Chapter 7
"Short-Lived Glories & Eternal Flaws"

Her palm explored the folds of fabric draped across the growing globe, and when she added pressure to her touch, she could test the soft warmth of her skin, see how malleable it was in places, firmer in others. Sera's fingers on her wrist guided her like a compass to a map, and after a moment of searching, she seemed pleased with the spot she settled upon though Iliana felt as blind as ever, only intrigued and excited by the possibility. All at once, a slight bump resounded against her palm, and a grin overtook her features as her chestnut eyes darted up to look at Sera who was beaming as well.

"He's strong," she said and removed her hand though her fingers still tingled with the sensation that never ceased to astonish her no matter the number of pregnant bellies she had seen and touched.

"Yes," Sera agreed and rubbed a hand idly over her swollen belly, "and he grows more each day. I can't imagine getting any bigger." Her brow knit slightly at the prospect with the threat of the heat, the sleepless nights, and the pressure building in her back, but in the end, she would be rewarded with a beautiful child and that made any distress bearable if not wholly worth the pain.

"Pregnancy suits you," Eione chimed in from her position at the table where she neatly crossed her legs and pushed back her cuticles. "Do you remember when I was pregnant with Chara? I looked like I'd swallowed a boulder…" The same babe sat in her mother's lap and wrestled with a doll in her clumsy fingers. The doll fell onto the floor, causing Chara to fret with kicking legs and straining arms, and Eione promptly swept up the toy, handed it to her daughter before she took crying, and cooed, "A very pretty boulder."

"She's petite like you," Sera pointed out and continued to massage her stomach. "I have all ideas he'll be as tall as his father… I'm afraid they'll have to cut him out."

"They won't," Eione assured her. "You shouldn't worry so."

"Didn't you?" she returned simultaneously accusing and gentle. "You were crying when your contractions began and saying how frightened you were."

"And you told me to be strong for my baby and pray to the gods, and I will do the same for you."

Sera glanced at Iliana who had grown quiet during this exchange and placed a hand over her elbow with an apologetic smile. "I don't mean to exclude you. We should speak about something else."

"I don't mind," the youngest woman assured both of them. "It's only natural you'd want to talk about this, and you should."

"Yes, but it's better to take her mind away from it for a while," Eione decided. "And I'm curious to know how your gift is coming along." She quirked her brow innocently, but her feline eyes were brimming with mischievous thoughts.

Iliana flushed unconsciously and bent her face to consider her lap where she busied her fingers with mending one of Aeneas' robes where wear had loosened the seams.

Sera straightened in curiosity upon seeing this reaction and wondered, "What gift?"

"For Aeneas, for his birthday," Eione answered. "She's having Damian forge him something…" She smiled impishly with her gaze completely devoted to appreciating Iliana's growing agitation but directed to her sister-in-law, "It's quite clever, isn't it?"

"Yes…" Sera pursed her lips briefly and laced her fingers at the base of her belly. This little affair kindled by stolen glances was the worst kept secret in Alba Longa, and she was hesitant to show the same enthusiasm as Eione. "You've spoken with him, then?"

Iliana paused in her work and glanced nervously through her lashes at Sera, knowing despite the woman's forgivingly neutral tone that she would be the one to disapprove of her doings. "Yes," she muttered and bent her neck at a harsher angle seeming to wish to burrow her face into her chest if possible.

Eione broke into light laughter like wind against a chime which betrayed Iliana's guilty desires, and the young woman didn't dare to see Sera's reaction. "You must tell us everything! What is he like? He's always so silent with that sort of masculine, detached attitude. It's a bit dangerous, don't you think?"

Iliana's neck could barely hold the exaggerated way with which she hung her head and thus missed the severe daggers Sera's eyes threw to silence Eione's loose tongue.

"I meant nothing by it," she said heatedly. "I only wonder how a man can live in a city for more than a year and have scarcely a friend to his name."

"Perhaps he's shy," Sera mediated in her endlessly kind way. "Alba Longa is a close knit community. It's difficult to gain our trust. I'm sure he'll acclimate in time."

"What do you say, Iliana? How well do you know our blacksmith?" Eione turned attentions to the mute young woman once more, and this time there was no diversion to allow her a graceful exit.

