Page 40 of Odette's Vow

“Ah, so now you’re angry at me for jeopardising myself?”

“What does it matterwhyI am angry?”

“Because I cannot assuage your anger before I go if I do not know the root of it, Odette.” I said the last part quietly, conscious of how close our fingers were, mere inches from one another though they remained by our sides.

She did not speak for the longest time, her jaw tight. “I am angry at you for all of that, and yet evenIdo not understand the depths of my anger.”

Her words stung, but I understood them. I had forced her hands in such ways, just as her husband had. “This is bigger than what is between you and I. It’s about the end of this war. Do you not want to see the end of it?”

She sent me a seething look. “Stop manipulating my words. I am not one of your Greek men to be swayed by a crafty tongue and a smart message.”

“I must do this. But when I return, Odette, we will unravel that anger of yours.”

With that, I left the tent and went to meet Diomedes, who was once again waiting for me at the edge of camp. Given that we had already staked out the places closest to Troy, it made sense for us to partner once again for this mission. We knew the routes to take through the long grass, along the river, until we would come to the western walls of Troy and begin the hike up to the temple of Athena, which overshadowed even Troy’s tall walls from where it sat on the mountainside.

We met with no more than a nod to each other before Diomedes and I moved through the shadows, our steps muffled by the soft leather of our sandals. We passed by the remains of what had once been a bustling marketplace, one of the first we’d ransacked on arrival all those years ago. The empty stalls were not much more than scattered debris now and the scent of spices and baked bread had long been replaced by the reminders of war. I could almost imagine the echoes of traders haggling and children laughing, now replaced by the mournful silence of a city under siege.

The high walls of Troy loomed over us as we got closer, until with practised stealth we slipped into the shadows, pressing ourselves against the cool stone surfaces as we regained control of our breathing and listened for the footfalls of patrolling guards.

Together we edged closer towards the temple, until eventually it rose before us, its columns stark and white against the night sky. The entrance was guarded by two Trojan sentries, their armour glinting under the light of the moon. The scent of oil from the burning lamps either side of the entrance mixed with the fragrant scent of laurels and what I thought might be violets.

It reminded me of Odette. Everything did now, her presence woven into the fabric of my thoughts.

The faint rustle of leaves in a nearby tree immediately had me tensing, and Diomedes went deathly still beside me. The night bird gave two craws and then flew off, each flap of its wings amplified in the stillness.

A sign from Athena.

I looked at Diomedes’ silhouette, nodded, and received one in return. In a swift, silent motion, he incapacitated the first guard, his blade catching the man’s throat before the guard could utter a cry. I dispatched of the second, feeling the warmth of his blood splutter over my hands as my blade sliced his jugular. Together, we dragged their bodies into the shadows and wiped our blades clean on their tunics.

After that, there was no one to stop us. No one thought we would steal from one of Troy’s sacred temples after all this time.

The burning scent of laurels and violets was stronger inside, though the air was cooler. The inside walls were carved with an elaborate olive tree, its branches curling around the circular architecture of the room. The creatures most often associated with our Lady Athena – the owl, the snake, the birds – seemed to watch us as Diomedes and I walked to the centre, where a marble altar sat.

The Palladium stood on a pedestal on the central altar. A pure circle opening overhead showed just a sliver of moonlightthat perfectly bounced off the statue, as if Artemis herself was saying, ‘Go on, take it.’

So I reached out to grasp the statue of Athena in all her glory. She held a spear in her right hand and a shield in her left, her helmet pulling back her hair, her body clad in a tunic that seemed to flow along her sculpted limbs, all the while protected by the Aegis. Each detail was intricate, right down to the stern expression on her face as her eyes watched me.

This, the Palladium, was heavier than it looked. At only three feet tall and made of pure white stone, its weight was solid and reassuring in my hands.

But, when I looked into its eyes …

The stone turned to liquid silver, running over my hands and onto the floor. My eyes followed the pool of liquid until I turned and saw Diomedes standing in the doorway, not keeping watch as I’d thought, but watching me.

“Diomedes, why aren’t you keeping watch?”

He stepped closer. “You should hand me the Palladium,” he said.

“Why?” My hands instinctively clenched around it, but it wasn’t there – it was liquid silver running through my fingers. Then, I saw that the liquid was pooled around Diomedes’ feet, too. He stoodinAthena’s presence. It enraged me.

“Because the glory should be mine.” The words were quiet, so quiet, but they bounced off the floor, now stained silver, with crystalline clarity. I stepped closer, too, my hand sliding to the hilt of my concealed dagger. “Yours? When has Athena ever come to you with her plans of war?”

“The war has taken much from me. I deserve this victory.” He circled me, our movements reflected in one another and the mirror now beneath our feet.

“So, you would claim glory in her name as you plunge a knife into my chest? Me, the one she has spoken to and guidedthroughout this war? Do you think Athena will really side with you?”

“There’s only one way to know.”

Then, there was no more talk other than the clashing of our blades. The fight was fast, fierce, intense, silent other than the ringing of steel meeting steel. But we knew each other too well, and had fought side by side for too long. For every lunge I offered, Diomedes gave a swift and clever sidestep. Every time he went to slash across my torso and have my intestines spill from my abdomen, I deftly avoided the blow. When the fatal blow did come, it was not through strength, but an opportunity. The moon shone through the temple roof and reflected off the silver floor, momentarily blinding Diomedes. I struck low, my dagger finding its mark in his side.

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