Both Praxis and Astara were temporarily frozen in fear. The sound of the booming voice from the doorway betrayed their illicit and forbidden union, and at that moment, Praxis could only think about the consequences of being discovered.

Especially if it was by her father.

Fortunately for them, the voice from the door belonged to someone else entirely.

Nico, Astara’s younger brother, stood at the entrance to the room, his hands firmly planted on his hips and a look of defiance and authority on his face.

Astara rushed to cover her body as she turned a meek eye toward her brother.

“Nico, what are you doing here?” she asked.

“I could ask you the same thing,” said the youngster before pointing at Praxis. “You told me this was nothing to worry about. This doesn’t seem like nothing.”

Astara lowered her eyes. “It is nothing to worry about.”

Nico snorted. “I don’t think Father would see it that way.”

Astara groaned. “Horn of Hades, Nico, you have to promise me you won’t tell Father a word about this. Nothing of the sort, do you hear me? You don’t understand what’s at risk!”

Nico’s eyes flickered toward Praxis, who had been silent until this part. The look on Nico’s face was surprisingly perceptive for his young age.

“How did you find us?” asked Praxis.

“It was more of a matter of finding you,” replied Nico. “And with all the trouble you’ve caused in Corinth this week, there were enough people able to point me in the right direction.” His eyes turned toward his sister. “If I can find you, don’t you think Father could too? Then what would we do? You know what his plans are in regards to Xanthos.”

A look of disgust appeared on Astara’s face. “I hate Xanthos! I will not marry him!”

Praxis remained calm. “What will it take for you to hold our secret, Nico? What do you want?”

A small grin started to grow on his face. “I like where this conversation is going now. I was thinking that Astara could give me her allowance for the next two weeks and we could call it even. That seems like a small price to hold this big secret.”

“Two weeks?” she shrieked. “That’s blackmail, Nico!”

Nico shrugged. “I guess Father will have to hear about this then. It’s too bad, I think he’ll be greatly upset.”

“Two weeks will be fine,” said Praxis, earning a glare from Astara. “It’s better off than discovery. She and I both know what’s at stake.”

A pouty look formed on her beautiful, pink lips. “That’s still too high, Praxis.”

Praxis thought about it for a moment before looking across the room at his things. He left the bed and approached his pack, where he pulled out a small knife and walked over to Nico, who started to look a little fearful at seeing what was in Praxis’ hands.

“How about a trade?” asked Praxis, presenting the knife to Nico. “This is an old hunting knife that I’ve had since I was about your age. It’s easily worth whatever allowance your sister gets, and what’s more, all of your friends will envy you for having such a cool, new toy.”

Nico’s eyes filled with happiness. “I can have it? Truly?”

Praxis nodded and handed it over.

The boy couldn’t have been more thrilled as he gleefully held onto it. “This is perfect. I accept this instead!” He then turned his face toward Astara. “I wouldn’t have ratted you out by the way.”

Astara frowned. “You wouldn’t?”

Nico jerked his head toward Praxis. “I think he’s pretty cool. But the knife is a good gift anyway.”

By this point, Praxis was chuckling softly as Astara started to get indignant.

“Then get out of here,” she ordered, pointing at the door. “And remember to keep your mouth shut!”

Nico grinned and waved as he left. “See you around, foreigner!”

Once he was gone and they were both alone, Praxis returned to bed with his laughter still on his lips.

“That little brat,” said Astara as she pressed her warm body against him. “You didn’t have to do that with the knife. I would have given up my allowance.”

“It’s quite all right. I have several of them at home, and I had a feeling he would like it.”

“I should have figured. He hasn’t shut up about you since we met on the way to Corinth. He’s driving Father mad with all this talk.”

Praxis smiled. “I rather like him. He’s a shrewd negotiator.”

“You mean he’s a brat,” she corrected before turning more serious. “A brat that needs to keep a secret. Especially now. I could have kept this from Father on my own before today. But now that we’ve . . . well, it will be just harder now.”

Praxis understood what she meant. Now that they’d slept together, it was going to be harder to deny their connection to each other.

“Is it too risky for you then?” he asked. “Us sleeping together?”

Her big, blue eyes locked on his. “It is risky. By the gods, I can’t imagine what he would do if we were discovered. I don’t even want to think about it.”

Praxis gulped. “We don’t have to do it again, especially if the risk is too great.”

Astara barely let him finish his sentence before she pulled his face to hers, kissing him soundly.

“I don’t intend to stop this whatsoever,” she said once the kiss broke. “Even when we get back to Argos.”

“But what about my stepbrother? We can’t do this forever. You know that.”

Astara let out a deep breath. “We’ll think of something. We just have to. I mean it when I say I’m not going to marry him. Not after what he’s done, not after who he is. It would be a fake marriage. And I’m not about to marry just because my father thinks it can enhance our family’s standing.”