Sucking in a breath, she straightened her neck and winced at the lengthened muscles now struggling to tighten again and bear the weight of her head. Still her eyes were somewhat downcast, and she chewed at her bottom lip and aimlessly rearranged the thread in her lap. "He-" She swallowed and peeked at the two woman intently watching her before she continued, "He is a man of few words, but he is kind and has done much to help us." Glancing up, she realized both Sera and Eione's face were vacant with mild disappointment from such a diplomatic response, and Iliana fretted to explain herself. "When I asked him to forge the sword for Father, he said I needn't pay him."

"How generous of him!" Eione gasped grandly.

"I'm sure he expects some form of payment…"

"Sera!"

The pregnant woman frowned unapologetically and looked toward Iliana who flushed a deeper shade.

"No, no, I've never… I mean I don't," she halted abruptly and closed her eyes at her nervous stuttering which seemed all the more incriminating when she had done nothing even remotely close to feeding her desires. "He only asked that I bring him meals when I can. He has no time to cook and no one to care for him."

"Such kindness!" Eione declared and didn't spare a brief smack against Sera's arm. "And what a perfect excuse to visit with him. He must be lonely spending his days in the forge."

"Do your brothers know about this?"

"It is a surprise, Sera!" Eione scoffed. "She doesn't need to spoil it by telling her brothers!"

"Nereus would keep your secret," she said pointedly and fixed her gaze on Iliana in a manner that caused the young woman to drop her regard in guilt.

"And forbid her from seeing him again!"

When it was evident Iliana would not meet Sera's eyes, the woman turned them on Eione, revealing her intent in her resolved expression.

"Oh, get off your pedestal, Sera! Let the poor girl have a bit of excitement."

"What will the others say when they notice her arriving alone to visit his home again and again?"

"What they will, and at Aeneas' feast, she'll give him his gift and all will understand."

"Gossip is not so easily stifled! And suppose he has the wrong impression of their arrangement? Suppose he expects to continue seeing her?"

"Is that so terrible?" Eione countered near a growl, and her feline eyes flattened to sharp slivers. "She likes him. If you'd let the girl speak and not lecture her on moral behavior, she might tell you she wants him to court her!"

"Then let her tell me!"

All at once, both attentions pierced Iliana in their depths, and the woman wished to melt into her seat and slide onto the floor for the position they forced her into. Her chestnut eyes remained fixed on the robes in her hands, and she frowned as she realized several stitches had missed her mark as testament to her nerves.

"You've nothing to be ashamed of," Eione prompted. "Tell her how you feel."

Yet again, no sympathy was afforded to her allowing her to retreat from these baring questions, and reluctantly, she explained, "I don't know how to describe it… I've never had a man show interest in me, and it terrifies and excites and embarrasses me. I'm not even sure he is interested in me, or if I've imagined the entire thing." She exhaled dejectedly and rearranged the fabric in her lap. "Sometimes I think he must laugh at me – at how I behave around him."

Without hesitation, Eione's hand extended to grasp onto Iliana's fingers, and the woman squeezed them encouragingly. "I've seen how he looks at you… He may laugh, but I doubt it is at you. I'm sure he only laughs at what a lucky ass he is to have captured your attention."

"You don't understand," Iliana muttered, embarrassed by how such an explanation tempted her, and she at last looked at her sister-in-law. "I'm not like you. I never learned how to attract men, how to engage them. I'm not beautiful or witty or-"

"Hush!" Eione interrupted, and a critical frown shaded across her attractive face before she offered Chara to Sera's care since the woman had retreated from the conversation now that it had taken this turn. She then drew closer to Iliana and took her hands once more. "Women need complex, torrid tales to feed them, but men are simple. Show a little interest, and they will follow you. Make them feel wanted, and they will bow to you. Dare them, and they will rise to the occasion."

