Olympus

Terms of Use Genre: Science Fiction/Fantasy Rating: PG to PG-13 Length: 280+ pages, 1" margins, 12 font Times New Roman, about 110,000 words. This novel is distributed with the permission of the author, Ana Varza. This is an original text of an unpublished novel, distributed for your enjoyment. As an author, being read is primary and financial gain is secondary. If you read this and enjoy or would like to make objective but truthful comments, please e-mail the author at [email protected]. Your input is greatly appreciated, and if this goes well, look for more books to follow. This is not a "sloppy" job or first draft and has undergone editorial review. In case of a missed error, please direct it to the e-mail above. This document is copyrighted by the author, Ana Varza, as of this file creation on July 18, 2008, and protected under Creative Commons http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/us/. Every edit and every portion of this document as a work in progress has been saved and can be proven as the author's property/creation in a court of law. Distribution does not require the author's permission, but please give credit where credit is due and leave this legal disclaimer and all portions of the document intact. Thank you for taking the time to download this. Happy reading! Ana Varza Author

OLYMPUS by Ana Varza Chapter 1

Stationmaster Hilliard sat in front of a series of small monitors, sliding his chair to pause in front of each one. His bearded chin brushed against his chest, catching the top button of his crimson Alliance-issued uniform. He took a deep breath and leaned on his elbow. Ensign Hooper moved behind the chair, keeping pace with his superior. They talked in hushed voices, trying to keep their concerns out of earshot of the anthropological team. The observation station only had five decks, this deck the official observation wing of the station by about three-quarters with the rest devoted to military and station functions. Hooper’s eyes glanced over to the anthropological team. To his delight, all team members, overwhelmingly female, sat glued to their own main viewscreen. "Ooh, there he is! We’ve got him, Dr. Reynolds!" Anna cried out. "Wonderful." Dr. Xanthe Reynolds leapt out of her chair, eagerly hedging in with her compatriots. "Is the party everything Prince Kleitos billed it to be?" "Jugglers, flame eaters, dancers dressed in sparkling chitons, and the best culinary delights," Penelope informed the head of the anthropological team assigned to study the planet far below. "Kallias seems to just be wandering around aimlessly." "Let us see our good prince, yes?" Xanthe reached over to the display, where a burgundyhaired man stood talking to the captain of the palace guard, the always-helmeted Zerro. She cut Zerro out of the picture when she enlarged Kallias’ image. All but Xanthe sighed heavily. Prince Kallias was a pet project, a way to divert the

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attention of a dedicated but tired group. A few days more marked the passage of a full year in study of the planet, which the locals dubbed "Olympus." Kallias made a very handsome pastime, a man built solid with sculpted features, doe-like eyes and a casual, ready smile. Hilliard shrugged and pushed away from his series of consoles and computers. "I just do not know what to make of it." Hooper, more aware of the group of oglers in front of the viewscreen, grew cheeky. "Hey, that’s called voyeurism." Penelope chuckled and put her finger over her lips. "Hush. He’s moving towards the group of women!" "For the last year, this poor guy doesn’t even have a clue that there is a bevy of hormonefueled women watching him from up here." Hooper chuckled. Every girl had a chair except for Dr. Reynolds, who always preferred to stand, probably to keep above the others’ heads. "Oh, it’s Melissa! Go on, Kallias. Talk to her!" another cried out. "No, he’s walking past her," Penelope lamented. "She would be such a good match." Xanthe rubbed her chin. "Her father leads the opposition party. King Anicetus would never let such a union happen." Most agreed with nods or murmurs. "Oh, yuck. He’s talking to Amarante again." Anna’s right lip drew up in a sneer. "She’s so self-centered." "But, her father is a major philanthropist for the city’s statues and beautification projects," Xanthe pointed out. "That is a match of which even Anicetus would approve." Sure enough, Kallias took the pink-haired Amarante by the arm and led her away from the huge portico and toward the gardens. Xanthe looked away, her heart heavy. Soon, all this would be over. She turned around to find a new station chief standing next to Hooper and Hilliard. Her eyebrows rose. "I don’t understand this," she said. "Who is he?" she asked of Hilliard. "He’s here to get Thruster One more reliable," Hilliard explained. "What good will that do? In two weeks, we’ll be ordered to leave this place." Xanthe massaged her forehead, which she did frequently as of late. "They need the station in good working order for whenever they tow it out of here," Hilliard explained, taking acute stock of the anthropologist’s defeated face. "I take it you heard more bad news." "Yes. My appeal was rejected. Olympus is of no strategic importance and grows resource poor, given its small size. Besides, if we try to make contact, we might violate their beliefs and cause trouble." She straightened her very blonde bun. The new chief looked a little puzzled. "What exactly are you all doing out here?" "Spying on the locals," Hooper kidded. "In a nutshell, about a year-and-a-half ago, an exploration crew, looking for another resource planet for the Alliance, found Olympus." She tugged the new chief gently by the shirt sleeve and helped him look down on the planet out the porthole window. "What they found was nothing short of astounding." A faint smile worked its way across her lips. "The inhabitants of this planet are human." "Human?"

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"Yes, human. Plucked by an unknown race and carried here, we believe in the time of what we call the dark ages of Greece, about 900 to 800 B.C. They are Greek, to put a fine point on it. Very Greek. Apparently, the unknown race found Greek life to be so interesting that they colonized them here, gave them everything they knew at the time--no tomatoes, for example--and left them here. I theorize they conducted a social experiment to see how Greeks would evolve without outside interferences." "Oh." The chief took another look outside and then glimpsed at the viewscreen, which still showed Kallias and Amarante conversing quietly. "It’s amazing," Xanthe continued. "Like their cousins, sects congregated to each form their own polis. Until now, no one was sure that the polis concept came around until later, but apparently, the seeds of such were sown." "Polis?" "City-states, like that of Athens or Sparta. Of course, over time, they merged by war or prosperity. A few city-states remain, but most of the largest continent is controlled by this man." Xanthe led her new friend over to another console, programmed Anicetus’ dimensions and quickly found the monarch drinking wine on the portico, flanked by personal guards and the Athenian elite. "This is Anicetus, their Basilias--king--the tyrant." "He’s that bad?" "Oh, tyrant did not take on an ominous connotation until later. So far, he has ruled benevolently, even if his forefathers did not. Unfortunately, he has some difficulties, and I’m not too sure I trust him to sort things diplomatically." "Oh?" Xanthe tapped the screen until the continent of Helios came into view. "Some of the citystates absorbed by Anicetus’ forebears want their independence. Their ideals, especially their view of religion, fuel this need. Their beliefs no longer reflect those of Anicetus, a devout propagator of the pantheon of Greek gods." "They still worship the gods?" "Most do. If they do not, their opinions are quelled. The current school of thought by the nonbelievers is to move as far away as Athens as possible." Her graceful finger traced the coastlines on Helios’ eastern and western shores. "They are scientists, mostly, wanting to lift the restrictions on violating the heavens." Hooper broke in. "By violating the heavens, Dr. Reynolds means that these people behave a certain way. They believe that nothing or anyone should violate the heavens, where they believe the gods to roam. That means no mountain climbing, no airplanes, no telescopes, no satellites--nothing." "Most houses are constructed with a story above ground and the rest carved out of the earth below. The trains actually go through mountains instead of over," Xanthe continued. "There is an imaginary line drawn as to how far people can build upward. Those who occupy the hilly areas have a little more flexibility, but they still build their homes into the hillside. Only those of great importance dare to build much above the ground." "That’s amazing." The chief still looked interested, but Hilliard’s head jerked suddenly back to his collection of screens and he grunted. Ensign Hooper sighed. If Hilliard wanted to keep their new problem under wraps,

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Hilliard just failed. Xanthe picked up on it right away. With an extended finger, she excused herself from the new chief and stood next to Hilliard, who sat with his gaze locked on the screen. "What is it?" Xanthe asked gently, glimpsing over to her associates, who still surveyed Anicetus’ grand party. "We don’t know," Hilliard stage whispered. He pointed to a distortion on his screen. "It almost looks like I spilled grease on the screen and can’t completely wipe it off." The distortion moved around and Xanthe watched it carefully. "There’s nothing to accompany this anomaly," Hooper chimed in. "There are no fluctuations in any of our readings. It just looks like a smudge." Xanthe stroked her narrow chin and lowered her voice. "I always wondered if the race that brought the Olympians here still takes interest in their project." "My bet is on the Zoaters. They’ve been developing cloaking devices," Hilliard said. "They have a longstanding treaty with the Alliance," Xanthe answered. "Even outside the Alliance, they really prove no threat, do they?" "No. They may just be experimenting their new toys on a small target, though, trying to see if we can see them." Hilliard switched off all but one of the displays. "Don’t you worry, Dr. Reynolds. I’ll keep a close eye on things. You may not want to tell the others, though." "Agreed." Xanthe patted his shoulder twice, followed by a caring squeeze. As a nonmilitary authority on ancient Greece, she flirted with familiarity of the station’s commander. "Keep me updated." "Where are you off to?" Hilliard wondered. "Bed, I guess. I’ve already compiled all the data. What we do now is basically make memories of our stay here." Her weak smile fooled no one. She loved her precious Olympus and all knew it. Not even the allure of Kallias, Anicetus’ youngest and unmarried son, changed her dour mood. "Good night, everyone." Habitually, Xanthe dragged her hand against the curved walls of the circular, ring-on-ring station. She took the lift one story down, where the apartment doors sat at regular intervals. After putting her hand against the lock to open it, the door parted. She went directly to her berth and plopped down with her elbows on her knees and her back rounded. Her preoccupation for the planet overwhelmed her tired colleagues, who had families and liked to take vacations on friendly planets with a real atmosphere. Offered many vacations over her one-year stay, Xanthe always turned them down, afraid to miss anything on Olympus. Sadly, she resigned herself to the fact that it was time to go, to return to Earth and become an authority on the new ancient Greece, getting university speaking circuits and imparting her knowledge. She thought about her home on Earth, the same place she grew up, cluttered with books and relics of ancient Greece. Her father’s enthusiasm for the same swept her away during her childhood and there was never any doubt of Xanthe’s ambition to walk in her father’s stead. She missed him. Although the Alliance provided excellent protection for its allied planets, her father decided to take a chance and vacation on a non-Alliance world, where he was promptly abducted, vanishing with no leads. Xanthe’s mother died in a hovercar accident in Xanthe’s teens, and that left her with nobody. Her mother’s family left Earth many years before and her father claimed his family was highly dysfunctional and wanted Xanthe to have nothing to do with them. Xanthe’s own failed marriage also contributed to her wont to dive into projects to occupy her

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time and keep her less lonely. And it was all ending. She took a deep breath and stretched. Her last appeal sat on the desk, and she looked at it, scrolling through her carefully chosen wording. She tried so hard not to make it sound like begging, but Donna Hurford oversaw the project. Xanthe wondered if anyone else besides The Heifer saw the appeal. They had a history; Hurford chose her son over common decency, and punished Xanthe for tarnishing his image. She never even asked for contact, just a simple transfer of her person to the surface to get more intricate details on a few things, like the ancient mausoleums whose history could only be found in libraries and not on the planetary database. After brushing out her waist-length hair and braiding it, she put on her comfort clothes-an old pair of jean shorts and a well-worn T-shirt--and went to the women’s community bathroom to wash up and brush her teeth. # Most of the station awoke when Thruster One blew again. The chief had his first real test, fixing the thruster to keep them in a proper orbit. He coordinated with Hilliard, who awoke to guide the newcomer through the process from the diagnostics control on the modest-sized observation deck. As Hilliard walked the chief through the motions, another smudge appeared on screen. His brown eyes narrowed and watched the smudge float across the screen and grow bigger. Hot blood pumped through his veins as he realized the smudge's course intersected with the station. The station shook as if a collector picked up a precious vase and held it out for display. Hilliard sounded the alarms, effectively setting up martial law on the station, and hit the right touch sequences to unlock the weapon caches. Before he reached the weapons on the observation deck, a blinding flash of light stopped him as he ran into a soft wall of brightness. Something projected from the cloud to his forehead. Painlessly surprised, he buckled at the knees and fell forward, out cold. # Xanthe awoke to confusion. From her room, she saw lights flicker on and off again, and feared a widespread electrical malfunction. Following protocol for civilians, she tried to reach the lift to take her to the escape shuttle docked on the bottom of the concentric rings of the station. She beat the lift commands several times, but the door refused to open. Frantically, she looked around for her stationmates, none of whom she could see or hear. Eerie. Definitely eerie. No screams. No yells. No sounds, other than the blare of warning sirens. She expected noise from circuits blowing and she still saw the blinding lights in the corridor. Almost back to her room, she saw a body lying in front of next to the north lift. Sprinting, she recognized Anna all sprawled out. Frantically, she checked for a pulse and found one, healthy and strong. She held a hand in front of Anna’s nostrils and she breathed just fine. With a groan, she rolled her over, looking for signs of injury, but found nothing irregular. Just as she rolled Anna back down, an orb of light floated down the corridor, straight for her. Entranced but terrified, she watched the scintillating cloud form hands that reached out for her. With a scream, she turned and raced down the hall, seeing, from over her shoulder, the hand

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growing longer and longer, keeping up with her. At last, the hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her back toward itself, surprisingly gentle and soothing. When the hand turned her to face the cloud, lips and other features blended together to mirror her own image. Her fear diminishing, she reached out to touch it, just as its other hand reached up to touch her forehead. Instantly, she lost consciousness.

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Chapter 2 Blinding whiteness awoke Xanthe. She shaded her eyes and her elbow touched something smooth and cold. She reached forward and found herself behind a pane of glass. Frantically, she checked her surroundings. With barely room to move, she discovered the dimensions of the device very disturbingly akin to a coffin with a clear cover, like she had seen in a movie about the ancient myth of Snow White. She screamed and clawed so furiously she barely realized her hair and dress were different than before her encounter with the cloud being. The jeweled beading, sapphires, on her new dress jangled whenever she struggled and her loose hair caught beneath her shoulders as she writhed, all the while wincing from the abundance of light beyond the coffin-like pod. The light abated, soon replaced with clear blue. Little clouds passed her by as she descended through the atmosphere. She looked down, recognizing a continent on Olympus, the main continent of Helios. The further she descended, the closer she came to the capitol city of Athens, while birds flew past her. It hit her. She was about to make first contact whether the Alliance sanctioned it or not. Soundlessly, the pod floated down from the atmosphere, just slow enough to catch the attention of multitudes below, who gathered and pointed as the pod turned. The pod seemed meant to attract a crowd, hovering steadily and taking an indirect course over the open-air markets and parks, making its final turn to carry Xanthe over what they called "Temple Row," ten temples, five on each side of a festive lane. At the last two temples, the lane turned into a festival square before joining the outer bastions and walls of Anicetus’ castle. It was here that the pod finally came to rest, right in front of the main gate. Xanthe wanted to panic, but the lingering effect of the cloud being’s touch still enveloped her. She remembered everything vividly, but it was muted by the effect of their drug. Still, she pressed anxiously against the clear pane in front of her, beginning to wonder if she would ever get out, just as the main gates opened. Kallias. She saw him clearly, stepping along side by side with his father, Anicetus, surrounded by an entourage of guards, the elusive Zerro included, announced by the long bluedyed horsetail shooting out of the top of his helmet. Anicetus’ gaudy ring-wearing fingers traced the outside of the pod. He found a switch and pressed. The crowd jumped as the pod opened from the bottom up with a loud whoosh and a spray of steam, leaving Xanthe with one easy step down to the ground. "We have been expecting you," Anicetus disclosed.

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Xanthe shuddered. A year's study of their dialect still left hers lacking. "Me?" she sputtered. "You knew about this? What do the cloud beings want from me?" "Say nothing. You look weary." When Anicetus took her hand, she shuddered. She remembered playing in a box of nightcrawlers once as a child, and his touch felt no different. Something worked behind those cold, disturbing brown eyes. Fighting the urge to wobble, she leaned on Anicetus’ arm, pinning part of his long black locks between her shoulder and his. Her sapphire-jeweled dress clung heavily to her. She passed the sentries posted atop the outer wall of the castle, a disappointed sigh escaping her as she saw the steps, about twenty of them, leading up to the front doors of the palace. She looked down at her feet. "Look up," Anicetus insisted. "I will guide you." He pointed the way with his scepter. She felt another entity on her other side. Kallias slipped up next to her as she picked up her skirts and found the next step. "You were right, Father. Alcibiades was right. They did send the gift." "Hush," Anicetus uttered. "Hold your tongue." Kallias, just past 30, looked taken aback with the reprimand. Of course, he knew to hold his tongue in front of the guards when imparting anything of importance. The stairs took an eternity. Xanthe’s chest heaved with expenditure and at the portico, Kallias caught her other arm in his and both father and son helped Xanthe into the palace. As the immense double doors closed behind her, Xanthe lost her strength and fell onto her hands and knees, the dress billowing out underneath her. "Her trip has fatigued her," she heard Kallias say, just as strong arms wrapped around her and picked her up. "Where should we go?" "I did not know what kind of gift I would receive," Anicetus grumbled out of earshot of his entourage. He looked reluctant, but finally settled on something. "Your wing has the most guards. Let us take her there." Kallias nodded. For being so tall, Xanthe was fairly thin, so he carried her easily, the most difficult aspect keeping his foot from entangling in the long hem of her dress. "Kallias?" she warbled softly. "Sh," Anicetus requested. "You know my name?" She nodded. Perfume, an important commodity in ancient Greece, took on its own life in this place. Each person was expected to have his or her own personal scent. Although difficult to discern the origins of Kallias’ scent, it carried strongly but soothingly to her nostrils. Her eyes lulled closed and then jerked open again as Kallias swung her sideways to fit her into the elevator with ease. The bright lights of the elevator hurt her eyes but she smiled--elevator music played as the carriage took her down to the lower levels of the palace, built underneath the massive complex. Kallias saw her smile and returned it. "What do you find so funny?" "The music--it is the same as the elevators I know." Anicetus growled, although no one else was in the elevator. Zerro stayed at the top floor,

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contacting a relay system of guards ready to meet them when they made it to the lower levels. "Do not encourage her to speak, Kallias," Anicetus growled. "I want her kept quiet. She speaks with the old tongue of our forebears at the inception of the planet, the language of the most learned." Kallias nodded, shifting Xanthe in his arms. The slight motion caused her head to spin and she instinctively clutched his shirt. "I will not drop you," he promised. Kallias liked to work out regularly, once a week taking time to run the entire perimeter of Athen’s grand palace of the king. His arms never even gave an inkling of fatigue. If the girls back at the station saw this-The station. Her hand flew up to her forehead as she tried to find coherency in her thought patterns. She remembered Anna lying flat on the floor, presumably coming in contact with the same beings who cornered her in the same hallway. If she was okay, perhaps that meant the others were okay, too. She hoped so. Making contact with her station was her first priority. "Are there others here? From the sky?" "There are more of you?" Anicetus queried. "I do not know." She dug around at her chest, making Kallias eye her warily. She groaned when she found nothing--the cloud beings removed her dog tags, her link to the station above, in transit. Now, they could only find her if she were in a place where her dimensions were plugged into a computer, out in plain view of the station’s cameras. Looking at Anicetus, though, she felt her freedoms terminating, especially when they rounded a corner into the catacombs below the main floors. Little facts combined over the year of study of Olympus made her wary of Anicetus. Kallias, in charge of the military, frequently shifted troops under Anicetus’ edict around the coastal towns, the ones farthest from the reaches of Athens, where the unbelievers, or "heretics," congregated. Anicetus fervently dedicated himself to his pantheon of gods. Although he had yet to outright threaten, his constant maneuvering of his defenses sent a keen message to his dissenters. So, he expected her. What did that mean? Kallias entered a room with a bed and lay her gently on the pillows. A maid scurried in and shooed Kallias back, where she plumped the pillows under Xanthe’s weary head and removed her sapphire-colored slippers. Curious fingers traced the sapphires on her silver gown, but the maid quickly covered her with a large throw. "I have questions, and you will answer them," Anicetus dictated. "Father, she does not look so well. Perhaps when she is rested--" "I must know what kind of gift, exactly, Athena has sent us. She said the gift would unify the world. No more heretical interference." Anicetus stroked his pointed chin where the goatee actually accentuated it. "I was hoping for a fearsome weapon, not some girl. Look at her hands." He picked one up and turned it over, showing Kallias the distinct lack of calluses. "What are you, exactly?" He dropped the hand, which met the bed without any interference from Xanthe. "My name is Xanthe Reynolds," she said taking breaths in between words. "I am an authority on Ancient Greece." "Greece? The land mentioned by our ancestors?"

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"The very same. Only...I come from another planet. The ancient land of which you speak started on my world. The cloud beings brought you here and gave you your own planet." "Father, there are records, ones previously scoffed at by scholars that I have read, that echo such. They are very, very old and the parchment is in fragments. It is very hard to get all the facts." "Hm." Anicetus paced along Xanthe’s bedside. "You speak of cloud beings. Tell me more." "I know little. On my station--" "Station? What station?" Anicetus interjected. Xanthe squeezed and opened her eyes, trying to keep tempo with Anicetus’s demands. "I am anthropinos, like you. We are from the same planet. When we traveled through the universe, we stumbled across your planet and started to study you. You represent an experiment by what I call the cloud beings to take you out of my Greece and place you here, to see how your society would evolve without outside influences." "The pyramids," Kallias breathed. She never knew this side of Kallias, the warrior lord, who oversaw his father’s forces. "Yes. Pyramids. They are on my planet. The cloud beings wanted to see how you would develop." "So what of this ‘station?’" Anicetus persisted. "It orbits the planet," Xanthe explained. "We have cameras that are so precise that we can see a flower petal drop to the ground. We watch you and observe." "You violate the heavens?" Anicetus asked. "Your cloud beings travel the universe. Why should we be any different?" "Because they are gods." Anicetus stopped and placed his hands on the bed parallel to Xanthe. "We dare not roam where they roam." He stood suddenly and the bed jerked back up, sending a wave of haze through Xanthe’s brain. "Tell me more of these cloud beings." "I was on my station. An opalescent cloud caught me as I ran, pulled me to it and touched my forehead. I knew nothing else until I descended through the atmosphere down to you." It required more and more effort for Xanthe to speak. Her chest heaved at the end of each spoken thought. "Father, she needs rest," Kallias pointed out. Anicetus acknowledged the servant, who stood patiently in the corner. "Demetria, seek out Therapon. Tell him to bring the chips." "Father, I do not think this is necessary--not yet," Kallias entreated. "I will not have a heretic abduct her for his own purpose. She must be tracked." Beyond tired, Xanthe had trouble keeping up with their dialect. Like many cultures, the humans on Olympus spoke each with their own vernacular, which often strayed from the Greek root words. The analyzer on the station sorted it out easily enough and she easily made sense of it all when working, but her situation now changed. Anicetus and Kallias talked in low tones, giving Xanthe the opportunity to close her eyes and let the drugs of the cloud beings lull her into a relaxed state between asleep and awake. A question came to mind, and she cleared her throat. "Excuse me, but please tell me about the cloud beings and how they relate to your world."

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"Our priests say the gods appear from a sparkling cloud and take form of anthropoi," Kallias responded. "They make contact here?" "Only with a chosen few. Alcibiades claims that Athena visits him regularly. It was he who told us of the pending gift from the gods," Kallias answered. "Oh." "You must not speak of this to anyone, do you hear me?" Anicetus leaned over her bed with an unspoken threat present in his cold eyes. "You are not to speak unless we are in complete privacy. Kallias, you make it very clear to Demetria that she is trusted with this secret. Break it, and she will be punished." Kallias nodded his head, just as Demetria led Therapon through the door. Demetria pushed a medical hovercart covered with a white cloth tented over the devices underneath. Therapon’s old eyes widened. "She is as lovely as the rumors say," he decided, drawing near the bed for a better look. "She looks ill." "She has not yet rested from her journey," Kallias explained. "She must do so, and quickly," the doctor suggested. "Not until she has the chip implanted." Anicetus waved his arm. "Do it." Therapon uncovered his wares, a little box with a tiny chip. He fit the chip into the tip of a pistol-looking apparatus. "Prince Kallias, pick her up." "Are you sure this is necessary?" Kallias helped Xanthe to sit up, pushing aside the hair from the nape of her neck. "She is housed in a fortress." "Yes, but control. I must have control," Anicetus insisted. Xanthe saw the misgiving in Kallias’ eyes as he held her forward. His grip intensified to keep her motionless as Therapon pointed the device at Xanthe’s nape and pulled the trigger. Searing pain shot down Xanthe’s spine. She overpowered Kallias’ firm hold on her as her limbs exploded outward in agony. With a cry, she collapsed back into the pillows, the pain gone as fast as it came. Anicetus ignored Kallias’ dark look as Kallias wiped her hair out of her sudden burst of perspiration. Xanthe barely felt him console her. The chip insertion left her a shell. Movement even proved difficult, except for her eyes and chest, wide and heaving respectively. "This will pass," Therapon claimed, nudging Kallias out of the way. He waved a diagnostic wand over the area of her neck. "The chip is in perfect position, my king." "Excellent." He pointed to Demetria. "You are a man’s nurse. Can you handle a woman?" "Yes, Basilias." "I mean hair, clothes, makeup--everything," Anicetus furthered. "I can and will," she vowed. "Fail and you will be ejected not only from her service but Kallias’ as well." Anicetus looked at his captive again. "Rest while I plot your life, Heavenly One," he said frigidly. Xanthe still lay motionless, even when Kallias returned to her side. Anicetus watched the pair. He liked what he saw. "Therapon, how long before she is ready?"

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"Change her out of that dress. It is beautiful but restrictive," he said, indicating the tight bodice. "Her body is showing signs of sluggishness." He held up his scanner and wand. "May I ask who she is and how she came to us?" "She was sent by the gods, Athena in particular. She will unite the world." Xanthe listened to her future being planned. "I have no word from your gods. I have no idea what I am doing here. I was taken from my station and sent here! I do not even know if the cloud beings speak!" "Then your life is mine to plan," Anicetus depicted. "We will present you to the people and all will love you, and the heretics will have to admit you are sent from the heavens. We have too many witnesses for them to refute it." He smiled wickedly. Therapon seemed impressed. "They gave her something to sedate her, something very powerful. The chip sped up her circulatory system for just a brief moment. She will need at least two days, maybe more." "I do not have two days," Anicetus spat. "The world watched her descend and the world will demand to see her. She is holy enough that the gods allowed her to drift through the heavens!" He tugged at his goatee. "I will be going. I must inform my other two sons of our good fortune. Perhaps Kallikrates has some ideas about how to present her." "Tell them the truth," Kallias suggested. "She is from our sister planet, obviously sent to educate us." "Pah! You are as useless as your brother Kleitos. This must be carefully planned. The world is coming to my door under her guidance. Presentation, my son, presentation. I want them to make statues of her to sell at the markets. Good fortune, this." Anicetus took one last glance at Xanthe, whose hand remained limply in Kallias’. "You need to make arrangements to strengthen palace security." "It is done, Father." Kallias let Xanthe’s hand go. "Demetria, find a chiton or something and call a clothier. She cannot wear that." Satisfied, Anicetus left. Therapon gathered his tools and covered them again, this time pushing his own instruments down the passages to the infirmary. "Can you speak?" Kallias touched her face. "Yes." "Do you absolutely hate us?" She took a disappointingly long time to answer. "I do not know." Her eyes closed and, despite abject fear, she snoozed until Demetria arrived with a chiton borrowed from Kallias. Kallias left to oversee restructuring of his guards while Demetria struggled with a nearly helpless Xanthe to put her in something more comfortable. Several times, Demetria noticed Xanthe staring at her with begging eyes, as if a lowly servant in the house of Anicetus could help her. The maid’s countenance sagged every time their eyes met. "Did I just meet Hades?" Xanthe panted. "Of a sort, Miss." She clasped the chiton at Xanthe’s hip and at her shoulder. "Of a sort."

