Page 51 of Axios
He halted, but didn’t face me. Although he stood still, his chest rose and fell quicker than usual, a sign that something bothered him. His jaw clenched, as did his fists.
I was unfamiliar with him behaving that way.
“Eryx, ple—”
“He looked like you,” he said, turning to me at last. Tears pooled in his eyes, but none fell. He reached and touched my hair. “Same black hair and build. Similar lips. As I saw him lying upon the earth—lifeless and gone from this world forever—I imagined you, Ax.”
The pain in his voice tore at my chest.
“But, it wasn’t me.” Taking his hand, I brought it to my cheek so he’d feel the warmth of my skin—feel the life that ran through my veins. “I am here with you.”
It then occurred to me why the thought of going to war caused me such apprehension. The reason was not fear of death or reluctance to take lives. It was Eryx—losing him.
Years of training had readied me for battle, but nothing could ever prepare me for living a day without him. I’d admitted such a thing to him before—that I feared being parted from him—but the true extent of that fear hadn’t made itself known until then.
The sooner we left for war, the closer our time together drew to an end, for death was inevitable. As a soldier, our mortality would loom over our heads like a dark cloud. Each rising of the sun would be a blessing.
And each kiss could be our last.
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Chapter Thirteen
“Demetrius! Never turn your back on the enemy,” Eryx demanded, pacing at the edge of the field as he watched the two youths fight.
I’d finished my training that morning and came to watch him instruct his group. He’d looked my way many times in the beginning, and I feared I was a distraction, but he never faltered in his orders to them and soon, he didn’t seem to notice me anymore.
Seeing him change from my gentle lover early that morning to the aggressive leader I now saw before me made my body stir. He was an incredible sight to behold.
The boy, Demetrius, looked to Eryx with confusion. “He is not my enemy. He’s one of us. My friend. Why should I strike him?”
His statement reminded me of words I’d once spoken. It had taken me years to embrace Spartan values instead of rejecting them.
Eryx appeared to recall the same memory as his gaze flickered to mine before turning back to the boy.
“It matters not,” he told him in a strict tone. “Cassius may be your friend, but when you are on this field undermycommand, he is your foe unless I state otherwise. Fight or be beaten. Understood?”
Demetrius nodded and returned to his fighter’s stance.
He was slim for a youth of twelve, resembling how Quill used to be. By his bone structure—small shoulder width and overall slender physique—it looked as if he wouldn’t be getting much bigger, either, no matter how much muscle he tried to gain.
Even Quill, who worked just as hard as the rest of us, still lacked a dominating appearance.
Some men were born slight, but they were gifted in other ways. Where bigger men had strength on their side, smaller men had speed and could move with more stealth. Some lacked battle skills, but excelled in other areas, such as having a strategic mind—one that wouldn’t physically aid in battle, but would provide the necessary plans for an army to follow and be victorious just the same.
Muscles weren’t all that won wars and conquered lands; wisdom and passion were just as important. A man who fought with his heart was more dangerous than one who merely fought out of duty.
And my heart was currently frightening an entire herd of youths who gaped at him as he issued orders.
I grinned for I knew how sensitive he could be when it was just us; how he told me stories and brushed my hair from my face so that he could lean in and kiss my lips.
The boys were armed with long sticks. Once they had trained enough, they would move on to swords, but still being inexperienced, training occurred with bare hands and blunt objects. Spartans never used bow and arrows; only hands, swords, spears, and their shields.
Killing an enemy from afar was a cowardice action. A real man defeated his opponent up close so that he could feel the blood splatter on his hands from the kill.
“Axios!” Eryx did not turn to me, but he lifted his hand and waved me over. “Come here.”
I had watched the training from a distance, putting myself close enough to hear and see but not so close that I’d interrupt the lesson. Now, it was apparent Eryx intended for me to be part of the lesson.
