“There’s no time for this! You must go!”
Alexander sobered and his eyes narrowed. He flicked a glance around the bedroom, his gaze lingering on the second bed. His eyes seemed to brighten, and he turned in place, clearly seeking something. “Where’s the cradle for Lysander?”
Katina was impatient with the question. She picked up one of his garments and flung it at him. “What difference? He has no use of it now.”
“What do you mean?” Alexander froze, his expression horrified. “What’s happened to him?”
“He’s grown up, of course.” Katina poked at the garment he hadn’t yet put on. “A man named Pelias came last week to collect him.”
Alexander didn’t move. “Why?”
“For the agoge,” Katina said, not understanding why Alexander should be so shocked. The mandatory military training for the young boys of Sparta was part of his legacy to their son.
Alexander sat down hard on the bed, as if his legs couldn’t support him. “But a boy must be eight years of age for the agoge.”
“Yes. Please get dressed!”
Alexander gave her a challenging look. “Eight years.”
Katina stared at him as she understood his surprise. Her fear abandoned her, replaced by a ripple of anger. “Yes, he is eight.” She propped a hand on her hip. “Don’t you know how long you’ve been gone?”
If she’d expected him to deny it or make some excuse, she was to be disappointed.
Alexander stared around the room, as if seeing it for the first time. He surveyed every detail, but avoided looking at her.
His confusion tore at her heart, but she couldn’t understand how he couldn’t know how much time had passed. What game was he playing? “How long did you think you had been gone?”
Alexander’s expression turned weary then. “It’s been as thousands of years for me.”
Katina bit her lip. Alexander wasn’t a poetic man and she knew it. He could be evasive, and he wasn’t one to easily share all the secrets of his heart. Now that their moment of passion had passed, she remembered all the fault lines in their short marriage. There was so much she didn’t know about Alexander. He couldn’t literally mean thousands of years, could he? Where had he been? What had happened to him?
As much as she wanted to know the story, there was no time to hear it. Not now. “You have to leave,” she repeated. “Please, dress yourself and go.”
“Go?” Alexander frowned at her. “Katina, I’ve dreamed of returning to you all this time. Why would I leave now?”
“Because you can’t stay here.”
“Of course, I can stay here.” He became indignant. “You’re my wife...”
“I was your wife, but you left.”
Alexander stared at Katina and she knew from the intensity of his gaze that he’d guessed the truth. He took a deep breath, one that made his nostrils flare. His eyes began to glitter with a strange light, one that made Katina take a step backwards. “You married again?” he asked as if this were incomprehensible.
“You sent no word,” she replied with frustration. “Not a single message in eight years! What would I think except that you’d been killed?”
He ran a hand over his head. ‘But if it’s been eight years, then my service is done,” he said, almost to himself, then turned to her with his eyes alight.
Katina refused to be seduced by his hopeful expression. Even so, she knew that if he touched her, she’d lose the battle. She held up a hand between them. “Wait. You knew it might be eight years? You knew and you never mentioned as much?”
“I didn’t expect it would be...”
“You should have told me!”
He stood up, looking grim. “Would you have married again if I had told you?”
She knew the promise he wanted, but couldn’t give it. “Eight years is a long time,” she replied. “I had a son. I had no husband. I had to survive. We would have starved in eight years, easily.”
“But you had your pottery...”
“And no trade in it.”
“Why not?”
“Alexander, I’m not skilled at this craft.”
“You should have been able to sell enough.”
Katina had to avert her gaze. “And there were stories...”
“What kind of stories? What did people say about you?”
“It doesn’t matter! No one would come to me to buy, and Lysander had to eat.” She spun and paced the width of the room, knowing there was no short version of the story he would accept. “You were gone, and I had no word from you. I made a choice, because I had to.”
Alexander folded his arms across his chest. His body rigid and there was a curious flicker of blue light surrounding him, although Katina couldn’t guess what it was. “Who?” he demanded in a low voice.
Katina simply held his gaze and let him guess.
Alexander swore thoroughly as he turned away from her. He marched the width of the room twice, and looked as if he’d put his fist through the wall.
Katina was shocked. She had never managed she could provoke him to such a visible display of anger. She supposed it was the sign of his feelings that she’d always wanted, but in this moment, she didn’t like the sight.
Alexander returned to face her. He caught her shoulders in his hands so that she couldn’t evade his gaze. “Not Cetos?” he demanded, clearly guessing that it was Cetos. “You didn’t want to marry him before.” His voice rose. “I ensured you didn’t have to!”
That blue light surrounding his body became more vivid, like a lick of lightning. Katina felt the intensity of his anger, but she was unafraid of him.
Alexander would never hurt her.
Katina held his gaze. “I had no choice,” she said, biting off the words. “No other man would have me. I did what had to be done for Lysander. Our son needed a future and I was the only one here to give it to him.” She decided she might as well tell him all of it. “I asked him to marry me.”
Alexander flinched at that, but Katina had no satisfaction from his response.
In fact, she felt sad and empty. He was back but she had to send him away, because of choices she’d made. She knew how Alexander was about pledges and promises.
