Chapter Text
The tavern was becoming so noisy that Barnabas had to inch his seat closer to Kassandra’s just to make himself heard over the clamour of music and voices.
It was crowded too. By virtue of Kassandra’s imposing physique and intimidating swagger, they’d been able to get a small table to themselves, over by a window, but he still managed to scrape the leg of his stool across the toes of someone standing behind him.
Anticipating an argument he turned, smiling apologetically, ready to offer a drink by way of recompense, but the hooded figure just grunted and took a half step back towards the wall where their toes would be somewhat safer.
How they were able to stand there, nursing their drink, bundled and hooded like that he did not know. Sweat was running down his nose, soaking into his whiskers.
“Hey, Kassandra?” He nudged her arm. “Put this in your pack would you?” He removed his threadbare chlamys. “Be careful with my clasp,” he warned as he rolled the cloth carefully around the silver porpoise that served to secure it. It had been a gift from the crew to celebrate the estimated anniversary of his birth some weeks previously and he was still touchingly delighted with it. “It’s hot as Hephaestus’ forge in here.”
Kassandra complied with his request, shaking her head and laughing as she did so. She’d chipped in more than half the cost of the brooch, and it had been worth every drachma to see his face when they presented it to him. She tucked the salt stained bundle deep into her pack and carefully retied the drawstring.
“Why don’t you get a new shawl while we’re here? This damn thing is more holes than thread. You’ve been wearing it since the day we met, and what’s that now? Six years?”
“Exactly! Six glorious years of exploration and adventure.” Barnabas raised a hand to catch the attention of a passing serving girl, indicating for two more jugs of the excellent wine they were drinking. They had received a handsome payment for their last job of work, there was no need to stint.
“It’s my lucky chlamys!” He patted Kassandra’s hand.
“Lucky? You were wearing it the day you fell overboard and that huge shark almost had you.” Kassandra spoke around a mouthful of dried boar, pouring the last of the wine into their cups, and pushing the empty jug to one side to join its two companions.
“Almost! Almost is the important word there.” He raised a finger. “And who dived in and punched that fellow in the eye for me?” He directed the finger at her.
“That would be me.” Kassandra sounded distracted.
For a while now, she’d been peering through the crowd, though Barnabas couldn’t see at what, or who. He had his suspicions though. Suspicions that were confirmed when a gap appeared between the jostling bodies and he spotted the target of her gaze.
“Do you not get tired of this?” He sighed, shaking his head and selecting an olive from the shallow bowl between them.
“What?” Her eyes were still locked onto her target, she didn’t so much as tilt her head to glance at him. “Eating and drinking and earning fat pouches of drachmae?”
“No. Not that. That!” He nodded in the direction of the two women sitting at a table together.
“Beautiful women?” Kassandra did look at him now, seeming bemused.
“They aren’t all that beautiful.” Barnabas wasn’t surprised by her disapproving expression. It had been mean spirited.
“All women are beautiful.” Kassandra sounded reproving. “There’s something about each. Their face, their body, their nature. You just have to pay attention.”
“Well, they’re no Kyra.” He’d half expected the roll of the eyes that was Kassandra’s first response.
“Gods’ teeth Barnabas, let go with the Kyra thing would you?”
“But she’s perfect for you.” Barnabas knew that he sounded whiny. He so often did when the subject of Kyra came up. He would whine, Kassandra would get prickly. But he kept doing it all the same. The image of them regal and united, blessed by the gods, governing over the place of his birth would not leave him. “I don’t know why we haven’t been back yet. Why you just left like that and -”
“You know full well why we left, old man! She had a job to do, and so did I.”
The bloody Cult, he scowled, taking a mouthful of wine to stop himself from saying something he’d regret.
He had hoped against hope that once Kassandra had broken the back of the organisation she would step back and turn her thoughts to a life of peace. Barnabas had seen the path of vengeance lead decent men straight to Tartarus before now. There was so much goodness in Kassandra, he was certain of it. But a few drops of poison could taint a whole jug of milk, and there were nights when he lay awake in his bunk praying that she would be strong enough to resist the lure of the darkness.
He risked a glance sideways and saw the muscles of Kassandra’s jaw working as she gritted her teeth.