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Chapter 3 "What just happened?" Hilliard groused, pushing shakily off the floor. His station looked just the way he left it some ten hours ago, with weapon racks open and ready for battle. Squinting his eyes, he listened for Thruster One, which made no sounds at all. Summarily, he summoned all personnel to the observation deck for a head count. They appeared one by one, all sleepy but unharmed. As they filed in, he encouraged them to join him by the console. "Same story for everyone?" he inquired. "Cloud of light, touch to the forehead and boom?" "Sir," Anna said as she stepped forward. "Dr. Reynolds is missing." The crowd on the deck all looked each other over. "Anyone else?" Murmurs of "no" went around the room. "Did anyone check the shuttle?" Anna answered him. "Sir, we tried to follow civilian protocol but none of us made it to the shuttle. My cloud being touched me just after I touched the lift button, which wasn't functioning." "Perhaps they missed her and she is still in her room." Just to be safe, Hilliard stuffed a zapper in its holster and shouldered a pulse rifle. "Hooper, you’re with me. Everyone else, stay put." Hooper grabbed some weapons as well. The lift now functioned perfectly and they took it to deck two. "They were so gentle," Hooper murmured. "I felt no fear when they touched me." "It was strange," Hilliard agreed. They now stood in front of Xanthe’s quarters. Hilliard used his handprint to override the lock on Xanthe’s door. They did not find her. Hooper’s face grew grim. "Where would she go?" "I don’t know. Let’s go back up and check the video feeds, if they worked during the encounter." Less than two minutes later, Hooper and Hilliard sat in front of the screen. Nobody left yet, so all witnessed as the cloud being engulfed Xanthe Reynolds in a warm embrace, gazed at her with Xanthe’s own face and put her under their sleeping spell. The cloud creature nestled Xanthe on its back as it carried her down the hall and toward the joining port, where presumably

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their invisible ship waited to take her aboard. "Commander, you may want to take a look at this." Hooper held up a data crystal. "Did you leave this here?" "No." "It’s sitting right next to the mainframe input. Should we have a look?" "By all means, Hooper. Give it a go." The computer clicked. "Timestamp 2300 hours 15 minutes and 36 seconds," it relayed, and then flickered an image. No one recognized the ship. It unfurled slowly, coming out of its cloaking device. Like a dove in flight, it hung in the heavens long enough to show Xanthe, now in an cylindrical pod and still asleep, jettisoned toward the atmosphere of Olympus. The recording ended. No one said anything. Hilliard immediately ran another scan, looking for smudges on the screen, and found none. The commander leaned his weary head on his forearm. "You all are dismissed. Get some rest." They quietly filed out, going back to their nighttime wonts. Hilliard sat for a moment before opening a channel. "Alliance's Department of Space Expansion Division of Exploration of New Worlds. Get me a real person and none of that automated shit." # Kallias came by frequently to check on Xanthe, finding her in the same position, recumbent, with the blanket clutched tightly in her fists. He read fear in the lines of her forehead and felt guilty. As well he should, he reckoned. He rubbed the back of his neck in sympathy. She matched the white sheets on which she rested. Demetria found his staring inappropriate, told him so, and pushed him out of the room. As Kallias’ principal maid, she coordinated the wing’s function in hushed tones from a communication panel, with particular interest on making sure Kallias got fed. Her clothing and hair reflected her perfectionist’s nature, nary a wrinkle in her crisp shirt or apron with wide pockets. The beginnings of gray teased her hairline, but that was a badge of wisdom. Women of her stature did nothing to color their hair, unlike the affluent or young, who changed hair color on a whim. While she studied Xanthe, she cautiously inspected the roots of Xanthe’s hair, checking for tell-tale signs of bleaching. Blondes were somewhat of a rarity, often duplicated. Convinced of Xanthe’s legitimacy, Demetria left her to rest. Hours passed. Demetria cowered as Anicetus paid another visit, grateful that he did not wake her up for more interrogation, content to assess her with his dark eyes, all the while tapping his scepter against his palm. Demetria hated the familiar look on his face, cold and calculating, this time envisioning what the poor girl could do for him to solidify Helios, nay, the entire world, under his control. # Demetria decided Xanthe needed no more sleep and pushed a tray of food to the bedside. She pulled the sheets out of Xanthe’s fists, encouraging her to sit up. Xanthe did as requested, eyeing the maid warily, deciding if she were friend or enemy. Demetria crooned to her lovingly, though, smoothing her hair behind her shoulders to keep it from dragging in the plate of food she soon held over Xanthe’s lap to hand feed her. Typical Greek fare soon found its way on the

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spoon, mullet as the main course. Surprised at her hunger, Xanthe rubbed her forehead. "How long have I slept?" "Six hours. I put an end to it to ensure you are fed." Demetria waited for Xanthe to take a bite of mullet. "Eat and I shall leave you alone." "I wish to go outside," Xanthe said. "In your condition?" Demetria smiled as she shook her head. "Are you always so pale?" "I am very fair and have had no sun exposure for a long time." Xanthe’s eyes pooled with tears. "I want to go home." "You were not sent willingly?" Demetria put the spoon in the beans. "No, I was not asked. I have no idea what I am doing here. I was abducted." "So they do exist," Demetria murmured, realizing what slipped from her lips, which she quickly covered with her hand. "You do not believe?" Demetria thought about her next words, but said them anyway. "Around here, the gods manage to do exactly what Anicetus wants. It appears a little one-sided, you see." "I do." Xanthe pushed away the next spoonful. "You are too thin," Demetria insisted. "You must eat." Xanthe knew Olympians preferred their women a little more, well, Rubenesque, and Xanthe had fairly straight lines but a decent chest projection. In fact, a little spilled out the side of her chiton, so she adjusted it quickly. "Are you up to finding some suitable clothes?" Demetria gave up on holding the spoon to Xanthe’s uninterested lips. "I will take your measurements, give them to the clothier and he will bring some pre-made clothes." Demetria rose and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her apron. "He will hold them out for you and you will nod ‘yes’ or shake your head ‘no’. Very simple and not very taxing." Xanthe wanted her clothes on the station. As if her wish made it past her mind, a brilliant flash erupted behind Demetria. The maid shrieked so loud that the soldiers posted outside Xanthe’s door burst into the room. Xanthe whirled around until her legs dangled off the side of the bed, watching her belongings materialize on the floor of her suite. The light evanesced. Weakly, Xanthe got up and wandered over to the highly organized pile. The guards, stunned by the matter transportation, held back at the door, muttering oaths that confirmed Xanthe’s designation as god-sent. Xanthe touched a stack and opened her jewelry box. The cloud beings sent everything from her station, even some things that were technically the project’s property, but were properly backed up in the station mainframe to prevent loss of data. She opened the chest and took out a T-shirt and shorts. She held them to her chest as she turned to look at the tremulous trio at the door. Tears ran down her face as she wiped her eyes with her shirt. Whatever her purpose on this world, she knew one thing. The cloud beings intended her to stay, and for good. # Kallias chastised the guards. Immediately after the appearance of Xanthe’s belongings, word spread of such a thing as clothes and furniture materializing out of thin air. After checking on the claim himself and eyeing Xanthe’s outlandish taste in clothes (blue jeans and a T-shirt with some foreign words on it), he tried to contact his father about damage control. While

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Kallias tried to locate his father, Anicetus came into his office, overtly pleased. "Is it true?" he asked, bounding closer to Kallias’ desk. "Her things just appeared?" "Yes, and despite my best efforts, the rumors are circulating out of my control. Demetria held her tongue, but Zerro’s elite did not." "Let them speak!" Anicetus rounded the desk and took his son by the shoulders. "Do nothing to dissuade them. We have witnesses to a remarkable event, do you understand? Our gods conjure things out of nothing!" "It is more specific than that," Kallias informed him. "They are her things, things she had up on her station. Basically, they have moved her in on my wing." "Let her stay there, then." Anicetus sprang down the hallway with Kallias on his heels. "I must see what foreign items look like." Xanthe jumped as the door flew open and Anicetus slipped in, looking at her briefly in lieu of the pile of perceived riches now scattered on Xanthe’s floor. He looked over his shoulder to see her standing there in simple clothes with her flat stomach showing just a bit under her Tshirt, exposing a sapphire in her navel. His fingers roamed freely over Xanthe’s items, until he reached for one drawer and Demetria jealously guarded it. "Ah. A drawer for unmentionables," Anicetus gleaned, and skipped to the last drawer. He pulled it open and pulled out a box of pastels. "You are an artist?" "I sketch a bit." Kallias, as curious as his father but more polite, gestured at a box of scrolls, waiting for Xanthe’s approval before he dug into them. Xanthe nodded, regretting the decision made in a cloudy mind. She kept her artwork neatly in rolls. By the time she strode over to set limits on the pictures Kallias could view, he found it. "This is me," he said incredulously. His head tilted to the right as he found himself, burgundy hair sweeping around his bare shoulders with a sword raised, taking a lunge at an invisible foe. Highly stylized, it emphasized his eyes and musculature. Xanthe turned ten shades of red and more so when Anicetus saw the picture as well. "How long, exactly, have you been watching us?" the king demanded. "A year our time, so about nine-and-a-half months, your time." Xanthe took the scroll back in tremulous fingers. "Ah, it’s Zerro." Anicetus opened it and set it aside. "Where is mine?" Xanthe stuttered. She had one, but it depicted a rather noble ruler, not the evil creature that inflicted pain on her. Still, she wandered to the pile and found his, holding the scroll out to him. Anicetus glimpsed between her and the scroll as he slowly unrolled it. "Kallikrates and Kleitos are there, as well," Xanthe admitted. "So, you know us well," Kallias remarked. "I approve," Anicetus said, taking in his portrait, counting the rings on his fingers and scepter by his side, lounging comfortably in the middle of the festival square in his throne during the last festival. "You have talent." Xanthe swallowed, for Kallias stared at her and she had trouble placing the look in his eyes. Maybe "exposure" fit best; he slipped up next to her. "As your technology is much better than hours, exactly what do you know?" he asked.

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"The dynamics of the other city-states off the continent of Helios have far less stories to tell than a tyranny. We liked to watch your parties and celebrations. We think Kleitos has impeccable taste and think Kallikrates has the prettiest, sweetest wife one could ask for." She turned back to her artwork. "She’s in here too, somewhere." Kallias caught her firmly--gently, but firm nonetheless--by the elbow. "Can you tap into our Gnosi Diktyo?" "Yes, of course. We did so routinely. Nothing marks the arrival of a world with an information highway like the Knowledge Network." "How far did you go?" he pressed further. "Oh!" Xanthe gleaned the message of his prying. "Public files only. Official edicts. Things that are public, common knowledge. It is unethical to go as far as you insinuate." Kallias let her go, still holding his portrait in his free hand. "Have you ever seen me use a sword?" "Once. It was a party and Kleitos encouraged you and another nobleman to spar for entertainment." She nudged the picture. "I drew this soon after. Swordplay is a lost art in the world of laser weapons. I found it fascinating." Her answers seemed to satisfy him. Anicetus stood back and absorbed it all. "Xanthe, dear, we must speak." She nodded her head respectfully, hopefully dodging any more pain. "I will be your kyrios." Her head jerked up sharply. "I have never had a kyrios. My father let me live my own life. It is not a custom to which I am used." "Like it or not, I am your guardian." He looked kindly, but always his eyes seemed supercharged with ideas, some detrimental. "Am I to assume you have never been married?" "I was married." "You look so young," Anicetus said, tilting his head. "How old are you?" "Thirty-two." "Incredible. You look like you just came of age." When Kallias agreed with a quick nod, he continued. "Did the gods take you away from your husband?" "No, he did that on his own," she grumbled. "He left you?" Kallias appreciated her beauty and her revelation stumped him. "She was redheaded and very vivacious and curvaceous." Xanthe shrugged. "I tend to bury myself in work. He felt neglected, I suppose." "Ah." Anicetus tucked his scepter under his arm and steepled his hands by his chin. "You, my dear, are full of information." Xanthe swayed, still close to Kallias, who dropped his picture to catch her by the shoulders. "You need more rest." Looping her arm through his, he escorted her back to the bed. "Father, we should go." "Not yet. We need to discern if she has any heretic items and discard them." Anicetus renewed his search. Kallias sighed out of his earshot. He picked Xanthe up and placed her on the bed, taking longer than necessary to meet her eyes with a look of profound apology. She understood and patted his hand. Still, she made a mental inventory of belongings. All things objectionable to the

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king were part of station property and certainly not able to fit in her eight-meter by eight-meter apartment on the Columbus. "You have exquisite taste in jewelry," Kallias commented. "You like sapphires." "Yes." "Just like the dress in which the gods sent you," he pointed out. In that simple phrase, she felt exposed, just like Kallias when he found out how much study she devoted to him. How long had the cloud beings watched her? # "So that’s it?" Prefect Applegate folded his arms across his chest. The video was choppy and there were some delays in the message relays from their position far out in space. "They took her and sent her down to the planet? Why?" "I’ve been thinking, sir," Hilliard said, correcting himself. "We’ve been thinking. The aliens we encountered are most likely the beings that brought these Greeks here in the first place. I’ve got Dr. Reynold’s people on it right now. So far, the only thing we’ve come up with is that a pretty lady descended in a cylinder directly in front of the palace in Athens. She hasn’t been seen since. She’s in the palace right now, but we can’t get a lock on her. The cloud beings must have taken her dog tags and we can’t link up to her. We know that she is in the lower levels of the palace. Had we been awake when the pod landed, it might have been a different story but, as you can see, we were a bit indisposed." "Amazing." Applegate leaned on his elbows. "Well, Dr. Reynolds got what she wanted. She wanted to walk amongst them and she’s getting her opportunity." He chuckled. "I fail to see the humor in this," Hilliard protested. "Her opinion of Anicetus wasn’t very high. I fear for her." "Well, for now, Hilliard, sit this one out. Have the anthropological team analyze and keep track of her movements. Keep trying to get a lock on her and transport her out. In the meantime, I’ll meet with the council and see what they have to say." Applegate looked thoughtful. "I know how much she means to the team," he assured Hilliard. "She’s very well respected. We need to find the perfect approach. I’ll speak with Commander Donna Hurford in the morning." Hilliard swallowed. Heifer Hurford? This conversation took a turn for the worse. "Prefect, with all due respect, Commander Hurford is not exactly a fan of Dr. Reynolds." "I’m well aware of that. As head of the First Contact Division, though, she is technically my superior in this matter. I will have to defer to her expertise." Hilliard realized he gripped the corner of the console until his knuckles turned white. "Just keep me posted, Sir." "That I will. If that’s the end of it, I think I’ll go back to bed." Applegate stood, adjusting his robe. "Good night, Hilliard." "Good night, Sir." The screen blacked out. Nearly the entire population of the space station hung around, eavesdropping by invitation to the conversation. All heard the name of Hurford and their faces fell. #

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Unfortunately, Xanthe’s clothes did not meet Anicetus’ scrutiny. He warned her about dictating fashions, and found her clothes outrageous. Xanthe had no use for dresses on the station, so she brought none along. Slacks were quickly vetoed by Anicetus, but he did not throw them out, so she retained her precious comfort clothes, something she clung to in this volatile world she now inhabited. At her first quiet moment, she found a journal and started writing, scientifically chronicling her first day on Olympus, forsaking her normal caricatures in the margins. Her head swam, but she had to find a way to get this book and herself back to the station. Demetria came in and took her measurements, urging her to rest. Apparently, Anicetus wanted the dressmaker there quite early the next morning with her presentable by afternoon. Demetria went to call her measurements to the dressmaker, who would select garments based on that, expediting the process. Xanthe hated her handwriting. Years of reliance upon computers sapped her fingers of a flourished, uniform script, an art her mother insisted during her life, but Xanthe disregarded after death. With one last line, she dated it and put, simply, "to be continued..."

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Chapter 4 Demetria woke Xanthe early. With no windows to orient her, she relied on the clock, grudgingly doing as the maid requested. Not in a mood to search her surroundings previously, she found herself in an actual suite, consisting of a parlor through one door and a small dining room in the next. In the corner of her bedroom, a door opened into an indoor, individual-sized pool, steaming, waiting for her to get in. She stripped as Demetria looked in the corner, and went down the steps, finding that the water came up to her shoulders. Upon looking up, she saw a dangling shower nozzle, easily pulled to spray any part of her body she wished. Demetria pushed her skirts through her legs and stuck them in her waistband. She sat on the side of the pool, sprayer ready to tend to Xanthe’s long locks. Xanthe sighed under the perfect length of Demetria’s nails while they scrubbed her head. The maid made a mental note that Xanthe liked someone toying with her hair and gave her a little extra scrubbing since it made her so happy. One bright spot in a dark world carried great weight. Demetria presented her a fresh pair of her coveted jeans and another T-shirt. After dressing, Demetria guided Xanthe to a helmet-shaped object attached to the wall. She brushed out Xanthe’s locks and positioned her underneath the helmet and flipped the switch. Heated air rushed out of the device, scattering Xanthe’s hair, which Demetria quickly caught and tamed with the hairbrush. Xanthe liked this room very much. Feeling a little safer, she opened the door and found Kallias standing amongst the still-unmoved stacks of her belongings, particularly interested in her books. "What do these say?" he asked without pleasantries. "Some of it I recognize. Is it a dictionary?" "It was a gift from my father," she said, taking the book back. "It was my first GreekEnglish dictionary. I no longer need it, but I keep it for sentimental value." She cradled it against her chest. She fished through another chest-of-drawers, pulling out a picture frame. "This is my father. He is no longer with me." Kallias studied it intensely, his brow wrinkling. "It is like I know him. I cannot explain such, but he looks very familiar." "You will not find him in me," Xanthe said. "I look remarkably like my mother." She pulled out another photo. "See?" Kallias held the picture next to her face. "I, too, received my mother’s looks." "In all my research, my prince, I have never found any record of her. Does she dictate seclusion?"

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"She dictates nothing." Kallias sighed deeply. "It hurt Father too badly to gaze upon her images, and even our Knowledge Network has no access to those. We believe she was assassinated when I was but a child." "My apologies. This is a tender subject and I have no right to it." Xanthe backpedaled to her drawers and put her photos back. "Again, I apologize." "It is all right." He mustered a weak smile when Demetria walked in, pushing another cart of food toward the dining room. "Are you better today?" "Better, but not whole. Prince Kallias, I must make contact with my station. They have to know I am all right and try to get me out of here." "Out? Why?" "I do not belong here," she insisted. "Your father is intent on using me to change the dynamics of an entire world! I cannot be privy to such. As a representative of my Alliance, it is expressly prohibited to put myself in that position." Kallias weighed her words. "The gods took you from your station for a purpose. They are beings of great power. Do you have the technology to move objects through the air?" "Yes, we do. We call it matter transfer. I can step through a portal and go home. Please, take me outside. I can make contact with them if they can see me." "You do not want to stay with us?" He stepped toward the box of rolled portraits. "I do not understand. You study us for so long and, now, you are here among us and you do not wish to stay?" "I do not belong here," she repeated. "I could start a world war!" "Not if my father plays this correctly. Look, Xanthe, at the base of the heretic problem is that they no longer believe in our gods. Now, they have to come back to the fold." "I want no part in it! Where I come from, it is perfectly acceptable to fashion instruments of such to study the heavens more closely. Do you even know that there are twelve planets in your solar system? Do you even know what a solar system is?" Kallias’ eyes widened and he put a hand over her lips. "Yes, I know," he whispered, his brown eyes darting around nervously. "You are in contact with the heretics?" she assumed. The muscles at the angle of his jaws bulged. "Sh." He took her hands and clasped them by his chest. "I strongly believe in my gods," he explained, "but the heretics do not ask for much. They just want more knowledge and I welcome their advancements." He let her hands go. "I want you to stay. You are in a position to ask for such things to become part of our society. The gods have not punished you for your ways. You are a messenger--a vision of what our world could be." "Your gods are punishing me! They put me in the hands of a madman, no offense, who has inflicted more pain upon me in one day than I have had in a lifetime. Never, never, have I felt pain like that, Sir. If I can expect more of the same, I will figure out a way to get out of here myself." Demetria watched the conversation quietly. At its natural breaking point, she cleared her throat. "Breakfast?" Xanthe kept at it while Demetria served them. "He hurt me once. Will he do so again?" Kallias put his spoon down and Demetria stopped with the tray halfway in the air.

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"He will, will he not?" Xanthe stood. "I am an object to him. He cares nothing for me, but what I can do for him. Once he is through with me, I will be discarded and useless." "You are not useless," Kallias said, studying the wood grain of the dining table. "I will protect you." "My Lord, I am certain you mean well, but I find no comfort in your words." Kallias picked over his meal, hating the stony silence that ensued. Demetria left the room to welcome the dressmaker and Kallias rose to leave, avoiding eye contact as he did so. "I have a life, my prince. A life. How would you like it if we had opened a portal and pulled you through it, making you part of what I know?" She kept her words gentle, although she wanted to scream. "Abducted. How bad does that sound?" His answer floored her. "I welcome change--any change," he said, sadness coating his words. He got up when she did, reaching across the table to touch her lips and remind her to stay quiet in the presence of the dressmaker. # Women gained many rights over the years on Olympus, but they still largely remained at home, tending the household. A man who needed help supporting his household by sending his wife out for a career lessened him in Olympian eyes. Unmarried women occupied high-ranking jobs, and many kept working after marriage, not caring about the position in which it left their husbands. However, this dressmaker was male, and Demetria set up a privacy screen for Xanthe to use. Kallias fingered the dresses on the racks. He held one up. "I like this one," he voted. "Yes, my prince." Demetria took the silver dress, noting its plunging neckline and grinned. Kallias cringed inwardly when he found Xanthe standing there with arms akimbo, glaring at him, not for the dress, but for his unwillingness to help her. His jaw clamped down and he looked away, turning slowly toward the door. He hesitated as he left, his chin almost breaking the plane of his shoulder but not quite. Eyeing the floor, he departed. Xanthe hated shopping. She hated trying on clothes. If it did not flatter the mannequin, she passed it by. At home on Earth, she had a closet full of clothes bought directly from the rack that did not quite fit, Xanthe intending on returning them but never doing so. Given the same, she grudgingly stepped behind the screen, where she spent an agonizing two hours. Xanthe’s penchant for blue caused Demetria to plead for her to try more flamboyant colors, but Xanthe, actually having a say in her wardrobe, vetoed them. With some misgiving, she realized she actually liked Kallias’ choice with deep cowl neck that almost exposed her navel ring. Xanthe nearly shoved the dressmaker out the door, helping him push his racks into the hallway. The guards tittered after she disappeared back into her apartment, finding it interesting that a woman of such elevated status, the bridge between gods and man, would help such a lowly creature as a dressmaker. Demetria scolded her for it, always with a gentle reminder to keep her mouth closed. "Take a few minutes," Demetria told Xanthe. "I must check on Kallias." Xanthe gladly flopped face down on the bed. Little tears squeezed out, but she doggedly picked up her journal and chronicled her new findings and current situation. She included the

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pleasant pool encounter; some things got missed when studying an overview of a planet. Like she argued in her last appeal, many things went unlearned. Rereading her interaction with Anicetus, she groaned. If she touched her neck just right, she could reproduce a phantom sensation that made her toes tingle. Getting up slowly, she stuck the diary in the bottom drawer along with her art supplies and went to another chest, digging through until she found her music ear pods. She picked up the remote and dialed her selections, finding the hardest, angriest music available. The little buds came to life and she selected a row of 10 songs. She put the remote back and gingerly put her neck to a pillow and closed her eyes. About halfway into the first song, someone tugged gently at her bare toe. She shouted and flew out of bed, only to find Kallias standing there. With one hand over her heart, she removed the plugs and rolled them in her palm. "Do you knock?" she growled. "Three times." Kallias stood there with a crooked grin, holding his hand out cautiously. "May I?" Xanthe plunked the music plugs in his hand. She forgot how much volume she liked and Kallias’ eyes nearly crossed from the immediate flow of loud, back-beating music. His eyes widened but he left them in. "The sound quality is excellent," he said, unintentionally talking over the music. He nodded along with a few beats. "I like this music. It makes my heart beat fast." "I have a music collection spanning a millennium back home on Earth. I brought my favorites with me." Xanthe wanted them back and he gave them to her. "I have put some thought to what you said earlier." Kallias folded his arms. "I will help you get out of here, on one condition." "Which is?" "You take me with you. All my life, I wondered if we should be so arrogant to assume in a vast universe that we were the only ones. Are the other planets anthropoi, as well?" "There are 14 known races, not human but races all their own." Kallias sat hard on her bed. "Do we all look the same?" "No. My favorite species have blue skin and fine antennae that glow in the dark. They are called the Azomites. They have a special plant on their world that they must consume in order to survive, but it makes them bioluminescent, like fireflies." "Ah." Kallias’ chin dimpled. "I want to see them." "Even if it defies your father’s edict and breeches the heavens?" "Yes," he said after a pause. "But you are in command of the military. What happens when you leave?" "Zerro will take over." "But he is only captain of palace defenses." "He is a childhood friend. He knows what I do." "I do not know what my people would say about this, Prince Kallias." "Drop the formality, Xanthe. Even my father recognizes, although he would never admit it, that you are above us." Kallias nodded his head respectfully. "Does it make you feel special, at all, to know that our gods selected you for such a noble purpose?" "It pisses me off."

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"Pardon?" "It angers me. They had no right to violate my life. How would you feel, Kallias, if we decided we needed a specimen from your planet and abducted any one of your numerous servants? They would feel as I do, helpless and alone." Xanthe brushed a tear away. "I want to go home." "I will help you get there. I cannot promise immediate results, but I am prepared to leave this place, but I want you to help me acclimate to the new environment. I ask that you do not pass me off on anyone else." "I agree to it. The portal will open and I will drag you along with me to my station. I have to be in the gardens, though. Right now, they have plugged my precise dimensions into the computer and if I walk out into the open, I will be seen." "And they will open the portal and we will go through?" "Yes. We need to find a place in relative seclusion where they will feel comfortable opening the portal." "That may take some doing." Kallias thought hard. "The place where you take Amarante might be a good place." Kallias blinked. "Amarante?" He stood up. "You have watched us?" Xanthe’s pale face instantly flushed pink. "Yes. I apologize." "Why?" "We were voting for Melissa," she admitted. "Melissa is too good to subject to my family." Kallias ran his hand through his straight long locks. "She had my vote, too. I have to do what father dictates. You will, too. Xanthe, please; just play along. Remember, it is only temporary." Demetria entered with lunch, surprised to see Kallias so willing to pull away from his work. "Will you be joining us, too?" "Yes, I think I will. Do you have enough?" "I brought enough for Zerro." "Ah, then you have plenty." "I brought much so she would eat much. She reminds me of a fence post," she remarked as she pushed it toward the dining room. Kallias held his arm out gallantly, waiting for Xanthe to go first. Xanthe said little when Kallias mentioned that she was to meet his two brothers before being presented to the assembled nobility of the monarchy. He laughed when he claimed Kleitos fretted; he had not the time to plan something grand, but promised a lavish party some time in the near future to welcome her properly. Xanthe always enjoyed learning about Kleitos, the gentle middle prince in charge of charities and entertainment. The time came and Kallias left for a short time while Demetria fussed over her hair. Demetria unwrapped brand new hair accessories, some made of fine gold or even platinum. She selected the silver-toned items, intent on her desire for Xanthe to dress in the silver dress of Kallias’ choosing. "I was the maid selected to tend to Kallias in his infancy," she chit-chatted. "Now I have you, too. It is a pleasant diversion." After making a part from ear to ear, she sectioned the hair and twisted each strand until they stood in tight little knobs, each wrapped in its own band of

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silver. The rest Demetria left loose, using a thick iron to add some body. It looked nice, but Xanthe forgot her manners while agonizing about her presentation. Still fatigued, she wondered about her ability to last before collapsing. With a pounding heart and damp palms, she donned the silver dress, adjusting the cowl to hide as much as possible. The dress fit tight around the upper arms and her hips, flaring out into a full skirt and full sleeves. Before makeup, Demetria rubbed sparkling oil on every exposed skin surface, ensuring her mistress shone in any light. Anicetus came by just about the time Demetria finished, pacing behind the dressing table for close inspection. "Yes, I think this will do nicely," he murmured. "Quite nicely." Demetria displayed no signs of pleasure at his approval. She merely nodded and helped Xanthe to stand, fishing out the only pair of shoes Xanthe had, the ones given to her by the god beings. "I must call the cobbler," Demetria said. "I will put your things away while you are gone." "Hold off on that," Anicetus directed. "This room is only temporary. I do not like this location. It sits too close to the offices, where people come and go all day. Zerro has a good security system, but I never underestimate the will of a heretic who desires to lay his hands on the girl." Xanthe wondered how much better she might fair in the hands of a heretic. "We have already received feedback from the opposition council. They are in shock. They must acknowledge what they have seen, but are not happy to the changes they will have to make in their depraved lifestyles." Anicetus tucked the scepter under his arms and rubbed his hand greedily. "You, my love, are making me very happy." He sat his hand on her shoulder. Instincts flared and she pulled away from him, jumping out of her chair to put a great distance between them. He growled. "You will learn to respect me." He looked fondly at his scepter. "I give you a chance to come along willingly." His eyes narrowed. "Let me show you what I can do." "My Lord, no!" Demetria beseeched, attaching herself to his hem. "Speak!" Anicetus ordered. Xanthe thought of what she wanted to say, something cutting and biting. The words rose in her throat but nothing happened. She coughed a soundless cough and a hot tear threatened to ruin her mascara. Her voice was gone. Anicetus chuckled. "Just a gentle reminder for you to keep your mouth closed. You impart wisdom of the gods, but only when they allow you to speak, you see, my Handmaiden." Xanthe’s head shot up. Handmaiden? "Oh yes. I forgot to tell you that you were sent to us from the gods, where you functioned as their handmaiden. You speak only when pertinent, for who deserves to know all the intricate secrets of our gods’ lives?" Anicetus covered his heart and mocked her, bowing just to irritate her. "Be happy. You do not have to cater to us like a servant. I must allow you to act as if you are above us all. When we leave this room, I will carry your arm as your humblest of the humble." Xanthe wanted to scream. Unable to even tense her vocal cords, a whisper failed to

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escape. Her eyes begged Anicetus to reverse the process. He merely laughed at her, and his chuckles lasted when Kallias let himself into the suite. "I took her voice," he cackled. "Father, she is here among men!" Kallias rushed over to Xanthe and put his arm around her slight shoulders. "If Zerro’s guards fail, and someone gets through, who will hear her scream?" "If Zerro’s guards fail, we will re-institute corporal punishment," Anicetus threatened. "Besides, we will move her soon enough and I want you to select Spartan women." Spartans no longer had their own polis, absorbed over the centuries as a certain class of people who voluntary dedicated their sons or daughters to the Spartan ways. To be called a Spartan came with respect from all walks of life, royalty included. "Do you have someone in mind?" Anicetus pressed his son. "Mysia, most certainly." Kallias rubbed a long-gone bruise on his forearm, received from the same woman of whom he spoke. "Perhaps Persephone." "You make certain of their aptitude." Kallias let go of Xanthe, noting that her shoulders quivered with rage. He faced her, rubbing her biceps, trying to calm her down. "Come. It is time to meet the royal family." Anicetus held his hand out at arm’s length, waiting for Xanthe’s compliance by placing her hand over his. Kallias nudged her. "Please," he whispered. She took two grudging steps forward and raised her arm, touching Anicetus’ hand. "That look of disgust on your face--get rid of it," he demanded. "I do not care if you smile, but you will look dedicated to your task, Heavenly One." Xanthe unclenched her jaw as Kallias opened the door and she walked into a waiting group of ten guards, Zerro included. Suddenly, Anicetus stopped and thought. "Kallias, you walk her down. I will follow." Confused, Kallias held up his arm, grateful for the small softening in Xanthe’s face as she took his arm. Her wide sleeve waggled and she held her skirts in her opposite hand. "Look up," Anicetus reminded her gently, now in presence of witnesses. Xanthe was lost by the second turn. Still underground, Zerro used his communicator to set up guards on the top level and himself got in the elevator, holding the doors open and slipping in last. "You forgot jewelry," Anicetus noted. "It is a mistake you will not make again." Xanthe sighed and nodded. "That foolish nurse of yours needs an education in women," Anicetus shot at Kallias. Zerro stood quietly. Xanthe tried to study him out of the corner of her eye, but the nose guard darkened his face, leaving his mouth as his most prominent feature. She saw it smile often enough, back home on the station. His picture was not even available on the Knowledge Network. Apparently, Zerro liked his privacy. The girls on the station had a running bet. One half claimed Zerro hid good looks; the other half bet that he hid ugly scars. In any case, the thought was fleeting, for the doors opened up to the main floor and a new entourage accompanied them to Anicetus’ chambers. Supported by ornate columns, the ballroom of the palace sprawled out before her.

