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“Hey yourself,” Helen replied with a worried frown. Ariadne’s heart was a throbbing mess of emotion, and Helen knew it had to have something to do with Matt. She kicked off her shoes and got into bed. “I just saw Matt leave. Did you two talk?”
Ariadne avoided all mention of her feelings and instead told Helen what she and Matt had discussed about the Scions being stuck in one repeating cycle. She explained how Matt thought the Fates needed all the roles to be filled, and if they weren’t, the cycle would just start over again with the next generation.
“I think everyone’s coming to the same conclusion,” Helen said with a nod. “It would explain why we all look like people from Troy—we’re stuck. There’s something that didn’t happen way back then that the Fates are still trying to bring about.”
“But what?” Ariadne asked, exasperated. “And something else I don’t understand? Why can’t the Fates just make what they want to happen, happen? It doesn’t make sense.”
“What did Matt say?” Helen asked, feeling a sinking sensation in her stomach.
“He said that there must be a force working against the Fates in every cycle. Something that keeps ruining the play before the Scions can get all the way through it the exact way the Fates want. He said he thinks it’s Nemesis, working against her sisters.”
“By blocking the Fates and giving a Scion free will,” Helen whispered. “At least that’s what Lucas thinks. Every cycle someone who’s supposed to make a huge decision has free will and ruins the Fates’ plan.”
Ariadne rubbed her eyes. “Does Lucas have any idea who has free will in this cycle?”
Helen felt like the universe kept pointing an accusing finger at her.
“We aren’t sure,” she lied.
Helen rolled over and opened her eyes. She expected to see Ariadne lying next to her. Instead, she saw a man’s naked back, swelling and sinking with the deep breaths of sleep.
Lucas, Helen thought, recognizing his shape immediately. She wanted to run her hand between the bunched muscles of his shoulder blades and down the trench of his spine, but something was off. The room Helen had awoken to was familiar, although she had never been in it before.
The other Helen sat up slowly, watching her husband carefully to make sure she didn’t disturb him. She needed to sneak out before Paris woke up, or she wouldn’t be able to get away that day as she had planned.
Helen watched as Helen of Troy tied her simplest chiton over her shoulder, gathered up an old girdle, veil, and worn sandals. She noticed that Helen of Troy had one brown eye and one that was turned blue by a lightning-bolt scar that ran down the center of the iris. Helen knew that it had happened during the stoning. The beating Helen Hamilton had taken from Ares had given her the same mark.
The other Helen hurried a short ways down the dark marble corridor without putting her sandals on and stopped at a door. Inside the room was a little girl, no more than three or four, still in her bed. The little girl opened her eyes with uncanny prescience.
“Mommy?” whispered the little girl, awake in an instant. “Are we going to see Auntie Briseis today, like we promised?”
“Yes, Atlanta,” Helen said quietly, rushing into the room and closing the door behind her.
“Are we going to walk with the Lady first?” Atlanta asked. Sensitive to her mother’s mood, she kept her voice down.
“Not today.” Helen dressed Atlanta in an old skirt and shawl she had borrowed from a servant.
“But the people like it when you and the Lady walk through their gardens. They hug each other and kiss your hand.”
“That’s because Aphrodite brings love to the beasts and to the growing things and they multiply,” Helen said with a sad smile as she turned to finish dressing herself. “It’s why our people have lasted so long without starving inside the walls.”
“Starving—like they are outside?” Atlanta asked with a troubled frown.
“That’s right. That’s why we have to go see Auntie Briseis. We must bring her more food.”
Helen of Troy picked up her daughter and put her on her hip. “Change your face, like mommy taught you,” she said, touching half of the cestus that hung in the shape of a heart charm around Atlanta’s neck. Atlanta squinted in concentration, and her face magically altered. “Don’t forget your hair,” Helen reminded her, and Atlanta’s sparkling blonde locks darkened to brown. Helen then altered her own looks, adopting the plain face and stout figure of a hardworking field hand before the pair left the room.
They made their way swiftly through the palace and down to the kitchens. An old woman who had nursed Briseis as a baby handed Helen a prepared bundle, which she tied across her back. A quick glance to make sure no one but the loyal old woman was watching, and she stole out through a back door and through the kitchen gardens. Helen ran swiftly to the wall, her daughter clinging to her tightly. Picking up speed as she reached the fortifications, she scrabbled up one side of the wall and down the other faster than the guards could see in the low predawn light.
Atlanta was not afraid, although she knew that outside the wall she and her mother were in mortal danger. Helen smiled at her brave daughter proudly, and slipped through the sleeping siege camp. They stopped at one of the largest tents and whistled softly at the entrance.
A moment later, a woman who looked just like Ariadne appeared and wrapped the disguised mother and daughter in a warm hug.
“Briseis,” Helen said softly to the woman. The sisters-in-law kissed each other warmly on both cheeks.
“There isn’t much time for a visit,” Briseis said as she led Helen and Atlanta into the tent. “Achilles will be back soon.”
“There is an easy remedy for that. One that allows us to spend as much time together as we wish,” Helen said leadingly as she allowed her real face to appear.