“You’ve done your job now.” He probably should leave it, but he couldn’t help himself. Where was that damn girl with the wine? “You’ve killed the snake, now you deserve to rest.”
Kassandra had emptied her cup, and placed it on the table before her, turning it between her fingers.
“It’s not quite dead Barnabas. I’m sure of that. And it won’t be dead until the head is off.” Her voice was barely audible over the laughing and singing.
He shook his head, unsure whether he felt more sad or frustrated. He knew how hard it could be to give up something that had occupied so much of your time and thoughts and energy, but surely enough was enough.
“But really Kassandra? Think about it, you’ve killed kings and warriors, fought your way through an entire arena to reach one of them. What danger is one mad old healer? Let it rest.”
She turned her head and looked at him sharply.
“That’s just the point Barnabas. She lasted as long as she did because so many of them saw her as nothing more than that. A mad old healer. But she’s far, far more. There wasn’t a guard or assassin who didn’t pass through her hands. For every tyrant king who dismissed her, she had fifty foot soldiers who would give her their lives. And she’s cunning. She had me totally convinced that Aspasia was the Ghost, right till the last minute.”
Barnabas gave a grunt, barely audible over the clamour of the tavern. Kassandra and Myrrine seemed charmed by the elegant Athenian, but she’d been a Cultist once. Surely it was like the shaking disease, something that lurked in your body, resting from time to time only to flare up again the moment it perceived weakness.
“What Chrysis has built once, she can build again.” Kassandra’s voice was a low growl, almost as if she was speaking to herself now.
Barnabas pursed his lips, chewing at his whiskers. He should probably leave it. Yes, he should definitely leave it.
“Are you sure this is about the Cult? And not because of what she did to -”
The look she shot at him this time made him flinch.
“It’s about both!” Her eyes flashed fire. “When you’re cleaning out rot you don’t leave the slightest little bit behind. And she is the root of it all. Do you really think that I can settle down on some farm, raise chickens, watch the sunsets, knowing that she’s still out there? I’ll go to my grave before I let her do to another family what she did to mine.”
“So, what? You spend the rest of your life watching for this damned Cult to spring up again?”
“I find the head. I find that bitch Chrysis and crush her under my heel.” Kassandra’s fist hit the table with enough force to set the empty jugs rattling.
There was a muffled cough from behind them and she glanced over her shoulder irritated. The sights and smells of the plague in Athens were impossible to banish from her mind even now, and while she didn’t fear for herself, Barnabas wasn’t getting any younger.
“Move your chair a little.” She nudged his arm. “Diseases thrive in warm, crowded places like this.”
He rolled his eyes but complied all the same, scraping carefully along the dusty floor, wary of stray toes this time. At least this had distracted her. It had been foolish to bring up the Cult again. Kassandra’s anger could flare like a brushfire at the thought of Chrysis.
“I don’t know why we need to look for a healer, with your expert medical knowledge.” He assumed a playful tone and pushed the bowl of olives towards her before taking a couple for himself.
“Every ship should have a healer,” Kassandra muttered. “We wouldn’t have lost those two riggers if we’d had a healer.”
“Hmm.” Barnabas gave a curt shrug. “The new men are better.”
“Very pragmatic.” Kassandra gave him a dry look and prodded with dissatisfaction at the olives he had offered.
The wine here was excellent, but the same could not be said for the food. They would have to be discerning when seeking supplies tomorrow. She valued her crew too much to present them with this sort of dismal offering. Barnabas however was popping one after another into his mouth, seeming unconcerned by how mealy and bitter they were.
“I still think that we could make a trip to Mykonos next,” he continued, the drink making him rash. “Meet up with...old friends.” He shot her a suggestive look. “You could look for that monstrous old witch from there as easily as from anywhere else, surely?”
Kassandra scowled into her empty cup for a moment, then made a clear effort to recover the previously cheerful mood.
“We’ll see, my friend,” she sounded evasive. “Anyway, wherever we settle, once that is done and I’ve spat on her miserable corpse, you can sit me down and sort out my love life. Though why I should take advice from you is beyond me. There’s not even a cat warming your bunk after all these years.”
Barnabas patted her shoulder, relieved that a row had been averted.
“Oh I’ve already got it all sorted out. After all, even without the lovely Kyra, is there a more beautiful place in the whole of the Greek world than Mykonos!”