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Chandeliers dripped glass droplets that sparkled in the light. Where high society gathered during the more inclement weather, Kleitos’ touch was everywhere, now decorated in honor of the upcoming Olympics. Statues for all the events stood strategically placed with fresh laurels on their heads. Before they reached it, though, Anicetus took a turn to take a small hallway to another wing, his wing. Gold embellished everything here. He favored pictures of himself, life sized and pompous, a benevolent ruler leading his masses. One even showed a depiction of Athena smiling down on the leader of her patron town. Only in the antechamber, they took another hallway and went to Anicetus’ private parlor. She recognized them all. Kallikrates looked very much like his father and displayed many of his father’s mannerisms, but the cameras back at the station never registered the hard look in his eyes, just like his father’s. Now in seclusion, his tiny wife stood well away from him, her hands clasped in front and her eyes downcast. When Xanthe entered the room, she looked up hopefully, but Xanthe could not tell for which she hoped. Kleitos put his little dog down on the floor and glided over to them. At least the camera upheld her assumptions for the middle prince; he radiated charm and good will. "Welcome!" He kissed both Xanthe’s cheeks and held her hands. "This present was most superbly wrapped." Nodding in respect, he knelt gallantly. Xanthe wanted to request he stand, but her voice failed. Instead, she tapped on his shoulders and pointed upward. By that time, Kallikrates finished ogling her and came up to her, circling her and inspecting her much like his father had done. He kept his hair dyed crimson, and it at least matched his wife’s. Xanthe felt the depths of his stare and shuddered. "We are pained, Father, that Kallias received exposure to her first," Kallikrates said. "It is rather unfair, given that I am your heir apparent." "What was I supposed to do? You were in session in the great halls and Kallias was alerted to her presence straight away, given his occupation. Kleitos, are you angry?" "Oh, no." Kleitos took two steps back. "I felt it appropriate." "Good." He motioned to his daughter-in-law. "Phaedra, come bid your mistress hello." Phaedra walked tenuously toward Xanthe, and Xanthe saw a hint of jealousy in response to the way her husband looked Xanthe over from head to toe. "Welcome, Handmaiden." She curtseyed. Xanthe waved politely, unsure of herself. She towered over the petite woman always viewed with great fondness back on the station. Now alone with her, Phaedra seemed trapped, and perhaps she was. Her kyrios, her uncle, arranged a marriage with the crown prince through his prominent role on the council and distant relation to the royal family. All Helios anxiously awaited offspring from them, but, so far, four years of marriage yielded nothing, but no mention was ever made of either prospective parent’s inability to reproduce. Xanthe perceived that, given Kallikrate’s roving eye, perhaps the two shared separate rooms. Phaedra took it all in quietly, once again looking at Xanthe, sad and scared. Kallikrates lacked nothing in looks, nor did his father. Kleitos, a phenotypical cross between Kallias and Kallikrates, shone like a god, getting the best features from both parents. Still, her inclination stuck with Kallias, whose poster decorated many eligible women’s rooms

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and rightly so. "You are too quiet, my children," Anicetus glowered. "She could speak to us," Kallikrates replied. "I find it a bit rude." "I have taken her ability to speak." Anicetus tapped her vocal cords. "She will be a mouthpiece for the gods with my permission." Kallikrates laughed. "This is the stroke of luck we have been waiting for." "Quite so." Kleitos stepped forward and stepped back again. Finally, he decided he really did want to say something, so he tried it again. "I do not approve of such. Look at her. The gods sent her to us. Already, anything she says is the gods’ bidding. You may anger them." "Alcibiades has approved of everything I have done so far." Anicetus stared down the bravery of his son. "You know your place. No more meddling." His nostrils flared, but Kleitos retreated and nodded. Kallias put himself between Kallikrates and Xanthe, cutting off any more of his brother’s goggling. "Shall we go?" "Is security appropriately arranged?" Anicetus inquired. "Yes," Kallias said. "You take her arm again, Kallias." He turned around. "Are the rest of you coming?" "Yes, of course." Kallikrates, who should have extended an arm for his wife, deferred it until they went back to the ballroom, where servants lined up and provided an audience. Phaedra put on a brilliant smile, nodding to the servants in passing. That was the look Xanthe came to expect from the future queen, all sparkle and energy. "Look ahead," Anicetus directed. Xanthe tried to keep her bearings. She knew Kallias led her to a well-guarded garage, where a hover limousine waited to carry them to the great halls of the council. Anicetus hummed happily all the way there, wiping a smudge off his limo with his sleeve. The chauffeur opened the door and Xanthe got in, her dress sticking to the plush seat as she tried to scoot over. Fortunately, Kallias put his large frame next to her, but Kallikrates eagerly entered and sat directly across from her. Phaedra’s face lost its charm, only kindled by Kleitos sitting next to her and taking her hand fondly in his, a true gesture of brotherly devotion and certainly nothing more. Kleitos, after all, had his share of male admirers. Anicetus, the last one in, sat next to Kallias. Xanthe dug around her seat, which prompted a strange look from Kallias. "What are you looking for?" Xanthe mimicked a belt to go across her middle. "I am not sure what you mean, but I do not think you will find what you seek here," Kallias said, confused. Xanthe’s face turned red and she put her back against the seat and crossed her legs. Her cheeks continued to burn as Kallikrates took definite interest in her chest. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kallias’ jaw clench; apparently, he took note of the same. Anicetus still hummed, his life brilliantly according to plan. Xanthe passed the time by looking out the tinted windows as the limo maneuvered out of the garage and waited for one army vehicle to pull out first, only to be joined by a second one as a tail and armed guards on

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hover discs flanking them. The shaded lane let in strips of sunlight as the convoy moved to the back gate. The outer wall of solid marble swung open, taking the guards at its wide top with them. "I did some public relations," Kleitos mentioned, pointing outside to the throng of people throwing flowers at the convoy. "Very well." Anicetus briefly glanced outside. "Keep doing it. We must have the people adore her." "Yes, Father." Kleitos, quiet once more, nestled against his seat. The council building stood two blocks away from the main gate. When the limousine pulled up to the one-story building, she saw Zerro there with his men in a tight formation leading from the stopped car all the way down the walkway, two deep, one row facing inward and the other facing outward. A quiet crowd, they waited with their cameras ready nonetheless, all waiting to catch their first glimpse of the Handmaiden. Zerro himself opened the car door and extended his hand for Xanthe’s. A little thrill coursed through her; she liked his firm touch. Once she got out, Zerro bowed at the waist and the sea of people came to life. Kallias jumped out and took her by the arm, leading her quickly inside. Xanthe, curious, looked back at the crowd to get a head count. Amazed at their calm, but loud, nature, she nearly walked into the open door but Kallias guided her safely out of the way. More guards blocked the viewing of the ancillary staff of the great halls, many of whom held their cameras up in the air to get their pictures. Finally, the guards opened gilded double doors, which led to an auditorium. On ground level, the main floor opened up into a scooped-out stadium below it. The seats formed a deep semicircle around the main platform. Xanthe caught excited glances from the assembly, who rose from their seats to welcome her. They took a caged elevator to the stage below. Anicetus walked out first, into a warm welcome of cheers from most of the crowd. Xanthe noted keenly the polite claps of a few, guessing them to be delegates from the coastal towns with heretic leanings. Their forlorn faces belied their predicaments. Kallias led Xanthe next to the podium, where all could view her. Anicetus adjusted the microphone and started to speak. "Gentlemen of the assembly, I have brought you Athena’s gift." Xanthe watched the man transform from arrogant ruler to a servant of the people. He even changed the strange intensity of his eyes. All waited quietly for him to speak. "She says little; her voice is a mouthpiece for our gods. Does anyone dispute my claim?" The opposition stood all together, looking at each other apprehensively. One cleared his throat and built resolve. He clenched the seat’s back in front of him. "Xenon, have you something to say?" Anicetus asked gently. "We cannot dispute that she came from above," Xenon said. "Has she denounced our ways as wrong?" "There really has not been time for it," Anicetus admitted. "She has barely spoken, only to give us a name." "Which is?" "Xanthe. She also indicated that I am to be her kyrios." Anicetus put a hand over his

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heart, faking gratitude at his wonderful fortune. He looked meaningfully at Kallias. "As we all know, Kallias is a confirmed bachelor, but no more." Xanthe’s throat constricted. She just waited for his next words. "Their wedding will take place as soon as my beloved Kleitos can prepare." Xanthe’s knees started to tremble and the full cowl over her chest quivered. Kallias seemed locked in place, as well. "Well, at least look happy about it," Anicetus said, and the assembly laughed. "It was his birthday last week. I always said a girl would have to drop from the sky right into Kallias’ arms in order for him to get married. In a way, that has happened." He chortled kindly. "Kallias?" He turned stiffly to face his father. Glancing between Xanthe and Anicetus, he finally mumbled, "Thank you." Composing himself quickly, he dropped to his knees and kissed the hem of her dress. "I assume the Handmaiden has no objections or the gods would have given her a voice by now," Anicetus informed the assembly. "Dear, have you anything to say?" Cold and indifferent, Xanthe shook her head, keeping her trembling hands behind her, clasped. With Kallias still attached to her hem, she looked down at him. Their eyes met and mirrored each other’s bewilderment. Fortunately, Kallias had years of forced theatrical performances behind him. He recovered quickly, rising slowly and taking both her hands in his clammy ones. Hers, similarly tepid, did squeeze back. He put her forehead to hers and the assembly began to applaud. "Act happy," he advised her, sliding cheek to cheek to reach her ear. "Just pretend. Please." His words tickled her ear. She put on a lopsided smile and leaned into him when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pumped his fist in the air. "Well, unless there are more pressing matters, we are through here. Of course, you are all invited to the nuptials. With Kleitos to plan, I am certain wonders will abound!" Anicetus stepped back from the podium and waited for the soldiers to fall in from the periphery of the stage. Xanthe’s stomach rolled and rolled and the elevator made it no better, especially in light of Anicetus’ own personal scent. Kallias knew the look on her face and spoke gently to her all the way back to the limousine. Concentrating so hard on her upset stomach, the cowl neck spread a little, giving Kallikrates more of what he wanted to see as they rode back to the palace. "Wait until we are home to get sick," Kallias pleaded, smoothing her hair. "Yes, the message it would send would be detrimental," Anicetus pointed out haughtily. "What is wrong? Is my son not good enough for you?" Xanthe, voiceless, shook her head vehemently. In reality, her complete lack of control over her life ate away at her middle. Surprises abounded in this new world of hers and she hated all of it. Her stomach churned more and she gagged, managing to hold it down as the limo parked back in the garage. Relying on Kallias to guide her through the spacious palace, she kept one hand clutched over her abdomen and the other clutching his hand, leaving fingernail impressions, but he did not flinch. Kallikrates and Phaedra left for their own wing, followed by Kleitos and Anicetus at the next hallway. "Tell Demetria to move her things in with yours," Anicetus called out as they left. The lift opened and she let Kallias get her bearings back for her before taking of in a full

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run. The guards opened the door and she flew to the bathing chambers and released in the toilet. Even her coughs made little sound. A heave or two later, she wiped her mouth with her hand and sat on her haunches, rocking with her arms wrapped around her knees. Her cries and sobs went unnoticed, or so she thought, until Kallias’ warm arms wrapped around her shoulder and under her knees. He righted her and set her on her feet. "I am sorry." He handed her a toothbrush and some brushing gel. "We have to get out of here." Xanthe nodded emphatically with the toothbrush sticking out her mouth. Satisfied that the nastiness no longer lingered in her mouth, she rinsed and spat. Kallias leaned against the jamb. "I still cannot believe he left you." "Who?" Xanthe mouthed. "Your husband." Kallias’ swarthy cheek gained a little pink. "He was stupid." Xanthe waved her hand in the air. "Are you up to a walk in the gardens?" She walked past him and grabbed her journal of her details on Olympus. She looked over her stuff, deciding on her most important possessions. Jewelry, several portraits without their frames and her cherished book from her father found their way into a simple satchel. "Anything else?" Hastily, she pulled out some underwear. She could borrow clothes from the other girls on the station until she built her own new wardrobe, but some things she preferred not to share. Kallias took stock of all the lace. She turned to him, dropping the satchel in lieu of paper and pen. Hastily, she scratched a message. "What do I want to take?" Kallias responded when he read it. "Nothing that I can think of. I would like to speak to Zerro." Xanthe nodded and they headed down the hall to Kallias’ quarters. While Xanthe wandered around, admiring the vast space of Kallias’ suite, Kallias contacted Zerro using a panel on the wall. She put her satchel on one of six couches in the parlor, counting an additional 12 wing-backed chairs. "I hold meetings in here sometimes," Kallias explained. "They are for my generals and their aides." Xanthe nodded, pointing to several portraits of his family. "They can all stay." He touched his sword, which was always at his side. "Did you enjoy watching me spar that night?" She again nodded. "Will your station be able to give your voice back?" "Maybe not there, but they can take me somewhere," she scribbled. "I just hope what my father has done is reversible by your people." "I have no doubt that it can be done," she wrote. Kallias slowly turned, taking in his surroundings. "My life is so empty," he said in a low voice. "It is so empty that I care not to take anything with me." He found Xanthe’s eyes. "I want so much to be someone else, living another life. Take me there." Xanthe agreed with a quick jerk of her head when a knock came at the door. Kallias

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opened it and found Zerro there. He pulled his friend inside. "Congratulations," Zerro said. "I did not see that coming." "Nor did I," Kallias agreed. "Look. Her people are watching for her. I am taking her to a place where she can easily be spotted. They will open a portal for her and she will be instantly transported back to her station." As the men talked, Xanthe gleaned Zerro knew every nuance of her stay. As Kallias got into the more intricate details, Zerro removed his helmet. Xanthe made a conscious effort to keep her jaw from dropping on the floor. Adonis had a rival. Sapphire hair amplified his sapphire eyes. His impressive lips fit well below a once- or twice-broken nose. A fine scar on his cheek jostled with every word and Xanthe realized Penelope and the handsome-leaning girls back on the station just made a hoard of money. She could not wait to tell them--or draw him. His face was not one she would soon forget. "Going with her?" Zerro inquired. "Are you crazy?" "Tired, Zerro. Tired." Kallias put both hands on Zerro’s shoulders. "I leave nothing valuable behind but you and Kleitos." "Are you telling him?" "Kleitos does not like goodbyes," Kallias deferred. "He would not understand." "Then I will have to explain it to him," Zerro growled. "You know I am uncomfortable around him." Kallias finally noticed his new bride-to-be staring the two of them down, and Xanthe deciding that Zerro won hands down in the battle of appealing men. "Xanthe, this is Zerro. I have never known life without him." Zerro extended his hand for hers. He kissed her wrist and let her go. "You will take good care of him?" "Yes," she mouthed. "Will he be welcome?" Xanthe shrugged. "He can claim asylum," she wrote. "With all my new information about the palace and its owners, I think he will be willingly accepted." "What you have seen is only the culmination," Zerro grunted. "The path Kallias walked was paved with cruelty. I want to see it end as much as he does." He touched her face lightly. "I trust you with my best friend’s life." Xanthe motioned "yes" trying to will the goose pimples from forming under his touch. Surprisingly, though, she much preferred Kallias’ scent. Zerro took one last look at her and turned to Kallias. "Good luck, my friend." He clasped Kallias in a warm embrace. "Go. Get out of here." Xanthe scribbled one last time. "Take your perfume with you." The right side of Kallias’ mouth lifted. "You like it?" he asked warily. "Yes." Xanthe, emboldened by the prospects of leaving, did not turn colors. Kallias found a hip satchel and tucked the cologne and all its matching scented lotions, soap and shaving cream into it, still smiling sheepishly as he did so. "Well, I am ready," he announced. Zerro swallowed hard, fighting a tear or two. "I will continue contact with the heretics. I, too, want to see this world develop anthropoi into what our sister world has."

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Xanthe waved goodbye and she and Kallias quickly went into the hallway. She looked for guards and Kallias seemed to read her mind. "I have full confidence in Zerro’s soldiers. The bastions surrounding the gardens are more than adequate protection." He tugged excitedly at Xanthe’s hand, nearly dragging her down the hall. They took the stairs. Xanthe still had trouble breathing and caught up to Kallias, who bounded up two stairs at a time. At the end of the stairwell, a door opened into a servant’s corridor, giving them movement behind the scenes. Maids sorted laundry before taking them down to be washed on the low level. All eyed the couple curiously. The door at the end of the hallway opened into a kitchen bigger than Xanthe ever imagined. "You hungry?" Kallias asked. She shook her head. Her stomach still reeled from earlier, now compounded with adrenaline-fueled excitement. Instead of food, she tasted freedom, and Kallias guided her through another door, which opened into a grand dining room, nearly as big as the ballroom. The tables all matched precisely; she noticed this as Kallias dodged around them. Two glass doors opened into a portico. Kallias dashed down the steps and waited for Xanthe at the bottom. With one last stair, Xanthe set foot on the outer part of Anicetus’ famed gardens.

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Chapter 5 "We’ve got her, Sir!" Jill cried out. Hilliard bolted out of his chair. "Can we open a portal yet?" "I would say no. Kallias is with her and they are walking directly toward the center of the gardens, well away from the bastion guards along the great wall that surrounds the castle. She obviously wants no witnesses." "Kallias must know what is going on," Hilliard observed. "He’s in a hurry, too. Look at them go." "I love her dress," Anna said, sighing. "It looks good on her, too." "She’s traveling light. I guess she’s leaving behind the things the cloud beings stole from her apartment here." Kallias and Xanthe reached the direct center of the gardens, where a fountain bathed naked figures of Olympus’ gods. Xanthe jumped up and down, waving to her friends above, indicating that she was ready for the portal to open. "Open the portal," Hilliard directed. Kallias gasped as a thumbnail-sized orb of light shot miniature lightning radially, coming together to form a concave opening. Xanthe grabbed Kallias by the wrist and dragged him inside, waiting for the portal to collapse. It stayed open. "She’s bringing him with her," Hilliard gleaned. "Boost the signal strength." "I’m trying," Hooper relayed. "Something is interfering with the transfer." Hilliard pushed Hooper out of his chair, repeating the same protocols as Hooper. "It’s not working." Xanthe’s enthusiasm dwindled. Something was wrong, very wrong. Her hand rubbed her neck. She felt it tingle every time she stepped deeper in the portal. In an instant, she realized the chip prevented her transfer. Unsure of what to do, she stepped out of the portal. Kallias did the same. Xanthe gave him her satchel and pushed him back toward the portal. If they could not take her, they could take Kallias, who would relay her predicament and hopefully provoke a response from the station. Kallias refused to budge. "I will not leave without you. Is it the chip?" "I think so," she said soundlessly. As a last-ditch effort, she threw the satchel inside the portal. It took it, collapsing around it back into the tiny orb from whence it came. Disappointed, she sat on a bench next to the fountain and cried. #

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"This has gone far enough," Hilliard exclaimed in his direct communique with Commander Donna Hurford. "The anthropological team discovered this morning that Xanthe is now promised in marriage to the third prince of Athens. We tried to open a portal, but all it took was a carryall with a few trinkets inside." The graying red-headed lady with the pointed face and eagle-sharp eyes tried to soften her features as she spoke to the bewildered station commander. "I have taken it to higher authorities," she drawled, drumming her fingers in the air. "She has the potential to change the dynamics of an entire world! This must be studied. This must be documented. This must be made an example of what one person can do. As we cannot get her out, let us watch it play out." "I can assemble a team. We can float from the heavens in a similar manner and request that she be given back," Hilliard disputed. "You and I both know she does not belong there." "These cloud beings--I have watched with great interest the invasion of your station. They are very well more advanced than we. We run the risk of angering them if we interfere," Hurford further demonstrated her point. "We are stuck. All we can do is watch. Now, if you’ll upload the latest data to me, I’ll take a good look at it and perhaps have more information and directions for you in the coming weeks." "Weeks?" Hilliard’s temple veins stood out. "We don’t have weeks, Ma’am. Dr. Reynolds is in great danger." "Watch and wait, Stationmaster Hilliard," Hurford ordered, not for a moment belying the stranglehold she wished to place on the annoyed station overseer. "May I remind you that you are not an anthropological expert. I will be sending out another Greek expert. He will coordinate with you and give me reports directly. Rest assured, Dr. Reynolds’ interests are my utmost concern." They are not, you pigheaded bitch, Hilliard wanted to scream. He mustered a gruff, "As you wish," and ended the transmission. # Kallias comforted her the best he knew how, but she refused to eat two meals. Demetria coordinated moving Xanthe’s remaining belongings, noticing some missing, but she said nothing. Xanthe sulked on the couch, not even interested in seeing the luxuries of Kallias’ domain. Presently, he joined her on the couch, taking her limp hand in his. "We almost made it," he said, hoping her anger did not burn at him. She allayed his fears when she patted him softly on the thigh. "Now what?" she tried to whisper. "The chip must be removed." Kallias sighed deeply and kissed her hand. "Xanthe, I must tell you that I have no idea how to go about this. Therapon’s chip may be permanent." Xanthe slumped forward with her elbows on her knees while Kallias fondly rubbed her back. She got up suddenly and found a paper and pen. Kallias looked over her shoulder as she wrote, "What do you expect of this ‘marriage?’" "Nothing," he swore. "I will not lay a finger on you...without your consent." So, he saw a future with her. Of course he did, requesting to come along with her back to the station. In a strange way, she contemplated how life might be with him. Maybe she better get used to him.

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"What about Amarante? Will you continue to see her?" "No. Amarante, I am afraid, is only good for one thing." She left the paper lie on the table. "Come, I will show you around," Kallias offered. "You must see my room. Kleitos gave it a complete overhaul." Xanthe smiled in spite of everything. Kallias opened the door and Xanthe walked into a sea of green garnished with gold. Even the vanity had gold-leaf embellishments and Xanthe could not deny Kleitos’ impeccable tastes in paintings. All the women and men in the pictures wore green, as well. Kallias stepped up to one of them and pointed to it. "Kleitos painted this." Not surprisingly, all his subjects were male, standing around a cockfighting pit. "He confuses me sometimes," Kallias mentioned. "He receives gifts of roosters from his admirers, but he refuses to train them to fight. Every morning, before breakfast, he goes out to his little coop and feeds them. Then he draws this." He scratched his chin. "Perhaps it is an artistic manifestation of the turmoil we all feel." This was definitely a side of Kallias she did not expect. "Do you like green?" She nodded. "Come." They went back into the parlor, but he took a right to another door in the back of the common room, past all the couches. Xanthe saw the impressive table through the open door. Cream-colored chairs contrasted sharply to the black table. The vases on it sat empty, waiting for Kallias to entertain. "I do not have dinner guests often, but just in case." He pointed to the planning table in the common room. "We usually just eat there, Zerro and I." Xanthe traced the tabletop. Her chin reflected perfectly in its fine finish. "You like dining sets?" She shrugged. "No guests to invite?" Xanthe thought about the fun meals back on the station, where they played air hockey with the salt and pepper shakers. She missed watching the comradery. In her position of authority, though, it was all polite and encouraging conversation from her end, and she often caught whispered words like "shy" or "timid" in reference to her. Maybe she was. Not much of a fighter, for certain, or Ricky might have stayed and not strayed. Life rolled on, and she with it. "Do you need to write your answer down?" Kallias responded to her silence. She declined. Kallias cleared his throat. "Your stomach is already well acquainted with my bathing chambers." He turned on the next wall. "This is my office. You can access the Knowledge Network from here." The room was a mess, but Xanthe went directly to the bookshelf. Down at the bottom, pechya-by-pechya heavy books attracted her attention. She saw the thin sheets of glass protecting their contents from the top. Struggling with a heavy tome, she finally got it and laid it on the L-shaped desk. After opening the book, her fingers delicately touched the glass over fragments of old scrolls from the inception of this world. The story brokenly depicted Zeus’ conquest of an ordinary woman. Smiling, she looked for the offspring’s name but found none.

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"We do not have many of those. Our ancestors were largely illiterate, but you probably knew that." Xanthe agreed, but the book captivated her. But, with a pang in her stomach, she realized Kallias made no mention of a room of her own. Judging by the size of the suite, one more room waited to be shown, so she shut the book and put it away. She relaxed as soon as Kallias said, "And this is where you will stay." Xanthe walked into a room of sheets covering all the furniture and a plastic drape over a large canopy bed. The room was blue with clouds painted on the wall. A light was strategically placed to act as a sun on its own set of tracks, mimicking the sun outside as it rose and set, and Xanthe instantly felt less hedged in from the lack of sunlight in the catacombs of the castle. "We will let Kleitos loose in here. He will fix it up any way you want it. This room has been unoccupied since my great-uncle passed on." With a gasp, she noticed her satchel from earlier in the day resting on top of her other things moved from her previous suite. Kallias saw it, too, and she dug into it. She covered her heart when she found the journal missing, but nothing else. The station knew of her troubles. Why would the cloud beings do that? # Demetria and several other servants worked furiously to clear the dust and arrange her new room. Xanthe sneezed several times, her normal a-choo gone with her vocal cords. Zerro joined them for dinner and Xanthe made herself not stare. When the servants left, Zerro spoke more freely. "I am sorry about your misfortune. She does not belong here." "What do the heretics have to say?" Kallias inquired. "All is quiet. My contacts say, though, that the telescope is near complete." Kallias put down his spoon. "Is it hidden well?" "Very. They covered it with sod this morning. They say it looks nothing more than a bump on a hill." Xanthe wondered if the primitive device would find her station. If they did, it might become public knowledge and Anicetus might have to tell the truth--she was kidnaped and not a servant of the gods. Her spirits lifted. "I wish you could tell us more of your world." Zerro took another bite of barley bread. "Do you have gold?" Xanthe shook her head. "Not anymore." "Ah, you harvested all you had. Do you explore the universe looking for more?" She nodded. "Fascinating. What is the population of your planet?" "Eight billion," she depicted after excusing herself to gather writing material. "That’s just on the planet. Another five billion plus live on colonies on other planets." "Incredible. How does your planet support all that? Do they get what they need from other worlds?" She nodded again. "Bronze-skinned people from the east," Zerro quoted an old text. "They really exist?" She drew the different races on her planet and pointed to each. Below, she sketched a

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rough map of Earth, pointing to the origin of each race. "Even on your planet, you are different?" Zerro took it all in. "Kallias told me there are 14 other races. Draw the blue people." She did so lovingly, showing them both her work. "They are born with fur," she wrote. Kallias laughed. "This is how I want our world to be," he said. "I want to be part of it all." "How do you wage war?" Zerro wanted to know. "We have not in a long time. There are pirates, though, and police forces who combat them." "Pirates in the ocean of space," Kallias envisioned. "We still have piracy in our waters, as well." She knew that and indicated such. "What do you not know about us?" Zerro wondered. Xanthe wrote one word. "Anicetus."

