Page 42 of Axios
He growled in the back of his throat and held me tighter. His feverish kisses turned even more so, and he worshipped my body like he was a man dying of thirst and I was the only water to sustain him.
It differed from times before it. He took me slower, yet harder, and he buried his face in my neck as he did.
I felt something more than the physical, something deep within myself as if he and I were connected by invisible ropes that could not be severed—tied together in this life and the next.
Once we were spent and our bodies slick and warm, he put his arm around me and pulled my back to his chest. We did not speak for there was no need.
He kissed my nape and I covered his arm with mine, pushing more against him. His heart beat against my shoulder and I focused on the feeling, imagining the sound of its drumming filling my mind. The sweet rhythm could’ve been forever silenced that day, lost to the blade that had been at Eryx’s throat.
Yet, it was there, and I treasured the measured beats.
And when I finally slept, I did not dream of the lives I’d taken. I did not see the boys’ troubled faces or stare into their dead eyes as they screamed. I held no pity for them any longer. Only the strong survived, and they had fallen prey to their weakness. I was not to blame for doing what others would have done in my place.
For that, my guilt was laid to rest.
Chapter Eleven
388 BC-Two Years Later
Life in theagogetook dominance over everything. What happened outside of Sparta’s borders was often left as a mystery to me. Training and everyday routines were all I knew—all I ever had to concern myself with. Politics was for the older men of the state and the ephors that oversaw the political matters.
However, details of the war slipped in anyway, especially when situations grew dire or when Sparta excelled in battle and the men bustled with excitement or roared with rage. Mostly, I heard news in passing from the lips of soldiers.
Peace negotiations had ended two years past when Sparta suffered a defeat at the battle of Lechaeum at the hands of the Athenians. Nearly half of themorawas lost, about two-hundred and fifty men. A shameful loss for Spartan hoplites, and even more disgraceful, some of the survivors had broken rank and fled to the nearby sea.
And so, King Agesilaus abandoned his campaign for peace, and the war drew on.
We were hunting that day. Eryx ran ahead of me, and I followed.
The years had been kind to him, but even more surprising, they had been kind to me as well. Where I’d once possessed small definition in my arms and torso, I now almost matched Eryx in muscle and strength. He was just a little taller than me, and I had to tilt my face upward a bit when we kissed.
Trees passed me in a blur and adrenaline pumped through my veins with each stride. The hunt thrilled me, and I’d come to live for it—thrive off the pursuit. I tuned into the surrounding scents; bark from the trees, wildflowers, and a breeze that carried with it the smell of meat roasting on a fire in the distance.
I lost sight of him. One moment he was ahead of me, running as his golden skin glistened from the sun’s rays breaking through parts of the shaded branches and finding his toned back. And then he was gone.
My heart seized in my chest. I did not favor having him out of my line of vision. He was more than capable of defending himself during an attack, but even so, I held that fierce need to protect him or die trying.
Before I allowed my mind to wander, I stopped my advance and observed the area. Listening.
A bird sang its morning song, followed by another joining in. The two chirped their duet, echoing one another from several trees away. A breeze rustled the shrubs and then moved upward, causing the branches to sway and the leaves to dance to the sound of the flowing stream.
I looked up, catching sight of the sun peering through the trees—its bright glow making the green leaves appear even greener. Peaceful. If not for my current situation of trying to find Eryx, I would’ve stayed there a while and basked in the beauty of it.
Asnapto the left tore my attention from the sky, and I looked that way.
Aiming my spear, I slowly approached the large bush the snapping of the twig had come from, ready to strike. I focused on it, unblinking and searching for even the slightest movements.
The anticipated attack did not come from the shrub, however, but from above.
A weight landed on my back and sent me crashing to the earth. My impulse reactions were slowed by the shock of the assault, and before I could slice the assailant with my spear, my weapon was torn from my clutch and tossed aside. All of my training for those situations had apparently been for naught, for I behaved like a mere boy who knew nothing of fighting.
Do not show your fear.
Their knees pressed into my back and shoved me into the dirt. My lungs screamed for air, and I slapped at the attacker, trying to knock them off. They put an arm around my neck and lifted my head, putting me in a hold I could not budge from.
My vision blurred as they tightened their arm around my throat. The shrub before me became hazy as my eyes watered from the strain and lack of air.
This cannot be how it ends.