“Kythera!” yelled someone close by.
“I wasn’t talking to you!” Barnabas shot them a look, spotting the serving girl approaching as he did so. It was about time. “We reunite you with your love, you settle down, start a family.”
Kassandra’s roar of laughter was loud enough to turn heads even in the rowdy tavern.
“I start a family with a beautiful woman? And how exactly am I going to do that? And I mean exactly.”
Barnabas gave a dismissive huff. “A child doesn’t have to come from your body to be your child. You know that.”
There was a softness in his gaze as he looked at her and Kassandra couldn’t hold his look for very long, lowering her eyes to the table, embarrassed.
“Phoibe would make an excellent start to your family, don’t you think?” He kept his voice soft and inched his forearm close enough to touch Kassandra’s elbow. “I know you don’t like talking about your feelings, and that’s all right, I understand. But just as I’ve kept that ratty old chlamys because it means something to me, you’ve kept that eagle. It's always there, no? You’ve practically worn away Chara’s feathers. Because Phoibe is always on your mind.”
Kassandra still wasn’t looking at him, picking at the grain of the table top with her thumbnail.
“She deserves better than I can offer her,” she mumbled at last.
“She deserves better than that bastard Markos is giving her. Treating her like a little slave, same as he did with you.” Barnabas began to gather together the empty jugs and bowls as the girl approached with her tray. “Mykonos would make a lovely place for her to grow up. Damn sight better than that goat infested rock at the ass end of the Aegean. And a sharp, intelligent woman like Kyra would be an excellent mentor, don’t you think? Her and her clever sister? Now there’s a healer!”
After a pause Kassandra took a breath and sat upright. There was coin in her pack, and two likely looking companions glancing over at her. Why spoil the evening with an argument.
“You make a good point. Good points,” she conceded. “But now isn’t the time to talk about this. I have coin in my pocket, here comes more wine, we made enough to afford to resupply and make some repairs. Let me live in this moment, Barnabas eh? Just for now?”
He felt a lump forming in his throat as he looked at her. She worked so hard, with such determination, against such odds, and she had seen such sorrow. Since the day she strode into his life, saving him from the clutches of that clumsy thug, he had wanted nothing more than to follow her, to fight alongside her. But time marched on and he was getting no younger. She was the closest thing he had to a daughter, it was only natural to want to see her settled and at peace, surely?
“Of course, my girl.” He reached out, clasping his hand around the back of her neck, pulling her towards him, resting their foreheads together. “All I have ever wanted is to see you safe and happy.”
Softened by the jug of wine currently sloshing around her system, she permitted it, going so far as to relax against him for a moment.
The clatter of crockery on the table broke the moment and Kassandra darted upright, assuming a mask of affable, slightly drunken wolfishness as the serving girl unloaded her tray and removed the empties. She gave Kassandra a wary look. Not without cause, Barnabas supposed. Kassandra frequently forgot that not every woman was eager to wander down the violet pathway with her.
“Thank you, lovely.” Kassandra seemed undeterred by her frown. “Let me ask you something.”
Here we go, thought Barnabas, carefully inching back his stool just in case the girl decided to launch one of the full jugs at Kassandra.
“If you must.” She was clearly unimpressed by the foxy grin being directed at her.
“See those two ladies over at the table there?”
The girl relaxed immediately, giving a derisive bark of laughter. “They’re no ladies. They’re just common p-”
“See those ladies?” Kassandra suddenly seemed much more sober and very emphatic. The girl swallowed what she had been about to say and nodded. “Send them a jug of the finest wine you have on the premises, and tell them it's from me.”
“Aye, of course, if you insist.”
“I do.” Kassandra fished a coin from her belt and pressed it into the girl’s hand. “For your trouble.”
The girl glanced down at the coin, seemed surprised and impressed and gave her a nod. Kassandra watched her leave, the pots rattling on the tray, before turning her look towards the women at the table. They were looking right back, Barnabas noticed.
“Which one takes your fancy?” Kassandra kept her eyes on them as she spoke to him. “The redhead or the blonde?”
Barnabas followed her gaze and sighed. He found that Aphrodite left him undisturbed far more frequently these days, and if he was honest, he was glad of it more often than not. It would be pleasant to have someone special of course, someone happy to see him when he returned from a voyage, someone to sit with of an evening and share tall tales. But he no longer had an appetite for casual trysts in rented rooms.
