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All who gazed upon the masks knew that this place and those here serving Athena were to be respected and treated with reverence. The Goddess Athena would tolerate nothing less.
Ariston paced, the dipping sun heightening his anticipation. Sunset had always been his favorite time of day. The last fortnight had made it even dearer to him. In that time, he’d been appointed guard to the Goddess Athena’s priestess.
To serve Athena so directly was indeed an honor, but leaving his men without instruction had rankled him greatly. He knew he’d be better used schooling those who knew nothing about sword and doru. Being charged with the priestess’ daily safety, her wellbeing, and her escort to and from Athena’s temple had felt more an inconvenience than an honor.
But the council and statesman of Greece’s capital had learned of a Persian plot. Their foe sought to capture or injure a servant from Athena’s sacred temple. Such an act would give rise to outrage and fury prompting Athens to retaliate rashly – giving their enemy the advantage.
Greece could not afford such a misstep. The council’s plan provided a simple but effective solution – Ariston. If the council had not demanded he protect the Goddess’ priestess, he would have gladly deferred the post to another.
Then he had met her.
He walked back and forth, his spear and shield held rigidly. His eyes strayed to the interior of the temple. He tensed. It was dark, no candle flickered. Why was the lamp out? Where had she gone?
Her voice spilled over him with a mocking lilt. “I’ve slipped by you, soldier. Your thoughts must weigh heavily upon you.”
Ariston’s breath escaped tightly. All was well. He inclined his head. “My lady.”
“Lady, I am, and mistress to those who serve me. But your lady?” she asked softly. “I belong to another, as you well know.”
Ariston raised his eyes to her curiously, searching out her meaning. She loved to speak in riddles.
Even with her features obscured by the gauzy white veils of her station, he could make out the curve of her smile. Above the brightly embroidered hem of her veils, eyes as vibrant as the cerulean sea watched him.
“Athena,” she said, a hint of laughter in her voice. “I am her lady.”
He inclined his head to acknowledge her words, unable to speak. He clenched his jaw, damning his response to this slip of a girl. Yet he could not tear his gaze from hers.
She blinked, her smooth brow furrowing before she turned away abruptly.
Had she sensed his…distraction? If his cursed newfound awareness was disconcerting to him, it would hardly reassure the one he was sworn to protect.
She is the priestess for your Goddess Athena, he reminded himself sternly.
The evening wind stirred the dust at their feet. Long skeins of her brilliant honey hair escaped her veils, floating about her and then falling against her hips as the breeze ebbed. Ariston’s self-admonishments ceased as his eyes lit upon those tresses. How those creamy locks filled his dreams. It would not do to wonder how her hair might feel, sliding between his fingers or wrapped about him…
His hands clenched as he reprimanded himself. Where was his discipline? His self-control? He was not one to succumb to tenderness.
He must not falter now.
He had been warned. It was not only the Persians who threatened Athena’s priestess. Her last guard had become so besotted with the young priestess that he’d planned to steal her from the temple and run, to hide from the Gods. Luckily, the plot had been discovered. The guard served Athena’s temple on Crete at Gortys now, a lowly servant and eunuch.
No. He drew himself straight, his resolve strengthening. If she unwittingly bewitched her guards, he would not join them. He would enjoy the pleasure of her company, as his duties might require. But brooding over anything else was…dangerous.
###
With spirits high, she’d snuck out of the temple to tease him, emboldened by the brisk night air and fading sunlight. But his face, grave as he’d searched the empty temple, had filled her with shame.
As he’d turned his gaze towards her, her chest grew heavy, pressing the air from her lungs. His eyes were an almost-constant warmth upon her, steady and inscrutable. And while the presence of his hooded grey eyes afforded her much comfort, they’d begun to s
tir something within her.
He has such lovely eyes. She felt her cheeks grow hot and was happy for the veils.
She was startled by the way his eyes lingered upon her hair now. She wondered over the sudden tensing of his jaw, the way he pressed his eyes closed abruptly – almost angrily. He drew a deep breath, then glanced upon her. In his unguarded gaze she saw a flicker of…
But he looked away, breaking the spell that held her.
She took a hasty step back and turned to the city below. What were these strange sensations that coursed through her? Such an unfamiliar warmth and pleasure…
