Page 66 of Eryx
Then, my gaze fell to the dead bodies on the grass.
During war, fallen soldiers were usually buried on the battlefield in which they fell. However, there were times when their bodies were transported back to Sparta, depending on their rank or factors such as the territory where the fighting took place. Warriors needed a proper burying place, and if no such place existed, they were brought home.
When I stopped walking, Axios did the same.
I froze. One of the dead soldiers caught my eye, and I couldn’t look away. He was young, much too young, and he had a head of dark hair.
A woman fell beside the soldier, her long, silver hair cascading down her shoulder as she leaned forward and took his hand. Her emotionless face hid any signs of sorrow. A helot girl stood behind the woman. She lacked the bruises most slaves possessed, and she was better dressed, which told me she was a personal slave to a household instead of one who worked the fields.
“May the gods smile down upon your son and welcome him into Elysium,” the helot spoke. “Such bad fortune.”
“No, you wretched girl,” the woman hissed, turning to glare at the slave. When she looked back at her son, a soft smile touched her lips and she gently smoothed his dark hair from his pale brow. “By the heavens, it is such wonderful fortune. I gave him life so that someday he could die for Sparta. His death does not bring tears, but joy, for he has brought a great honor to our family.”
Honor. The word rang in my head. Years of training taught me of the honorable death that awaited each Spartan, yet as I observed a soldier no older than me who had the same black hair as Axios, it was as if the air was sucked from my lungs.
As I felt the corners of my eyes begin to prickle, I turned and walked away. Showing emotion was weakness. The woman was right; the man’s death should’ve been met with joy, not sadness.
So, why did my heart ache this way? Why was I haunted by images of Axios lying dead and bloody upon the earth, his beautiful tanned skin turned pale from death?
Axios jogged after me and touched my forearm. “Ery?”
My feet halted in place, but I didn’t face him. I couldn’t. Not when I felt like I’d crumble into a million pieces once looking into his eyes. This weak feeling inside me… it was dreadful and wrong, yet unstoppable.
My true feelings surfaced. I dreaded war. I dreaded the day when the very reason for my existence was torn away from me.
“Eryx, ple—”
“He looked like you,” I said, regarding him at last. With tears obscuring my vision, I reached with a shaking hand and touched his soft 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.”
“But it wasn’t me.” Axios brought my hand to his cheek. Beneath my palm, I felt the warmth of his skin. Not cold and pale like the phantom in my mind. “I am here with you.”
For how long?I nearly asked.
Instead, I kissed his fingers before lowering his hand. “Let’s continue to the barracks.”
I once chided Axios for obsessing over the inevitable future we faced. And now I was doing the same.
Honor. Glory. The words meant nothing without the man at my side.
Chapter Thirteen
Axios stood at the edge of the field, watching as I instructed my group. He’d finished his training and come to see me right away. His black hair was tousled and red marks covered his chest, probably from being slammed to the ground one too many times. Another mark covered his skin, too, at the base of his neck.
I smiled at the memory of how he’d received it. That morning, before any of the other men had woken, we’d come together in a tangle of limbs and clanking teeth. I’d dropped my face to his neck and bit his throat as I’d taken him slowly. I’d marked his body just as he’d marked my soul.
“Cassius. Demetrius.” I pointed at the boys and ordered them to step forward. “You fight next.”
The two boys were close companions, and I knew it’d be hard for them to strike each other. Which was exactly why I chose them. I finally understood why Felix had made Axios and I fight so long ago. It built character. It also challenged our sense of morality. Duty above emotion.
As expected, the boys exchanged worried glances before advancing toward the center of the training field. I armed them with sticks and stepped aside to give them space. My group trained with only their hands and blunt objects now, but when I felt they were ready, I would provide them with swords and spears just as Felix and Gaius had done with us.
I watched the boys closely, interested in seeing how they handled the challenge. They started with half-hearted hits, neither showing their full potential. Cassius, who could’ve easily overpowered Demetrius, only pushed him a little and shoulder-bumped his chest.
Demetrius swatted Cassius on the arm with the stick with as much force as a fly landing on one’s skin.
I grabbed the whip I kept at my side and snapped it toward them, careful not to make contact with their skin, but close enough to startle them with the loudcrack.
“Put your companionship aside and fight,” I ordered. “The next time I strike this whip, it won’t be on the dirt.”
