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

ια′ - Enteka

Eleven

Hector paced the room, hands clasped behind his back. He stared at the floor, lips pursed so tight he might have bitten a sour fruit. Paris chewed the inside of his cheek, trying not to fidget. He was sporting a bruised jaw that pulsed in tandem with his heartbeat. An aggressive, red bruise stretched over his ribs and along his stomach. Just walking hurt, though he did his best to hide the limp when his brother demanded to speak to him.

When Helen failed to show her face for the dinner party, Menelaus sent out a couple of guards to track her down. The guards found Helen supporting Paris as they walked down the darkened, empty streets. Upon seeing her with an unmarried prince was even more scandalous than the scenario they'd just been in.

Menelaus and Hector were waiting for their arrival. The Spartan king's face was so red Paris feared the king would attack him right then and there. Hector was rigid like a statue. The void in his eyes was worse than the visible rage on Menelaus. Disappointment. Shame. Embarrassment.

Now the Trojan princes were in Hector's sitting room while Helen had been ushered away by her flurry of servants. Menelaus stormed away, demanding a meeting with Hector in the morning.

"Fighting with Spartans when we're supposed to be negotiating peace?" The older prince's voice bled disappointment, staining Paris with guilt. "Do you realise the situation you put us in?"

"They were harassing Helen. Do you think I should have let them?"

"You shouldn't have been out there with her in the first place!" Hector snapped. He stormed up to his brother, face contorted in rage. "Not only is it inappropriate to be running around with a married woman, but she is the queen of Sparta. You might as well have spit in Menelaus' face with that disrespect. And think about the potential danger of you two out there without any protection."

"They wouldn't harm the queen."

"No, but they would harm you." Hector pulled back abruptly and pinched his brow. He suddenly looked much older than his thirty years. It was hard enough to fight for peace, and keeping track of a troublesome brother added an extra layer of complications. "Menelaus is, rightfully, angry. But he still wants to maintain peace. Not all his men think it's a good idea. Some ranking officials agree with his brother. We had a shot at making peace a reality, but your foolish stunt could have cost us all the hard work. Maybe if you stopped drinking, you'd find your reason again. Stay in the palace with your drink and the women to keep you company. I can't be around to always get you out of trouble."

His brother's words hit their mark. Paris recoiled with a wince. He'd done what he knew was right by defending Helen's honour. He stood up for her. And his reward was an admonishment? His brother refused to see the potential in him and wrote him off as a drunk. Paris squared his shoulders. Maybe it was time to leave and find Alexis if he wasn't wanted in Sparta.

"Fine. If that's what the great Hector of Troy wants, then so be it." His tone was icy as the peak of Mount Olympus. "I'll be in my chambers if you need me, adelphós." (brother)

He shoved past Hector, who, bless Zeus, let him go.

However, he did not expect to find a young, red-haired woman waiting at his bedroom door. And, as her blue eyes found his, Paris felt the sting of his brother's words burn.

"You put me in enough trouble," he growled, "go back to your husband, Helen."

If she was bothered by his tone, she hid it well. Instead, she boldly reached for his hand. Her smooth, cool fingers wrapped around his calloused hand. "Paris, wait. I wanted to apologise. I should never have put you in that position."