Troy 01 - Lord of the Silver Bow Read Online Free Page B

he used when on the island.
    Packed in a chest.
Like his emotions, she thought. In the five years she had known him Phaedra had never come close to the man within. She wondered if anyone had.
    Phaedra stepped out into the rain, lifting her face to the black sky. She shivered as her green gown became drenched, the wind seeming icy as it flowed across her wet skin. She laughed aloud and stepped back under cover. The cold stripped away her fatigue.
    Lightning flashed, and she thought she saw a shadowy figure dart past the screen of bushes to her right. Spinning around, she saw nothing. Was it a trick of the light? Nervous now, she moved back into the house, pushing shut the door.
    The last of Helikaon’s guests had gone, and she walked upstairs to his apartment. The room was dark, with no lamps lit. Entering silently, she walked to the bed. It was empty. Moving to the balcony, she looked down into the garden. There was no one in sight. The clouds broke briefly, and the moon was bright.
    Turning back inside, she saw a muddy footprint on the floor. Fear rose, and she glanced around the room. Someone had been there. He had climbed through the window. Moving back to the balcony, she glanced down once more.
    A shadow moved, and she saw a hooded, dark-garbed man run for the wall. Then Helikaon emerged from behind a statue, a dagger in his hand. The man saw him and swerved away. He ran and leapt high, hauling himself onto the high wall and rolling over to the open land beyond. The clouds closed in again, and Phaedra could see nothing.
    Running out into the corridor, she descended the stairs, arriving at the entrance just as Helikaon stepped inside. Pushing shut the door, Phaedra dropped the locking bar in place. “Who was he?” she asked.
    Helikaon tossed the bronze dagger onto a tabletop. “Just a thief,” he said. “He is gone now.” Moving past her, he walked to the kitchen, taking up a towel and drying his face and arms.
    Phaedra followed him. “Tell me the truth,” she said.
    Stripping off his tunic, he continued to dry his body. Then he walked naked across the room and filled two goblets with watered wine. Passing one to her, he sipped his own. “The man was following me when I went to the shrine. I caught glimpses of him. He is very skilled and held to the shadows. Ox and my men did not see him.”
    “But you did?”
    He sighed. “My father was murdered by an assassin, Phaedra. Since then I have been . . . more observant of those around me, shall we say?”
    “Do you have many enemies, Helikaon?”
    “All powerful men have enemies. There are merchants who owe me fortunes. Were I to die, they would be free of their debts. I have killed pirates who left behind brothers and sons who desire vengeance. But let us talk no more of it tonight. The assassin is gone, and you are looking beautiful.”
    If she had been his wife, she might have told him that she no longer desired to make love. But I am not his wife, she thought. I am Aphrodite’s child, and he is my gift giver. Like the toothless hag in the upper back bedroom I am just a whore. Sadness flowed in her, but she forced a bright smile and stepped into his embrace. His kiss was warm, his breath sweet, the arms around her strong.
    “Am I your friend?” she asked him later as they lay together on her broad bed, her head resting on his shoulder, her thigh across his.
    “Now and always, Phaedra.”
    “Even when I am old and ugly?”
    He stroked her hair. “What would you have me say?”
    “The truth. I want to hear the truth.”
    Leaning over her, he kissed her brow. “I do not give my friendship lightly,” he said, “and it does not depend on youth and beauty. If we both live to be old and ugly, I will still be your friend.”
    She sighed. “I am frightened, Helikaon. Frightened of getting old, frightened of your being killed or tiring of me, frightened of becoming like Phia’s mother. A long time ago I chose this life, and it has brought me wealth and