“It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, Astara. Not only just because you want to be with someone else but more so because of who I am. The simple fact that it’s me would only be rubbing salt in the wound for someone like Xanthos.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to keep our secret for the time being,” replied Astara, like it was the simplest solution. Her hand started to drift south, wrapping around his manhood. “I’m tired of all this talk about people I don’t care about. Let’s do something else.”

The way she was stroking him left little doubt as to what that something else was.

Soon enough, any further protesting on Praxis’ part died on his lips, especially as Astara mounted him again.

It seemed that the danger was just getting started.

*****

“Husband? Are you ever coming to bed?”

King Damian of Argos snapped out his daydream as his first wife, Eulalia, appeared at the door of his study. She was wearing a simple, white chiton for sleeping, and judging by her half-shut eyes, she’d been doing just the thing until noticing his side of the bed was empty.

“Eventually,” he muttered, never taking his hand from his chin.

She didn’t like his answer because she entered the room. Her shadow flickered against the wall by the soft light of the two candles, which provided the only illumination at this time of night. Eulalia moved just behind him, resting her hands against his shoulders.

“What troubles you?” she asked, gently kneading his back.

“You know what troubles me,” he replied, shifting out of her grasp. He leaned forward, putting his hands together in front of him.

Eulalia moved around his chair to look at him. “The Spartans.”

It was more of a statement than it was a question, and she was right on the mark. It had been no more than two days since the Spartan envoy had left Argos, and his departure wracked Damian with a profound sense of fear.

Not giving into the Spartans seemed like the biggest mistake of his rule. If only he’d been able to bend on that last item, the issue of the Spartan garrison, Argos would be the newest member of the Peloponnesian League.

Their standing within the Peloponnese, and in all of Greece, would be secure.

And yet, here he was without an alliance or any broader understanding with the Spartans.

Argos was in a tenuous and risky position.

“You know you couldn’t have given them what they asked for,” said Eulalia softly, reading his mind. “A garrison is unthinkable.”

“Of course, I know that,” he snapped. “The people would run us out of the city before they saw even one Spartan soldier billeted here.”

“Then why do you continue to stress about it? It seems you only had one option.”

Damian sighed. “Because I wonder if they backed me into a corner on purpose. I have to wonder if I’ve been played, or whether they even wanted Argos in the League in the first place. Their terms treated us like a defeated power, not like a potential ally.”

“I think you’re looking too deeply into this,” replied Eulalia. “The Spartans make the same demands no matter where they go. Corinth and Achaea have already agreed to them only because they are weak. We are not as weak as they.”

Damian snorted. “We will be weak when we are surrounded by enemies. We have yet to see what the Arcadians or the Messenians will do.”

Eulalia shook her head. “The Arcadians are too disorganized to be a worthwhile ally. You know this better than anyone. And the Messenians? They shun alliances. The sun would more likely rise in the west than to see the Messenians join any Spartan-led league.”

“Times are changing though,” grunted Damian. “The old ways are dying. Power is centralizing in these states that can build a broad network of allies. States hardly fight one-on-one these days. The Spartans are doing it here in the Peloponnese and even the Athenians are grumbling about it with their Ionian lapdogs. Times are changing.”

“You worry too much about things outside your control.”

Damian chuckled. “What then should I worry about?”

“Firstly? About getting some sleep. The sun set hours ago, Damian. You need your rest.”

“What I need is to figure out a way into that alliance,” he corrected. “Before it’s too late.”

“That can wait until the morning. For now, you need rest. A weary mind is a weak one. Give it strength by embracing your slumber.”

“You won’t let this go, will you?”

Eulalia crossed her arms in front of her breasts, giving him the answer he expected.

“Fine, I’ll come to bed,” he said, pushing off his chair. “But I do so under protest.”

“As long as you do so, I don’t care. Besides, tomorrow will be a good day. Our son will return home tomorrow.”

Damian grunted. “Has it been a week already?”

“Indeed and a long week it has been. Xanthos is greatly missed here at home. It will be wonderful to see him again.”

“Let’s just hope he remembers his place when he arrives. I’m getting awfully tired of the fighting between those two boys.”

A sour look appeared on Eulalia’s face at the mention of the two boys. Damian knew exactly why.

“There needs to be more separation between Xanthos and Praxis,” she said, spitting out the last name like it was foul-tasting wine. “Our son has enough distractions. The only thing he needs to focus on is being a good king like his father.”

“A good king would have come away with an alliance,” replied Damian, coming back to the initial topic.

Eulalia yanked his arm carefully. “A good king knows when to come to bed. Come now, and be the example for our son that he needs.”

Damian went only reluctantly but just like the night before, he found that sleep didn’t come easily.

The Spartan threat was still out there, and his worst fear was that they would turn on him.

But how could he prevent that from happening?