Damen never stopped giggling, even when he grew up.

Kastor loved his brother, but he still found it impossibly irritating. To watch a grown man and a powerful warrior who had just triumphed at the athletic games, his curls shaking beneath his crown of laurels… it made no sense.

Damen had also stayed just as silly as he had been as a boy. The heir to the kingdom of Akielos believed that everyone liked him and that his slaves all loved him, and it annoyed Kastor even more that he may be right. Everyone from the sons of the visiting kyroi to the servants in the palace were drawn to him like moths to a flame.

"I was far more grown-up at his age, even though I did not compete," Kastor had said to their father earlier that day. "He is too young. You should not allow it."

Theomedes had grinned. "I am so pleased to see you care so much about Damen." He clapped Kastor on his shoulder. "And I am so glad that I chose to raise you as brothers!"

"We are brothers," Kastor said.

Kastor knew he was right in that. Damen was too young to compete in the games. He could be seriously injured, or even killed. Theomedes seemed to think such things were impossible, perhaps that royal blood could never be spilled.

"Do you remember when I fenced with Damen two years ago?" Kastor had said. Damen had begged to practice with real blades, so Kastor had switched their wooden practice swords for steel and had sent his through his brother's leg.

"That was your carelessness, Kastor," Theomedes said. "Damen knows how to take care of himself."

Kastor found himself praying that something ill would befall his brother that day – nothing serious, just enough to remind Damen – and their father – that he was not immortal.

Not only did nothing happen, but Damen won a laurel wreath in wrestling and sat with the other winners for the rest of the day, glowing in their admiring gaze.

Kastor had come in second in the trident, but won no crown of his own. He was congratulated, but the time of the celebratory feast was underway, he felt so desperately lonely that he drank glass after glass of griva, and staggered out to the terrace when he needed fresh air more than alcohol.

There were two giggling voices outside, two bodies in sheer white fabric entwined with each other on a marble bench. Kastor began to walk away from them, when he recognized the voices.

"Is this all right?" his brother asked.

"I find your laurels irresistible," a woman said. Kastor recognized her voice, too. Kalliope, one of Kastor's own slaves. Kastor had not yet bedded her. She was young – only a year or two older than Damen – and she was still anxious when they were alone together. Kastor had hoped that one day she might lose the last of her anxiety. Clearly that day had already come.

Kastor cleared his throat.

Damen glanced over his shoulder casually. "Yes, brother?"

Kalliope sprang up. "My Prince, I did not see you there."

"Go back to my rooms, Kalliope. Do not worry – you have done nothing wrong." He should be furious, and he was, but not with her.

Kalliope picked up her skirts and practically ran past Kastor into the palace.

"She is…" Damen said.

"My slave? Yes."

Damen's jaw dropped. "Brother… I did not know."

Kalliope was a blue-eyed beauty, just the sort that made Damen into a love-struck puppy. He would not have thought to ask. "Of course you didn't." Kastor turned around. He could not stand the sight of him.

"Kastor, wait!" Damen caught him by the arm. "I'm so sorry! Please tell me what I can do!"

"You can do nothing. I need to go now."

"I wasn't going to do anything else with her. We were just kissing."

"It never occurred to you to ask if she belonged to anyone else?" Kastor snapped.

"I asked her if she wanted to be with me, and she said – "

"I want to be alone!" Kastor said.

"I heard you were worried about me earlier today," Damen said, perhaps hoping that changing the subject would make a difference. Kastor rolled his eyes. "I'm glad I have a brother like you."

"Two years ago I stabbed you. I'm far from a decent brother."

"You didn't mean it!" Damen said, a stupid smile on his stupid face. "Just like I didn't mean this! I promise!"

Kastor tilted his head to look intently at his brother, and suddenly it all made perfect sense.

His brother Damianos, the heir to Akielos, was an idiot.