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Chapter 6 She found her bed quite comfortable, although it rose pretty high and she used steps to climb in. Thanks to Demetria, her cleaning crew, and a few scented candles, the room smelled lived in and warm. It was a pleasure short-lived, for Anicetus arrived in the morning before she awoke. He nearly beat the door down to get her attention. Xanthe needed not guess who stood on the other side of the door as she pulled her T-shirt down to hide her belly. "I have called Demetria. You have precisely one hour to get ready," he commanded. "I want you to sparkle." He sat in one of Kallias’ chairs and rested his scepter across his lap. "Today we visit the temples. You must pay homage to the gods who sent you to us." Xanthe’s eyes enlarged and her breaths quickened. "I see you want to speak," Anicetus noted. He pointed his scepter at her throat. "Very well. Speak." "Please, that is like asking me to demand you worship a tree!" she warbled. Kallias stumbled in sleepily, going rigid when he saw his father. "You cannot make me do this," Xanthe implored. "I do not worship these beings. If I were home, I would study them carefully and make plans for first contact. What you ask me to do is unthinkable." Anicetus said nothing. Instead, he lifted his scepter. Xanthe’s chin hit her chest, expecting to be silenced. Instead, her spinal cord began to burn. "Father, please!" Kallias called out to him, reaching for the scepter as Xanthe’s legs gave out and she fell in a heap on the floor. Her body tingled from the roots of her hair to her toenails. Flushed and out of control, she quivered on a woven runner. Hot tears squeezed out her eyes, which no longer functioned properly, leaving only gray haze for vision. Although her body had no tone, she could not describe it as pain, exactly; rather, it felt as if someone unplugged her from the socket of life. It slowly subsided. Only then did she feel Kallias’ arms around her. "That is only the beginning, my dear," she heard Anicetus say. "Now come along and be a good girl." Kallias cradled her head against his chest and rocked, scared at her lack of response. "Xanthe?" "Yes?" she finally answered. "I will take your voice back, as well," Anicetus decided.

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"Father, this is so unfair." Kallias struggled to his feet, still carrying Xanthe’s weight. "I do not care," Anicetus said simply. "I have an agenda and I must have her cooperation." Cautiously, Kallias let Xanthe slip from his arms feet first. Assured that she held her own weight, he let go completely. She wobbled a bit, but reached the first couch and plopped down, still reeling from the imposed sensory overload. Reality overtook her and she trembled. Like Pakatri war protocol, she knew Anicetus only fired a warning shot. Fear and anger mixed together, tensing her muscles. Anicetus left and she sat up, pointing her finger at Kalllias. "You knew!" she mouthed, tottering toward the table and writing equipment. "You knew he could do this to me!" She shoved the paper in his face. "I hoped he would not use it. I did not want to scare you," Kallias claimed. "It felt like a threat to tell you." "So what do you call this?" "I call it torture." He looked away. "You are the enemy!" Xanthe punctuated it so hard the pen snapped. "Xanthe, I--" "Save it." She snatched her clothes from Demetria and went to bathe by herself. All knew of Anicetus’ device, and she wanted nothing to do with any of them. Bathing quickly, she brushed her own hair under the dryer and waved Demetria off when the maid wanted to fix her hair. Kallias, too, bathed while Xanthe selected her own choice in clothing, selecting her single pair of black pumps from her own belongings. After dressing, she did her makeup and put on her jewelry. She looked like one big sapphire; her dress sparkled just like the stones. Surely the cloud beings knew of her troubles. Why did they allow it? What had she done? Kallias knocked on the door. "It is time to go." She opened the door but refused to look at him. She walked right past him and waited next to the front door. Dejected, Kallias opened the door and Zerro greeted them pleasantly, but Xanthe ignored him, as well. She barely noticed the presence of two new sentries, both women, placed outside the door. Their muscles rippled where exposed and the crests on their helmets symbolized their role as Spartans. Once Xanthe and Kallias cleared the door, the Spartans fell in behind them, hoplites of old with modern weaponry. Each kept one hand on the gun in their holsters and the other behind a heavy shield. Zerro walked beside the prince, keenly interested in Xanthe’s sour demeanor. He leaned into Kallias. "Did your father do something?" he asked. Kallias’ jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. "Yes." "Oh." Zerro resumed his part in the formation. He had to be cautious. Left handed, his sword came close to meeting Kallias’, who was right handed and wore his sword on the left hip. "Why so gloomy?" Xanthe heard Anicetus say. "Happy, happy people." He clapped his hands together. "Smiles, everyone. Smiles!" His fatherly overtones made Xanthe sick. This time, Zerro and the two female guards

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joined them in the elevator. "I said smile," Anicetus said happily, but a little buzz enveloped Xanthe’s spine. She plastered on a smile. Feeling trapped, she fought tears. "We will only visit three temples today," Anicetus announced. "I only have time for so many. Zeus, of course, will be first. Athena must be thanked profusely and Aphrodite’s temple is a definite stop." Before the elevator opened, he gave one last parting shot. "Who is your favorite, Xanthe? Oh, I forgot. You cannot tell me." Kallias felt her tense up, since he already had her by the arm. The three guards around her were the elite, well versed in Anicetus’ cruelty. Xanthe wanted to scream. Every person around her played a part in her misery. She lost respect for the whole lot of them. She lost her bearings again, but eventually the hall opened up into the grand portico of the palace. By the time she recognized the place where she collapsed on her first step into the castle, the entourage moved outside, where Kallias quickly took her by the hand, a symbolic gesture to the crowd outside of their designation to be husband and wife. Apparently, no one informed the public of their foray to the temples, for only peddlers and a few faithful loitered around festival square. Kallias’ hand felt committed; her hand was limp. Still, she smiled as the guards pushed the onlookers back, many of whom whipped out cameras. "Happy, happy, happy," Anicetus chanted in a sing-song voice from behind her. The anthropologist in Xanthe wanted to stop at each peddler kiosk. She spotted miniature statues of the gods and strips of bright cloth, claimed to be clippings from old himations, a winding drape worn by the priests, thought to brought luck to the owner. A group of priests in outlandish-colored gear waited in the lane right at the end of festival square. Xanthe tried to keep up; the square was designed to hold thousands of people during parties, the elite spilling into the castle and the commoners to temple row. Kallias squeezed her hand, trying to get her to look at him, but she refused, trying to control her labored breathing. The priest up front wore a white himation with gold embroidery and a gold sash. A golden replica of a laurel crown sat on his balding, short white hair. As Xanthe approached, she saw the priest’s eyes mirrored Anicetus’ treacherous ones. She guessed, correctly, a meeting with Alcibiades soon came. "Alcibiades," Anicetus cried out warmly, holding his arms up, scepter included. The men embraced and kissed each other’s cheeks. "I have brought her to you." He stepped back and yanked Xanthe toward the highest of priests. "She is lovely." "Ah, for certain." The priest kneeled, as did his bevy of priests and acolytes behind him. A professional group, none produced cameras, unlike the growing crowd around them. "Quickly, now. Word is out," Alcibiades cautioned, taking Xanthe firmly by the elbow. "The faithful now call their friends and relatives. Within an hour, this place will be filled." He guided her in the direction of the great temple of Zeus. For the benefit of his duped followers, he said, "It is most interesting to see how you will worship your masters, Handmaiden. A bridge between anthropoi and the gods--this is fascinating." The priests opened the gilded doors of the black marble structure with the Dorian columns. Like on temples on Earth, bas-relief decorated the exterior, exciting scenes of battles

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and chariots and temple harlots. Fortunately, Olympus progressed from such things long ago, but the temples themselves were thousands of years old, well preserved and tended. No trees grew in between the temples, as their root systems might mingle with the ancient foundations. Alcibiades all but pushed Xanthe in front of the altar, behind which stood a three-timesthe-normal size Zeus, who gazed down upon her. Unlike the others, she stood directly in front of Zeus while they kneeled and acolytes brought forward offerings of barley and fruit. The transplanted Greeks saved animal sacrifices for altars set up in the temple square during celebrations. Xanthe stood transfixed. She knew the statue’s face. A soft wind nudged the hair cascading down her back. She listened for the sounds of fans. In fact, the looked for them. As she turned around, goose bumps formed on her arms. Her entourage stood frozen. She stood in the middle of stopped time, and she was not alone. The statue started to ripple, ejecting a scintillating cloud, which materialized on the altar in the shape of a man, a man whose face Xanthe knew very well. "Daddy?" she gasped, surprised to find the chip no longer controlled her voice. "Hello." He jumped down from the altar. "I look a lot younger now, yes?" She recoiled. "What have you done to me?" "The question is: What can you do for us?" Xanthe’s hand shook. Her father appeared in pristine form, at the peak of his manhood. He looked her age, now, looking as she remembered him as a small child. "I do not understand. Tell me you still love me." "Of course I do, Angel." "Then you must know Anicetus treats me very badly." "I’m sure he does." Zeus rubbed his hands together greedily. "He has no idea what he’s up against. He has met his match in you. In you, a power will brew to take him out of his position." "This very morning, he had me on the floor twitching on the ground like an epileptic," she snarled. "I find your idea of love a little questionable. Prove to me you are my father." Zeus blinked. "I am unused to being questioned, Xanthe." "Then strike me with a thunderbolt," she challenged him. "I would prefer death to imprisonment." "You really would," he said. "I anticipated such. No; no thunderbolts today." He tilted his head and smiled at her. "Then send me back where I belong," she pleaded. Zeus tried to touch the girl he claimed was his daughter, but she turned and glided away from him. "Xanthe, I named you. Your mother and I--" "What about Mom?" she yelled. "You just let her die!" "I’m not omnipresent, Xanthe. Her death came as a shock to me, as well." "And what has Hera to say about that?" she asked snottily. "You are a philandering jerk, if ancient lore pegs you correctly. No wonder you never wanted me to meet my relatives." "Hera and I divorced thousands of years ago," he replied. "I was always true to your mother." Xanthe fumed and he clearly saw it. "Come back and see me when you cool down," he suggested, fading into a cloud as he

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spoke. "I love you, Little One. Someday, you will understand why you have to be here." He completely vaporized and cloud became part of the statue once more. She felt rage like this only once before--the time where Zed Hurford went acquitted for his attempted rape on Xanthe. Only Donna Hurford’s sound political and military ties kept the young man free. Her father’s glibness galled her--if he was who he claimed. She stood with balled fists as the others came back to her time. Kallias entered the time warp mid-kneel, watching Xanthe carefully on his way down to the floor. She was in front of him when he started the motion; now, she stood off to the right with no segue, looking up at the statue, shaking from head to toe. He finished his kneel, but was the first to rise, rushing to her side. Xanthe fought the urge to slap him when he took his hand in hers. Now past despair and beyond anger, she dragged Kallias toward the entrance. Before the sentries scrambled around her, she was already past the door and down the steps, on a direct course for Athena’s temple. She wanted answers. Actually bumping elbows with some of the faithful crowd that continued to grow as more people notified their associates of her presence in temple row, she felt a firm tug to the back of her gown. Anicetus stood there scowling. "Guards, Xanthe. You must not go anywhere without your guards," he said, trying to sound fatherly in the presence of so many. She stopped for a few seconds as her armed entourage surrounded her. Kallias read total rejection for him, his father and this whole new world in her rigid posture, but a question burned inside. "What happened back there?" he wanted to know. She shook her head. He leaned toward her ear. "You were here. Then, you were here." He used his hand to illustrate his point. Her head jerked around and she gave him a look of pure malice. He dropped the issue, but carefully gauged her when the priests of Athena proudly opened their doors to allow her passage into the temple of the goddess. Xanthe marched right up to the statue, but she could not get Kallias to let go of her hand. Afraid of starting rumors of malcontent for which Anicetus would punish her for later, she left her hand in his. Athena’s bronze statue gazed fondly down on her worshipers. Xanthe stood directly under her nose, daring her to show up. As soon as the rest of the group settled down into their kneels, Kallias included but still with his hand wrapped around Xanthe’s, a sweet wind tossed Xanthe’s hair. Kallias’ hand felt stony in hers and she realized she now faced Athena, who simply stepped out of the statue already in human, if albeit large human, form, shrinking down as her dark hair swirled around her shoulders. She dressed in early Greek clothing, a chiton undergarment under a peplos, holding a spear and wearing a helmet. With a laugh, she set the spear against the altar and took off her helmet. "What? No owl?" Xanthe asked petulantly. "Oh, I left him at home. I always have pet owls," she replied. "This is not the welcome I expected from you. You seemed so level headed back on your station." "That’s before I was given as a gift to a madman and zapped into a crumpled heap," she

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retorted. "I suppose this was all your idea." "I told Alcibiades that I was sending a gift for Olympus, not for Anicetus." Athena pinched her narrow chin thoughtfully between her thumb and forefinger. "You look nothing like our Father. Usually he leaves his mark all over the place." "Is Heracles here, too?" "Sometimes. He has a great fondness for Earth still. He likes to pick a life and live it to its completion and then come back here for a while, much like our father." Xanthe turned around and put her back against the altar. "I just do not understand." "Of course you do not. But, we do." Athena tapped her on the shoulder, encouraging her half sister to turn around. "You have to trust on this one. You will be the key to Anicetus’ undoing." "Take care of him yourself," Xanthe implored. "He scares me." "You have a lot to prove to our family, Xanthe. Your actions here depict the kind of life you will lead." She smoothed her hair lovingly. "You are so beautiful. I think Anicetus has other plans for the day, but you must visit Apollo and soon. My brother heard you sing like a bird and he is anxious to meet you." Xanthe, who wanted to hate Athena, found her caresses painfully comforting. She pulled away, though. "Get back to Kallias. He suspects something," Athena urged her. "Yes. Stand just like that," she said as Xanthe slipped her fingers back into Kallias’ lifeless hand. "Turn your head a little. Yes. Just like so." Athena smiled. "Relax. We know what we’re doing," she said as she became transparent into a sparkling glitter cloud and entered her statue. The wind stopped and Xanthe waited for the priests’ chatter to begin again, singing chants in honor of Athena the wise. Anicetus kept a close eye on her from the corner. She acted just like he hoped, glancing up at the statue and wiping a tear away. This was clearly an improvement over the interaction with Zeus’ statue, but perhaps Alcibiades and Zeus’ priests could spin the event into pangs of despair from being away from home. In fact, he discussed such with the high priest as the chants continued. The priests finished their obligatory duties and stood by the side as Kallias led a calmer Xanthe in between the miniature columns holding vases and tables of food for Athena. Kallias tried to ebb her anger at her by tenderly massaging her knuckles as they now dodged a fullfledged mob outside. Like the rest of the royal family, she held her head high while the hoplites held their shields out to hold back the deluge of people so they could pass unmolested. Aphrodite’s temple stood out against the others. Hundreds of years ago, artisans carved her feature and she stood seminude as a part of each column. Scenes of weddings and lovers graced the exterior in exquisite bas-relief. Her priests opened the doors for them and they entered an airy temple, vastly different from the austere temples already visited. Of course, the customary food and goblets of wine waited for whenever the goddess decided to feast. Aphrodite’s priests started chanting and Xanthe pulled Kallias in front of the statue, taking careful note of how she left him when the breeze came and Kallias’ hand went rigid in hers. Aphrodite shone golden as she burst out her statue’s head, drifting down to the floor so the breeze caught her gauzy attire and puffed it out around her. She alighted gracefully, spinning

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to make her clothes billow out while she giggled. "Wow. Your mother must’ve been a real looker," she said, taking Xanthe’s face between her hands, turning it from side to side. "Dad always liked ears." She tugged on Xanthe’s gently. "Well? What do you think?" "Of what?" Aphrodite glided over to Kallias and pointed. "Of him. What do you think of him? I had Cupid plant the idea in Anicetus’ head and, look, look, look; I have a perfect match." Xanthe said nothing, eyeing Kallias distastefully. "Oh, come now. Kallias is much a victim as you. Take my advice, precious--stick with Kallias no matter what happens, do you hear?" Aphrodite kissed Kallias on each cheek. "What a man." "I can’t do it. I can’t make myself have any feelings for him now other than anger," Xanthe said. "Stick with Kallias." Aphrodite wagged her finger at Xanthe. "Now, honey, just listen to my advice. I have to let time go. The three of us have bent it about all we dare." She slid over to the table and took two strips of beef and put them between bread and took a bite. Still chewing, she said, "Gotta go." She walked toward the statue, turning into nothingness with each step, followed by a miniature fireworks-like burst of opalescence with the glitter falling to the ground, evaporating as it hit the marble floor. Xanthe rushed over to Kallias, remembering her exact position before Kallias and the others came out of their stupor. She breathed easier, Kallias noted. The harsh look was gone from her eyes, but they still held a coolness he found unsettling. "Well, look at the time," she heard Anicetus announce. "I think we must be getting back." He peered out a window to the herd of people and sighed. "She is very popular, Alcibiades." "Of course she is. A gift from Athena." Alcibiades bowed at the waist as Xanthe passed by, waiting for her guards. "Train her well, my child." Alcibiades touched Anicetus forehead with his fingertips. "They will love you through her." "Yes, of course they will. My fortune has never been so high." Anicetus curbed his wicked smile. Xanthe waited by the door. All she wanted to was go home, back to her apartment, and chronicle everything she saw. The station would never believe it, though. Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe Anicetus’ torture gave her some madness. When Xanthe started swerving, Kallias grew alarmed, catching her when she fell, unconscious.

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Chapter 7 "Well, how do we explain this?" Anicetus picked up his robes and stood over her. "What do we say?" "She is awash with grief," Alcibiades decided. "She is weak from not feasting on the holy foods the gods give her." Alcibiades tapped one of Aphrodite’s priest on the shoulder. "Go get the litter that we use to carry around to honor Aphrodite out of storage, clear the garland and religious symbols and bring it. Hurry, now." Xanthe barely came around, but she knew Kallias held her, wiping her hair out of her face and mouth. Surely Anicetus realized that his chip sapped her energy deeply. In fact, she felt tingles in her hands and feet. Her eyes opened into a blur, so she closed them again and drifted back into her fog. The next time she came to, she found herself in a litter with the drapes drawn to prevent the public from seeing her in such a state. "You will have to treat her in the same way from here on out," Alcibiades counseled his master. "She is seen leaving a temple on a litter, something to elevate her not quite to the gods but not quite to man, either." "I understand. I shall have a special one made for her," Anicetus replied. "Do you worry about her ego?" "No, old friend; I do not. It pains me to say it, but they sent a very nice lady down to us. A little rebellious, but she fits in high society well." "Do you worry about her presentation on the day of the wedding?" "No." Anicetus tapped the scepter against his palm. "She will behave." "How is Kallias taking it?" "Kallias knows he has no choice. Look at him, though. See how tender he is with her. He sees her as a gift. No, we need not worry about Kallias." Alcibiades steepled his hands. "What about Kallikrates?" Anicetus stopped, putting his hand over Alcibiades’ lips. "That, my friend, is trouble." "Ah. My lord, I know he is your favored son, but, please, you must not let him interfere in any way." "I have seen to it," Anicetus assured him. Xanthe moaned as the priests carried the litter up the stairs. The little jostles sent shivers down her spine. Acutely vertiginous, each tiny motion made her grip the seat, afraid of being cast to the ground. Through the pulled curtain, though, a hand came through, Kallias’ hand, searching for hers. Childishly, she crossed her arms and dodged him, but he seemed satisfied with a bit of skirt instead.

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"Carried on a litter by priests," she heard someone say. "How significant! Did you get the picture when she came out?" Prior to this, "popularity" and "Xanthe" were two words that never functioned together. Xanthe went unnoticed until she blossomed in her junior year of high school. Even then, though, she wore the air of "do not touch; I have to study." She shunned the sorority crowd and ended up with other bookworm roommates until going for her doctorate, which had its unpleasantness, given Zed’s sick obsession with her. She never saw herself earning fame by just being born. The light changed, signifying crossing the threshold into the palace. The priests sat the litter on the floor. Kallias pulled her out and she felt the walls closing in on her once more. # "We had her but we lost her," Anna relayed. "We believe she was in the litter." "Hm." Fritz DuMontier, Greek expert, stood over her shoulder, watching her over his hawkish nose. "Replay the video. I’m particularly interested where she shot out of the temple of Zeus after just moments." Anna accommodated him and within seconds, both they and a growing crowd watched Xanthe fly out of the temple before her guards caught up to her. "Zeus, Athena and Aphrodite." Fritz stroked his chin. "What was in there that made her want out so quickly?" He backed the frame up and enlarged a section. "Anicetus looks none too happy with her, either." "We need to send someone down there," Penelope insisted. "We can speak the language and adapt our wardrobes. If Dr. Reynolds goes back into the gardens, we can be ready and intercept her there. Somebody needs to study that implant and remove it." "We have direct orders from Commander Hurford to stay on the station. Even if we wished to try something like that, it would need her approval and could take weeks," Anna replied. "So much for spontaneity," Penelope groused. Fritz cleared his throat. He did not like being talked around, but he knew the crew’s resentment and understood it. They made overtones about their distaste for Commander Hurford, but no one outright said anything. They knew Donna Hurford’s keen interest in her son’s best friend. In fact, Fritz applied to be the leader on this project, but Xanthe’s instincts in simulations put her as a clear favorite, with scores so high even Commander Hurford could not push his selection over the sweet-natured blonde. They had been close once, Xanthe, Zed and Fritz, but Zed blew it. Somehow, Hurford pulled the strings and Fritz never testified. He possessed damning evidence to the case. He harbored no resentment to the crew, most of whom never knew about the affair between Xanthe and Zed. Apparently, Dr. Reynolds never dwelled on her past. Besides, nothing really happened. Fritz popped in during the act and pulled Zed away from her during their doctorate days. "Dr. DuMontier?" Anna tapped him on the forearm. "Doctor?" "I’m sorry. Yes?" "Why the litter? It is an overwhelming symbolic gesture, but what if they needed it to move her?" "Like she couldn’t under her own power?" "Yes. She looked so pale coming out of the temple. I saw her chest heave by the time

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she made it to temple row." "I saw that, as well." Fritz rubbed his forehead. "Keep checking the blogs. Do specific searches for those who have contacts inside the palace. The rumor mill might provide the best leads." "Sure." Anna moved to a different part of the observation deck and plugged into the Greek datanet, the Knowledge Network. # Xanthe chronicled her experience before going into the temples in one book and started another for her dreamlike experiences at the temples. She worked in her room with the door closed, wanting no one even knowing about the presence of a second book, filled with detailed sketches of those who claimed to be her new family. Trying to keep it verbatim, she crossed out words and replaced them, still hating her handwriting. She tucked the slender volume between her mattresses and rethought it. The palace workers changed the sheets often. So, she hid the volume below her art supplies. After all, it was just another sketch pad. Even if someone did find it, it was in English, her primary language, although she thought about writing it in AUL, the Alliance Universal Language, so all would know of her plight. However, the Alliance might just laugh at her claims, so she kept it in English for her own personal use. Kallias knocked on the door. "Xanthe, you skipped lunch. Please join me for dinner." She mulled over Aphrodite’s edict to stick with Kallias no matter what, but rage still bubbled in her stomach, leaving little room for food. "Please, Xanthe. You must eat." Xanthe grabbed a tablet and a pen. Writing quickly, she put the message to his nose. "You want to go back to the kitchen?" he read. She nodded. "I will eat there." "I know what you want," Kallias said, dejection clearly written in the wrinkles on his brow. "You are so angry at us you will not even partake of anything we can give you." She nodded curtly. He noticed she changed into something more comfortable, but it covered her legs and belly. "Fine," he caved in. "Take Mysia and Persephone with you." Right then, Demetria pushed a cart in, filled with the kitchen’s offerings of the evening, enough for two people. "Invite Zerro," she wrote, pointing to it haughtily. She started to write, "You offered to protect me, and I've seen how good you are. What good are you?" She finished it but looked into Kallias’ eyes. After ripping the sheet out, she crumped it and tossed it in the unlit fireplace for kindling. Setting the paper and pen on Kallias’ planning table, she went into the hallway and tapped each guard on the shoulder, motioning for them to come along. Kallias waited until she left to call Zerro for supper. The balled-up paper intrigued him, so he retrieved it out of the soot and opened it. His chin dimpled as Zerro entered. "She is correct." He handed the paper to Zerro. "What good are any of us?" "Emotional support?" "I doubt she wants that, either." Kallias took it back and wadded it up, leaving it in the same place she did. "What good are we? I cannot protect her from my own father. Some warriors we are." He put his elbow on the mantlepiece and leaned on his hand, tugging at the hair around his ears.

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"I work hard, Kallias. I try to find a solution. I will find it," Zerro vowed. "Keep at it and make the most of it. You always liked smart women. Well, there was Amarante, but..." "By the gods, I hate this," Kallias growled. "My father shines through her. The heretics are confused. My father will have his way with the continent, but he deserves so much less." # Xanthe really wanted a tomato to add to the sandwich she made out of lamb and onions. Mysia and Persephone stood quietly, one facing her and one holding her gun out front. The kitchen staff stood around, confused. Any time a royal wanted a snack, a maid came after it, but the Handmaiden stood in front of their refrigerators, picking out leftovers. The chef cleared his throat and approached her. "Do our meals dissatisfy you?" Xanthe shook her head. She pointed to the leftover lamb from lunch. "Ah, you wanted seconds from our noon meal," he realized, a smile coming back to him. "Yes, I love my lamb. The seasonings were just right today. I checked it myself. Do you have enough cheese?" Xanthe sat her sandwich next to a modest pile of goat cheese, some more onion cut into rings and more bread. Grapes and carrots finished the meal. She bobbed her head to the chef and Mysia led and Persephone trailed as she walked back to Kallias’ apartment. The men, halfway through their meal, both rose when she came back. "Will you even join us?" Kallias asked. Xanthe considered his request for a full minute with her feet pointing toward the door to her room and the plate toward the table the two men shared. "It is not us you have to worry about," Zerro tried. Xanthe took a slow step toward the table. In Kallias’ view, she looked like a beaten dog, trying to obey his master’s orders with fear its heart. Her head jerked. She really did not like the situation. To encourage her, Kallias held out a chair, tapping the padded back. Xanthe sat finally, her eyes interested only in her food. All ate quietly, except for the munching of Xanthe’s carrots. "You like onions," Zerro said after a few moments. She nodded. "Do they have them where you come from?" Kallias asked. "Yes," she mouthed. "You have all this plus a whole lot more, I gather." "Yes." She already missed the influence of sugar. "Xanthe," Kallias began cautiously, "if there were a way to prevent what happened this morning, I would have." He swallowed and took a deep breath. "I do not know how to stop him." Xanthe finished her mouthful and pushed the plate away. The day took its toll; she wanted to stand quickly and bolt out of the room, but getting up gracefully and taking smooth strides carried her away from the table. "Nice try," Zerro said. "Now I am not hungry." Kallias put down his spoon. "I am glad she has no training in fighting skills. She might kill us." "She killed me with a look." He massaged the right side of his face. "What are we going

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to do?" "I will keep at it," Zerro assured him. "In order to hide my participation in this, I have many channels to go through. Information takes time. I promise you I will get results." "Perhaps it is you she should marry." "She will come around. You can see it. She craves someone--anyone--who will help her." "Still, that means you." "I do it to make you look good in her eyes. Surely all these years of friendship deserve some reciprocation. I do this for you." Zerro hopped up, trying to lighten the mood. "Come. We will make plans to cover your offices during your matrimonial week. Then, we shall go spar somewhere." Kallias fingered the butt of his sword. "Yes. Let us do so." "Somehow, someway, we will get her back to where she belongs." Kallias rounded the table, looking at Xanthe’s half-eaten meal. "We have to do it quickly. I held her hand in mine today. Any excess time, I become more attached. I feel her station calling me home. Please, find a solution quickly."