“Not tonight, my friend.” He shook his head. “I think I’ll find an ear for my stories, drink more of this excellent wine. You may have your choice.”
Kassandra pursed her lips thoughtfully, watching as the serving girl took the wine over to the table. She exchanged a few words with the women before nodding over in Kassandra’s direction. She raised her cup and gave them her most charming smile.
“It would be rude to separate them, don't you think Barnabas, when they look so lovely together?”
“Indeed.” He nodded, draining his cup and watching as the two women shared a look, gathered up the jug of wine and their cups and made their way over.
“Ladies!” Kassandra leapt to her feet rattling the pots on the table. “Please. Do us the honour of joining us?”
“It would be our pleasure.” The elder of the two took the seat that Kassandra offered. “You were kind enough to provide us with this wine, it will taste even better in company.”
Barnabas stood and indicated to the young blonde that she should take his place.
“Thank you. But surely you aren’t leaving us?”
The smile she bestowed was so charming that he almost reconsidered, but a roar of delighted laughter from a table in the far corner drew his attention. Three grizzled looking fellows, clearly sailors, were playing knucklebones and sharing jokes. He was in the mood for the company of fellow mariners tonight he decided.
“Alas, lovely lady, I am not possessed of the vigor I had in my youth. I fear that I could no longer do justice to your beauty.”
She pouted sympathetically and caught his hand.
“Reconsider, won’t you?” She tilted her head, smiling playfully. “I rather enjoy the company of an older gentlemen. It can be pleasant to take time over such things, no?”
“Yes, join us, please?” Her companion agreed. “Melissa has a gift for raising flagging spirits.”
“I’m sure she does.” Barnabas picked up one of the jugs and the bowl of olives, knowing that Kassandra would not be sorry to see them go. “But fear not. My young friend here has more than enough vigor to keep both of you ladies entertained for the rest of the evening.”
He squeezed his way into the crowd and Kassandra turned her attention to the women, but before she could speak, Barnabas’ head peeped back between two burly workmen.
“Early start tomorrow remember, Kassandra. We need to find a smith.” And then he was gone.
The redhead laughed and refilled Kassandra’s cup. “I can give you directions to the smith. Kassandra, is it?”
“Indeed!” She drained the cup, just to see if her companion would fill it again.
Of course she did.
Kassandra knew the steps to this dance well enough. She should do. It was the only one she had performed since she left Mykonos. Sneaking away like a thief in the night, with the rebellion’s payment heavy against her hip and Kyra sleeping in blissful ignorance behind her.
When she’d told Kyra that she would consider staying, settling, helping her with the mammoth task of rebuilding the Silver Islands after Podarkes’ tyranny, it hadn’t been a lie. Not exactly. At least that was how she tried to comfort herself looking back at it. Drowsy pillowtalk. People said all kinds of things when they lay sleepy and sex drunk in each other’s arms. You weren’t meant to take them seriously.
Kyra had though. Kassandra knew that for certain. It had been loud and clear in the way she had kissed Kassandra on hearing it, in the way she had burrowed into her arms, nuzzling against Kassandra’s chest, sighing contentedly.
Kassandra hadn’t lied. She had considered it. She had considered it and found it impossible. She was no politician. Her diplomacy was the diplomacy of the blade and Kyra wanted, needed, to distance herself from that. Kassandra was altogether too loud and brash and uncompromising for government. She would only hobble Kyra. It was a kindness that she was doing her.
At least that was what she had tried to tell herself as she bellowed the order to ready the ship, rousing her surprised and sleepy crew. Kyra would be hurt and angry when she woke. Of course she would, that was only natural. Kyra had watched a petulant Thaletas sail back for Sparta nursing his wounded pride, when she had rebuffed his demand of marriage. And now Kassandra had taken her payment and slunk out under cover of darkness, like a common prostitute.
As she had stood in the stern, watching the first pink threads of daybreak on the horizon, watching Mykonos shrink away to nothing, Kassandra had known she would never see it again. Never walk on the silver sands of its shores, never hunt in its lush hills. And she would never see Kyra again. Her shame would be a permanent barrier to that.