She lifted his hand from her shoulder, kissed his fingertips, then dropped his hand and stepped back. “You must leave now.”
Alexander didn’t move. “Was he kind to Lysander?”
“He wasn’t unkind,” Katina acknowledged, guessing that Alexander would hear the difference. “He wasn’t pleased to raise another man’s son, which is why he’ll be glad that Pelias came.”
“He’s not here?”
“He was gone, trading. He’ll return tonight.” Katina frowned at Alexander’s obvious dissatisfaction with her answer. “Cetos never treated Lysander badly. He just ignored him.”
That still wasn’t enough. Alexander’s voice dropped low. “Was he kind to you?”
“I made a vow,” Katina said softly. “You, of all people, should respect that.”
“No!” Alexander retorted. He was furious, as outraged at injustice as only a man of honor could be. “No, I’m back and I will stay. You don’t love him, Katina, and you never did.”
“You don’t know that...”
“I do know that. Your body told me the truth of it.” Alexander watched as she caught her breath. “If you loved him, I would never have been in your bed again. We both know that to be true.” He put out his hand in invitation and offered her heart’s desire to her, as easily as that. “Come away with me. Let’s be together. Let’s go now.”
Katina was tempted. But now she remembered all the moments in her marriage to Alexander when she’d had doubts, when she’d known that Alexander hadn’t been telling her all of the truth for whatever reason. When they made love, she felt a powerful connection, but otherwise, he’d often been impassive and beyond her reach. She remembered her own fear that he would discover her secret, and how he might react.
She’d asked Cetos to ma
rry her and he’d kept his vow. Cetos had ensured that she and her son survived. Cetos put no stock in the stories told about her, and even if he saw the truth, she didn’t think he’d care. She wasn’t nearly as certain what Alexander would think.
Alexander lifted a hand to her in appeal. “Katina, I love you...”
She was swayed more than she knew she should be, for love might not prove to be enough. “Will you ever leave me again?” she demanded.
Katina saw the answer in his eyes. He made no promise and she knew the meaning of that, for Alexander didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep. She saw the doubt in his eyes, and it was all she needed to know.
Her compromise was better than having nothing at all.
“If ever you cared for me, leave before Cetos finds you here,” she whispered. She saw a strange sparkle in Alexander’s eyes in the same moment that she heard her husband’s step approaching the courtyard.
“Hide!” she muttered, then swept past Alexander to welcome her husband home.
* * *
Cetos whistled to himself as he led his burro toward the house he shared with Katina and her son. It had been a long journey, but he was pleased with the results. A weight of extra coin jingled in his purse, the sound making him smile.
His trade had been terrible. The price of olive oil had dropped, due to a large supply after the last harvest, and he hadn’t been able to sell his for a price that was worth his trouble. No one wanted Katina’s pots, but that wasn’t new.
But she had provided an unexpected asset to him, one that had made all the difference.
Talk about an offer Cetos couldn’t refuse. He’d sold Katina’s son, simultaneously making up the difference in bad prices for olive oil and ridding himself of a nuisance. The boy wasn’t much trouble: it was the look of him that caused the problem. The brat so strongly resembled his father—who could have expected there to be no hint of Katina in his features? Alexander might as well have been living in Cetos’ house, every glimpse of the boy making Katina sigh for the past again.
Cetos couldn’t understand why she didn’t appreciate her good luck. He couldn’t imagine why she still longed for a man who had abandoned her, and never sent a single word of how he fared. He’d done her a favor in marrying her, taking on her son, even letting her stay in the house she’d inherited. She’d even summoned him to propose their union! But what did she do for him? She was dutiful enough, spreading her legs when he demanded as much, serving him at table.
But she had never yet given Cetos a son.
And worse, she whispered Alexander’s name in her dreams.
It was possible that she thwarted him on purpose. They all said there was something strange about Katina, that she’d been touched by the gods and would earn their blessing or punishment. Cetos had been hoping for the former, but it seemed his wife had earned the latter. He was impatient with childlessness and determined see his situation changed.
He needed a son.
He would bed her daily, perhaps twice daily, until she bred.
Then he’d do it again. He’d have half a dozen sons if it were up to him.
Cetos paused before the house, composing his story. Katina wouldn’t take well to the news that her son was to leave, but he was ready for that. He’d never tell her that he’d sold the boy: he’d say that he’d found him a paid position, providing companionship to the son of a rich man. He’d say he had to do it, to make up for the low prices of olive oil and the fact that her pots never sold. He’d say he was ensuring that the boy would eat, that he’d have an education and a future.
She’d be grateful, if he told the story right.
She’d never see the brat again, which suited Cetos well.
It was all arranged. The buyer would arrive at the house after dark, the better to ensure that the neighbors saw nothing. Cetos had planned everything perfectly. Katina would be completely beneath his hand and carrying his child before the month was out.
The merchant had been right. Cetos deserved far more from his beautiful wife than she’d given him so far.
* * *
Katina had married Cetos.