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Chapter 8 Xanthe wanted to wake up to sunshine spilling into her room, but the pseudo sunlamp imitated life, and Xanthe rose to it. The fake sun kept her oriented to time, actually moving on tracks to mimic the sun’s course. She collected her change of clothes and bumped into Kallias, who came out of the bathing chamber as she went in. "Demetria said she has a cobbler coming," he said. Xanthe rolled her eyes. More pomp and circumstance, and she really wanted that bath. She stepped around him and went inside. Kallias liked his burgundy hair to dry naturally. Maybe a change in color--sapphire, to be exact--might elicit a positive response from his somber fiancee. His fist met the table. He wanted her to look upon him as a confidant, not a coward. Having an entire military at his command made no difference. Random thoughts about a military coup entered his mind, more strongly than the fleeting ideas entertained over the years. His father needed deposed, but Anicetus put on such benevolent drama that his military would never just follow Kallias because he was Kallias. Stewing, Kallias sat at his planning table, twiddling a pen between his fingers. He left Xanthe a note attached to her door. "Gone to work," it said. # The cobbler brought only one pair of shoes Xanthe liked. She tolerated a few others for the sake of matching her clothes, but she clearly delineated on paper what she liked--chunky high heels and boots made of leather. When he left, she sketched loose-leg pant suits with gauzy, decent tunics. She made her first contact of the day with Demetria, so that the maid could send the sketches to a local clothier. If she were to dictate fashion, she was going to start with comfort. Anicetus showed up right about lunchtime, forcing Xanthe to share a meal with him. Kallias, strangely, stayed absent. Surprised at herself, Xanthe wanted him there--anything to avoid Anicetus alone. He gave her voice back, though. "Has Kleitos been by?" he asked. "No." Xanthe pushed the beans around on her plate. "Time grows short. You need a gown. Zerro is already securing the route for your chariot ride. As you know, the bride would be picked up at her residence and brought here. In our case, I will give you to Kallias at the back door and the chariot will carry you to the front. I do not suppose you have plans on giving my son an heir."

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Xanthe fumed and turned red at the suggestion. "I take that as a no." Anicetus took a bite with gusto. "Xanthe, as I told Alcibiades, you are a very nice girl." The fatherly overtone came back. "Do you think I wish to harm you? I need your cooperation." He dabbed the corner of his mouth with a cloth. "All you must do is go along with what I have planned. Once I have solidified my rule, you will be free to do as you please." Anicetus watched her play with her food. "Eat. You remain too pale. I want a robust Handmaiden." The scepter lay across his lap and he made no motion to use it. "I will coach you on what to say and what to do. I want you to say absolutely nothing about your station or your origins. You will act like a handmaiden in accordance of the guidelines I will set for you." "You want me to lie," she said. "I want you do anything in your power to convince the heretics that you were god-sent. I do not think it will take much. Even they have not developed a contraption that can float through the air. The amateur videos captured too much of your grand entrance to our world." If he had an interest in her past life, he gave no inkling of it. "You just do not comprehend it, Xanthe. I can make you the most powerful force on this world. Fame. Popularity. Devotion from your subjects. Please consider my words. You looked so helpless when you collapsed." Anicetus got up. "Wedding preparations are underway. Make sure you are mentally prepared. I will have no sullen bride to give to my son, understand?" Xanthe nodded. "You eat," he commanded. "I will instruct Demetria to bring you six meals a day. Surely you will find something to your liking." Xanthe leaned on her elbow with her forehead against her hand. "Goodbye and good day, Heavenly One." With that, Anicetus left. Xanthe pushed her plate away. At least he let her keep her voice for a while. As she wallowed in her misery, a new thought came to mind. Heracles was half human. She sat up. So was Dionysus. One had incredible strength and the other had enough power in to provide Midas’ golden touch, according to the myths. How much was true and how much was legend? Did they just show up on Earth, cause chaos and let the ancients put a spin on it? She put her forehead on the table, though, still unconvinced her meetings with the cloud beings actually happened. Fear overshadowed the joy that her father still lived. His enthusiasm for ancient Greece neither surprised her nor encouraged her. Still with her head on the table, the door opened. Kallikrates stepped through it and Xanthe recoiled, but she noticed that her two guards immediately came in and stood by the jambs. "I wish to speak with you in private," he said, stroking his crimson hair. The guards refused to budge. "We have direct orders from King Anicetus himself that only Kallias, his maid or Anicetus himself may enter without our protection," Mysia spoke. He rolled his eyes and took Xanthe near the unlit fireplace on the very far side of the room, holding her elbow. "I see your pain," he started, his voice low and soft in sharp contrast to the ominous spark in his eyes. "Kallias is no man for you. We both know that." Unabashedly, he reached out and touched her face with the back of his hand. "I can ease your suffering. Give me what I want and I will speak with father on your behalf. Perhaps we can come to some type of arrangement."

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"I do not think so," she retorted, close to panic. "Come now, I am the object of every woman’s desire," he claimed. He touched her again, this time tracing down to the small of her neck. "Will you not indulge me?" His boldness amazed her. He kept his back turned to the guards and made little motions, looking like a concerned brother-in-law. "Well?" Xanthe shook her head violently and pushed him away. Kallikrates’ voice grew deep and threatening. "You know, if you had arrived four years ago, you would be mine," he hissed. "I will treat you so good--" The door opened and Kallias charged inside. Kallikrates whirled around, his hair swinging behind him. "I think it is time for you to leave," Kallias growled as Xanthe dashed to be near him. He put his hand in front of her, shielding her from Kallikrates’ dagger-throwing eyes. "Have a nice day," Kallikrates said, menace coating his words. "Same to you," Kallias groused. He waited until Kallikrates left. Mysia and Persephone, now not needed, resumed their posts outside. "What did he do to you?" "Nothing much." "A proposition?" She nodded. Kallias closed his lids over rolling eyes and sighed heavily. "Poor Phaedra. It is good to see you have a voice though. Xanthe, do everything to try and keep it. I need to hear you scream for help." Xanthe tugged on Kallias’ sleeve. "How did you know he was here?" "I always know where Kallikrates is." He ran a hand through his hair, clutching it at his nape. "Stay away from him. Never put yourself in a position where you might be alone with him. Understand?" "Yes." "I will speak to my father about this. This has to stop." He cautiously put his hands on her shoulders. "Are you all right?" She nodded and slipped away from him. "I suppose this just make you hate us more." Xanthe walked around the planning table, tracing the veneer with graceful finger. With every moment, her situation grew more precarious. Nothing she did improved her life. In the end, she plopped down on a chair and put her head in her hands, releasing tears. When she felt Kallias’ hand on her shoulder, she scooted over to get away from him then stood sharply. She cast him a glance of complete bewilderment before stalking to her own room. She knew not where to turn. # With five more days to the wedding and counting, Xanthe flopped on one of the couches to watch the news. During the gossip section, the commentator talked about the wedding, predicting Kleitos’ perfection. "We heard at least four frozen swans will grace the dining tables." Someone knocked on the door and Kleitos entered, bringing the lady warriors in with

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him. Xanthe shut off the news and stood. "They were just talking about you," she said, pointing to the large viewscreen. "Oh, they always do." Kleitos smiled. "Speak some more. You have a beautiful voice, one that does not command but entice. Please. Speak." "I do not know what to say. What brings you here today?" "Father is right; you do speak with the old tongue of our forebears, a very learned vernacular." Kleitos beamed and fished a camera out of a hip bag. "I have come to photograph you." "What?" "I am making decorations for the wedding. Kallias has given me his picture. Now, you will do the same for me," he said cheerily. "Please." "What are you going to do?" "Ice statues!" He pushed her into good light and snapped his first full-length shot. "Now, rotate just a touch to the left." He snapped another picture and guided her through about twenty shots, getting her from every angle. "Now, I will feed these into the computer and they will make a mold. What do you think?" "I think it is very nice." She went back to the couch and sat with her knees together but her feet spread. "You look so sad." Kleitos sat next to her. "Is there anything I can do?" "No." She rubbed her forehead. "No one can." Kleitos pushed the hair away from her forehead. "You know, if every woman was like you, I might switch." Xanthe choked on a chuckle. "See? I made you smile. All hope is not lost." He patted her back twice. "Well, I hate to leave you, but I am just awash in planning. Thank you for your time." She stood as Kleitos left, waving to him when he turned around one last time. # "Xanthe?" Kallias knocked on the door to her room. "I must speak with you." Through the now-open door, Xanthe looked at his impressive chest, showing through the deep neck of his shirt with crisscross straps. "Yes?" "The perfumer has been called. He will be here within the hour. My father requests that you wear something regal." Xanthe nodded while looking at her feet. "I must tell you, Xanthe, that there was really no need to give back your voice if you refuse to use it." Xanthe looked up briefly, allowing him to see the hurt in her cobalt eyes, maybe sharing some of her pain. As if he felt it, he put his hand up to his forehead and squinted. Xanthe swallowed. God, she wanted to at least like him, but he was part of the forces that held her prisoner. Without a word, she closed the door in his face. Kallias wandered to the couch. He sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. By the gods, he wanted her to like him. She haunted his dreams, usually reaching out to him but something pulled her away just as their fingertips touched, out of his grasp. She needed someone--anyone. Kleitos claimed he got her to smile, but Kleitos focused on himself too much,

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not leaving much room for anyone else. A need to be recognized for his talents drove Kleitos to barely even sleep at night, with a goal to be on every newscaster’s gossip time slot. And, he managed to stay out of the way of his father’s wrath. The situation with Kallikrates ate at Kallias. He saw the fear clearly present in Xanthe’s eyes. Kallikrates frustratingly got his way with everything, but not this time, Kallias vowed. Still, he felt useless. His father had the upper hand everywhere the poor girl turned. She needed off Olympus and fast, but would she still take him with her? # Kallias and Xanthe sat nervously, waiting for the perfumer to set up his scents, separating them into groups of musks, flower extracts, fruit extracts and more. Anicetus showed up too, sitting comfortably in an overstuffed chair with his scepter across his lap. Kallias’ hands shook. His selection of perfume for his bride-to-be set her apart as a woman loved by a man with another way to call him home every night. Henceforth, the public expected Xanthe to show up with her own specific scent, signifying a happy bride. When angered, women refused to wear their scents until their husband apologized or otherwise rectified the situation. Technology made the process downright scientific, categorizing the specific formula, launching a whole line of tailor-made accessories, such as soaps, lotions and bath oils. Xanthe hoped desperately for something to her liking, and cringed when Kallias got up and headed for the homey scents, starting first with cinnamon. The strong essence reached Xanthe’s olfactory sense, as well. Kallias put down the bottle. The cinnamon proved an important archaeological fact; ancient Greeks traded with Egypt, who imported cinnamon for burial rituals, in turn exporting it to the Greeks, which again confirmed the fact that the god beings gave their colonists everything they were used to at the time of their abduction. Kallias, intent on the perfect selection, sniffed nearly every bottle. Xanthe stifled several yawns. Now almost an hour into the process, Xanthe watched Kallias move back to the flowery scents, going back to the rose. Xanthe liked roses. She could live with that. "So you choose rose as your base sent, my lord?" the perfumer asked. "But not too strong. It needs muted somehow." The wizened man opened another case, and the stacked shelves opened up like a staircase. He took out three sample dishes and added drops of different essential oils to the empty dishes. After adding drops of the rose scent, he swirled them around to mix them and handed the first dish to Kallias. He sniffed it, tilting his head. "Now the others," he said, holding out a hand, one for each sample. He tested each one several times, going back to the first dish. "This one," he said. "Very well. Please, try it out before you make your final decision. Her chemistry will be the determining factor." The little tremor in Kallias’ hands amplified as he approached her and she stood, letting him put a fingertip on her neck below her ear and massage it. Totally surprised, Xanthe caught her breath before it belied the obvious; she craved a man’s gentle touch. He took longer than necessary to rub the scent in, encouraging her own oils to mingle with that of his chosen scent. Kallias put down the sample dish and put both hands on her shoulders, leaning in to test it out.

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Xanthe swallowed as his breath tickled her ear and his nose traced her slender neck. "Does it do anything for you, Prince Kallias?" the perfumer asked. Kallias felt Xanthe’s breaths change. He pulled back slowly, catching her wide eyes for a brief second before she sat dutifully on the couch with her hands in between her thighs. "Yes, I believe it does." As if he knew her conflicting feelings, he looked at her. "Do you like it?" Xanthe inhaled. She loved it. It made her appetite come back to a small degree. After a few seconds, she nodded. "You are sure?" Kallias asked. The perfumer’s eyebrow went up. A husband never asked his wife for her input. Xanthe nodded again, a slight flush creeping up her neck to her cheeks. "I will take it." Kallias handed the perfumer the proper dish. The perfumer logged the formula and printed out a label. He put the lid on the dish and stuck the label to it. "Her perfume line will be ready in plenty of time for the wedding." "Thank you." Kallias sat next to Xanthe as the perfumer collected his bottles and put them back. From behind the perfumer, Anicetus motioned for the couple to sit closer together. He wanted another witness to the happy couple--a highly respected perfumer always told tales about his clientele. Xanthe nearly lost it when Kallias put his arm around her shoulder and nuzzled the area of her perfume. The perfumer took note of her red face and chuckled. He had worked such magic before. Kallias tangled her soft hair between his fingers. Xanthe cooperated in the ruse. In fact, part of her enjoyed a man’s affection. Hormones she thought lost came rushing back to memory and she turned her cheek to touch Kallias’ cheek, breathing softly in his ear. Anicetus smiled when he saw Kallias clutch the back of Xanthe’s dress. Xanthe had to put a stop to it. The perfumer finished packing and Demetria let him out. Kallias felt so warm and gentle, but she pulled away from him and stood, straightening her hair. She nodded to Anicetus and marched out of the room, promptly flopping on her bed until the surges of desire faded.

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Chapter 9 Demetria came by with yet another meal and Xanthe sampled a bit of everything. So much excitement made her hungry, and for more than food. Twice, she dropped her spoon and chastised herself for her feelings. She still felt Kallias’ soft touch. This new development confounded her. Two hours later, she sat with her forehead on Kallias’ planning table, rolling it from side to side while she figured out how to present herself to Kallias on their next meeting. He had to feel her excitement on some level. He had to. A knock interrupted her musing. She got up and answered the door. As if her hormone problem was not enough, Zerro stood there without a shirt, not uncommon for the handsome of form. A tattoo of a lightning bolt sat between his prominent pecs. "Is Kallias home yet?" Zerro wanted to know. She shook her head. Zerro looked at his watch. "It is nearly dinnertime. May I come in and wait for him?" Xanthe declined his request. It just did not look proper. "Come, now. He will be home any minute. I will wait at the table. Look; Demetria comes up the hallway with our food now." Xanthe held her ground. She let the maid through, but stopped Zerro’s entry when she put a palm against his perfect chest, his horsetail from his helmet draping over her arm. She quickly withdrew her hand but Zerro got the message. "Very well," he said, but not angrily. It probably did look inappropriate. The door closed and he waited next to Mysia with his foot propped against the wall and his arms folded across his chest. Presently, Kallias ambled up the hall. "She would not let you in?" "No." Zerro smiled. "She pushed me back into the hallway." "Good. She does not like you either," Kallias grumbled. "How did the perfume selection go?" Kallias waited until they were inside to answer. He looked around for Xanthe, whom he did not find. Now out of the earshot of the sentries, he sat heavily in his chair. "She let me touch her. I know it was for show, but she cuddled with me." "Ah." Zerro sat opposite Kallias while Demetria set the table. "And I presume you liked it." Kallias noticed Demetria’s broad grin as the pair talked around her. "Everything about her is soft," he said through a sigh. "Even her dirty looks have a

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certain humanity to it." Kallias touched the tip of his nose and cleared his throat. "Demetria, did you call Xanthe for dinner?" "No, Prigkipas, I did not. I assumed that you would." Demetria sat the domed platter on the table. "I will go at once." "No, I will take care of it." Kallias pushed away from the table and stood, striding over to Xanthe’s door, and he knocked. "Xanthe?" Xanthe sat on her bed, adding flourishes and extra pictures in her god-being book. She shoved the secret tome under her pillow. Her heart quickened with every step toward Kallias. "Oh god, girl, get it together," she said in English. "You are a fool." Kallias heard it, assuming she stubbed her toe and lapsed into her native tongue, but when she opened the door, her face had a lot of color to it. She tried to make eye contact but it eluded her. Kallias swallowed. He touched her face and wiped away a trail of periwinkle pastel dust. "Drawing again?" "Yes." "Dinner is here. Are you going to eat?" Xanthe looked past him to Zerro, who waved merrily. Adding the two of them to her already sexually charged mood seemed like a bad idea. Still, her feet moved without her consent, shuffling away from the door. "We are not going to hurt you," Zerro said. Like Kallias characterized her before, she looked like a mongrel dog, a very sweet mongrel dog, that had been kicked too many times. As she sat next to him, he unceremoniously leaned over and inhaled. "Ah. That is the perfect scent for you." Did he just try to look down my shirt? Xanthe blinked and sat back as Demetria set her a place. "Do you even like roses?" Zerro wondered. She nodded. "Xanthe, you have your voice. Use it," Kallias encouraged her. "Yes. I like roses." Demetria served ham and beans with flat bread, and she ladled some of it into a metal bowl with a handle on it, setting slices of onion next to it. Xanthe had to smile. American meals from the Deep South in a Greek setting struck her as odd. "What amuses you?" Kallias nudged her elbow. "Oh. I have had this meal before. On my planet. For worlds apart, this appears very similar." She used the knife to cut the onion rings into manageable pieces. "We only lack cornbread, which is made with kernels from a plant not found here." "This is one of my favorites," Kallias said. "Many of your forebears considered beans a ‘dirty’ meal," Xanthe pointed out. "I was surprised to see it served." "Demetria specially orders it for us," Zerro explained. "Besides, there are reasons that high society shuns beans. It would be awful embarrassing to, ahem, expel the aftereffects of these wonderful beans during a visit to the temple." Xanthe covered her mouth, but her grin went past her fingertips. "On my station, they

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had contests," she whispered, leaning closer to the men. "Of course, I never participated, but they were so funny." "Contests? Expulsion contests?" Kallias’ eyes shone. "You must have been very close to your friends up there." "They are a tight-knit bunch." She took a bite. "I just watched and laughed along." "Do you have someone waiting for you back on the station?" Kallias talked around his food. "I mean, someone who would object to this marriage thing." "No, there is not." Xanthe dipped her bread into the soup. "There has not been for three years." Her past depressed her in some aspects, and her sigh proved it. "Kallias, I need to go to the gardens. I have a book they need to see." "Sure, but it is raining outside." Xanthe sighed. "I would not know." "What did you do on your station during inclement weather?" Zerro asked. "There is no inclement weather in orbit. We are far higher than the clouds and jet streams that affect your weather." "Ah." Zerro smiled. "How big is it?" "It could fit easily on the palace grounds. It is large enough for a crew of 40--ten military, two cooks, one engineer, five housekeepers, one doctor, one nurse and the rest anthropological team. There are five rings, all stacked one on top of the other." "Xanthe, draw it for us," Kallias requested. He motioned for Demetria to remove the remnants of dinner. Xanthe hopped out of her chair and went to her room. In addition to sheets of drawing paper, she brought another book, drawings of those people inhabiting the Columbus. She selected charcoal, remembering the Columbus the first time she saw it. Starting with the shuttle moored to the bottom, she drew the stacked rings. "What is that? It looks like a van," Zerro said, pointing at the shuttle. "That is the emergency shuttle, in case someone falls sick beyond Doc Hank’s capability and needs transferred. The night of the attack on our station, we were supposed to--" "Attack?" Kallias questioned. "I do not know what else to call it. They took control of the station, put everyone asleep and kidnaped me. What else do you call it?" "Good point," Zerro said. "It is hard for us to fathom your anger at our gods, who bless us." "You bless yourselves," Xanthe disagreed. "They are like us; they watch and observe. The stuck around long enough to give you your legends, which time made more magnificent and mythical. I doubt they have done five percent of what your ancient writings tell you." "You are so confident of this," Kallias noted. "I worry that you will anger them." "I do not care what they think," she fussed. "I see no point of putting me down here." "You are to unite our world." Kallias pulled the book of her friends toward him. "Under Anicetus?" Xanthe scowled. "I hardly think that idea wise." Neither man said anything; rather, they changed the subject by sharing the book and pushing it toward her. "Who is this?" Kallias asked.

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"The Stationmaster Hilliard. He runs the station." "Kallias tells me you drew me." Zerro caught her eyes. "May I see it?" Xanthe shrugged. "You wear your helmet. I had no idea about your tattoo." She went back to her room and found the rolled-up drawing, handing it to him by the end of the tube. "Here." Zerro unrolled it, starting head first. The more he unrolled, the more he smiled. "You have my proportions just right." "He will frame it and put it right next to his mirror," Kallias predicted. "Why the helmet, Zerro?" Xanthe wondered. "Always, in the public eye, you wear it." "That is because he has a double life," Kallias explained. "Oh?" "I am an athlete," Zerro admitted. "A very fine athlete. In the Olympics, I am Adonis." "Adonis?" Xanthe rubbed her chin. "I know your forebears brought the legend of Adonis with them. Interesting choice." "I fit the role," Zerro claimed. Kallias rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly. "You had to get him started." "They wait for me. Adonis shows up only for the games and races. I leave them with no leads. Nobody knows where I come from. I play upon mystique." "I know about your Olympics. The games are upon us," Xanthe said. "In which events do you participate?" "The pentathlete, the most grueling exhibition of athleticism." He sniffed and let out an even, dignified exhale. "I play to win." "He has won the last two Olympics and all the mini sports in this area. Zerro will not admit it, but he is in for a tough challenge this year. Face it, Zerro, you might lose your laurels." Zerro nodded. "This will be my last Olympics," he predicted. "Adonis." Xanthe touched her cheek thoughtfully. "Your opinion of yourself is higher than I thought." "Probably." Zerro fingered one of his tight sapphire curls. "It is somewhat of a curse, though, and the helmet helps me stay away from those more lusty of women." "You do not like the attention?" "Oh, I do, as long as I am Adonis. Zerro is strictly celibate." "Very interesting." Xanthe, surprised at how relaxed she was, settled back against her chair. "I bet you were very athletic," Zerro said. "I could not even do a flexed arm hang. I am a scholar." "Surely with your fine lines, you were dominant at some sport or another," Zerro replied. "No, I swear to you. When it comes to sports, I am woefully inept." "You must take her with you when you run the palace grounds," Zerro advised. "We will make her an athlete." "Me? Run?" Xanthe shook her head. "I look like a deer with a broken leg." She did not mention the discomfort of her top half during such endeavors, but Zerro seemed to notice, for his vision rested there for a brief second. Her breaths quickened, but Kallias seemed oblivious. Growing uncomfortable, she collected her drawings.

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"You will leave us?" Kallias got up and helped her shut her pencil box. She hesitated with arms full of her artwork. "I have some things to do. Please inform me when it stops raining." Kallias knew damn well she lied, but she avoided looking at Zerro while she gathered as much as she could carry. Zerro helped out by putting her tin of art gum on the stack right under the tip of her nose. "I will be seeing you later," Zerro promised. Kallias walked her to the door. "Can you make it?" Xanthe nodded that she could. In fact, she used her knee to raise the handle on the door and disappeared inside. Kallias took a deep breath and tried his disappointment while Zerro chuckled at him from the table. "What did you do?" Kallias asked warily. He shrugged. "I tested her out," he whispered while Kallias sat. "I wanted to see if she was a nice girl or not." "You let your eyes wander?" Kallias asked. "Kallias, women lay at my feet and beg." He ran a hand through his curls. "In the coming days, we shall see what our little Xanthe is made of." "Perhaps this is not a good idea." "Look, Kallias. If you are intent on leaving everything behind to go with her, I will make damn sure she is worth it." Kallias’ hand slid down the angle of his jaw. "Then proceed, Zerro, by all means."

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Chapter 10 Kallias knocked just before bedtime, letting Xanthe know the rain continued. Dejected, Xanthe gave no reply, nodded her thanks and shut the door. She wanted to be alone. Leaning against the wall, she put her forehead in her hands. Obviously, somehow, she gained Zerro’s attention. Even though he came off as a self-absorbed narcissist, he had appeal. Lots of it. But Kallias--she ground her eyes in her palms. She still smelled him in the air in their brief exchange. "Focus!" she pleaded with herself. "What is your goal? Your main priority and duty to the Alliance are to get off this planet before you influence it any more than you already have." Resolve built with each step. She categorically collected her art supplies and put them away neatly. By the time she shut the last drawer, she knew her path lay with Kallias, but she had to keep him at a distance. When she took him with her, he needed freedom to explore. Aphrodite’s directive to stay with Kallias nagged at her, but Kallias was the logical choice. And, over that, the realization that Kallias offered her no protection ate at her. She wanted to punish him for the role he played, yet she ate with him and felt comfortable doing so. Sorting out the mental mish-mash, she collapsed on her bed fully clothed. Randomly, she pulled her god-being book out and fingered its pages, especially that of Zeus. Perhaps Anicetus would grant a request for her to visit the temples again--of course he would, touting her as a devoted worshiper. With two more days until the wedding, Xanthe fretted. She trusted Kallias not to start anything. As Olympian time passed, women became more than a vessel for bearing children, but the weddings witnessed still held significant parallels to the ancient ways, although somewhat out of order. She dreaded the ordeal, especially the wedding dress selection. The next morning, Xanthe sat on the couch, waiting for Kallias to finish in the chambers and she could have her turn. Already, she turned down Demetria’s offer to scrub her hair. She watched Kallias go into his study, sitting down at the desk to log onto the Knowledge Network, which he did every morning before Demetria served breakfast. Xanthe caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror, turning to take a closer look. Her face definitely looked thinner and the elastic waist of her shorts pulled away from her belly further than before. Not exactly surprised, she doffed her clothes and climbed in the water, turning a dial to turn up the heat. The water failed to soothe her, so she took her bath quickly, climbed out of the tub and grabbed a fluffy robe while she stood under the dryer. Like always, this early in the morning, she left her clothes back in her room. After all, the robe covered far more than her usual attire. She walked through the door to see Kallias conversing with one of his generals. Her eyes

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widened and, as the general’s back was toward her, she tiptoed, hoping to go unnoticed. Kallias’ eyes lit up with merriment. Mischief greeted her in his amused glance. He held out his hand. "You look fine, Xanthe. Come meet General Arkhidamos." Her face reddened, but her bare feet led her across the floor as the general turned around, getting up quickly to greet her. Unsure how to greet a woman of grand stature in something as private as a bathrobe, he held his hand out for hers and kissed the back of it, but Xanthe picked up on his haughtiness immediately. She withdrew her hand and stepped back as the general made a survey of Kallias’ bride to be. By the conflict apparent on his face, he preferred to deal with men, and wondered why Athena sent the gift of a frail-looking, thin woman. "I hear you do not say much," Arkhidamos said. "That is an unusual way to start a conversation," Kallias remarked. "Think of the possibilities, though, my prince. No nagging. No bickering. No demands." Quite pleased with his assessment, he settled back down in his chair, crossed his legs at the ankles and laced his fingers across his middle. "Yes, a quiet bride. Oh, that I were so lucky." Kallias saw Xanthe’s fist clench, but was too late to halt the fast hand that came up and smacked Arkhidamos’ cheek, leaving a good welt. Almost appalled, Kallias watched Xanthe grab the arms of Arkhidamos’ chair, lean forward and put her face in his. "Never, ever, forget who sent me here." Her eyes hardened and her body shook from anger. She pushed off from the chair, twirled on her heel and left for her room. "Well, the gods let her speak," Kallias mentioned as his flustered general turned back toward the planning table. "Face it, Arkhidamos, she is above us. All of us." Kallias pinched his chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Even Father does not know how to handle this." "The gods must be crazy," Arkhidamos said on an exhale. "I must be crazy. I just offended the gods’ gift to us." "It is a mistake you will not make again," Kallias informed him. "Now, where were we?" # Xanthe’s arms grew tired from extending them while the tailor pinned the fabric under her arms. Not purposely, Xanthe made the man’s work harder by giving him explicit guidelines, that being that the dress match sapphires and platinum and that it be straight and fetching, going against conventional fads. This she said through Demetria, curbing her tongue while the man did his job. Even Xanthe was impressed with the outcome. A sapphire shell appeared with a gauzy silver overlay. The underdress streamlined her body with a daring V down her front and simple straps, while the gauzy wrap flared out around the forearms and legs. She shimmered any way she moved. As the tailor made his last adjustments, Demetria eagerly sought out Xanthe’s variety of jewelry and hair accessories, plotting Xanthe’s perfect presentation. After the final alterations, Xanthe picked up her skirts and headed to the bedroom, kicking off the god-given shoes, which amazingly matched her wedding dress. She slipped that off and went back to the tailor’s stool, where he started on her presentation dress for the day after the wedding. Demetria consulted Kleitos for the color scheme while the tailor sketched a dress on paper. Something akin to a 17th century Earth court dress took shape. Xanthe wondered about their time scheme with so many stays and bustles to make. But, the tailor came prepared, down

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to a corset. Xanthe put it on while Demetria pulled it tight. "Prince Kleitos desires pastels," Demetria informed the dressmaker. "Any color will do besides that." The dressmaker colored the sketch in hues of pale rose. Xanthe let him take artistic license but wondered how, exactly, to sit in a chair in such a dress. She anticipated the afterglow party portended lots and lots of standing, so she chose her most comfortable dress shoes, those with a flat heel, while the tailor took his measurements. She lounged on the couch, listening to the whir of the tailor’s sewing machine, and closed her eyes. If she tried hard enough, she felt her mother’s presence, a very good dressmaker in her own right. Back home, on Earth, her mother’s weaving loom gathered dust. Her mother took interest in ancient Greece, as well, contributing to a near-dead hobby that reflected her husband’s interests. It all made sense, now; her father desired to be a part of a world he loved so well. Zeus confounded her to the point that she never thought to be happy that he was not abducted like so many thought. Her father lived, and she was angry. Demetria pitied her, lying there with a few tears working their way across her high cheekbones. The poor lady acted like she wanted to be part of everything, yet she shunned so much. Demetria just knew Xanthe liked her, but Demetria, part of a machine, felt guilty about it. At Anicetus’ order, Demetria presented herself to Xanthe nearly constantly, often pushing cart after cart of culinary delights from the kitchen. Xanthe ate dutifully, carefully tasting each offering before pushing the rest away. Extravagant meals meant nothing; prison food was, after all, prison food. # Xanthe saw little of Kallias, who made changes in staffing and coordinated with Zerro for palace security during the nuptial days ahead. This disappointed her, as he nearly promised to take her to the gardens. She drew a picture of her new dresses in the margins of the book meant to be sent back to the station. Shrewdly, she decided if Kallias failed to make time for her, she could go to the gardens herself--that is, if she could remember how to navigate the catacombs to get there. Forming a ruse, she took the book and put her art supplies in a carryall, dressed in regal attire and, with a nervous stomach, set foot outside the chambers. She looked left and right, one time at each Spartan guard. "Persephone, Mysia--take me to the gardens," she wrote. The guards had no orders to the contrary. Mysia stepped in front of Xanthe and Persephone fell in behind, each with one hand on her gun and the other brandishing her shield. Xanthe’s heart lifted. All she need do is figure out how to ditch them in the gardens long enough for Stationmaster Hilliard to open the portal. At the elevator, they heard someone yell, "Handmaiden, stop!" The guards immediately pulled their weapons and in one calculated move, had Xanthe behind them with their shields held to cover her. They held the shields to protect Xanthe’s head and chest, so she could not see the man who yelled. The guards lowered their shields and holstered their weapons. Xanthe peered into the eyes of Zerro. "And where are you headed?" he asked. "We are taking the Handmaiden to the gardens," Mysia replied. "Did you ask first?"