“-andra?” A hand on her arm roused her from the memory. She blinked and looked across the table. Both women were looking at her, concerned.
“Are you all right?” The blonde, what was her name again? Melissa? Yes. Melissa. Pretty name. She was stroking Kassandra’s hand now. “You looked so sad all of a sudden.”
“Sad!?” Kassandra roused herself with a snort. “No! Why would I be sad? I have excellent wine. Charming company.” She caught Melissa’s hand and pressed the fingers to her lips. “Melissa,” she smiled. “And?” She turned her eyes to the woman at her right.
“Eleni.” The older woman offered her hand and smiled as Kassandra repeated the performance.
“Melissa and Eleni,” Kassandra repeated thoughtfully, rolling the names around on her tongue. “Pretty names for two very pretty ladies.” She gave them a cocky wink. It seemed to reassure them.
Eleni laughed and filled the cups again. “You are a terrible flirt, Kassandra.”
“You have all night to teach me how to improve, my treasure.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively, provoking another laugh.
“Oh, I fancy that we can teach each other a good many things.”
The look Eleni fired across the table made something flare hot and tight, deep in Kassandra’s belly. That was better. To Hades with regret. She had coin in her pocket, wine in her belly and soon she would have two warm and willing women in her bed. What more could she ask for?
“You have a pretty accent,” Melissa observed, taking one of the salted biscuits. A wise choice in Kassandra’s opinion. At least Barnabas had taken those wretched olives with him. “You clearly aren’t from these parts? Are you an adventurer? A sailor? Your companion looks like a man of the sea.”
“I command a ship, yes.” Kassandra threw back her shoulders, grinning proudly. “Barnabas is my captain. But I am a misthios, first and foremost. Kassandra of Sparta, the Eagle Bearer,” she announced with bravado, bracing her hands on the table, tautening the muscles of her forearms.
There was no pretence in the looks of admiration she was receiving now.
“You are that Kassandra?” Eleni exclaimed. “Gods, I should have known. How dull we’ve been.”
“May we see your eagle?” Melissa’s eagerness was almost childlike and Kassandra found herself rubbing the back of her neck, feeling sheepish.
“I truly wish that you could, sweetheart. But...well, every couple of years, he feels the call of Aphrodite, just like the rest of us, and this is one such time.”
“He’s away making baby eagles?” Melissa sounded delighted, much to Kassandra’s relief. “But he comes back, no?”
“Eventually,” Kassandra laughed. “Looking a bit weary and threadbare. It seems as though paternity is a tiring job for an eagle”
Every time this happened Kassandra was taken aback by just how reliant she was on Ikaros for his support in the field. Scouting out targets, infiltrating camps and forts seemed to take forever without his assistance. Each time he returned she swore that she would not forget again. That she would keep at the front of her mind how valuable he was, how grateful she felt for his companionship. And every time, she forgot. Every time she was surprised anew when the day came for him to depart.
She remembered the first time he had left. For days prior to his departure Ikaros had been trying to tell her something, but young as she was it was impossible for her to understand. She was only just learning to read his calls, to allow him into her mind.
Then one day he just hadn’t come when she’d called him. Day after day she’d sat for hours at the foot of the great statue of Zeus, struggling to reach out to him, straining to connect, till her head ached with the effort. She still remembered how Markos had laughed at her distress. He’d never trusted the bird, and tellingly Ikaros had never trusted Markos either.
The day she’d finally heard his piping call, felt his great shadow swallow her as he dropped from the sky, almost knocking her sideways as he landed on her outstretched arm, she’d thought her heart would burst with joy and relief.
Sometimes she wondered if he didn’t do it now just to put her in her place periodically, to teach her not to take him for granted. She could scarcely blame him she supposed. Or perhaps it was his way of reminding her that settling down was always an option, nothing to be feared.
“They say he fights alongside you?” Melissa was clearly still fascinated by the idea. “That you can speak the language of eagles?”
“Not quite.” Kassandra laughed, hoping to avoid having to try and explain something that she struggled to understand herself. “Or if I can, I only understand Ikaros’ accent.”
“But he battles with you?”
“He does. Generally when it pleases him to do so, I suspect,” Kassandra evaded. “He has been with me since I was a child. He’s flown at my shoulder as I've explored the length and breadth of the Aegean, fought man and beast and monster.”
