goblet at Atreus and he ducked just in time, suffering no more than a stain on his tunic. In the instant it took him to avoid the flying cup, I pulled a knife from my belt, kicked aside the wooden chest that separated us, and pressed the flat of the blade against his throat. "I swear by all the gods on Mount Olympus, Atreus. I will kill you right now if you don't stop talking."

"Then it's a good thing neither of us put much stock in the gods," he said quietly.

I glared at him, breathing heavily. If I expected to find fear in his eyes, I was mistaken. It was amusement that I saw, and a hint of sadness. He pities me, I realized, and felt disgusted.

I eased my grip on his shirt and slowly lowered the knife. "I hate her," I said forcefully.

"Truly?" His voice was maddeningly gentle.

"No," I whispered, defeated. I let go of him and turned away, my rage exhausted. I could feel the beginnings of a headache stirring in my temples, and I was tired all of a sudden, so very tired.

"What are you going to do, Xena?" The very question I'd been asking myself all day.

"What I always do," I concluded. "Fight. Make war. Forget about her."