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"We take orders from the Handmaiden," Persephone informed him. "We have no orders to keep her locked inside." "I see." Zerro folded his arms across his chest. "I think you should have asked Prince Kallias before taking this little venture," he said to Xanthe, who shrugged him off. "Very well, if you must go, I will take you." He stood next to Xanthe and the guards resumed their positions. Xanthe’s spirits lifted. With Zerro with her, she need not worry about how to ditch the guards, hiding the open portal from them. But, with Zerro with her, a new problem presented. He held his arm perpendicular to his body and Xanthe placed her hand on top of his, and she liked his touch. But, she realized the whole scene’s impropriety and stopped before they got on the elevator. "Did you forget something?" Zerro asked. She nodded and took her hand back. The entourage shifted position and led her back down to her apartment. She allowed Zerro to step inside for a brief moment. "What did you forget?" "Kallias," she replied simply. "How did you know where I was?" "My orders are to track you at all times. Your chip implant is linked to my computers." "Ah." Xanthe put her hand on his chest and pushed him toward the door. "Out. I want no rumors." Zerro looked disappointed. "Very well." As his cape disappeared before the door closed all the way, Xanthe wondered how it looked to the others occupying the halls of the military wing. She felt a need to guard Kallias’ reputation and being seen with Zerro, alone, might jeopardize it, especially on a leisurely trip to the gardens, where many lovers spent hours walking the mazes and sitting at the fountains. No, it was a trip she needed to make with the good prince. So, the palace security knew every move she made. No big surprise there, but the apartment suddenly felt smaller and more confining. Without changing clothes or worrying about wrinkles in her gown, she sprawled out on one of the couches nearest the viewscreen and turned it on, flipping through the channels, not at all impressed of the gossip stations and their speculations for the upcoming wedding. Kleitos appeared on several stations, all the same clip, but he predicted wonderful things to come, happy to be in the media spotlight. At least he was happy. Kallias came home as she channel surfed. She sat up, clicked off the viewscreen and looked at him. "I want to go to the gardens," she said. "I know, but there are so many preparations to make." "I thought you wanted off this planet," she countered. "I do." Kallias sat next to her on the couch. "Right now, though, we have to play along. If I do not make arrangements for this, what will the people think?" Xanthe rubbed her forehead. "You look very pale. Are you nervous about tomorrow?" She nodded. "Tomorrow’s the easy part. The big one is the afterglow party."

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"I know. I stupidly let the clothier make me a dress that will be very hard to sit in." "That may be a blessing. Father does not want you to occupy his throne, but he wants you close to it." "So, I will stand all night next to your father’s throne." "It looks that way, yes." "Boring." She fell sideways, letting her head rest against the arm of the chair. "Sometimes, I think the worst thing about being here is the boredom." "You are being overlooked in the details. It will not be so bad after the events. It just takes so much to coordinate an outing for you. It is nothing for Zerro to handle though, at least, after we are done with the formalities." Zerro. "Will I coordinate with Zerro or with you?" "Either of us. I do not have the insane obsession to know where you are at every moment." "Zerro does. He caught me going to the gardens." "It is Zerro’s responsibility to know where you are. Why did you not go with him?" "It looks terribly improper, Kallias. Where I need to go, there is much seclusion. I do not wish to be the target of Olympian rumors." "Oh. I suppose you are right, but I suggest you get used to Zerro. He will escort you many places in my absence." Xanthe thought about Zerro’s roving eyes. Clearly, Kallias trusted him, but was it wise? As if Kallias read her mind, his eyes narrowed. "You do not trust Zerro?" On the spot, Xanthe looked down. "My exposure to him has been limited." "But you are uncomfortable around him." Kallias sat back and looked at her. "He makes you very uncomfortable." "Kallias, I am unused to being considered as a prize sent by your gods. Perhaps he looks at me through those kind of eyes." "Just give him a chance. He has only my interests in mind," he assured her. "Surely you know how it is, being totally confident in your good looks." "No, I do not." She smoothed her hair from the forehead back. "You, no doubt, have been beautiful your entire life. Surely someone took notice." The conversation brought Zed Hurford to mind, and she cringed inwardly. "Perhaps." Again, Kallias targeted her thoughts. "Someone put themselves upon you without your consent," he gathered. "And I do not wish to discuss it." Xanthe got up suddenly, uncomfortable with Kallias’ uncanny ability to read people. "Will you join me for dinner, at least? Zerro will be here, too. The two of you must get to know each other." Xanthe stopped and turned her shoulders and head back to Kallias. "Perhaps another night. Maybe rest will ease my nerves." "Not as well as a good meal. Xanthe, everyone has noticed how much thinner you look. My father will throw a fit if he notices. Thank goodness he has been away. It is really starting to show."

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"If I gain weight, I will not fit into the afterglow dress." She already felt the corset. "You have not been using your perfumed items," he also noticed. "That has to change when you step out into public." "I understand." She resumed her course for the bedroom. "All right, all right." Kallias slapped his thighs and stood. "Join us for dinner, eat, and I will take you to the gardens. Your friends--they can see you in the dark?" Xanthe turned all the way around. "Yes." Someone knocked on the door, undoubtedly Zerro. "I promise I will take you. Just eat with us." "Okay." "I know we have spoken about this, but that is a word that must not be said." "Okay." She made a face. Kallias smiled broadly, his white teeth flashing. He stepped quickly to the door, letting Zerro in while Xanthe sat at the planning table with her hands in her lap. Zerro’s face lit up when he spied Xanthe and Xanthe immediately rethought her agreement with Kallias. He eagerly took the chair next to Xanthe’s right, not waiting for Kallias to sit as he scooted his chair closer to the end of the table, where Xanthe sat. "Kallias, I do not think she likes me," he said playfully. "She refused to go to the gardens with me." "So I have heard." Demetria entered, pushing her cart of food. She removed the domed lids and set them in the middle of the table. "Duck!" Zerro exclaimed, waiting impatiently for Demetria to serve the already-carved main course. "Why do we not have appetizers or salad first?" Xanthe wondered randomly. "We can do it that way," Kallias replied. "The two of us are always too hungry for that formality. Say it, and it will be done." "No, this is fine. I just was curious." Xanthe poked the chunks of goat cheese, a personal favorite, around her plate. The conversation dwindled as the men started eating, and Xanthe retreated further into her thoughts. Her thoughts turned to her dress for some reason. "Demetria tells me your dress is beautiful," Kallias mentioned. She looked up sharply. That made three times in the same day that he knew her thoughts. "Zerro tells me everything is set just perfect. Tomorrow, we will go see Zeus and Aphrodite before the ceremony." Kallias put his knife down. What about the litter? Xanthe asked inwardly. "I saw your litter being carried out to rehearse the procession," Zerro said. "They carried it plain, of course. Tomorrow, it will have laurels and roses all over it." Xanthe stood suddenly, knocking her metal cup to the floor. "Excuse me," she blurted and ran to her room.

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Chapter 11 The men watched Xanthe go. She nearly stumbled against her door when it opened, staggering inside, trying to control her thoughts from them. "Is she sick?" Zerro asked. "She would have run to the bathroom," Kallias replied. He got up and knocked on Xanthe’s door. "Xanthe?" "I am all right," she hollered through the door. In actuality, she lay face down on her bed. Just a coincidence, she thought. Just a coincidence. No way in hell that I can project my thoughts to others. Still, her mouth was dry and her heart pounded. She got up slowly. Collecting her wild thoughts, she sat on the side of the bed, fighting tears. Getting her journal, she straightened her hair and went back out, just in time to see Demetria clearing the table. Zerro and Kallias stared her down. "I thought of something I wanted to include in my documentation of your planet." She held up the volume shakily. "If you are ready, take me to the gardens." "I want to see this portal," Zerro said. "Please, take me along." He grabbed his helmet. The three set out with no guards, this time taking the proper way to the gardens, riding up the elevator to the main floor and going through the main portico. Xanthe held her book close to her. "Can they see you in the dark?" Zerro whispered. "Yes." She looked around the gardens for visitors, but the previous night’s rain left the ground soggy and the benches wet. # Anna rubbed her eyes and stared at the console. The computer registered Xanthe’s dimensions and she zoomed the view. "Dr. DuMontier? Stationmaster? Dr. Reynolds is in the gardens." "She’s got Zerro and Kallias with her this time," Anna informed the growing group of observers. "I love her clothes," she sighed. Fritz DuMontier leaned into the screen. "She’s losing weight." "I noticed that," the stationmaster agreed. "Are there any possible observers?" "None. The gardens are empty," Penelope disclosed. "Wait until they are at the fountain. The trees are thick there. Hopefully, they will hide the light emanating from the portal from the bastions," Hilliard ordered. "Now, Hooper, open the portal." #

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Xanthe waited by the orb as it sparked, hoping someone stepped through it, but no one did. "What are you waiting for?" Kallias asked. Sadly, she looked back at him, turned around and stepped into the portal. Once again, the gateway stayed open. Helplessly, she looked at Kallias, who simply extended his hand to her, which she slowly took. She left the book in the portal and it accepted it, collapsing upon itself. Xanthe found herself against Kallias’ chest. His hand stroked the smooth hair at her crown and planted a fond kiss there, as well. "We will get you home, Xanthe. One way or another, we will get you home." She inhaled deeply and leaned into his pecs. His promise gave her comfort and she never doubted his sincerity. With his arm around her shoulders, he led her back inside. # Sleep came and went. The pseudosun light tracked across the room, barely illuminated to simulate dawn. Demetria opened the door to find Xanthe sprawled out over the bed, fully clothed, with her shoes soiled. "Come, come, my dear. It is time." She stroked Xanthe’s hair fondly. "I will make you radiate beauty," she promised. Xanthe went directly to the bathing chambers, surprised to see Kallias up and bathed, watching the news. She watched with him for a moment, listening to the local station advertise the biggest news item of the year--their wedding. "You are as nervous as I," Xanthe concluded, watching Kallias’ hand twitch around the remote. "I have never done this before," he admitted. "Where I come, it is bad luck to see what the bride wears before the wedding," she mentioned. "I like surprises. I will probably go wait around with Kleitos and Zerro until time to go to the temples." After he rose, he put a hand on each of Xanthe’s shoulders and kissed both cheeks. "Try not to fret. I hold you to nothing." Her head bobbed up and down. "I will see you later, then." Demetria filled the tub, including bath oils from Xanthe’s own personal fragrance line. Jittery, Xanthe allowed Demetria to pamper her, for it was better than being alone with her nervousness. The fragrance line even included gold-flecked or silver-flecked body lotion, and Demetria poured some of the silver in her hands, which she slathered everywhere but Xanthe’s face. Admittedly, Kallias’ nose created a marvelous scent for her; in fact, it stimulated her appetite and she ate despite her nerves. Little thrills surprised her when Demetria sat her in front of the mirror and did her hair. Was she actually looking forward to this? Demetria smiled, patting her shoulder reassuringly. All Demetria did, really, was add some curl. Tradition dictated an uncomplicated hairdo for the wedding night, easy on the pillow. Her hair usually resisted curls, but Demetria applied certain gels and mousses and made thick ringlets all over. Demetria used dark pencil to accentuate Xanthe’s eyes, the effect making them look larger, demanding attention to her face. Just as Demetria put the finishing touches on her makeover, Anicetus made his presence known.

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"And my day was going so well," Xanthe muttered on her way out, still in her bathrobe. "Good morning, Precious One," Anicetus said, oozing charm. Xanthe rolled her eyes. "Oh, you should be happy to see me," the king sang, twirling his scepter. "I make you royalty today, Xanthe. Royalty." Xanthe said nothing. "You act as if I have taken your voice away," Anicetus glowered. "Perhaps I should." He held out his scepter and pulled it back. "No, I shall leave you with it. I want the world to see you converse with my son. Make sure you talk to him a lot today. The crowds must see this as a divine-blessed union." Anicetus studied her carefully. "Get your dress on. Kallias will meet you on the palace steps before we go to the temples." All positive anticipation evaporated. She felt naked even behind her closed bedroom door with the sound of Anicetus’ pacing footsteps intruding her personal space. Demetria straightened Xanthe’s collar. "Jewelry," Demetria reminded her as she walked toward the door. "The only things I have are the platinum earrings and matching ring," Xanthe realized, her fingers over her lips. "Do we have anything in silver that would be a good substitute?" "Do not worry. The earrings and ring are fine," Demetria assured her. "You look beautiful." "I do not feel it," she disclosed. "I feel like I should be someone else." "Good luck today, Miss." Demetria kissed each cheek. "Remember, it is Kallias, the last one who would wish you harm." She opened the door for Xanthe, who stepped out, impressing even Anicetus. The monarch covered his heart and breathed heavily. "Oh, yes." His eyes sparkled maniacally. "You look perfect." He extended his arm and Xanthe put her hand on his fist. "Everything about you should speak ‘regal,’" he reminded her. "Happily aloof." Mysia and Persephone joined another squad of guards around the door. Presumably, Zerro waited as part of Kallias’ personal protection. "Happy, happy," Anicetus chanted as they boarded the elevator. Only Persephone and Mysia accompanied them on the elevator, where a fresh squad of the bravest hoplites in all Kallias’ army waited for them to lead Xanthe to the outside. The main doors opened and Xanthe winced from the burst of sunlight. Her eyes lost their focus and she knew Kallias was there, somewhere. Blinking furiously, she relied on his soft voice to guide her blinded eyes. "Xanthe?" he breathed, taking her hand from his father. "I have a gift for you." Her hand fluttered down to her side as Zerro handed Kallias a box. Xanthe opened the lid with trembling fingers. Inside, sapphires and diamonds glistened in the sun, orchestrated into a V-shaped necklace that mirrored the exact V of her plunging neckline. "You saw the dress before," she realized. "Well, Demetria told me about it and helped me pick it out." He took the necklace from the box and Xanthe picked up her hair as he fastened it around her neck, sliding his fingers down

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to the necklace’s apex. "Damn, you are beautiful." He touched her cheek and, for the eyes of the crowd, he kissed her gently on the lips. Xanthe’s enchantment began with that soft kiss. Despite her nerves--despite her deepseated desire of wanting to leave--Kallias planted a small seed of hope that went untouched even when she noticed Zerro standing next to his best friend. She started to see Aphrodite’s wisdom. They loaded Xanthe into her litter, and down the steps they went. Kallias held her hand where it draped out of the litter and the crowd viewed her through the opened curtains of the flower-laden litter. The temples did not seem to sit so far away from the palace this time, and the hoplites kept the crowd controlled by using their shields to hold them back. Anticipation at seeing her father again put a twitter in her heart. Surely, now he would listen to her with her in a better frame of mind. Priests let her in and bowed out of the way. The smell of fresh food cooked specifically for the visit filled the antechamber. More priests opened the doors into the inner sanctum. Kallias kept a sharp eye on her. He kneeled while she left him in the front row, standing directly under the statue’s nose. The priests began their holy chants. As Xanthe wanted, a warm wind tossed her curls and she turned, watching Kallias freeze, still with his eyes locked on her. Something in his eyes held her attention and she walked toward him, taking a moment to trace his strong features with a tender finger. "You are falling for him," Zeus said. "You could do a lot worse." Xanthe spun quickly and it took another second for her garments to turn with her. "Look at you!" Zeus said proudly, coming down the stairs with his arms outstretched. "I knew you'd go with blue. You always did." "You knew about all this?" Xanthe dodged his embrace. "My life has been planned?" "We can't actually see the future." Saddened, Zeus put down his arms, foregoing the strong desire to pull his daughter to his chest. "But we beings have been around for many, many millennia. We are very good at predicting futures and even more accurate in predicting the future of a race with no outside contacts." "And how do I fit in to this? If I am of your blood, or cloud being stuff, or whatever you call yourselves--" "It interprets best as
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"You were about to leave the area. I had to keep you here." "Why?" "These are things you must work through on your own." He cleared his throat. "Xanthe, I wish I could be more specific, but even I answer to a higher power. He is of a mind that you find your own way, here." Xanthe turned again, which put her knee to nose with Kallias. Her artist’s eye captured the perfection of Kallias’ statuesque pose, one that must definitely be sketched later. Again, she reached out and touched his nose. "I just don’t understand any of this," she breathed. "Why drag such a nice man into this with me?" "So you would find some comfort here." "I want to go home." "Xanthe,
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bronze representation of Aphrodite’s flowing robes. Kallias, again, never took her eyes off her. Xanthe grew aware of it when she came down the steps to the statue, but smiled at him reassuringly. She had to be more careful. A little tingle down her spine announced Aphrodite’s coming, along with the soft breeze. Kallias’ eyelids stopped mid blink and, this time, Xanthe memorized her exact spot when Aphrodite appeared right in front of her, blocking her view of Kallias. "A wedding!" Aphrodite sang. "My favorite." She took Xanthe by the arm. "Now, I know you’re nervous. It’s just natural. The two of you will unite, body and soul." "There will be no ‘uniting.’" Xanthe let Aphrodite toss a curl or two. "Oh, come now. What’s wrong with him?" She tugged Xanthe to stand just a cubit in front of Kallias. Aphrodite cupped his chin in her hand. "He’s so beautiful." "His looks do little to prevent the torture I suffer from his father. Please; make it stop." Aphrodite pouted. "Sweetie, I can only do so much. I’ve played my part. I will bless this union." She kissed Kallias on the forehead and then Xanthe. "Dad took up so much of the stoptime units that it’s time to go. Shine brilliantly for a few moments." She tugged on Xanthe’s hand, fluffed her hair and guided her until she stood in the exact place Xanthe started when the temple’s occupants went frozen in time. Aphrodite vaporized in front of her, her cloud turning into an arrow that shot up over Xanthe’s head and plunged into the statue. The faithful awoke and, despite Xanthe and Aphrodite’s efforts, Kallias noted subtle differences. Her hand clutched her dress just a little lower and her assured smile drooped. But, before he made it to her side, the priests gasps and wallowed at their feet. Both now wore the mark of blessing, the two of them standing in front of the statue of Aphrodite with glowing foreheads. All but Alcibiades and Anicetus bowed. Both calculated how this made their lives better, recalling only a few instances in recorded history where the celestial beings bestowed their marks of approval. Both also sweated; they no longer knew how much they could push Xanthe into compliance. The worshipers parted to let the couple through. Kallias helped her into her litter, the remnants of Aphrodite’s kiss fading but present. Zerro touched Kallias on the arm and looked at him with great, wide eyes. "Yes," Kallias said, pointing to his forehead. "It is the blessing of Aphrodite." He tucked Xanthe’s flowing outer robe into the litter and took her by the hand, walking next to her as priests carried her back to the palace for the presentation ceremony.

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Chapter 12 Xanthe lounged in her litter, the seat curving to make such possible. Kallias held one hand and she let the other rest on her hip, wondering whether or not to wave at the sea of faces held back by the hoplites. This time, the entourage worked its way to the northeast gate, directly into the gardens, where Xanthe got out of the litter, only to be met by a herd of nobility. Unlike the commoners, they restrained themselves, knowing their class dictated an introduction at some time in their future. Most waited in the gardens, but some stood inside the great halls, passing time until the doors opened to the ballroom. Xanthe stepped lightly, not really needing to add any forced elegance. She learned from her mother’s fluid movements, which, in retrospect, probably caught her father’s eye. Kallias held her hand up the portico steps. Her hand trembled in his, and he squeezed it, rolling her knuckles with his fingers. He kept glancing at her, always with a question present there. Xanthe knew, even with Aphrodite’s help, she failed to cover her tracks adequately at the temples. She sighed. If she trusted anyone, she trusted Kallias most. Aphrodite sure thought him worthy. The thought of sharing her experiences with someone lifted her spirits. Kleitos’ little dog wore a tiara and she leapt down from his arms and scurried across the floor, her bushy hair catching the breeze. She rushed straight for Kallias and sat at his feet, wagging her tail. "Sorry, she got away from me," Kleitos apologized, more for Anicetus’ benefit, as he trailed the couple very closely. Kleitos scooped up the pup. "Send that thing away," Anicetus hissed through a whisper. Kleitos jerked his head up and down and passed the dog off to a servant, who held the dog away from her uniform to keep the dog hair from being an issue. Xanthe smiled at Kleitos but soon lost her mirth when Kallikrates negotiated his way around the columns with a perky Phaedra on his arm. "Oh, you look lovely." Phaedra quickly put herself between Xanthe and her husband, pulling Xandra’s arms out front, wafting them to and fro to see her sleeves billow. "Do you not agree, Kallikrates?" "I most certainly do," he replied. Xanthe stiffened under his gaze and Kallias "felt" it. "The place looks great, Kleitos," Kallias said, looking at the flower arrangements. "She said ‘sapphire’ and I went crazy," Kleitos boasted, taking in his handiwork of roses dyed blue with white narcissuses. Silver streamers hung from the flowers and he brought in several special Eros fountains, each with a counter attached to it with glasses, so that the guests

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could drink directly from the fountain if they so wished. Of course, servants circulated with wine, but it provided an attractive alternative. "Xanthe, you and Kallias go up on the stage," Anicetus directed. "Kleitos, let them in." Kallikrates eyeballed her to the point that Phaedra tugged until he turned, breaking his line of vision. Xanthe stepped a little behind Kallias, feeling exposed underneath Kallikrates’ bold gaze. She moved up the steps, noting that Kleitos provided three thrones, one big one flanked by two smaller ones, on the stage. Confused, Xanthe paused. Xanthe nearly jumped when Anicetus put her hands on her shoulders from behind. "Yours is the big one," he said. "For today alone." She sat gracefully, but Kallias never let go of her hand, reaching over the arms of two chairs to keep it in his grasp, always assuring her by the gentle massaging of her knuckles. Xanthe made it easier on him; she draped her arm over the chair and met him halfway. Anicetus sat to her right. She did not converse with his son the way he wanted her to, but she fit the role of a shy bride and word quickly spread about the couple’s bioluminescence. He had no time to dwell on it, for Kleitos announced the start of the ceremony. Priests of Aphrodite filed in first, still gawking at Xanthe and Kallias. They knelt before the stage and started chanting and singing as the guests arrived. Anicetus let them drink in the image of the very handsome couple. Some spilled out onto the portico and the great hall, but still had a decent view from the floor-to-ceiling windows or through the arches. Anicetus finally rose, offering Xanthe his arm while the priests finished their chanting. "Take a good look at her, my friends. The Handmaiden shall not go through her Olympian life alone." Their cheers shook the chandeliers. "Now, on your way in, Kleitos provided you with numbers. All the number ones will accompany Kallias to his departure and termination point in front of the castle. All the number twos will be witness to Xanthe, our Handmaiden’s, departure from the rear." He touched Xanthe lightly on the shoulder. "You look too nervous, my dear. Does she not fit the very form of perfection?" he said to the crowd, who, although splitting into their respective groups, found the time to clap and whistle. A few of the younger males stayed longer than necessary, staring unabashedly at the Heavenly One. "Of course, all are welcome back here after their ride into marital bliss, and Kleitos has promised me a very fine party to the wee hours of the morning." She moved flawlessly, totally comfortable in the dress she selected. Anicetus, as her kyrios, manually separated the pair. "She is mine for a just a little while. You may have her back in a few minutes," he spoke to Kallias loudly, getting a few laughs from the crowd. Kallias looked over his shoulder as Anicetus led her through the columns in the opposite direction. Without Kallias to lean on, Xanthe’s stomach cramped down. Was she really relying on him so much? Or was she just, once again, more or less alone with the man she hated, Anicetus? She swallowed over the dry lump in her throat and followed him through yet another foreign part of the castle, apparently apartments for visiting dignitaries with offshoots into the gardens. The guards stood on each step, two deep, rifles at the ready. The elite of Olympian society stood behind them, and Xanthe finally registered the dresses of high society, and hers did not quite fit the norm for the times. Most chose dresses tight up top that flounced around the hips.

