Nestus smiled, thoughts of future joy flashing through his mind: a home by the sea, servants, children. .
She awoke and screamed, scrambling to get away. Instinctively he grabbed for her, his fingers curling into her hair and dragging her back.
'Stop it! It is I, Nestus. I have come for you. To rescue you!'
She ceased her struggles, green eyes focusing on his face. 'What do you mean, rescue me? Are you mad? If you are found here you will die.'
'I don't care. I have killed two men tonight and I'll kill any others who try to stop me. I have a plan, Derae. We'll go to Greta. I have friends there and we will be happy. But first you must dress. There is little time. I will explain all when we are on our way.'
'You are insane!'
'No! Listen to me. The city is doomed — nothing will save it. It is our only chance at happiness. Don't you see? We will be together.'
Glancing down, she saw the bloodied sword. 'What have you done?'
'What I had to do,' he answered, his hand reaching up, his fingers stroking her breast.
She pulled away from him. 'Parmenion will kill you for this,' she whispered.
'He is alone here. And he has never seen the day when he could defeat me in combat. No one has. I am the best.'
Suddenly she rolled from the bed. He lunged at her, but she was clear and running for the door. Seizing his sword he ran after her, but she had reached the corridor and was shouting at the top of her voice: 'Parmenion! Parmenion!'
He sprinted after her, catching her at the top of the stairs and hauling her back by her hair. 'You slut! You said you loved me and now you betray me!'
'I never loved you!' she answered him, her hand snaking out and cracking against his cheek. Flinging her from him, he raised his sword.
'I'll kill you!' he shouted. Ducking away from him she fled for the stairs, taking them two at a time. He ran after her but tripped and fell headlong, his sword clattering away from him. Dazed, he rose and gathered it from where it had fallen on an embroidered rug at the foot of the stairs. He swung round, seeking Derae.
'You have your sword,' said Parmenion softly. 'Now use it!'
The King was standing naked in the corridor, Derae behind him. 'You will die now, mix-blood,' Nestus told him.
Parmenion smiled and raised his own blade. Nestus ran forward, sword drawn back for the belly thrust, but Parmenion stepped aside — parrying the blade and hooking his foot round the charging man's leg. Nestus hit the floor hard, but rose swiftly. 'Be more cautious,' advised Parmenion, his voice cold. 'Anger makes a man careless.' Again Nestus charged, this time slashing his blade in a sweeping cut towards Parmenion's throat. The King dropped to one knee, the sword slicing the air above his head, his own blade ramming into Nestus' groin. The giant screamed.
Parmenion tore his sword clear and rose. Nestus stumbled forward several steps and then slumped to his knees with blood gushing from the severed artery. The warrior struggled to rise, but all strength was seeping from him and he fell forward, his face against the cold stone of the corridor floor.
His fury seemed to flow from him with his lifeblood.
What am I doing here, he thought?
He heard the sound of running footsteps and a voice shouting: 'Someone tried to kill the King!'
That must be it, he thought. I was here to save the King from his enemies.
Yes. Relieved, he closed his eyes. Father will be so proud of me, he thought.
Parmenion stepped back from the body and ushered the naked Derae into his rooms, pushing shut the door and letting the sword fall to the floor.
'He was possessed,' said Derae, moving forward with her arms opening to him. He held her gently, his hands in the small of her back, and neither of them heard the door open nor saw Leonidas enter. The Spartan warrior said nothing for a moment, then cleared his throat.
Parmenion turned, but did not release his hold on Derae. 'What is it, Leonidas?'
'I wanted to see that you were unhurt. . sire.'
'Oh, Leon, it was awful,' said Derae. 'You should have seen his eyes. I have never known Nestus to be like that.'
'He killed two sentries,' Leonidas told her, his voice cool. 'But I see that you are well, sire. I shall leave you. . both.
We will be ready to march in the morning. Five days, if you recall.' He bowed and left the room.
'His mood was strange,' whispered Derae, moving in close to her husband. Parmenion felt the warmth of her skin against his breast. Not strange, he thought; Leonidas has just seen his sister being embraced by an imposter.
'I love you,' said Derae. 'Promise me you will come back.'
'How can I make such a promise?' he answered huskily.
'You just say the words. I do not believe that you will be defeated. You are Parmenion, the King of Sparta. You are my Parmenion.'
He smiled and held her tightly. 'A wise man once told me to plan as if you were going to live for ever, but to live as if this were your last day on earth. Let us do that, lady. Let us treat tonight as if it were the last.'
He led her to his bedroom and lay down beside her, drawing her to him. They made love gently, slowly, for he felt no passion — only a desperate need to feel her skin against his, to be inside her, part of her. He felt himself building to a climax, but slowed and withdrew.
'Why are you stopping?' she asked him, reaching out to stroke the skin of his cheek.
'I don't want it to end. Not now, not tonight. . not ever.'
'You said that so sadly, my dear. There should be no sadness. Not tonight. . not for us.'
Her fingers slid along the surface of his chest, over the ridged muscle of his belly and down to his still erect penis, circling it. He groaned. - 'Does that hurt?' she asked him, her tone serious but her eyes mocking.
'You are a wanton,' he told her, pushing her to her back and rolling on top of her. 'And I shall treat you like one.'
Sliding down the bed, he bit lightly at the inside of her thigh. She cried out, opening her leg to escape him, but he turned his head — his mouth brushing across her soft pubic hair, his tongue slipping into her. She cried out again, but he ignored her. She struggled under him, but his hands held her firm. Then suddenly she relaxed and began to moan, her body arching violently, her legs tensing. This time her cries were not of pain nor outrage, but arose from the shuddering, violent release of tension that only orgasm can bring. Finally she slumped back to the bed, her arms outstretched.
Parmenion moved up alongside her. 'Does it feel good to be a wanton?' he asked.
'Wonderful,' she admitted. 'But promise never to tell me how you learned that skill.'
'I promise.'
'I've changed my mind. Tell me.'
'I swear upon my soul that I have never in this world done it before.'
'That cannot be true.'
'I swear it. You are the first woman in all Achaea to be so abused by me.'
Raising herself on one elbow she looked down at his face. Then she smiled. 'I believe you,' she said slowly, 'but there is something you are not telling me.'
'Are you a seeress then?' he asked, forcing a smile to hide his sudden discomfort.