Such direct words made her uneasy coupled with Eione's proximity, and Iliana dropped her gaze. "Don't look away," Eione chastised immediately, and Iliana rushed embarrassedly to consider her sister-in-law as she demanded. Seeing her agitation, the woman drew her fingers along Iliana's temple, pushing back the short curls framing her face and tracing the edge of her cheek. "You speak with your eyes… Let them say what you wish you could." Her fingers continued their patient advance, then falling to find the angle of Iliana's jaw which quivered at the gentle touch, and Eione's lips drew into a soft smile while she shifted even closer. Between them their gazes kindled an indecipherable pressure to rest on Iliana's breast, and she struggled to appear calm and decided as the woman continued speaking. "Men lust before they love. Trap him in your eyes, and he will be drawn to you not by your body but by you, by what you tell him." Her fingers brushed Iliana's neck patiently pushing back the hair from her shoulder to reveal the smooth curve of her throat and arch of her shoulder, and Iliana found her attention abruptly torn between the seductive caress and the weight of Eione's almond-shaped eyes bearing ever nearer. "But what will he yearn for if not your breasts, your thighs, your hips?" Her knuckles followed the line of Iliana's arm, nothing compared to the shock of her hot breath brushing across Iliana's lips as she whispered, "A kiss."

Shamefully, Iliana jerked away and looked over her shoulder, blushing and heart racing within her chest as she realized what Eione had managed so easily.

The same woman laughed lightly and eased back into her seat while lamenting, "Oh, I remember what it was like to be that sweet."

"Were you ever?" Sera asked sharply, her lips depressed into a permanent frown.

"Yes," Eione responded and found Iliana's shy eyes once more to offer a candid, forgiving wink. "Once, before I met my husband."

Voices met the atrium like an explosion of noise to cut the tension of the kitchen. Within moments, the men ambled inside, Aeneas at the rear, and he wondered pleasantly, "What have I done that the gods bless me with three beautiful women in my home?"

"I believe the proper question is what haven't you done," Eione challenged and grinned mischievously, earning an intrigued grin from her father-in-law.

"True," Aeneas murmured under his breath, allowing the one word to linger on his lips and adoring it in the way he did all women.

Nereus found his way to his wife and bent with a hand upon her shoulder to reward her a loving kiss on her temple. "Shouldn't you be resting?"

"Yes," she confessed and touched her husband's hand, "but it's always refreshing to have a moment with my sisters."

"Talking about which men you're keen on?" Ariston taunted and settled into the seat beside his little sister who didn't hesitate to prod him roughly with her elbow.

"Perhaps," Eione said haughtily and took her daughter into her arms once more. "Odd… Your name wasn't mentioned."

"I'd hope not! Not from my own sisters at least."

"Not from any woman," she warned with a playful smirk.

"Have you heard word from Haemon and Ascanius?" Iliana wondered loudly to be heard over the small conversations breaking among their group.

"Not yet," Aeneas confessed and rested his hand on the edge of the table, adding his weight to it to ease the ache in his knee from an old war injury, "but I expect news from them soon. I imagine a rider is on his way here as we speak."

"Do you think they'll be along soon as well? My daughter's distraught without her father around," Eione chimed in.

"These negotiations are complex and require time to sort them. I'd like to think my sons will return soon, but there is no way to be certain –not until word arrives."

"It's been little over a week, Eione," Nereus contributed. "I wouldn't expect them before the month's gone."

"And what of Umbria?" Iliana asked once more, and without explanation, the men fell silent, glancing at each other in a wordless exchange not privy to the women.

"None of your concern for the moment," Nereus answered and squeezed his wife's shoulder. "Come. Let's go home for the afternoon."

Sera gathered herself with as much elegance as a pregnant woman can from the table, but Aeneas wondered first, "Nereus, a word before you leave."

"Of course." His son followed him into the corridor, and Ariston grunted to himself as some annoyance at his exclusion.

"Iliana," Sera wondered with a kind smile, "would you walk with me to the door?"

Confused but willing to be of service, the young woman stood, took Sera's elbow, and helped her to the atrium where she paused to wait for her husband to follow. In the interim, her true purpose was revealed as she pinned Iliana within her sights and said, "I don't think what you're doing with the blacksmith is wise. I know you and Eione think I hold some moral superiority, but I do care about your happiness and I know how tempting companionship can be when you're young." She gathered her breath shortly and smiled again. "All I want to say is don't do anything you wouldn't want your brothers to find out about… Do you understand?"

Iliana sustained her sincere look, searching those amber depths and feeling humbled by their wisdom, and she nodded her head.

"Are you angry with me? I only want you to understand the greater implications of what you're-"

"Please," she interrupted and smiled weakly. "Don't talk about it anymore."