And he’d been gone eight years.
Alexander didn’t know which detail he found more astonishing. Both together were incredible. He hauled on his pants and buckled his belt, then tugged on his boots. If he’d been gone a full eight years, did that mean that his term of service to the Pyr was complete? Alexander thought it must be, but he wouldn’t make a promise to Katina until he was sure. He put on his shirt but left it open, freezing at the sound of voices in the courtyard.
She’d asked Cetos to marry her. There was another incredible detail.
But then, his Katina was nothing if not practical. If no other man would have her, she would have spoken to the one who would. He had no doubt that she would have done anything possible to ensure Lysander’s welfare, regardless of any price to herself.
But why wouldn’t any other man have her? She was beautiful, perfect in his eyes. Alexander couldn’t make sense of that. What kind of stories had people told about her?
He also couldn’t understand how he’d missed the signs he should have noticed. As soon as he paid attention, he smelled a man’s routine presence in this room. Initially, he’d been savoring the scent of Katina and had ignored everything else. Only the joy of seeing Katina could make him forget his years of training and experience.
Alexander stood by the doorway and breathed deeply, familiarizing himself with the everything in the house in an attempt to correct his oversight. He smelled now the three slaves in the house, two in the kitchen and one at the outer door. He smelled the olive presses in the storage room, the basis of Cetos’ trade. He smelled the burro now being led by the slave at the outer door to a lean-to where it would be stabled.
The evidence had been in the house, but Alexander had been so consumed with desire for his wife to notice it.
He had never met Cetos, but had only heard his name. He knew him to be a merchant and one much older than Katina, one who had been content to offer to marry the young woman whose family believed she should serve the gods. He remembered also that Katina had disliked Cetos—or at least the differences in their ages—from their first encounter.
Yet she had chosen Cetos in the end.
She had pursued Cetos.
He supposed that had to be a measure of her desperation. He had abandoned her with an infant son. The fault was his, both that she had made such a marriage and that speaking of it put such shadows in her eyes. He’d heard the accusation in her tone, and her conviction that she’d had little choice.
The fact was that Katina had been poorly served, and Alexander was to blame. Eight years with no tidings? He couldn’t say that his faith would have been stalwart in her place.
Alexander might have chastised himself and regretted his choices—even though he knew he hadn’t really had a choice—but he smelled the brimstone of anger.
A man’s anger.
The scent teased his nostrils and drew him closer to the door. A heavy footstep sounded in the corridor to the courtyard, and a slave murmured to a man who responded in an impatient voice. Alexander stood silently in the shadows of the doorway, knowing who it must be. In the courtyard, Katina stood with her hands folded before herself and her head bowed, a demure pose that made her almost unrecognizable as the opinionated and outspoken woman he loved.
Anger lit within Alexander that Cetos wanted Katina to be anything other than what she was. His prize of a wife was still poorly served, but now by this husband.
A much older man stepped into the courtyard and surveyed it with dissatisfaction. His face was creased in lines of discontent and there was something mean in the line of his mouth. He was a large and swarthy man with small eyes. Katina hastened to remove his cloak, speaking to him in a subservient manner that Alexander despised.
He remembered all too clearly how she had averted her gaze when he’d asked if Cetos had been good to her. One glance at them t
ogether told Alexander the truth. The man was like a seething bull, filled with violence and seeking only a target for his wrath.
He wondered whether Katina had felt the weight of this man’s hand and his fury grew.
Alexander knew his valiant Katina would take blows herself to save any other soul in the household, even a slave. She would invite them, to protect another. Had she done as much to save Lysander? The idea that she would be in a situation that might compel her to do as much infuriated Alexander, never mind that he was responsible for it. He clenched his fists at his sides, feeling the shimmer of the change.
He caught a whiff of a deep and rotten smell and his eyes widened in surprise. Was Cetos a Slayer? How could that be? There would be no Slayers for at least a thousand years, until some of the Pyr turned against mankind. All the same, the residue of the scent clung to Cetos, like the scent of a wood fire lingering in one’s cloak the next day.
There were no Slayers in this time. It couldn’t be a Slayer. Alexander chose to distrust his impression. Cetos must have visited some foul place on his travels and that was the scent that clung to him. A horrible one, but not Slayer.
Despite his rationalization, the scent put him on edge. He felt himself hovering on the cusp of the shift, ready to fight to defend his mate.
One thing was for certain: Alexander wasn’t leaving this house again without ensuring Katina’s safety forever. He would see justice served, even if it meant revealing his secret to her abruptly and without explanation. He wished too late that he had told her the truth years before, but Pelias had always counseled secrecy.
He had the power to set her free of this man and he would use it. Whether Katina wanted him as her husband afterward was something he couldn’t anticipate.
But it didn’t affect his resolve.
* * *
Katina knew she’d made a mistake in welcoming Alexander with such passion. Her excuse was that she’d been overwhelmed by her love for him, and her relief that he was returned. She’d never been able to hide her emotions well, and with Alexander, she felt so much that she couldn’t contain her feelings at all.