A Gift from the Gods

21

"I almost lost this war because of your little romance," Agamemnon said, his hand a vice around Zephyra's neck.

The edges of her vision were beginning to blur, and her lungs were beginning to sting. Focus. She needed to focus. Get the knife. It was her only option as Agamemnon crushed her body against his own, the metal from his armor digging through the fabric of her clothing to her skin.

The thought of death kept pushing through her thoughts, but her body rebelled against the thoughts. She struggled against the king to free herself from his grasp.

"I want to taste what Achilles tasted," Agamemnon said.

His voice was a poison to Zephyra's ears. Unholy in the greatest respect. His hands wandered her body, touching her in ways that turned her stomach. His hands roamed her stomach, and he knew. He chuckled.

"Oh, my dear. You'll be my slave – a Trojan princess stolen from the great Achilles. And at night..."

Zephyra didn't give him a chance to finish. She had loosed her dagger from its hiding place and stabbed it into the king's arm, slicing downward. Blood poured down her front as if it were her own, but she was free. She fell to the ground, gasping for air, her bow and quiver falling from her body. She scrambled on the damp grass to get to her feet, but Agamemnon grabbed her ankle and yanked her back. She was too far from her bow or her blade now.

"You are dead," Agamemnon said through gritted teeth, his arm still bleeding profusely onto Zephyra's skin.

Zephyra leaned her head back and stretched her arms along the ground, digging her hands in the grass in an attempt to gain traction and claw her way out of his grasp. Then she saw him. Clad in his armor and lightweight sword, blood speckling his own garb.

"Achilles," Zephyra said, her voice rough from being crushed under Agamemnon's hand.

In swift movements, Achilles took down the two soldiers guarding the king. Four more strides, and he was before King Agamemnon.

"Achilles." Agamemnon spit the name.

Before the old, fat king had a chance to stand straight, Achilles removed him of the arm grasping onto Zephyra's ankle. She kicked the dismembered limb away from her and scooted back. Agamemnon was wailing, searching for his own sword along his waist.

"I told you I would smile upon your dead corpse," Achilles said through gritted teeth. "I'm a man of my word."

"You wouldn't," Agamemnon said.

In only a few more agile movements, Achilles rid Agamemnon of his other hand and his head. Achilles sheathed his sword and dropped to his feet before Zephyra.

"You found me," Zephyra said.

He cupped her face in his bloodied hands, but she didn't care. They would be drowning in all the blood in the world, and it wouldn't matter. As long as they were together.

"Come with me," Achilles said.

Zephyra wrapped her arms around Achilles' shoulders, but before they could stand, a Trojan arrow sliced through the air and pierced Achilles' heel.

Holding the bow yards away on the courtyard steps was her brother, Paris.