I SLAM MY hand down to stop my documents from flying in the gust created by Typhon’s departure. Irksome being, but the titan obviously knows who’s in control. After all look how quickly he backed down from his supposed rage.
Still, he is a rude thing and his blustery leave taking has toppled over the horse figure I keep at the edge of my desk. I stand it up, brushing my hand over the intricately carved mane. The mane I had hoped Polymele would marvel over when I carved her the horse all those years ago.
Polymele. Does she even know how much, how long I have loved her?
When they were only six years old, Aeson and Polymele had been betrothed as part of a peace settlement between Aeson’s father and Polymele’s father, Autolycus, King of Illamos Valley. At thirteen years old she came to live under Tyro’s roof for two years, while Aeson went to Illamos Valley to learn the ways of the land he would one day be king of. I had no idea of my own parentage at this time and the idea of being under the same roof as the granddaughter of the god Hermes fascinated me.
The first moment I saw her, I adored Polymele. Tyro must have seen the look of wanting on my face because my mother made every effort to keep us apart including piling extra chores on me such as mucking out the stables – a chore normally left to the lowliest of servants. Later, once I had learned Tyro’s relation to me and why she despised me, I wondered what lies she may have told Polymele for I do think the girl admired me at one time.
For her part, Polymele seemed curious about the servant boy with the wavy blonde hair who received as much attention from the king as any noble-born boy. I missed my adopted brother terribly, but Polymele proved a delightful distraction that took my mind away from the temporary loss of my friend. She spoke kindly to me and even lingered in the stables when I would brush down the horses. For her fifteenth birthday, I carved a wooden horse that was a perfect likeness of the mare she doted on most. At this point, her time with us was nearly over and she was scheduled to return to Illamos Valley in a week’s time. The thought brought a strange ache to my heart and I poured all my youthful angst into the carving. I hoped that once she was home again, she would look at that horse and long for me, and that the longing would grow so strong she would break her engagement with Aeson and insist on taking me as her husband.
When she came to the stables the morning of her birthday, I gave the carving to her and she accepted it with a look of pride. After years of experience with women I have since learned what her look truly meant: She wasn’t madly in love with me; she was merely pleased with herself for being attractive.
But at the time I took her smile and peck on the cheek in enthusiastic thanks as a sign that she saw me as more than just a boy who helped with the horses. When she came back from her ride that day, I helped her from her saddle. Holding her by the waist and full of encouragement from her earlier kiss, I pulled her to me and kissed her on the lips, driving my tongue into her mouth as the servant girls had taught me. As if curious, Polymele kissed me back. When we broke away, my head a rush of swooning adolescent love, I made a fool of myself and asked her to wed me, to forget Aeson and to run away with me and be mine.
She laughed. Not cruelly, but in a way that indicated she thought I was joking with her as I often did. I remembered how hot my cheeks had burnt at that girlish titter. The next day when she came to the stables, she lingered, talking to me and not stepping back as I stepped in closer. When I placed my second kiss on her lips, she seemed to have taken well to the lesson of the first and this time it was she who pushed her tongue between my lips. I felt myself grow hard at her boldness. She broke away looking satisfied with herself and gave a little laugh. I repeated my offer of marriage. This time she passed a judgmental glance over me and said, “You know I can’t marry someone like you.” Her tone and look had been too similar to that of Tyro’s cruelty, and a fury coursed through me.
I grabbed Polymele by the wrist and yanked her toward me. All the haughtiness and pride vanished from her face. With a swipe of my good leg, I had her down in the hay and was on top of her a heartbeat later. I strained against her, hating that she now wore the longer dress of womanhood rather than the short tunic of childhood.
“I love you,” I said, pleading with her to accept me. “Marry me, bed me.”
As my hand reached down to shift her dress, I dared to look into Polymele’s eyes. Instead of the desire I hoped to see, fear filled her face. The choking sob and the tears that bubbled up from the corners of her eyes stopped my hand. I didn’t want to take her like this. I loved her. I wanted her to love me, not fear me. What was I doing? In my thoughts, I wanted to comfort her, apologize for taking a game too far, pull her up and have a laugh about it, but my boyish excitement had carried too far. With a shudder and moan I released myself onto her leg. She squirmed out from under me and ran to the castle.
That day, when my chores were done, I sought out the Oracle looking to find some hope that Polymele would love me. Instead of showing me a future with my dark-haired beauty, the Oracle foretold that I would die at the hand of a descendant of Hermes. Already too embarrassed to face Polymele, this prophecy filled me with dread of her. Although I desperately wanted to apologize for my actions, I hid in my room the rest of the day swearing I would rouse my courage and speak with her the following morning.
