A Gift from the Gods

3

Zephyra was careless as she threw her jewels and gown onto her bed. Anger peeled through every joint as she changed into a black skirt and a bodice of leather armor, not as strong as her brothers' but sufficient for practicing. She laced cuffs onto her forearms, a measure of protection against the bowstring, and gathered her weapons. The courtyard adjacent to her quarters was empty, and the bale of hay she used as a target was already in place, almost a permanent fixture of Zephyra's quarters. She handled her favorite bow, a simple and plain instrument with effective outcomes, and immediately felt a sense of calm. She loosed an arrow and hit the bull's eye. She loosed another and another, her tension eased with every swoosh of the steel tip slicing the stagnant summer air.

Now warmed up, she was ready for a challenge. Taking two arrows from her quiver, she hooked them in the knocking point of her bowstring, pulling back in perfect form. On an exhale, she let go, keeping her body perfectly still. The arrows were balanced, and they both landed in the bale of hay, not close to one another, but at least they both hit the target. In that moment of balance, a quiet peace surrounded her. She knocked three arrows this time, but her balance was thrown when Hector traipsed into her courtyard. One arrow landed in the bale of hay, but the other two slid past marble statues, cracking planters.

"Remind me not to bring you to battle," Hector said, a chuckle lacing his words. "You may actually kill someone."

Zephyra glanced toward her brother then refocused on her target.

"Brought you something."

Hector held out the most ornate bow Zephyra had ever seen. The bowstring was flexible but firm, and pale pink porcelain flowers lined the belly and back.

"Feminine and flimsy," she said, her anger had ebbed, but not completely. Seeing her brother tinged her spine, but the gesture was thoughtful. She could always count on Hector. "It truly is beautiful. Thank you, Brother."

"Still haven't forgiven me for taking Paris instead?"

"I almost did. Then you let Paris take another whore." Her stomach turned at her crudeness, but she didn't regret the statement.

"Do not speak of Helen that way," Hector warned. "She is a queen. Respect."

"Yes, a queen of our enemies turned allies turned enemies, the latter because of her and Paris. And I was stuck here acting the perfect princess. The part has been easy and dull. It's not your job to protect me."

"Yes, it is."

"Not anymore. I can be my own keeper. Better yet, you have passed me to another man."

"Zephyra." The way he said her name set her on edge.

"You didn't, Hector. Please tell me you didn't. You promised."

"I promised nothing." Hector sighed. "Medon agreed to the dowry. You are to be wed before Autumn."

"How could you?" His betrayal seeped deeper than she wanted, her strength eroding.

"It is the best political match for our country."

"You sound just like Father."

Hector's demeanor changed. He became more rigid. "The decision is final. There's nothing I can do."

Zephyra nodded and wiped the tears forming in her eyes. "Mother would be so disappointed in you."