Sera's lips pursed as though poised to carry on regardless of her sister-in-law's plea, but perhaps she saw a flicker of desperation and shame to Iliana's features. For once that afternoon, she kept her mouth shut, and soon Nereus joined them in the atrium to escort his wife home. Eione followed shortly after them, excusing herself with Chara's needing to lie down for the afternoon, and in their wake, Ariston and Iliana were left to the kitchen where the latter prepared a small plate of food for her father and brother. Her impromptu confrontation with Sera had left her head heavy and stomach weak, and she felt a bit dizzy in her thoughts as she wandered about the kitchen. Ariston told her a tale from the day, but she was deaf to its details, only aware of the distant drone of his voice carrying on without provocation. It was only minutes later that her silence aggravated her brother.

"Iliana?" he questioned impatiently, and his little sister bobbed her head up from her task to look at him. "Are you even listening?"

Initially, her chestnut eyes searched the void of space between them, jockeying between the truth and a simple like, and she decided, "Yes."

"What did I just say?"

The young woman exhaled her defeat and rolled her eyes while turning to consider the fruit she was slicing. She felt no embarrassment, but she was irritated how Ariston imposed himself on her thoughts when she so needed the quiet and solitude to reexamine her situation.

"What's wrong? You've had that dazed look since we arrived home."

"Nothing," she muttered calmly and took another piece of fruit to slice.

"I might be dumb to a lot of things," he said and leaned against the table beside where his sister worked to be sure she couldn't avoid him, "but I know when a woman says nothing, it means something."

"This time it is nothing. I'm only tired," she lied pitifully and ignored her brother's interrogative gaze.

Unlike Haemon, he didn't have the patience or level of attentiveness to keep up this investigation for long. As she suspected, he folded with a careless shrug and spoke, "Whatever you say, little sister… I'll be in Father's chambers."

Finally alone, her knife was abandoned from her grip, and she rested her empty palms on the table top to support how she hung her head and waited for the pressure of the blood building behind her forehead. Her eyes felt weightless, able to see clear of the shroud drawn across them, but her mind was leaden with the warnings Sera had shared with her. They weren't unknown concerns to the young woman, but she had found a forgiveness in Eione's acceptance, an ability to blind herself to the negatives of this course of action. But Sera reminded her that there was a price for every choice, and she worried what she would pay if she continued this sly plan of hers. It's too late to give up now, she mused, and she picked up her knife and continued her work.

At times you need listen to what your heart wants. Her mother had taught her that, using her own marriage to Hector as evidence to suit her claim. They had fought long years to have each other. They had shared a bed and four healthy children, but war plagued them within years of their marriage. Perhaps there was a price, and they hadn't paid in full; and so Hector was taken. Such an assumption made Iliana uneasy with a treasonous twisting of her gut, and she hurriedly swept the sliced fruit onto a platter, wiped her hands, and picked up the plate to bring to her father and brother. Was it possible they still paid for an unsettled debt? Iliana shook her head to rid herself of the thought, but it latched into the deepest base of her skull to remind her in her weakest moments of the short-lived glories and eternal flaws of man.

‡‡‡

Ash-colored tendrils of steam curled from the surface, a cloudy pool where two pale peaks prodded through the water's veil. Milk gave the bath its cream color, honey melted into a sweet aroma, and both gave her numb skin a velvety texture beneath the surface. Yet her boney knees dared out of the warm cover where night kissed the skin and drew a tremor down her spine. She retreated deeper into the wooden tub until the nape of her neck balanced against the bath's lip and the water rose to cover her shoulders. It was so opaque not even the faintest outline of her naked body beneath was visible, and gradually, she allowed her legs to straighten as much as the tub's narrow width and length would allow until she disappeared beneath the water's surface: her pale skin blended perfectly so that any faint glimmer of her self dissolved.

The heat blanketed her and drew beads of sweat along her brow, some burying into her hair, others sliding down her neck. A fire crackled noisily to her right, and she rolled her head atop the wooden to edge to gaze at the flames darting and shivering against the subtle breeze. The same cool touch chilled her features, and she wished to bury herself completely beneath the water's edge, to be consumed, surrounded, compressed by the hot water. But it would do her no good to wet her hair this late. It was too thick to dry swiftly, and the cold would make her sick. She cupped her palms and brought some of the warm water to her face, relishing in the brief comfort, but in its place the cold of the room swept once more.