“And which of them gave you these?”
Eleni ran her hand slowly up Kassandra’s biceps, lingering over the broad bands of scar tissue. The touch of her fingers made Kassandra’s sex twitch in anticipation. She flexed her arm theatrically, letting Eleni feel the rock hard muscle, the taut scars.
“These were given to me as a memento by a monstrous bear, big as a mountain.”
Someone behind her gave a derisive snort and she was tempted to turn and make a few suggestions about where they might move to. But Eleni had taken Melissa’s hand now, pressed it to Kassandra’s arm, and gods it suddenly seemed like it had been a long time since she had felt the touch of a woman. She licked her lips.
“A bear?” Melissa breathed, inching her seat closer. Kassandra could feel the heat of the girl’s thigh against hers. “Tell us the tale, please?”
“He was a mighty beast. And ferocious. Lured down from his den by the scent of the ripening orchards. He was terrorising the workers. Making them fearful to go about their harvesting. They held their children close and barred their doors against him.”
“Till you came along?” Melissa seemed thoroughly caught up in the tale, or at any rate she was making an excellent performance of it. Kassandra could feel her pressing closer. Feel her leg hot against her thigh, moving barely perceptibly.
“I heard their cries for help and came to confront him.” She looked deep into Melissa’s sea green eyes, pausing for effect. “The orchards were deserted, the sun was sinking, the workers cowered in their homes, and he was nowhere to be seen.”
She turned her gaze to Eleni. She was leaning on the table, her chin in her hands, eyes glistening. To all intents and purposes she seemed transfixed. Her russet hair glowed in the lamplight.
“He was hiding?” she whispered, biting softly at her lower lip.
Kassandra would be kissing those lips soon. She felt her pulse beginning to quicken at the familiar back and forth, sensed the subtle flow of arousal. Draining her cup again she continued.
“He was! Behind a cart, up to his ears in a barrel of apples. Hearing my approach he raised his massive head, pushed aside the cart and reared up to his full height. He towered above me, his paws the size of this plate.”
She gestured dramatically towards the platter of biscuits, performing her role just as surely as her companions did theirs.
“And his claws! Zeus, his claws!” She placed her hand on the table, stretching out her fingers to their fullest extent, pressing her nails into the wood. “They were as long and thick as my fingers, and dagger sharp.”
Eleni glanced down, then up again from beneath half lowered lids.
“Those are long fingers.” She measured her hand on top of Kassandra’s, smiling suggestively. “And they look like they have been of good service to you?” She lightly traced the lines and knots of scar tissue. “And to others I imagine?”
Kassandra raised her hand slowly, letting Eleni feel her strength as she clenched her fist, before flexing out her fingers again.
“I am very good with my hands. They’re my most powerful weapon, my most useful tool, my most versatile instrument.” She glanced over to Mellisa who was watching this performance with interest. “They have never let me down.”
She placed a finger under Melissa’s chin, gently raising her head to look into her eyes.
“In all my adventuring I have yet to find the lock they could not pick. I have never encountered a tight, mossy crevice they could not probe in search of treasure.” She lowered her voice to a purr. “And on finding it,” she leaned forward, so close now that she could feel the warmth of Melissa’s breath against her lips, ”they have plundered.”
“I would love to hear more.”
Kassandra could feel the movement of Melissa’s lips as she spoke. They would barely even need to move to turn this into a kiss. She tightened her grip on Eleni’s fingers.
“It’s too noisy for tale telling down here.” Kassandra shifted her head to one side, brushed her nose along Melissa’s cheek up close to her ear.
“You have somewhere more private in mind?”
Kassandra could feel the tremble run through Melissa’s shoulders as she spoke.
“Indeed I do.” Kassandra drew back, smiled at them both, caught their hands and pressed them each in turn to her lips. “I have what I hope is a pleasant room on the top floor, overlooking a little courtyard out back.”
“That is a very pleasant room as it happens.” Eleni returned her smile. “The bed is very comfortable.”
“And wide,” Melissa added as Kassandra got to her feet, extending her hands to help her companions to rise.