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Anicetus felt some of the sweat from Xanthe’s hand and let go long enough to wipe it on his robe. # Zerro passed the reins to Kallias and stepped off the chariot, rubbing the horse’s flank. "I picked Philip. Can you handle him?" When Kallias shrugged, he leaned in closer. "You look very nervous." Guards separated Kallias from the crowd and he felt confident none of his men’s ears pointed in his direction. "You are faking this very well," Zerro said in way of encouragement. "She is, too." "I am not too certain I am faking." Kallias covered his heart. "You saw my forehead. This union is god-blessed, and therefore, I am god-expected to make this marriage work." "She will come around, I think." "But she needs to go home." Kallias fiddled with the reins. "Maybe this is their approval that I should go with her." "It is all going to work out. You will see." "Kallias!" Kallikrates called out warmly, sauntering down the steps. "A word, if I may." Kallias gave his approval warily. "Where is Phaedra?" "Oh, she opted to go wait with Xanthe. We felt one should support you and the other her." "I am surprised it was not you," Kallias retorted. "Phaedra insisted and I did not want to make a scene," Kallikrates admitted. "Thank Tyche for your luck, Kallias. Four years earlier, and she would have been mine." "I find this conversation most inappropriate," Kallias said, threat coating his words. "We both know this is a sham," Kallikrates said, making careful his movements looked good to the onlookers and lounged on the chariot with his arms folded. "May the best man win." He patted the chariot fondly, tracing the brass lion emblazoned above the wheel. Xanthe already informed Kallias that lions, mythological beasts to the Olympians, actually were true animals, although with no magical powers. The ancient seafaring Greeks probably chronicled them in story form, taking shape in their new world as part of their myths and lore. Kallias kept his face pleasant. Kallikrates always managed to bring out the worst in him, and Zerro had a hand wrapped around the hilt of his pistol, appalled at Kallikrates’ boldest statement ever. Kallias made a mental note to speak to Xanthe about him, reiterating that she stay away from him, as well as drag out of what, exactly, went on in the temples. Leonidas, Alcibiades’ next in line, stood at the top steps and his lower priests chanted a wedding chant, some of its content rather lewd, and the spectators laughed or covered their mouths and ears. Kallias heard none of it. He held the reins in his hand and slapped them against Philip’s back. The winding outer path of the castle left no room to run until it connected to the main road at southwest side. He wanted to look impressive, charging down the lane to claim his bride. Kallikrates, though, filled his thoughts. Once, a long time ago, Kallikrates had been human. Now, an echo of his father and a philanderer, he sought and got everything he desired. Everything. Poor Phaedra. She clung to the loveless marriage for the sole hope she would be queen someday. Anicetus involved himself to the point of requiring that the couple sleep

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together twice a month in an effort to produce another heir, but, so far, those attempts failed. Phaedra presented regularly for checkups; all knew the fault lay with Kallikrates, and it looked like artificial means might be necessary to produce the long-awaited child. Kallias rounded the corner and the horse stepped over the lip of the pavement. The wheels jostled and, being an authentic chariot, jostled Kallias quite a bit, but he held on. As he turned the horse east, he stopped him completely and took a deep breath. With a loud "Hyah," he slapped the reins on Philip's flanks and spurned him forward, pushing the horse to its limits on the way to the rear portico and Xanthe. Clouds of dust announced his coming, and Xanthe peered around Anicetus to see Kallias barreling down the lane. He impressed her, commanding the horse and chariot expertly, just as she imagined such a wedding event when her father told her stories so many years ago. His burgundy hair caught the wind and the sunlight glanced off it. Magnificent was the word that captured Kallias best. He reined in the horse directly in front of the steps. Hoping, he looked at Xanthe, pleased when he saw her completely delighted. He leapt over the side of the chariot and came up the steps. "Who are you?" Anicetus asked. "I am the groom coming to claim my bride," Kallias responded. "What dowry have you provided?" "I give you the Handmaiden to the gods, a position at the most high of our society. Your union has been blessed by Aphrodite and she has been blessed by Zeus. Is that an acceptable dowry?" "I accept it." He took the steps, his boots landing heavily. He reached out for Xanthe’s wrist and tugged her away from his father. "Come, wife." Quiet, Xanthe went with him. At the bottom of the steps, he picked her up and lifted her over the side of the chariot. He got in and put an arm around Xanthe’s waist to steady her as he turned the chariot around. The cheers drowned out any chance of conversation, but he held her waist reassuringly, massaging her side. The horse stepped high and balked, throwing Xanthe backward, but she clasped the wooden frame just as the horse reared and the chariot exploded.

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Chapter 13 The crowd recoiled in horror as the wheels of the chariot splintered and blew to the opposite sides of the road. Anicetus rushed down the steps, but one of his guards held him back. "The sabotage may not be done yet, my lord. Let us inspect it." Xanthe lay nearest to them. The guards flew over to her, expecting the worst, but her forehead glowed. They tried to touch her and roll her over, but withdrew their hands after a surge of electricity shocked them. Xanthe sat up under her own power, not even a curl out of place. She quickly jumped to her feet, screaming for Kallias. Over the rubble she leapt, coughing from the fire of the wooden chariot. The smoke obscured her vision but she picked up large planks and tossed them out of the way. She found him. He lay motionless, meters away from the road. His forehead glowed faintly and she scooped up his head and placed it in her lap. "Kallias?" "Xanthe?" he said, breathlessly. "I am here. Kallias? Talk to me!" "My leg," he replied, wincing. "Xanthe, something protected me. I know a piece of wood nearly impaled my chest." He felt his sternum, proving to himself that he was still whole. "You were, but your leg took a direct hit. I do not know what to make of it." She stroked his hair and kissed his forehead. "You do, and we have a lot to talk about," he muttered, grunting from the pain in his leg. "What do you see about my leg?" "There is wood deep within it," Xanthe told him, looking carefully. "Your thigh does not look straight. Hold still." She patted his chest. He took his fingers in hers, squeezing them tight. "I suppose Kleitos is stomping around that someone destroyed his main event." Xanthe giggled. "Keep still." Therapon led his medics down the steps and to the roadside, once the guards inspected the area for more bombs. The hoplites took keen interest in the shattered axle. "Well, my prince, you have a fracture in your femur. It looks like the nuptials will have to wait," Therapon said, smiling gently, practiced hands running a diagnostic wand over Kallias’ lower extremity. "Those pieces of wood will have to go, too." He tilted his head. "No major blood vessel damage though. You are one very lucky man." Therapon stood and waved in his orderlies. "And you, Handmaiden, have been blessed. You are not even dirty." Xanthe patted herself down, finding his words to be true. In actuality, when she hit the ground, she felt as if she jumped on a down mattress.

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"Your forehead is fading," Kallias said, wincing. "Is my forehead glowing?" "Very faintly." Xanthe brushed his hair back and stood, stepping back to allow the orderlies to roll Kallias to his side and slip a board underneath him. Xanthe’s hands clenched her skirts as she heard Kallias choking back a cry of pain. They carefully picked him up and set him on a hover gurney, which eliminated the bouncing of a wheeled gurney, so Xanthe relaxed a little, following them close behind. To avoid the grand staircase, they took the few steps up from the gardens, through the ballroom and into an elevator, carrying Kallias down to the infirmary. "Will you have to take him to the hospital?" Xanthe asked. "No, I can fix him here." Therapon touched her reassuringly on the forearm. "I will take good care of him." Xanthe slipped her hand into Kallias’ as they left the elevator. "Have you ever broken anything before?" "I think you should ask what he has not broken," Therapon said while he chuckled. "Prince Kallias is a misfortune magnet." "Somehow I fail to see the humor in this," Kallikrates glowered. "Xanthe, I do not know if it has registered yet, but someone just tried to kill us." "I know, Kallias. I know." Xanthe rubbed her forehead as the orderlies pushed Kallias into the infirmary. "I am trying not to dwell on it." "Keep it in mind," Kallias chastised her. "They failed. They might try it again unless Zerro catches them." "Speaking of whom," Therapon noted, "here he is." Zerro bolted in the room, the horsetail protruding from the top of his helmet swishing around to where it almost hit Xanthe in the shoulder. "Kallias, this is my fault." He knelt and put his fist across his chest. "Do not send me away until I rectify my mistake." "Zerro, stop it." Kallias lifted his head to look over his body and past his feet. "We knew security was a big problem for this event. We tried to tell my father we needed a closed ceremony, but he would not listen." Kallias’ head dropped back against the gurney. Zerro gently pushed Xanthe back as Therapon positioned the gurney directly under a flat rectangular device that sat parallel to the ceiling, pulling the apparatus down until it nearly sat on Kallias’ nose. "What have you found so far?" Kallias inquired. "We have sent for the bomb squad. So far, it looks like a very primitive device with a remote detonator. Someone on the guest list triggered it, or paid someone in security to do it." Zerro scratched the nape of his neck. "If you are well, I am going out to oversee a few things." "All right. Zerro, this is not your fault." Kallias moaned as Therapon placed a strap around his leg, positioning it carefully over his femoral nerve supply. With the push of the button, Kallias let out a sigh of relief, for the little square box on the strap deadened his nerves. "Ah, that feels so much better." "Handmaiden, are you squeamish?" Therapon wondered. She held her hands clasped, as they were quite shaky. "I am not sure." "Then will you excuse us?" Therapon nodded toward the door. "No, I will not. I am staying." With resolve, she stood, reaching for Kallias’ hand. Therapon put one of his orderlies on alert for the stubborn bride in case she fainted while

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he cut away the leg of Kallias’ pants. Therapon focused on the splinters of wood in Kallias’ thigh first. One nicked the femur, and Therapon had to widen the wounds to remove all the bits of wood inside. Xanthe’s eyes widened and she quickly looked at Kallias’ face instead. "You do not look so good," Kallias noted. "I am fine." If she said it enough, she might believe it. She made it through science courses in school, fetal pigs and all, but nothing prepared her for so much blood. It took nearly an hour for Therapon to find all the splinters and remove them, fusing the wounds closed with a pen-shaped laser. One of the orderlies brought Xanthe a stool in the meantime, and she grew braver. Her anthropologist side reigned; her curiosity about Olympian medical techniques needed studied and taken back to the station. Once the blood stopped, she confidently stood, looking at Kallias’ leg through the diagnostic screen, which showed a diagonal through-and-through fracture of Kallias’ femur, offset in alignment by a full three centimeters. "Have you ever broken something?" Kallias asked her. "Are you kidding? I am not the outdoorsy type. I have never even been stung by a bee," she claimed. "I did get my finger stuck in a mixer once, but that only required a couple of stitches." "You cook?" "Yes. Does that surprise you?" "I guess so. You are so thin that I could never imagine such." He squeezed her fingers. Therapon, with the help of an orderly and the diagnostic screen, had the orderly pull on Kallias’ ankle to pull apart the fracture and Therapon carefully guided the malaligned bone back into its proper position. Once in place, he programed the diagnostic panel to search for bits of marrow that might escape into the bloodstream. "All right, my prince, the leg is back in position. Handmaiden, see this mark?" Therapon pointed to another lesion on his tibia down by the ankle. "He was eight years old for that one." He stroked his beard. "He and Zerro thought they could fly. I fixed Zerro’s arm that day, too." Therapon held his hand out and his orderly gave him a series of straps with little circles sewn into the fabric. Gently, they wound the straps in the area of the fracture. "This is a bone stimulator," Therapon explained. "Two days of this and the bone will be almost healed, but still pretty weak." "Two days?" Kallias pushed up on his elbows and forearms. "Kleitos expects the afterglow party then." "You will not be partying, my prince." Therapon pushed Kallias on the forehead, encouraging him to lie flat again. "Kleitos will just have to postpone." Kallias growled and grunted simultaneously. "Kleitos will be in a snit. Xanthe, you have never been around Kleitos when he is in one of his moods." He shuddered. "He likes to keep on a schedule." A moment passed silently as Therapon put things in order, raising the diagnostic screen and waving his wand over a forming bruise on Kallias’ knee. Therapon cleared his throat and looked at Xanthe. "I hear your forehead glows," he said tentatively. "There is historical precedence for such things. One of King Anicetus’ ancestors reportedly experienced that phenomenon." Therapon

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shooed his orderlies out of the room. "I know you are not really a handmaiden to the gods, but there is a definite link. I hoped you would explain things." "I cannot tell you," she said. "They singled me out for a purpose, as we all know, but I do not know yet what purpose I will serve." She shrugged. "Aphrodite left her mark on Kallias, too." "The fates must have your life threads spun very close together." Therapon shook his head. "I never dreamed I would see such in my lifetime." He tugged at his beard. "Well, my Lord, you are in a position for transfer. Complete bedrest for two days. I will send for you on the completion of the second day for assessment. Unfortunately, I cannot leave your nerve block on." "It is all right, Therapon. Remove the block. I can take it." Kallias gritted his teeth as Therapon removed the nerve block. "Ouch." He blinked and swallowed. "This is tolerable." "I can give you something for the pain," Therapon offered. "I will not have my judgment clouded. Someone just tried to kill us." "You know where to find me if you need something." # Transferring Kallias to his bed taxed him. Xanthe saw his fist clench to the point his nails dug into his skin, but as soon as the orderlies put him in place, he relaxed, taking deep breaths and exhaling through pursed lips. Once the orderlies left, Xanthe paced by the bed. "I have been nothing but trouble." She wiped the side of her face with her palm. "I just do not get it." She lapsed into her own tongue as she wore rub marks in the area rug next to the bed. "Did they know? Did they know I was going to be a part of an assassination attempt? Kallias. Why did they have to drag Kallias into this?" "Excuse me, but you keep saying my name but I do not know the words around them. Are you cursing at me?" "Oh, no. Of course not." She pulled a chair across the room, over the lip of the rug and dragged it next to the bed. She plopped down, sending the gauzy folds of her robe floating. "Damn." "You have some explaining to do." Kallias put his elbow under his pillow and looked at her. "In the temples--you want to tell me why you suddenly change positions?" "Huh?" "Oh, stop it." He wagged his finger at her. "You talk to them, do you not?" "Yes." She sat very unladylike with her elbows on her knees and her head hanging down. "They are quite chatty." "To whom have you spoken?" "Zeus twice, Aphrodite twice and Athena once." She tossed all her hair over one shoulder. "Did they know about the assassination attempt? Is that why they blessed us? Was it some sort of force-activated shield?" "I am grateful, whatever it was. But, Xanthe, they protected us and your tone is that of disgust. That concerns me." "I am disgusted. Look what they have done to this world! I have upset the stability of Olympus. My presence quells the forward progress your heretics have made in the areas of

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science. Your heretics and I share the same sentiments." "Have they given you any indication that the heretics are in the wrong?" "No, they have not mentioned anything either way. I only assume I am at liberty to speak on behalf of them. I wish they were not so cryptic." Xanthe touched her lips. "Where is your father? You think he would be here." "Probably proving to everyone that we are fine, blessed and holy to the people." Kallias moved ever so slowly to plump his pillow. "Damage control is more important..." The door in the front room open and closed. Xanthe knew by the footsteps that Anicetus approached. "Magnificent!" he proclaimed. "Simply magnificent." He clapped his hands. "Your protection was witnessed!" "Kallias suffered," Xanthe countered, standing. "His leg was a mess." "He is tough. He can handle it." Anicetus’ voice grew sharp, not liking Xanthe’s tone. Not even looking at Kallias, he sat in the chair Xanthe just vacated. "You hold something back from me," he growled. "Tell me what it is." "Father, I am weary. Perhaps this can wait?" "No, it cannot. She hides something; I can feel it. Gods just do not bless people at random. What do you hide?" "Why do you hide me? Why did they send me here?" Xanthe folded her arms, perplexed. Her conversations with the gods were none of his business. If she told him, she would also have to tell them that they did not care for him much. As she stood there pondering, Anicetus’ scepter rose. "Father, please!" Kallias pleaded, but it was too late. Xanthe slumped to the floor. "I have nothing to say to you," she said, feeling her limbs go limp. "Father, you damage her and you may anger the gods!" Kallias protested. "Nonsense." He turned up the intensity and Xanthe began to writhe. "Alcibiades assures me that this is all according to plan." Xanthe felt the tingle spread from her spine outward. Each second that passed brought a new increment of pain, exploding out the soles of her feet and palms of her hands. She sweated, moaning from the torment. Anicetus applied the highest setting and Xanthe screamed, unable to move under her own power but still with electric shocks shooting through her, causing her body to twitch and convulse without her permission. When her spine began firing hot nerve impulses out of her palms and soles, she lost consciousness. Anicetus tried to rouse her, but she stayed limp, drool running down her cheek and her hair lopsided. "She is too soft," he lamented, letting her roll back face down. Kallias, near tears, tried to get up but fell back against the pillow. "Do not leave her there," he begged. "Call Demetria for me." "As you wish. Does she tell you her secrets?" he demanded. "She does not trust any of us," Kallias responded. "Why should she?" Anicetus harrumphed, but did call the maid. When she arrived and saw the situation, she

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covered her mouth in horror. As Anicetus left, Demetria tapped the two Spartan guards on the shoulders, begging for help to transfer Xanthe to the bed next to Kallias. Demetria removed her shoes and lay her gently against the pillow as Kallias watched, helpless. "Do you need anything else?" Demetria asked. "Freedom," Kallias said, "and I am afraid you cannot give me that."

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Chapter 14 Xanthe came out of her stupor, talking before she really had control of her voice. "Why?" she muttered. "Where are they when I need them?" Kallias found her hand. "Xanthe?" "I need their help and they do not come." "They protected us earlier. Can they be in all places at all times?" "No." Xanthe took a deep breath. "They cannot." "Perhaps they misread my father. Be warned, though; he will persist until he gets his way. Perhaps it is not a bad idea to tell him." "I will not," she vowed. Heavy footfalls sent waves of pain through Xanthe’s head. She recognized Zerro’s voice, but felt too weak to say anything more. Zerro assessed the situation correctly; Kallias was wounded and Xanthe was tortured. He could think of no other reason for them to share a bed, and Xanthe looked even more pale than he thought possible and a tear worked its way down her cheek. He tried to be as quiet as possible. "Kallias, there were three ceremonial chariots that you could have used today," he said. "All three had explosives hidden in the axles." "All three?" Kallias did not move, as much for his benefit as Xanthe’s. "Thorough. Very thorough." "Agreed. I have ordered thorough searches of the homes, offices and other premises of everyone affiliated with the stables and preparations." "That will take a great deal of time." "The bomb squad says that those bomb components are easily found, especially from demolition companies. The most complex part is the works, but, again, those components are far from impossible to come by." Zerro stroked his chin. "Kallias, I think we should face facts. Kallikrates is a likely candidate." "But Kallikrates wants her. It makes no sense to try and blow her up with me." "You have a point. I just cannot think of anyone who hates you so much. The underground heretics know you have their support. Getting rid of you cuts off their only ally in the palace. This is baffling." "Keep digging," Kallias requested. "I do not think they can hurt Xanthe. The gods seem to wane in their protection when it comes to my father, but they did a great job of protecting her from the blast." "She looks terrible." Zerro removed his helmet and ran his hand through his curls and

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replaced it. "Your father has to go." "Sh!" Kallias rolled his head, confident that Xanthe was still out of it. "Say no more." # Xanthe drifted between sleep and awake. Her body was not hers, it seemed; her arm jerked out without her command and a ballad she loved slipped from her lips. She fought with her eyes to open them, and when she did, she felt Kallias staring at her. "You sing?" The song continued for a few more bars, until her eyes closed and her voiced shushed incrementally until gone. Kallias reached out across the bed and fished around for her hand. She jerked sporadically and unintentionally took back her hand at the next salvo of aftershocks. Anger churned in Kallias’ stomach. Unable to protect her when he was fit and healthy, this state of infirm left him raging inside. Xanthe’s hand jerked back toward him and he caught it again, giving her feeble support, if she even registered it. Sometimes, Greek words slipped out, but most of her rambling came in the form of her native tongue, perhaps that language spoken by her Alliance. His only comfort was her intermittent use of his name. So, he was in her mind somewhere. Did he deserve to be there? He stroked the back of her hand. He winced, not from pain, but a distinct feeling Xanthe had another aftershock. He almost felt it when all four limbs flexed, and then he winced from pain as the motion sent a jolt through the bed to his leg. He thought he imagined her confused thoughts, but footsteps in his common room broke his concentration. "I brought flowers," Kleitos sang, whirling in the room with a vase filled with flowers plucked from the arrangements from the wedding ceremony. "You look terrible." Kallias raised up on his elbows. "Who is talking and what are they saying?" "Well, miracles, blessings, our gods be praised, synechis. It is endless." Kleitos sat next to the bed in the same chair Xanthe pulled over before Anicetus got hold of her. "He zapped her, huh." "Yes." Kallias lay back down with his hands behind his head. "The heretics are astounded," Kleitos murmured. Kallias sat bolt upright and regretted doing so, but he stayed up. "Kleitos, what if Father did this?" "Lie down." Kleitos stood and pushed Kallias’ shoulders back to the bed. "You did not see him, Kallias. I could almost smell his defecation. The guards had to hold him back to check for more bombs. No, Kallias. We can blame our father for many things, but not this." "It was just a thought. That damn scepter of his has so many functions." "The blessings came so shortly before the ceremony that he had no time to plan such a thing in order to prove your blessed status." Kleitos touched his chin thoughtfully, looking past Kallias to Xanthe, whose hand twitched. "I hate this. I hate everything about this." "Sorry to screw up your schedule." "How long are you laid up?" "Two days until I can get up. Therapon did not say so, but I will probably need crutches for a week or so. I imagine it is the same as when I broke my leg at that stupid party of yours."

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"I provided the wine," Kleitos protested. "You provided the entertainment," he chuckled, then sighed. "Really, it can wait this time. The molds are still in the freezers and the meals were only planned, not purchased. The flowers can be donated to the temples and I will order fresh. Do you think a week?" "I think in a week we will have fooled everyone into thinking this marriage consummated." Kleitos walked around the bed and straightened Xanthe’s hair and pushed the pillow further under her neck. "She is so beautiful, Kallias. Her taste in clothes is divine, no pun intended." Xanthe’s eyes opened briefly from the external stimuli. She blinked a few times and went under again. "Is there something I can do for you?" Kleitos asked as he rounded the foot of the bed. "Ask it, and it will be done." "Kleitos, you may be the most useful," Kallias said, thinking. "Keep your eyes and ears wide. We are looking for someone who would benefit from the both of us being dead." "Oh, speaking of which, I heard a very interesting rumor." Kleitos, assured of privacy, still leaned over and planted the bug in Kallias’ ear. "The heretics are defecting." "Defecting?" "They are packing up by the hundreds and going to the lower continent, out of Father’s control. Hordes, Kallias. Xenon and his daughter Melissa are among them." "How soon?" "You have heard nothing of this?" "I have been busy with the marriage and all. I am sure my generals are aware." "I got the tip straight from a travel agent in Clazomenae. I was trying to make arrangements for a cruise, but all the ships are booked, as are their cargo holds. We cannot call them heretics any longer, given the obvious." He gestured toward Xanthe with both hands. "They want forward progress, and if they cannot have it under Father, they will give up everything they know for Ionia." Kallias thought on it for a while. "How long do you think we have before Father catches on? He is going to make me enforce martial law in the outlying communities and shut the ports." "The leadership will make it out first," Kleitos predicted. "They probably already have. They carry gold--not coins. King Archon has progressive leanings, but he is resource poor and cannot afford supporting any type of scientific programs. Our rich heretic friends will change all that." "What if Father has me summon all my ships and sail for the lower continent Ionia?" "Then war is brewing, Kallias. I cannot help you there." Kleitos touched his lips. "All I can offer you is my being the prince of all gossip mills." "You are just full of information, Kleitos. Do not underestimate your importance in this family." "I am happy where I am, Kallias. I have no mind for politics. I doubt I could even wield a weapon anymore, nor do I want to. My role dictates less restrictions from Father and that is the way I like it." He stood. "But, you know I am always here for you, my brother." He reached over and touched Kallias’ cheek with his knuckles. "Phaedra expresses her condolences."

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"What? No official statement from Kallikrates?" "Pah, he was out and about, looking for fresh meat." Kleitos’ nose drew up. "Remember when we were kids, Kallias, playing out in the snow? We made a pact. No matter what, we would stick together, no matter how Father manipulated us." "Perhaps you should be the one to remind him," Kallias said. "I will not talk to him about anything," Kleitos swore. "His flagrant disrespect of his marriage appalls me. Speaking of which, perhaps I should go cater to Phaedra for a while. It hurts her so much to watch him watch other women." "I am glad you are there for her." "Someone must be." Kleitos waved and left. # Demetria disappointed Kallias by fetching Xanthe and taking her to her own room, with the help of a few other servants, only because she couldn't keep Xanthe hygienically proper without causing Kallias intense pain. She casually explained to the others that Xanthe required a sedative after her ordeal with the bomb. Demetria hated lying, but she could ill afford to plant seeds of their lord’s misdeeds. Carefully, Demetria removed all Xanthe’s jewelry and peeled off her clothes. Poor Xanthe had no tone, and her limbs flopped, making it difficult to negotiate around her trim frame. At last, it was done, and Demetria fondly dressed her in her shorts and Tshirt. Demetria left Xanthe’s door open and began knitting in the common room, equally placed between the two bedrooms, just in case Kallias or Xanthe needed her. "How is she?" Kallias called out once in a while, waiting for Demetria to go check on her. "She is still sleeping, but she has made a mess of her bedding from all the jerking," the maid informed him. "Go to sleep." Kallias still saw himself flying through the air after the bomb exploded, amazed at the little impact the ground had on his body. Why was his leg not protected? Maybe the gods knew the perpetrator. Yes. Xanthe could ask them. They would know, most certainly. If the pain did not occupy his thoughts, Kleitos’ news of heretic nobility leaving the continent did. How long could he keep that a secret from Anicetus without jeopardizing his own position in Anicetus’ military management? His father must be told, and soon, but perhaps after waiting long enough to get the richest and wisest off the continent. He called Demetria to contact Zerro, even in the middle of the night. Zerro appeared without his helmet, his curls mismatched and sleep in his eyes, but he came willingly. "What do you need, my Lord?" As Kallias informed Zerro about Kleitos’ rumors, Zerro’s eyes grew wide. "You need me to contact them?" "Yes. Tell them to pack as much of the contraband equipment as they can," Kallias implored. "Tell them they only have but a couple of days before I must tell my father of their defections. This wedding and state of infirm give me an excuse to be slightly negligent, but it will only be a matter of time before my generals come to me with this information and I will have to go to my father posthaste. Get the word out, Zerro. Give them that head start they need."

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Chapter 15 Xanthe came out of her stupor the next morning, only partially aware of her surroundings, given she started out in Kallias’ room after the incident. In fact, she patted the open space on the bed, expecting him there. Shakily, she stood. Her toes still tingled and she loped her way across the room, steadying herself against the jamb, for the door was open. Demetria slept, her head cocked over the sofa’s back, her knitting and needles in her lap. Surprised at herself, Xanthe’s thoughts immediately turned to Kallias. As she negotiated across the cherry-wood floor, she grabbed for furniture when she wobbled. After a deep breath, she resolved to make it the next ten paces from the couch closest to Kallias’ open door. She fell against the jamb, causing Demetria to stir but not completely awaken. Kallias, however, heard her and saw her stumble to the chair that still sat next to his bed. "You should go back to bed," he said as Xanthe flopped into the chair. "I do not think I can." She sat negligent of her elevated status, her legs sprawled out and her back conforming to the chair. "How are you?" "Better than you, I bet." "I am inclined to agree with you." She breathed hard from exertion. "Where were they, Kallias?" "The gods?" He shrugged. "I do not know. Their eyes must be elsewhere to let you suffer so." He cleared his throat. "Xanthe, you need to go to the temples. They surely know who orchestrated the explosion in order to give us that kind of protection." "Why did they allow it to happen at all?" Xanthe slumped forward with her head in her hands. "They could have stopped it." "Perhaps they wished to demonstrate their role to protect you." "Conceited snobs, the whole lot of them," she growled. "Sh." Kallias shook his head. "You should not say such things." "Read your history and lore, Kallias. They are a dysfunctional race, powerful enough to manipulate at least two worlds. I am sure there are more displaced ancient races out there on other planets." "Please, do not speak so. You make me very nervous." "Why?" "I worship those beings, Xanthe. I was brought up on the writings of which you speak." "They will tell me nothing. My present and future is clouded in mystery. They say I must

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work this out on my own." "Why?" Xanthe shook her head, which sent a unintentional message to her left hand to twitch. "They are so cryptic." "You have only spoken with them minimally. Maybe if you visit them more, they will be more revealing." "I already have a problem having the general public discussing about my close relationship with these beings." "They expect you to be a devoted follower, now more than ever. They blessed us, Xanthe. They bestowed a high honor upon us. We have moved to the top tier in Olympian society." Kallias tucked some hair behind his ear. "I bet the news is still playing amateur video of our glowing foreheads." "Whatever." Xanthe rubbed her stomach. "I am hungry." "Call Demetria." "She is asleep." "Wake her up." "She has attended to us all night. Might we call someone else?" "Your sympathy is touching, but Demetria will be angry if we choose that route." "Oh." Xanthe tried to get up, wanting to tap the maid on the shoulder rather than holler for her and wake her up abruptly, but Kallias bellowed for her. Demetria shot up off the couch, a few hairs out of place. "Yes, my prince?" "Breakfast, please. Thank you." # When her fingers finally worked again (she changed food-stained clothes three times, one after each meal), she opened her latest Olympus journal and depicted the chariot, Therapon’s medical technology and Anicetus’ clever measures of torture. After that, with her music pods in her ears, she concentrated on the heavy strains to completely cover up everything but her love of a grinding beat. Kallias was right. She needed to see what The Circle knew of her attempted assassination. Tired, she pulled the plugs out of her ears and tossed them on the night stand. Tentatively, she walked across the large parlor and to Kallias’ door. "Kallias?" "Yes?" "I am going to bed." "You should." "Good night." "Sleep well," he responded, and went back to flipping through the channels of the viewscreen at the foot of his bed. The sun lamp dimmed out completely as she crawled in bed. # Xanthe awoke with a purpose. She definitely felt better, so she called Demetria in to bathe her. The maid gladly accommodated her, but she raised an eyebrow when Xanthe selected her fine clothes and asked for her hair and makeup to be done.

