Alexis of Troy (Book I)

λβ′ - Trianda Dyo

Thirty-Two

Boats were not fun.

I had hoped that I would have grown accustomed to the constant, unsteady rocking, but that was not the case. Almost as soon as we pushed away from the shore, my stomach was as unsteady as the floor beneath my feet. Though the weather was kind, the sun was unencumbered by clouds for the bulk of the trip, adding an extra layer of discomfort. I clung to the side of the boat most of the time, heaving up everything in my stomach and then some. The sea, as gorgeous and pristine as it was, was nauseating. At one point, Paris dangled some fruit in front of me, and I wanted to throttle him. He'd looked so startled by my biting reaction that, after, he sent Zoisme with bread and water for me to eat.

While I was incapacitated, Paris was having the time of his life. Apparently, it didn't matter that he'd never left Troy, had never stepped foot on a boat before. Nor the fact that he drank a portion of the sea in wine, yet still had steady footing. He wasn't clinging to the boat and heaving up his entire insides. He was eager to draw this trip out as long as possible. I counted down every second until we docked in Greece.

Hector had told us the boat ride would take a few days, each night docking at a nearby island. The land portion of our travels would take a few days more, and I gathered it would be slow going with stops throughout the night.

After our initial confrontation Hector ignored me, but I knew he was always aware of where I was. I don't think he was quite able to figure out what I was doing on the ship or what my plans were when we arrived in Greece. Perhaps he just thought I was a crazy, obsessed woman who didn't want Paris out of my sight. Or that I was a spy. Or, perhaps, he just didn't like me. It was the last one. Definitely.

I rested my chin on the side of the boat and stared at the crisp, clear waters of the Aegean Sea. There was a lull in the wind, so our boat drifted lazily across the sea, my stomach settling like the water around us. Zoisme had wandered off to fetch me some more water and something dry to eat, while Hector and Paris were sparring. More like Hector was sparring while Paris tried, and failed, to beat his older brother. At least Hector was going easier on his brother. They trained every chance they could spare. Paris had grown significantly more confident, but he was still no match for the heroic Hector.

I had a feeling Hector was starting to like having a weaker brother. It only made him look stronger. Maybe he was trying to show off by sparring Paris now. Whatever the case, Hector was a drill sergeant.

But Paris wasn't the only one he was training.

When I wasn't throwing up or trying to keep food and water down, I was watching the two princes. At first I tried to be casual about it, not wanting anyone to ask why I was watching. Eventually, I realized that no one bothered me anyway, and if the men were looking my way, they didn't care what I was doing. They just cared that there was something else to watch than the horizon. So, I studied the way Hector moved, where he put his feet, how he swung his sword. Paris moved slower, but sheer determination kept him upright and almost on par with Hector. At night, in my tent where I was completely alone, I mirrored what I'd seen. I didn't have a sword nor did I have a solid grasp of what I was doing, but it was better than nothing.

Aside from the gentle ripples in the water, it was like looking into a mirror. My beautifully curled hair had long since turned into a frizzy nest, and my clothes were now a second layer of skin, suctioned to my body. My face was bright pink from sunburn, though the aloe vera had helped ease the heat. Paris had insisted I'd looked beautiful, but I doubted his words upon looking at my reflection.

"How are you feeling?"

Zoisme sat down next to me, passing me a fresh cup of water and a damp cloth. The cool relief from the cloth was a welcome relief, even if fleeting.