As she did someone jostled by her, nudging against her back as they passed. It was on the tip of Kassandra’s tongue to call to them. But Eleni was smiling and Melissa was tickling the palm of her hand, Kassandra’s head was swimming with wine and desire, and her blood was singing in her ears. She would let the clumsiness pass this once, she had more important things to deal with.
Kassandra had lost track of how much wine she had consumed over the evening. She’d eaten less of the substandard food than she’d expected though, that was for certain. As she dropped the simple latch on the door the room spun and she had to take a moment to steady herself before turning to survey her lodgings for the night.
As Eleni had said, things seemed pleasant enough, if basic. There was one window, currently shuttered, a small table with a washbowl and a couple of jugs of water, a chair, and a screen, possibly for dressing and undressing, shoved up into one corner.
The main point of interest for her though was the bed. She cast an appraising eye over it as she hung her spear in its harness over the nearest bedpost. Not huge, but it would do if they snuggled up when the time came to sleep.
Judging by the looks they were giving her as she sat on the chair and began to unfasten her boots, Eleni and Melissa would have no objections to that.
“Permit us, please?” Melissa sauntered over, her hips swaying provocatively.
Kassandra considered for a moment and then leaned back to allow Melissa to continue undoing the lacings as Eleni moved behind her and fussed with the straps of the leather breast and back plates she was wearing.
Neither of them seemed particularly adept with the straps and clips of armour, presumably the quiet village didn’t see a great many misthoi or soldiers. It gave Kassandra time to take a few breaths and steady herself again, wriggling her toes as the boots and footwraps came off.
“No, lovely.” She caught Melissa’s hands as they made for her belt. She seemed a little crestfallen, but brightened as Kassandra pressed kisses to her knuckles. “Why don’t you and the delightful Eleni entertain me as I get rid of this clumsy armour?” Kassandra reached out a hand and stroked Eleni’s cheek with the back of a finger. “Undress each other.” It was an instruction but she kept her voice soft, smiling as she nodded towards the bed.
It was all a performance. Kassandra knew that perfectly well. The languorous disrobing, the artful fondling, the exaggerated moans. Everything designed to arouse, to stimulate wine softened farmers and merchants, to tease the coin from their pockets.
They really didn’t need to work so hard at it tonight. Kassandra smiled to herself as she stood and pulled off her underwear, feeling the cool air against the wetness of the matted curls at her sex. They weren’t struggling to arouse some paunched, middle aged shopkeeper now.
She strode over to the table, feeling their eyes on her as she poured water and washed her hands. The towel was thin, but freshly laundered. Kassandra took her time drying her hands and forearms, squaring her shoulders and flexing the muscles of her back as she did.
The theatrical moaning had ceased now and she could hear quickening breath in its place. She lingered, folding the towel, teasing her audience with her lack of urgency. It had the desired effect. Kassandra sensed the warmth of their bodies as they drew close. Moments later eager hands were exploring the muscles of her shoulders and hips.
“They say you are a demigod, Kassandra of Sparta,” Eleni purred, pressing open mouthed kisses between Kassandra’s shoulder blades. “I had doubted that such a thing could be true. But now that I see you...in the flesh...I have to wonder.”
Kassandra turned, clenching the muscles of her chest and belly, performing for them just as surely as they had for her just minutes earlier.
“You would have to ask my mother about that,” she smirked, catching Melissa’s hand as it reached the flat hard plane of her lower belly. “But I would advise that you don’t.”
Kassandra drew Melissa’s hand to her mouth, kissing her soft fingertips, running them gently across her lips, letting Mellisa feel a teasing hint of tongue before she drew them into her mouth, sucking firmly, licking against the sensitive pads.
There was no pretense in those sea green eyes now. Melissa’s pupils blew wide as Kassandra held her gaze. Drawing in a slow deep breath Kassandra’s senses were filled with the smell of roses and lavender, and below the perfume, the warm animal scent of arousal.
“Shall we?” She nodded towards the bed.
The answer was wordless. Each woman caught a hand and Kassandra allowed herself to be led.
Melissa turned to fold down the covers, tucking them neatly over to lie at the foot of the bed and Kassandra took the opportunity to pull Eleni into her arms.
“I’d very much like to kiss you.” She held Eleni close, relishing the soft heat of her skin, the warm pressure of her full breasts against her chest.
“I’d very much like you to.”