The next day, I woke early and rushed to the stables hoping Polymele would be waiting beside her favorite horse. Instead, I found only the carving I had made for her tossed into a pile of mucked hay. With childish tears streaming across my cheeks I ran back to the castle, but Polymele – having made excuses of homesickness, I later learned – was already on a train back to Illamos Valley. Given that Tyro never brought up the matter or gave me any punishment – oh, how she loved to dole out punishments for any slight offense I gave – I assumed Polymele had kept the secret of my love and my shame. And for that I continued to love her. Hers was the face I imagined to chase away the pain when my fellow Arean trainees nearly beat me to death. Hers was the name that instantly came to my mind when Ares asked me come to Illamos Valley.
Polymele.
I suddenly find myself in no mood for solitude.
I push away from the desk and descend the stairs to the palace’s cells. Although it is early evening and my office had been filled with the warm light of sunset, the underground hall’s only light comes from the lanterns hanging on hooks spaced evenly along the wall. Not wanting my brother to pester me, at the foot of the stairs I gesture to the guard to slide the viewing panel of Aeson’s cell shut before I continue on the march to Polymele’s cell at the end of a hallway that is made even longer by my anticipation.
The guard outside her door snaps to attention when he sees me.
“Unlock it, I wish to speak with the queen.”
The guard obeys and I step in. Polymele, likely alerted by the jangle of keys, has already started toward the door. She pulls herself up short when I enter.
“No need to stop,” I say, holding out my arms with the hope that she will rush into them. Instead she crosses her arms over her chest and turns away. In the low light coming in from the hall, I sense more than see her body go rigid and still as a statue. Before stepping out, the guard slips a lantern onto the hook inside the cell. When he bangs the door shut, Polymele jerks in surprise.
I close the gap between us, placing my hands on her upper arms and leaning in wanting to kiss her neck, but stopping just short of the act to take in the warm, musky scent of her. She takes advantage of the pause to whirl away from my touch. I am not daunted. I have loved this woman for over thirty years. I don’t mind chasing her a little longer as long as I have her in the end.
I approach her again. “You have no place to escape to, but you have no need to run. I have no intention of harming you.” I trace my finger from her shoulder to her wrist then entwine my fingers with hers. She struggles but can’t wriggle from my grasp that, although tender, is full of force and full of the need to possess her.
“Step away from me, Pelias.”
I do as she asks, taking half a step back. I tighten my grip on her hand and bend to kiss it.
“Marry me, Polymele.” I kiss her hand again. This time I turn it over to kiss the palm and give it a quick flick of my tongue just to taste her. “Be my queen.”
Polymele yanks her hand away.
“I would rather die in this cell than marry the man who imprisoned my husband, who may have killed him for all I know. Did you think it would be that easy? To storm into my polis, lock your brother away and expect me to wed and bed you?” She spits on the floor in front of my feet to emphasize her point. “Your stupidity makes me sick.”
Her insult, the tone of its delivery, the words she uses hit me like a back-handed slap. For an instant she reminds me too much of Tyro. I bite down hard on the tip of my tongue trying to rid it of the taste of her. This time I allow no hint of tenderness in my actions. I grab Polymele by the wrist and spin her around, twisting her arm behind her back. Using my other hand, I snatch her free arm and press it to her belly. It’s a move every vigile learns to subdue a prisoner in a heartbeat or to take a captive before he can react. I put my lips to her ear. My body tingles when she lets out a frightened gasp.
“I want you to be mine willingly, as I always have. But I am older now, stronger, more determined to get what I want. Don’t think I won’t force you if I must.”
“My son will come for me. He will defeat you.”
I can’t help but laugh at her bold words. She tenses at the noise. Her shoulder will be in agony now and the thought of it makes me sorry for holding her this long. I have never wanted to hurt her, but how to get that across to her?
With firm tenderness, I work her pinned arm around to her front so she is now fully in my embrace. My heart aches at how good it feels to hold her even if she keeps her body as stiff as a corpse.
“Your son thinks he’s on a great adventure,” I whisper. “As far as he knows you’re safe in your chambers and living as sumptuously as ever.” I allow my thumbs to brush along her breasts. A momentary embarrassment sweeps over me when I feel my groin stiffen against her buttocks, but I allow myself to enjoy the tense sensation. “Perhaps you want to reconsider my offer. We would be a perfect match. Think how wonderful we would look on the Illamosian throne. Marry me. Give me an heir.” I hold her tighter, never wanting to let her go and swimming in the pleasure of pressing against her.
“Rape me,” she hisses. “But know I will root out anything you plant inside me.”
My pleasure withers away. Dear Ares, why can she just not give in to me? She had wanted to when we were young, I know she did. Why can she not rekindle that curiosity? Why does she have to be so difficult?
With a shove, I thrust Polymele onto the bed that squeaks under the sudden weight. The sight of her sprawled, momentarily weakened by surprise, renews my throbbing excitement. How easy it would be to take her now. Why wait? Why deny myself? I could take her again and again throughout the night and who would know?