Aggravated, she rose up from her sunken escape and reached for the bronze chalice of wine beside the tub's edge. The deep cup was half-emptied by this hour, and another sip nudged the forgiving weight of its numbness across her. Her body was leaden, eyes heavy, every ounce of her exhausted, and she nearly spilled her cup for her gracelessness in setting it down once more. Her elbows overflowed from the sides, allowing her shoulders to prop against the tub's edge, and the water receded enough that the gold glittered in the light. Its flickering penetrated the fog hanging across her eyes and attracted her attention to fall to her naked chest where the sliver of opal hung beautiful and heavy. A seductive proposition of his hold gripping her, but she had seen the true depth of his authority mere hours after their engagement was announced. It was far more rough and unforgiving, a salient flash of what she had feared all along, and it seemed a foreboding of what awaited her on their wedding night and years to follow after it. No benevolence, no compassion, no sympathy… If she stirred anything in him, all that was revealed to her was disdain.

At a foolish age when her empty mind preoccupied itself with wanderings of a husband, a first kiss, and a lasting love, she had envisioned the bonding of two lives as some act fueled by passion and fondness, like she had witnessed in her parents. Perhaps they were better pretenders… Her mind immediately corralled and attacked the thought for its treasonous voice against the tender memories she guarded of her family, but the few words called upon a worn ache lingering somewhere deep inside her gut. This muscle was attached to her sensation of emptiness, and how it twisted and strained, strong from years of training. In these moments, she imagined the conversations she would hold with her mother, father, sister, and brothers about her life. They did nothing to ease the ache or soothe the tremor inside her, but they were addictive and her mind was weak from the hour and the wine. Perhaps they would know how to make him like me…

She took the opal between her fingertips and pressed firmly until the smoothed edges buried into her skin and found the bone beneath. Impulsively, she turned the stone to her lips and rolled it across the flesh. It was warm from the water, and her dewy breath fogged the surface unnoticed by her for her lids had fallen, giving her full attention to the slow rotations. The unyielding touch was reminiscent of his siege, but their collision, despite his roughness, had been different. Amid the coarse span of his beard, his lips were soft on her own and had savored every inch he desired while she, inexperienced and stunned, submitted without contributing in the least. Recalling how inelegantly she had handled herself caused a crevice to draw between her brows. Her damps lashes flickered with the bothered movements of her eyes beneath the thin skin of her lids. She glimpsed at the light of the fire in the gap but banished it a moment later. The black calmed her, and she submitted further into the embrace of the water, sensing herself trapped beneath the grip of his hands and immovable mass of his body. Her lips parted to draw a breath and unconsciously stroked the stone. The nerves pricked across the soft skin, and intrigued, her lips closed once more. They massaged the stone with no sense of the reason or purpose, commanded by a mind lost to the memory of an encounter which terrified and provoked her.

At the height of her private thoughts, she caught a rustling unnatural to the space. The stone was abandoned in a moment, and her eyes shot open guilty and embarrassed and directed to the threshold at her right across the fire. The light caught her gaze, and she could decipher little of the dark reach beyond it. Her eyes were prolonged in focusing her sights, and she blinked forcefully, struggling to make them obey despite the weight of wine and exhaustion of the day. A fresh chill gathered the hairs upon the back of her neck, but it was not a night wind that touched her. No matter the warmth of the bath, her body had gone cold, and she drew closer to the edge of the tub where her nakedness was hidden from sight. The shadows were dense. She sensed something beyond them, but she had no weapon but her gaze and her voice. The latter fled from her, and she merely parted her lips though no sound dared escape the tight embrace of her throat.

This is foolish, Aurora, her mind chastised her even as her eyes continued to strain. There is nothing in the dark!

The dark shifted, and her heart crumbled into her gut with the dead weight of terror. Her fingers curled around the edge holding tight as if attaching herself to the tub where none could force her away. Her body coiled deeper against the side, both hiding and preparing to strike, but she was stripped of anything that could protect herself. As though realizing the fight, a figure emerged, and she jerked prematurely sending the water noisily pitching while her tongue loosened enough to emit a rocky screech.