The first kiss was gentle, exploratory. Kassandra’s hands caressed Eleni’s back, her flanks, the curve of her hips, just as tenderly as her lips and tongue teased at Eleni’s mouth. Melissa climbed onto the bed, all soft golden curves and wide eyes, watching them, her breath quickening.
“Ready?” Kassandra guided Eleni down to lie beside her companion and took a moment to admire them.
She would never see these women again after tonight. For all she knew Melissa and Eleni weren’t even their real names. Perhaps they wouldn’t have been so willing to join her here if the promise of drachmae didn’t hang in the air.
This wasn’t love, but it was a close enough facsimile for now. Kassandra’s body was content to believe it. She could feel the blood thrumming in her ears, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the tell tale trickle of arousal down her inner thigh. Yes. This would do for now.
Kassandra had lost count of the number of women she had bedded since she’d turned her back on Mykonos. Young and old, blonde and brunette, some from countries far beyond the Aegean, maid servants and mistresses, lowly pornai and cultivated hetaerae.
On lonely nights in her bunk she would conjure lovers piecemeal from her memories. The smile from this one, the voice of that one, the hands of another. The encounters all had one thing in common though, and tonight was no different.
Hours had passed and it was her companions who at last called “enough”, falling back flushed and sweaty, chests heaving.
“You are tireless.” Eleni combed a few strands of damp hair back from her brow and cheeks.
“Are you certain that you aren’t a demigod?” Melissa caught her breath first, leaning up on one elbow and reaching out, tracing soft fingers around Kassandra’s taut nipples, smiling with satisfaction as she saw her shudder with pleasure. “You certainly love like one.”
Her fingers drifted down Kassandra’s torso, lingering over the ridges of muscle before travelling further south. Kassandra knew what her destination was. Her sex clenched with anticipation as Melissa’s fingers brushed lightly over the dense thatch of curls. Kassandra permitted it. Just for a moment. Imagining what it would be like to open to her touch. To succumb. To allow herself to be vulnerable before the two of them. She would never see them again after all.
Melissa’s fingers delved a little lower, and Kassandra saw her smile, recognised the eager gleam in her eye. Certainly she was wet enough that Melissa must be certain of her welcome. A questing fingertip touched the stiff peak of Kassandra’s clitoris, just barely. Instantly Kassandra’s hand was about Melissa’s wrist, gently but firmly. She heard the soft gasp of surprise she gave, saw the puzzled look.
“That’s all right, lovely one.” Kassandra kept her voice soft, drew Melissa’s hand to her lips and pressed a kiss to her damp palm, catching her own scent there. “We should sleep now.”
“But don’t you want to...I’m not tired, really,” Melissa began to protest and Kassandra stopped her with a kiss, lingering, letting Melissa taste herself and Eleni thick and bitter-salt on her tongue and lips.
“You don’t want us to satisfy you?” Eleni’s voice was hesitant. She turned to face Kassandra, stroking her shoulder with a tentative hand.
“You have satisfied me.” Kassandra wriggled down in between them, wrapping an arm about each woman, pulling them close, enjoying the rich, animal smell of them. “This is the most enjoyable evening I have had in longer than I can remember.”
She felt Melissa’s hand hovering hopefully at her hip and turned to look at her.
”No, my treasure. Not tonight.”
It had not been any night since that last night on Mykonos. Kassandra had learned to take pleasure from giving pleasure. She had quickly realised that anything else brought with it the guilt drenched memory of standing in the dim lamp light, writing that cowardly goodbye note, fingers still thick with the scent of Kyra.
I’m sorry.
It would never work.
Forgive me.
Forget me.
Kassandra wished she’d brought another jug of wine. She could do with a cup or two to drive away the sick feeling of shame. Closing her eyes and breathing deep, she let the alcohol still swirling around her system take effect. Concentrating on the comforting smell of sweat and perfume and sex, she slowed her breathing, focused on the soft flesh beneath her hands, the rhythmic breathing of her bedmates as they drifted off to sleep.
Minutes later, she joined them.
Minutes after that, soft snoring filled the room.
All was quiet.
The single lamp fluttered in the shifting air.
From behind the screen, in the furthest corner of the room, a hand emerged.
Reaching for the lamp, it pinched out the flame.