I step toward her, but her attempt to scurry away, to press herself tighter into the wall stirs me and I am assaulted with guilt over my thoughts. I do not want her by force; I never have. I want her as my willing queen. I will give her time. She wanted me once; she will want me again. I will make her love me as I am certain she once did.
Unsure of what to say, I grab the lantern and leave her cell without a word. I rush upstairs to Polymele’s wardrobe. I select a gown and go to my own bedchamber where Lena lounges in bed with a book. She cocks an eyebrow at the dress.
“How well can you play an Illamosian queen?” I ask. Without question, she slips into the dress and orders me to bed. The beating she gives me when I call her Polymele brings the most exquisite pleasure I’ve had since I released myself onto Polymele’s young thigh all those years ago.
* * *
In the morning, I go to my office. The papers are a mess, but I put the carved horse to right before tidying the mayhem the titan has created. Just as I’m organizing the final stack, a flash fills the room for a heartbeat. The bright red light doesn’t bring with it my usual anticipation to speak with Ares. No, the god has ignored me and left me with an ineffectual titan for too long. I am ready to argue.
“An Arean commander doing servants’ work,” he says as I straighten a pile of registry lists. “What will people think?”
I slap the parchments I’ve gathered onto the desk. “I wouldn’t have to if not for your titan. He’s as useless as the rocks he imitates. No, my mistake. At least a rock could bash Jason on the head and be rid of him.”
“Calm yourself, Pelias. I’ve been busy.”
“I’ve heard. Aphrodite.” Spittle flies from my mouth when I say the name. Ares cocks an eyebrow as he brushes his cheek and makes a show of flicking moisture from his hand.
“Yes, I’ve been enjoying my time with Aphrodite, but I’ve also been making a few trips to help our cause. If you’re done showering me with your saliva, perhaps I’ll tell you.” He indicates the leather couch by the far window. A jug of wine and platter of cheese and sliced meats have appeared on the low table in front of the couch. I do not apologize for my behavior, but take a seat and pour two glasses of pale pink wine. Ares slips into one of the leather chairs adjacent to the couch and accepts the glass I offer him. I say nothing, waiting for his news.
“Ah, so that’s the game. You think you’ll have the upper hand by making me speak first. So be it.” He rolls up a slice of ham and pops it in his mouth. I wait until the bolus travels down his throat then I wait for him to take a swig of wine. “I have been to the Chasm.”
This surprises me. It’s bad enough he’s cavorting with the goddess Aphrodite; that at least I can understand, but Hades as well? “I thought we were doing away with the gods. Why are you working with your uncle?”
“I didn’t say I met with Hades. I only went to his realm. He has some useful items there.”
Now I know Ares is toying with me. I can think of only two things that lurk in the Chasm: Hades’s three-headed dog Cerberus and the dead that crave human flesh. While I could imagine uses for both, they are not worth the trouble of trying to get them out of the Chasm.
“Such as?” I ask.
“Dragon’s teeth. He collects them from Hera’s little pets. I happened upon a handful while I was down there and sent them to Aeetes with a note. I signed your name to the letter that details what he must do. Hope you don’t mind.”
I suppose I should ask what dragon’s teeth can do to help me secure my place in Illamos Valley or why he has brought Aeetes into what is supposed to be my conquest, but I’m in no mood for this game. “You stole from Hades and forged my name to a letter I never even read. No, why should I mind?”
The temperature in the room suddenly jumps and the refreshments vanish with a crack as loud as a bull whip. Ares’s face tightens as he stands, looming over me, the full threat of the god of war bears down on me as if one of the bronze doors of the palace has fallen on my chest. Sweat trickles down my forehead and over my cheeks.
“Mortals willing to serve me are a denari a dozen. The gods know what you’ve done; it wouldn’t be hard to have you convicted of blood crime for the murder of Tyro. Would you mind being buried alive?”
“I would.” My voice trembles so hard I can barely get the words out. Ares’s powers may be limited by his banishment, but his very essence is enough to instill a paralyzing fear in even the strongest of men. “I apologize. I was rude.”
The terror abates slightly as Ares accepts my apology, but it will be hours before the unbearable heat dissipates from the office.
“So, you do not mind my interfering without consulting you every step of the way?”
“No, my lord.”
“Good because my interfering will guarantee the death of your nephew. Unless that doesn’t appeal to you any longer.”
I want Jason dead. I want the prophecy ended, but I thought we needed the pelt. I’m confused but I know now is not the time to question Ares. The overwhelming fear has my hands trembling and I don’t think I could take another dose of his fury so soon.
“Whatever you think best, my lord,” I say as I bow my head. Relief washes over me when a flash of red fills the room. I glance up to ensure Ares is gone, then hurry from the room to cool myself in the baths.