Clay shattered on the stone floor as Cybele startled much like her mistress, and each woman stared at the other through eyes wide as disks. The servant was the first to soften, and she snapped her tongue against the back of her teeth and considered the small bottle of perfume she had brought for Aurora which now only benefited the floor. When her attention swept toward the young woman once more, she found the Princess reclined against the tub with her palms to her forehead and heels of her hands digging into her eyes. They released a moment later and fell to cup her heaving breast.

Distrustfully, Aurora glanced toward Cybele but appeared much more concerned with what lay behind the old woman until the latter glanced suspiciously over her shoulder.

"Are you alone?" she wondered in a strained tone.

"Of course, My Lady," Cybele murmured and side-stepped around the broken pieces of clay to approach the Princess. "I thought you had fallen asleep you've been in here so long."

"Long?" she challenged, breathless. "Barely an hour has passed."

"Nearly two," Cybele corrected and glanced disapprovingly at the cup of wine keeping her lady company. "You'll catch cold if you remain any longer, and you need your rest. The hunt is tomorrow."

A renewed sense of obligation assailed her, and of all the ways she had considered her betrothed this night, the upcoming hunt had somehow evaded her consideration. No matter Cybele's warning, the reminder only made Aurora want to sustain her haven a while longer.

"Come," the servant prompted impatiently and unfolded the linen cloth brought to dry her off. The Princess did no such thing, and Cybele assumed her too affected by the wine to manage her body. Her boney hands delved into the warm water and found Aurora's arms pulling forcefully until the woman bounded out of the tub. Though Aurora was reluctant to believe Cybele's timing, her body, or its unresponsiveness rather, warned her enough of the hours spent soaking in the tub. It seemed the water had penetrated her pores and dissolved her muscles to pulp so that she gripped to the old woman's thin shoulders to balance her weight as her knees and thighs quivered with the effort to stand. Despite her age, Cybele sustained her mistress' arms draped about her and reached to smack the back of Aurora's thigh purposefully. Her knee recoiled on instinct, and Cybele guided her bent leg across the tub's edge and to the floor where the cold of the palace found her once more. A shiver traveled up her leg to make her chest shudder.

"Come," Cybele commanded shortly once more, and Aurora hurried to step completely from the warm water. The heat faded into the heavy pulse of her body, and the chill drew denser and denser against her. She released Cybele now that she was grounded to wrap her arms around her naked chest, and for whatever reason, her attention was drawn to the dark corner once more which felt alive as it had moments before. The old woman bent with a short grunt and wrapped the linen around Aurora's leg, rubbing in rough, brusque strokes to dry her calf and next her thigh.

"I understand why sleep evades you," she commented and rearranged the towel in her grip to a drier section so that she might consider Aurora's other leg with the same aggressive motions that nearly sent the woman off her footing. "You are eager for tomorrow. I'm sure the Prince will find the greatest stag to offer for you."

"Yes," she answered dryly, aggravated to be treated like a child, shivering, and exhausted, "I've long dreamt of the day a man would kill for me."

"He'll be your husband soon." Cybele unraveled one of Aurora's arms by her wrist and began drying it as well. "You shouldn't speak ill of him."

"Have I?" she asked while gazing toward the void of shadows and seeming to speak to their headless eyes.

"It is an honor to participate in the hunt. It was custom once when I was a girl before days grew dark and people forgot about paying tribute." The old servant wrapped the linen cloth about Aurora finally, and the woman gathered the edges tightly around her skin pale and covered in chills.

"They hunt to feed their families –not for a game."

"And you think this is a game?" Her beady eyes were the darker and glistened in the dim lighting making them seem like two stones set within her wrinkled features. "It has been decided. Already we have begun packing your things for the trip to Latium. This is your life, and you would do well not to make an enemy of your husband lest you wage war the rest of your years."

"I don't want to go to war with him," she muttered bitterly as memories of their encounter nights ago flickered through her mind. She brushed past the old servant and hurried toward the door leading to her chambers. The night and sole member who played audience to her tirade made her bold enough to continue, "It would be foolish knowing what a shrewd killer he is. My brothers are infatuated with tales of his victories." For men who had never had to fight to save their necks, they were easily roused by the rumors they had heard of the Alban Prince and his brothers.

