Alexis of Sparta (Book II) - Unedited, first draft*

ξ′ - Eptah

Seven

Though the chariot race ended with me being ushered back to the palace, three things occurred to me. One, I might have actually found an ally with Patroclus. Two, there was no way I could escape the megara grounds without detection. Three, Achilles would do everything in his power to keep contained within the Phthian megara walls.

The wall that ran around the grounds was high and solid rock. Even if there was a hole hidden somewhere, I would have to shake my newfound shadow, which proved harder than I thought.

Surprise to no one at all, Achilles had met Patroclus' rebellious act with a chilling glare of betrayal. He dismissed his companion who rolled his eyes at the dramatic hero. As if he wasn't the one to suffer the repercussions of our race. Patroclus threw me an apologetic smile before disappearing. Then Achilles sent me away with a lecture about how I was a prisoner, not a guest. How I was in danger if I wandered outside. Blah, blah, blah. As if I was the one who asked to go out for a ride. As if I had asked for any of it.

The next morning, Bacchus appeared at my door and hovered around me like a mosquito. And I tried. Tried to lose him within the maze of the megara. To pretend to need something or other and then slip away when he wasn't looking. Every chance I could, I tried to shake him. Every chance I managed to lose him, I turned around and there was Bacchus. He was too young to be a soldier, but he was unnaturally stealthy. I'd give him that much.

Bacchus was there, knocking on the door before the rooster made his morning call. He wore no helmet, his flop of wavy obsidian hair pushed out of his face with a leather band. His clothes were simple yet clean, and revealed lanky limbs teetering on muscular. However, for all his youthful cheer, there was something unsettling about the boy. Something I couldn't quite place. Perhaps that was what Achilles wanted—for me to be as uncomfortable as possible.

"Achilles has requested you join him for breakfast," the young soldier said.

"Of course he does," I murmured. "And if I refuse?"

Bacchus shrugged but his lack of response meant that I shouldn't.

Sometimes I wondered if Achilles had any idea what to do with me. It was very clear that I was a prisoner, though since the chariot ride, Achilles hadn't sent me to do any of my usual chores. So, was I still considered a slave? Would Achilles invite a slave to breakfast? I highly doubted that.

Louder, I said, "can I at least have a couple minutes to freshen up? I'm willing to bet my hair looks like a nest, right?"

The young guard's eyes snapped up to my hair and then away. He gave the slightest of shrugs, his cheeks pink. "It could use a brush... If you could get one through, that is."

With an eye roll, I glanced around the room. It hadn't come equipped with much, and there was no brush hidden in the sole drawer in the desk. Guess I was going to do it the hard way. I combed my hair with my fingers, wincing as they snagged on a knot. As I struggled to detangle the mess, I eyed him with a mixed bag of feelings. He tried not to watch, but I was willing to bet I looked ridiculous trying to comb my hair with my fingers.

Finally, I gave up and untangled my fingers. "I really would appreciate a brush, so, get me one of those if His "Highness" wants me to eat with him."

"Just hurry," Bacchus sighed, like an impatient child.

Which, truthfully, he was.

It was really hard to take the guard seriously when he couldn't be older than sixteen. On the cusp of manhood and yet already equipped with a deadly sword I doubted he could hold upright for long. Hardly a threat, which meant Achilles didn't think I was much of a threat. He probably had Bacchus hang around in case Patroclus decided to whisk me away on another adventure, more in a snitch role than as a guard.