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Paris’s expression was frozen, and tension evident in every part of his body. He stood abruptly, spinning to face Achilles. “It’s part of the seal. I can feel the—”
His voice faded as the vibration in the earth returned. The tiny pools of water around my feet rippled, and I had to grasp the wall to keep my balance. It was pure instinct to reach for Paris with my other hand. The second my hand came into contact with him, a million volts of electricity passed through my body. He was the lightning, and I was the rod, a conduit for power and heat.
I was going to die.
My teeth snapped together, every muscle seizing, as I was hit with one image after another.
Blue eyes, golden hair, a face that launched a thousand ships. Ropes of necklaces. The sun refracted off the diamonds and sapphires, dotting Helen’s face with color that only highlighted her beauty.Helen?
Silken skin beneath my fingers.
A weathered, loved face.Father.A gem-studded crown in dark hair.Mother.
Paris. I was Paris, looking in the mirror, studying my own handsome, clean-shaven face, watching my wife,Helen, glide from the bed toward me.
I wanted to scream, but I was frozen.
It has to play out.I wouldn’t be released until the seal allowed it. The knowledge of that fact came not from me, not from anything Achilles or Paris said in those long moments, but from the seal. From whatever was in the seal.
Hector.Blue eyes like mine. A smile on a dimpled face. My nephew, Astyanax. Tiny baby hands grasping mine, touching my face to bring me closer so he could speak to me in gibberish only my brother understood.
My heart ached with the beauty of the memories. So much love. So much joy.
It made what followed that much worse.
The sight of ships on the azure ocean. White sails billowing as the wind pushed them to the shore of Troy.My fault. My fault.They were coming for Helen.
Her arms were around my waist, holding me, trembling against my back. “I’ll go back. Let me go, Paris.”
But I was full of righteousness. “No.” Aphrodite had given her to me, and she would protect us.
Pain. Fear. Cowering behind my brother as Achilles lifted his sword about his head. His laughter when my brother parried his blow. “You protect your brother like you would a child.”
The gleam of silver in the sun. Achilles’ spear flew through the sky, a flash against blue, and then the dull, hollow thud as it met the one spot in my brother’s armor that was weak.
A scream. My brother’s wife, then my mother, my sisters. My father.
Helen.
All consuming, all-encompassing rage. Helen begged me to leave, her soft hands on my arm, pulling, pushing. “We can go now.”
I had to show them I was no coward.
From the safety of the castle walls, I nocked my arrow, pulled it back, and back.
“Lower.” The musical voice of Apollo was in my ear. The gods hadn’t forgotten me. His golden fingers pushed the arrow down, down. Too low, but it wasn’t. I let it go, watching it fly, and strike Achilles in the heel.
Revenge.
Fire. The destruction of my city. Screams of women taken from husbands, cries from husbands when the Greeks thrust their swords between their ribs.
My city. My father.
I could smell his flesh burning as the castle crumbled into ashes.
Where was Helen? I ran through the city, calling her name. Perhaps I could have helped my subjects. They were mine now. No father. No brother. The crown went to me. And when I died, it went to Astyanax.
I heard the whistle of the arrow piercing the air before it hit me. The shot was true, the archer’s aim perfection.