"They say he bladed a man with such force his body was torn in two!"

"That's impossible," Davos challenged, but his regard locked with his brother's each suspicious and fascinated by the idea.

"He's a soldier," Cybele corrected, interrupting her mistress' thoughts, and closed the door behind them.

"Is there a difference?"

"Yes," she answered curtly and stripped away the linen cloth from Aurora, leaving her naked near the fire pit in the center of her chambers, while she fetched her sleeping robes.

The young woman wrapped her arms about herself once more, pressing her knees together to hold in the chill, and drew near enough to the open flames that her skin burned from the proximity. "My uncle might as well have sold me to the Sabines Tribes… They have no sense of nobility, no glorious capital, no right to their titles."

Cybele lifted the gown overhead, and Aurora bent to slip her hands through the armholes while the old woman pulled the fabric down her body. She offered Aurora's fur-lined robe next and motioned for her to sit at the stool near the fire. The Princess consented and wrapped the layers of fabric around her to smother the chill from her skin, and Cybele took a comb to Aurora's hair next, beginning at the ends damp from falling into the water and carefully detangling them.

"The Prince and his family may have more noble blood than you assume," she suggested and moved her comb closer to Aurora's scalp.

"There is nothing noble in stealing someone's lands. That does not make you royalty."

Cybele appeared silenced for the time, and she gathered another section of hair to attend before she confessed, "I've heard rumors of your betrothed."

Aurora's stoic features flickered with interest, and she twisted her head above her shoulders to gaze back the old woman. "From whom?"

"Other servants, but they claim to have spoken with Prince Haemon's men."

"And what did they say?"

Her attention was wholly directed at her simple task as though reluctant to commit to this path of conversation even if she had addressed it.

Aurora was not so easily dissuaded, and she caught Cybele's boney wrist and forced the old woman to look at her face. "Tell me."

She hesitated still, making Aurora's grip tighten meaningfully, and at length she revealed, "They spoke of a great city in the East –farther than any Apulian has ever traveled."

"Greece?" she asked incredulously, but Cybele's expression was fixed in its significance.

"Beyond Greece."

Aurora's frown returned tenfold, and she twisted in her seat to consider the fire once more where she searched its shifting depths for the answer. The old map in her mind unraveled slowly and painfully, scouring for these mysterious lands, but there was nothing to meet her reach. In her twenty-six years, beyond Greece the world ended.

"That's impossible," she muttered, but it resonated with the memory of her brother's words and made her all the more uncertain.


Author's Note: Hi my lovelies! Forgive the slight delay. You know how it goes! I realize it's 7 chapters in now, but for those of you who have followed me, you know I tend to keep my cards close to my chest until I have the hand I want. That is to say, assume I have much up my sleeves, and trust me to reveal all when the timing's right :) Hint: one of my huge plot points is coming to a head in the next chapter, and it will be the catalyst for all! I'm so excited like you don't even know… haha Also, I know I promised something very unexpected between Damian and Iliana in this chapter, but I decided to postpone my idea because I'm just torturous like that (really I just rearranged my chapter division :X)

Thank you as always to AmyLNelson and klandgraf2007 for the sweet reviews!

Amy: I realize there wasn't really in depth brother and sister time, but I tried to incorporate a little in this chapter where I could! The Agamemnon ball is rolling, but I suspect it's not at all in the way you're anticipating which brings me great pleasure because you know how I love surprises and you've always been able to read my mind and guess where I'm going! I do have quite a bit going at once like I have my hands in all the pots simultaneously (is that how the saying goes?), but be warned not all of them are meant to play out. I'll remain mysterious and leave it at that. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'm excited to get to work on the next chapter and hopefully blow your mind :D xoxo

klandgraf: You're such a sweetheart for the PM. Thank you :) And I feel so special that you reviewed to the other chapter as well! Haemon is complicated haha And I was initially frustrated in the beginning of the story because I didn't feel he was coming across the way I see him in my head. I think I'm starting to depict him better, and in the next chapter in particular you're going to get a fun taste of him! I'm glad you liked the interaction between the siblings (here as well?) and that you think the sword will be bombing cause I kinda do too! Thanks so much for the review, and I hope you liked this chapter xoxo