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Demetria gave her bits and pieces of palace gossip while she styled Xanthe’s hair, but Xanthe appeared to take little notice. However, Xanthe thanked the servant and informed her to bring breakfast only for Kallias. When Demetria left, Xanthe used Kallias’ console in his office and located the palace directory, dialing up Zerro. Zerro saw the signal coming from Kallias’ quarters, but looked very surprised to see Xanthe’s face. "Yes, Holy One?" Xanthe rolled her eyes. "Please assemble escorts for me. I am going to the temple of Zeus." Zerro blinked. "Did Anicetus give you approval?" "My status sets me above Anicetus," Xanthe said haughtily. Zerro unconsciously rubbed his neck. "I will do as you ask, Xanthe, but you owe me a big favor." His voice oozed sexy charm. "Just do it," she instructed him. "How is Kallias this morning?" "Still resting, I believe." "You believe? You have not gone to check on him?" No, she had not. Guiltily, she shook her head. "I am focused. I will rectify this in a moment." "You should," Zerro scolded her. "I will escort you personally to the temple." "That is fine." Xanthe ended the transmission. What did Zerro mean, a big favor? She gathered her skirts and stole into Kallias’ room. He still slept, but discomfort drew his lips out and caused his forehead to crinkle. With a gentle nudge, Xanthe woke him up. "Kallias, I am going to the temple," she informed him. "You do that. I will call Kleitos and have him put the spin out to the people that you felt the need to thank the gods for our protection." "I do not care; just give me a legitimate reason to forego, ahem, marital bliss for a while." "Thank them for me," Kallias said. "Pardon?" "They spared my life. Please, thank them for me." Xanthe paused, seeing things from Kallias’ perspective. Of course he was grateful. Should she be? She decided to answer that question after her trip to the temple. Zerro, Mysia and Persephone fell in around her and Xanthe waited until she was in the elevator to speak. "Thank you for this, and on such short notice. How is it that you arranged everything so quickly?" Xanthe wondered. "The king frequently makes impromptu forays to the temples," Zerro explained. "This is the same protocol, except for your litter." "I get to ride in it again?" "You will always ride in it. The king decrees it is to be so." "Ah." Xanthe shut her mouth as the elevator doors parted. She relied on Zerro to lead

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her, lost once again. "You have no idea where you are," Zerro noted. Her eyes widened. How could she control this new ability to plant her thoughts in others’ minds? Maybe he was just perceptive. She collected her thoughts and kept them very focused as the servants brought her litter and she got in. Just a few loitered around the palace, many foreigners coming to see temple row and the festival square. They turned around, though, and many bowed at the waist as she passed them. At last, the priests sat the litter down in front of Zeus’ temple and she promptly marched inside. She touched the statue at its hem and sat next to its feet, which rested just on top of the last stair. The gods could not be everywhere, she knew. Would her father know she was here? The wind came and she smiled. She memorized her exact spot, sitting next to the statue and hugging her knees. A firm hand touched her shoulder and she turned around. "How do you know I am here?" she inquired. "We have noninvasive methods to track you. When you come here, we are alerted. Now, I won’t show up each and every time you come, but I’ll try my damndest to be here." He sat next to her on the step. "You want to know who tried to kill you." "Yes." "No clue. None of us know." "Oh, please." Xanthe stood and folded her arms across her chest. "I tell the truth, but I protected you and Kallias from the blast." "If you could protect us, you must have known it was coming." "No, no." Zeus touched his shirt over his heart. "I wanted to watch you, Xanthe. I wanted to see you get hitched. What kind of father would I be to be absent on such an important occasion? So, I was there. When Kallias drove the chariot so hard, I picked up a scent but could not place it. My sense of smell is very sensitive," he went on. "I had a feeling in my gut. So, I got in the chariot with you. I am also very sensitive to radio waves. I put the smell with the waves just about the time the chariot blew to bits. I had time to place you in a shell but only got so far with Kallias." "So that explains why he's injured and I'm not." "Yes." "So, where were you when Anicetus shocked the shit out of me?" "Xanthe? Such language." "Answer the question." "Xanthe, I love you. I really do. But what happens between you and Kallias behind closed doors is none of my business. I found other things to do while the two of you got to know each other." "Well, we are not doing a lot of acquainting, and Anicetus thought it perfectly acceptable to barge in, make demands and zap me." She sat back down, careful not to pin her dress under her shoes. "It hurt so much, and nobody tries to save me from it." Zeus put his arm around her shoulder. "He will be punished." "You promise?" "We've got to be patient until he can be neatly deposed. Until then, Xanthe, just hold on. If we do it before it's time, he will be lauded and not held responsible for anything he's done.

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That can't happen." "Are you sure you could not peg the source of the radio waves?" "It all happened so fast." He stroked her hair. "Xanthe, this is killing me." "What?" "Before I left Earth for vacation, we had a long, meaningful talk about life. You and I used to pore over the new archaeological findings. We had everything in common. I feel like I’ve lost you somehow. All I want to do is be family again." Xanthe stood slowly. "I don’t know, Dad. This is too freaky. Honestly, I preferred Zed Hurford." "Xanthe, that put you in a funk for a year! How can you compare this to that?" "Violation is violation, no matter what the form," she said firmly. "The only thing I cling to is the hope that I will take Kallias and return to my own people." "Your feelings for Kallias are strong?" "Getting there," she admitted. "I don’t want to pin him down just to me. He needs room to explore. For that reason, I hold back. I think it fair." "I think you have watched him for far too long. I do not think you can hold back. Make him yours, Xanthe. He is the man for you." Zeus looked around at the temple priests, all locked in time. He wandered to the first table. "Fresh grapes." He took a few. "You know, unless I'm in your form, I don't have to eat." He popped one in his mouth. "Every element known is already part of my genetic makeup, but when I become human, I am completely human." With grapes in hand, he turned back to his daughter. "I can't keep time stopped for much longer, Xanthe." "All right." She rearranged her skirts and tried to sit just like she had when the pause came. "Does this look okay?" "I think you’ll get away with it." Zeus tapped her nose. "Thank you for coming by." "Oh. Kallias said to thank you for your protection." "He is very welcome." "I suppose I should thank you, too." "You can when you actually mean it." Zeus kissed her forehead. Before her eyes, he disappeared in increments, allowing the figures behind him to come into focus. Xanthe sighed, but a clamor erupted in the temple when her forehead, once again, shone. The awed priests and acolytes stepped aside as she walked down the runner toward the front entrance and back to her litter. Zerro waited for her, staring the entire time as the graceful blessed one seemed to float toward him. Her long hair swished behind her when she walked and the platinum earrings dangled temptingly from her ears. The glowing forehead only clenched the perfection he saw. Their eyes met and she spoke, but he barely heard her. "...go home," she finished. Zerro looked around. The priests kept their distance and Mysia and Persephone stood planted against the entrance, a few meters away. Zerro covered his pounding heart and cleared his throat. "These are words best uttered by Kallias, Xanthe, but I have never had my breath taken from me like this." Any conceit or debauchery on his mind vacated, leaving objective sapphire eyes. "Kallias should be here to witness this, not me."

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Xanthe tilted her head toward the right. "What are you saying?" "You enchant me." He looked at the floor. "Come, let us go." Zerro tenderly took her hand and helped her in the litter, and they went back to the castle.

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Chapter 16 Zerro stayed very quiet, his only contact with Xanthe coming in the form of a gentle touch as he escorted her down the narrow halls of the lower levels of the palace. Xanthe strained her mind, trying to reverse her power to superimpose thoughts in the minds of men, hoping to dig deeper into his thoughts. It did not work. With his face hidden by his helmet, she could only see his square jaw and solid chin. His lips stayed shut, not tightly, but he made no motion to speak until they made it to the door of Kallias’ apartment. "I would like to see my lord," he said. "Is my forehead still glowing?" she asked. "No, it has faded." He swallowed. "But you have not." She turned red but glossed over the statement. "You may see Kallias." "Thank you." When the door opened, he removed his helmet and left it on the planning table. He refused to look at her and left her standing by the table without apology or excuse. It was just as well. Xanthe’s heart twittered, a new twist to her already complex existence. Yes, Kallias should have seen it and not Zerro. She imagined herself in the temple, gliding up the walk with a flowing dress, glowing forehead and confident demeanor. Whatever it was, it left Zerro flummoxed to the point he dropped his arrogance and became a humble servant. She sat on one of the sofas, now much less than an icon of the gods as she slouched, picking at the blue sequins of her dress, wondering about Kallias and Zerro’s conversation. Zerro closed the door when he went in, providing the two complete privacy. After a few moments, Zerro came out and stopped, watching Xanthe lounge on the couch. He never held her gaze, but he walked over to her nonetheless, kneeling by the couch as Xanthe stood up straight. "What the hell are you doing?" Xanthe inquired. "Kallias just told me--you speak to Them." He picked up her hem and rubbed it against his forehead. "He had no business disclosing such to you!" Xanthe she snapped. "Get up." She tapped his shoulder firmly and gestured rising by grabbing him by the shirt and tugging. "I am no different from you and I have no idea why they want me here. They speak in riddles and of things to come." He now towered over her. "Keep it quiet, Zerro. I will have no one else learn of this, understand?" "Yes, Princess." He bobbed his head, still without looking at her. "I will take my leave now."

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"Go, then." She stood aside and let him pass. "Please, see me with the same eyes you did before this morning." "I cannot." He never looked back, picking up his helmet and donning it before he left. Still in place moments after he left, she turned, negotiating her way through the maze of couches and chairs, intent on telling Kallias Zeus’ explanation of the events. She slipped in soundlessly. "I can smell you before I see you," Kallias joked. "You smell divine." "You have no idea," she muttered. "Zerro tells me that you glowed again." "I did." "That means that Zeus spoke with you." "It does." The chair still remained by the bed where she dragged it across the floor on their wedding day. Strangely, she craved his touch and pulled the chair further toward the bed, where she folded her arms and rested her chin on them next to Kallias. He touched her face. "You look very confused." "I am." She sniffed and then sighed. "Zerro has now bought into this Handmaiden crap." "I have never seen him so baffled," Kallias agreed. "It is only natural. I have seen you when you glow. You are beautiful, Xanthe. Have confidence in your looks." "I have confidence in very little right now. Kallias, why did you feel it necessary to tell Zerro of my communication with The Circle?" "You should know, if you did not prior, that everything I know, Zerro knows. It has always been that way and it will always be so." He patted her crown, letting his fingers linger against the softness of her hair before pulling his hand back. "What did he say?" "Zerro? Not much." "No, Zeus." "Oh. He does not know. He says he came to watch the wedding, caught a whiff of the explosive and then sensed a radio wave, but only had time to completely protect me and he nearly made it to you, too, but could not make a complete shell." "I am grateful for what he protected. This does not hurt so bad today." "Good." She loved the way he smelled and still sat with her forearms on the bed with no intent or desire to leave. "Did you ask why he failed to protect you from my father?" "Apparently, he does not roam into the closed doors of a newly married couple," she answered. His hand lay so close to hers. Should she take it? "I wish my father had the same policy." He touched her cheek, but his face grew grim. "I am useless, Xanthe. I offer you nothing but a disappointing ability to commiserate with you. I know it is not enough." "It will have to do." "Are you still fatigued?" "A little." "Demetria said you left before breakfast. Shall we call her for you?" "No."

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"‘Radiant,’" Kallias mentioned. "That is what Zerro called you. You are like those people you drew for us--bioluminescent." "So were you," she reminded him. "I think you judge the gods too harshly." "Perhaps." She rolled her chin on her forearm. "What did you think the first time Zeus kissed my forehead?" "I was so stunned. Fear...awe...incredulous. It was an amazing thing. Especially with you in that dress." He toyed with a strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. "Xanthe, I know you want to leave this place, and I do not blame you. If I think I can get you off this world, I will, with or without me." "You are coming with me," she decided. "I will not go unless you do. If I escape, your father’s hand will be heavy and he will know you helped get me out. No, I either leave with you or do not go at all." "I admire your loyalty, Xanthe. I do not feel I deserve it." "Kallias, you are the only thing that makes my stay here positive," she murmured, trying to stop the heartfelt words pouring from her. "I made a promise. You go with me." "But you could always return for me." "I do not know that I can. I answer to many superiors who might make me terminate contact here forever. I will become a legend in your sacred texts and nothing more." "Tell me, what will be the first thing you do when you leave?" "Go home--back to Earth--and buy some chocolate." She smiled. "You would like chocolate. I miss my house. So many memories fill that place. It was my parents’ house, as well. It sits in the middle of a field on top of a slight hill. I pay someone to tend my gardens and landscaping and mow the lawn." "Is it below the ground?" "Just the basement. There are two formal stories and an attic, comprising three floors. It is a charming place, made of red brick." "Do you have a picture?" "No, I did not bring one with me. I never knew I would need a token like that to remember such a place." Her eyes grew heavy. She no longer tingled, but she suddenly felt drained. "You just grew two shades paler," Kallias noticed. "You need to go rest." "Probably." "Can you make it to your bed?" "I think so." "I hate it that my father does this to you," Kallias said through gritted teeth. "I hold nothing against you," she said truthfully, and got up, teetering a bit. "See you later." By the time she made across to her own room, her chest heaved. God, she hated Anicetus. The anger pushed her to change her clothes, leaving her royal attire lying in a heap on the floor. She collapsed on the bed face first, not bothering to move anything but her head a little to the side. Barely after falling asleep, Anicetus entered, causing a ruckus. He beat his scepter

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against the jamb. "Wake up," he insisted, picking her dress up from the floor and throwing it at her. "Get dressed. You have some explaining to do." Fear gripped her heart. What did he want to know? What happened if she resisted? He shut the door and she fumbled with her dress. Xanthe heard him talk to Kallias briefly. She heard others in the room, as well. Surely Anicetus saved torture for times with no witnesses. Xanthe stepped cautiously out of her room, but did a double take. Her things were missing, down to the clothes she just removed. Confounded, she wondered how long and how hard she slept. "Did you take my things?" she asked Anicetus. "I have touched nothing," the king purported. "I am taking you to the grounds." "I am not feeling well," Xanthe said. "Feel better and fast," the monarch hissed at her, carefully out of the earshot of his guards and Therapon. Xanthe saw Therapon and she balked. "What is wrong with Kallias?" she asked, alarmed. "Oh, nothing. I wish for him to join us, which means Therapon’s help is necessary." Xanthe glanced into Kallias’ room, where Therapon strapped the nerve-deadening device in order to transfer Kallias to a hover chair with a leg extension. Three orderlies moved Kallias from the bed with Therapon ensuring his leg did not change position in transit. "He is ready, my king," Therapon conveyed. "Fine." Anicetus studied Xanthe, who did look pitifully pale. "Get the litter ready," he informed Demetria. "Have it waiting for us at the back portico." "Yes, my Lord." Demetria ducked out of the room. "What is all this about?" Kallias wondered, guiding the chair toward his father and Xanthe. "Xanthe, my belongings are missing." "I am hoping she can explain it to me. Come, come. You will see." Anicetus, in the presence of so many, held his arm gallantly up for Xanthe to place her hand upon. "Kallias, my stuff is missing, too," she said over her shoulder. "What is going on?" "This matter transfer you have spoken of--does it have any limitations?" Anicetus queried. "How so?" Xanthe asked. "How much can be transferred at a time?" "The biggest I have ever seen transferred was a car," Xanthe explained. "Large things can be transferred, but it takes an amazing amount of energy and a very big portal. Usually, large items are transferred bit by bit, taken apart for reassembly at its terminal point." "Ah." Anicetus stood by while they transferred Xanthe into her litter. Xanthe squinted in the bright sunlight, but easily reclined in the litter. She closed her eyes as they carried her down the back steps and turned east, toward the sprawling gardens. She recognized the benches as she passed, but could not see out toward the front. After a few moments, the entourage stopped and she heard Kallias gasp. "Xanthe!" he called. She demurely turned, taking her skirt with her, and Anicetus lent his hand to help her out of the litter. They stopped by the fountain and she felt the sprays of water accumulating on her

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bare arms. When she turned a little more to the right, she stopped and stared. A charming brick home sat right behind the fountain. Rocking chairs waited for souls in need of relaxing on its white-painted wraparound porch. The French double doors stood wide open and, past that, Xanthe saw into the living room. "You know this place?" Anicetus pressed. "This is my house," Xanthe whispered, picking up the skirts and marching up the four steps onto the porch. She checked the notches on one of the columns, one mark for each centimeter she grew. Peering inside, she saw extra components of the already-cluttered house, Kallias’ things. She felt a rush of wind from the hoverchair as Kallias boosted it to hover up the stairs. "I assume this means you are moving out," Anicetus quipped, trying not to glower. "They did it in a blink of an eye. They moved trees and set a solid foundation and no one saw it happen." "May I?" Kallias waited at the threshold. "Go ahead, but I am no housekeeper. You may not have room." "I love this," Kallias noted, navigating through the living room. He touched an ornate couch, wondering at its Elizabethan style. Eyeing the wall, he saw pictures of Xanthe at various ages, as well as her parents. Unable to fit through the living room, he spun around and went the opposite direction. Xanthe lost track of Kallias as Anicetus entered the domicile. To Xanthe’s delight, he stepped through into a wall of energy that pushed him back. Twice more he tried to gain entrance, but the force field kept him on the porch. "Undo this at once," he insisted. "I do not know how," Xanthe responded. "That was not here when I left." "You lie!" "Oh, come now," Xanthe sparred with him. "Surely I have not had the time to slip down and program this house to recognize just me and Kallias to gain entry. I see no device to allow you entry." She ran her hands along the wall around the door, looking for a new switch. "I am as amazed as you." "And I am sure you will enjoy this," Anicetus huffed. He stuffed his scepter under his arm, picked up his robes and hopped down the steps, angrily looking over his shoulder. "The newlyweds have a new home, god-given," he said for his followers to hear. "Let them get used to it." Kallias swivelled around with a book in his lap, taken from Xanthe’s study. He opened it and pointed to the pictures inside. "This is your world!" he exclaimed, pointing to a picture of the Earth taken from space. "Yes." Xanthe sat weakly on the couch. "Your father cannot come inside. The Circle has prevented him entry." "We cannot lock ourselves in her indefinitely," Kallias informed her. "It would be nice, but the military needs my leadership." "I wonder if Demetria can come in." She looked around. "It is just as messy as I left it." Kallias maneuvered to the computer, a large screen about half a centimeter in thickness attached to a little shoe-box sized container for the computer’s innards. He rifled through paper

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printouts, studying the foreign words. "What is this about?" "That is a copy of my application for coming here to study your world," Xanthe explained. "Oh." Kallis quit being curious and turned to her, beaming. "Father must be fuming." "I know." She rubbed the back of her neck. "I guess they try to protect me the best way they know how." "See? They care." Kallias bumped his leg extender against the bookcase and winced. "Where is the kitchen?" Xanthe pointed down the hall and followed him. She always liked her kitchen. The prior owners of the house had six children and entertained often, which meant a roomy yet cozy kitchen, attached to a dining room of equal size. "Did you have lots of guests?" "No." Xanthe opened the cupboard and took out two glasses, as fresh as when she put them there, thanks to the anti-dust atomizer installed ages ago. "This is an old kitchen. Most new homes have a spray nozzle with a device that you press and what you want to drink comes out," she said. "There is just me and it is not practical. I mean, for a big family, that would work well, but for just me, it would be a waste. Can you imagine how spoiled the beverages would be after a year’s absence?" She made a face and headed for the refrigerator and opened the freezer. "I need to go shopping," she tittered. Before her journey to space, sometimes the refrigerator’s autoclean malfunctioned, so she cautiously opened it. What she saw caused her to fling the door open. "Soda!" she cried out, greedily taking out two bottles. "Kallias, you are in for a treat." She closed the door with her foot and looked skyward. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" "What is so exciting?" "This." She held both bottles out. "This is a carbonated beverage." "What?" "This is an idea your ancestors never conceived." She twisted the top off a bottle and tilted the glass to catch the fizz. Proudly, she thrust the glass to Kallias. He sniffed it and rubbed his nose. "The bubbles tickle me." "Taste it." She waited for him to comply, pouring her own glass. To entice him, she sipped it and moaned. God, she loved her soda. Kallias finally imbibed. His eyes grew and he smiled. "How much honey is in this?" "None. Where I come from, we use sugar. It is extracted from a cane." Xanthe darted into her pantry and she covered her heart. Apparently, the god beings liked soda, too. They sure left her enough. Glibly, she leaned against the counter, swishing the soda around in her glass and thoughtfully took a drink. "I wonder what my neighbors think." "Hm?" "My house just suddenly vanished. I wonder what my neighbors think." An idea entered her mind, and she sat the glass down and nearly ran for her candy bin. She stuffed her hoping fingers inside and pulled out a bar of chocolate. With trembling hands, she opened it, broke off a chunk and handed it to Kallias. "What is this?" he asked, noting it melting against his fingers. "Chocolate." Xanthe popped a square in her mouth and her eyes closed from sheer

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delight. She let it melt down until the last precious nuance disappeared. Kallias took a nibble. His eyes widened and he popped the rest in his mouth. "How delicious," he remarked. Xanthe handed him another piece. She pulled out her kitchen chair and sat, staring at the rest of the candy bar. Here, in her home, with the god-beings’ provision, her misgivings began to dwindle, especially in regard to her father. Her memories blended with her present, and the event chipped away at her hardened heart. "None of this house is underground?" Kallias asked. "I should have a basement around here somewhere." Xanthe opened the door and looked down the basement steps. "Yup. It is still here." "So you have four stories altogether." "Yes, but it is pretty nasty down there. Or it was." Xanthe flipped on the light and looked for cobwebs. "They cleaned it up, too," she said, noting the fresh fragrance now emanating from a usually dank part of the house. "Huh." She wandered back over to the table and sat, where Kallias greedily helped himself to more chocolate.

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Chapter 17 Kallias slept in the massive guest bedroom the first night in Xanthe’s house. The house allowed Therapon’s entry, but only one orderly, but the three of them managed to make Kallias comfortable. Besides, he had only another night to go before Therapon turned him loose on crutches, which waited next to the bed for the morning’s use. To Xanthe’s delight, Demetria came and went as she pleased, but Xanthe designated a room in the house for her use, as well. Demetria shifted her work load to reflect her new role as housekeeper. As the night came, Xanthe sat in front of her attic’s dormer window, pointing her telescope toward the stars. In the morning, the house needed tending; in addition to her own collection of writings, past and present, Kallias’ books now littered the study floor. She had room for it all, but probably needed to convert a bedroom into another library. And Anicetus could not come in. She gloated silently to herself, adjusting the scope to catch glimpses of the bigger of Olympus’ two moons. If she tried hard enough, she heard her mother coaching her on the constellations, often explaining their function in history and lore. Granted, these stars shone differently, but Anicetus could not come in and confiscate her cherished off-world devices. In her closet, she found her silky nightgown and wrap. She left them behind when she left for Olympus. Space life always carried risks, and practical wear made more sense, hence the jean shorts and T-shirts. Before retreating to the safe comfort of her form-conforming mattress, she checked on Kallias. "Can I get you anything?" she asked from the door. Kallias saw that she shimmered and her neckline plunged. "I am fine, thanks." "Demetria came in from the palace a few minutes ago. I see she has been here," she noted, looking at a two-way communication device for Kallias and the maid, in case he needed something during the night. "I am thoroughly worn out. Holler if you need something and cannot reach Demetria." "I will. Goodnight, Xanthe. I really think I am going to like it here." "I hope so." She turned and left. Kallias found sleep difficult. Too much soda and too much of what Xanthe called caffeine and sugar kept him very awake. He still tasted the chocolate and reveled at being one of the chosen to taste such delicacies. His leg barely bothered him, but he heeded Therapon’s wise counsel and decided not to go sit on the porch swing of his new domicile. Over and above that, Xanthe welcomed him into her home as if he belonged there. Although Xanthe never said it, her home being transported to Olympus kind of put a finality on her plans to leave. Of course, if she

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left, all The Circle need do is transport her house back to where she came from. Maybe a stop to the temples was in order. Xanthe enticed him with her foreign world. Perhaps supplication to them made his case strong. He still wanted to leave, now more than anything. He had tasted Earth life in Xanthe’s kitchen and hungered for more. Thinking upon the ancient texts, he fell asleep, dreaming of the pyramids, making a mental note for Xanthe to show him pictures of the very same. # "The gods have not been in contact with me since Xanthe came," Alcibiades ruminated. "I have no instructions. Without their guidance, I am at a loss, Basilias. All I can offer is apology." Anicetus sat with his black hair sweeping over his shoulders and his scepter in his lap, which he traced with his ringed fingers. "Do you think I can safely push the girl any further?" "I advise that you do not. Perhaps if you relent, the gods will open their mouths once more and whisper in my ear." Alcibiades, clearly tentative about the subject, fiddled with the hem of his wide sleeves. "I fear repercussions for what we do to something so sacred to them that they bless her, not once, but three times. There is no historical precedent, your majesty." Anicetus batted the air like flicking away a fly. "I will think upon your counsel." He shook his head. "I wonder how many contraptions she has in that house that defy our principles." Alcibiades opened his mouth but closed it again. "Speak," Anicetus commanded. Alcibiades swallowed. Sweat formed behind his ears. "Perhaps she is meant to bridge anthropoi and gods--perhaps she ushers in the new ways of exploring--" "Silence!" Anicetus roared, leaping to his feet. "You speak heresy! A man of your stature purporting such absurdity. Be gone from me!" "Yes, Basilias." Alcibiades cowered and bowed, walking backward until he reached the doors of Anicetus’ study, where he kneeled, rose and left. # Kallias eyed the stairs hesitantly. He could, of course, use the hover chair, but navigating the over-furnished house presented a problem. So, with resolve, he placed his good foot on one stair and brought the crutches down. Cautiously and very slowly, he reached the floor and he sighed at his success. Even Demetria still slept, so Kallias checked the time by looking out the window. A lusty pink hue announced the coming day and he relished it, something he never saw from his catacombs in the castle. He worked his way to the pretty claw-foot couch and sat on it, bouncing a couple of times to test the firm springs. A stack of magazines caught his attention and the animals on the cover enthralled him. A sleek, striped orange cat stared at him from the front cover. Its eyes held an intelligence he never thought possible in a cat. In Olympian society, domesticated dogs well outnumbered the eclectic few who attempted to tame the feral cat creatures, claiming their value in catching mice. Many farms kept them in abundance. Kallias turned the pages until he found the orange creature again, this time in comparison to a man. He realized the beast’s massive size and touched the picture, as if to pet it. As he flipped through the pages, he never heard the stairs creak. "They are called ‘tigers,’" Xanthe said softly and put her hand on Kallias’ bare shoulder.

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"They were nearly extinct on my planet until cloning became widely used to repopulate the species." "Where are the lions?" "Come." Xanthe wiggled a finger and led him into the study, still wearing her nightgown. She fired up her computer and loaded her encyclopedia, and said, "Lion." The pictures loaded immediately, along with sound bites of the noble beast. "Incredible." Xanthe stood and let Kallias sit in front of the monitor. He caught on quickly, touching the icon on the screen to hear its roar again. "They are smaller than lore has them." "They are still pretty big--and dangerous. They are so populous now that they are a nuisance. They steal children." "I want to see them," Kallias breathed. "Xanthe, I worry that bringing your home here means that you are to stay here permanently." "I had the same thoughts. Perhaps, when I do what I set out to do, they will let me go home. Problem is, I do not know what it is." "This house is symbolic. I am sure Kleitos will put a positive spin on it, but your house stands as tall as the palace. It, again, elevates you in society. The public probably already twitters that the gods provided you with your own place." Xanthe grabbed a stack of papers and put them in the study demoleculizer. "This place needs cleaned." Demetria awoke, stumbling sleepily into the study. "Forgive me, Prigkipissa. I do not know where to bathe." "Oh. Right this way." She took the maid by the hand and led her to the lowermost bathroom, showing her the tub and shower. "To use it, just pull the knob. Turning it left gives hot water; turn it to the right and you get cold." "They even installed plumbing for us," Demetria realized as the water cascaded over her hand. Xanthe never realized that facet. Man, The Circle was thorough. # "I love the view of the fountain from your front porch," Zerro remarked, walking right through the open door. "The gods must like you," Xanthe replied, noting that the force field let him through. "Maybe." He still refused to look Xanthe eye to eye and put his helmet on the coffee table. "So this is how our brothers live." "Sisters, too," Xanthe said. Zerro, like Kallias, took an immediate interest in her assortment of magazines. "Where is Kallias?" "Taking his bath and hating the assistance he needs. Demetria is in there with him now." She thumbed over her shoulder. "I hear Anicetus cannot enter. The rumors are abounding. Is this true?" "It is. The Circle is trying to help me now, it seems." "I am sure they would. Do you intend to stay in here forever?" "No." She leisurely sat down on the wing-back chair opposite the flower-upholstered

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couch. "I am unsure the message they are trying to send me. I suppose they could as easily move me back as move me here. I need to pinpoint exactly what they expect me to do, do it, and move on." "Taking Kallias with you," he said uneasily. "I made a promise. There is no reason he cannot come along. Perhaps you, too, would be welcome." He glimpsed up for briefly. "Do they have Olympics where you come from?" "Once every two years, divided into winter sports and summer sports." "Do they have pentathlons?" "Sure do." "Are they all Greek?" "No. All races may attend." "Ah. The world celebrates?" "All eight billion of them. Even the off-world races take great interest in our Olympics. The games have gone on for three-thousand five-hundred years." "Would I make it?" "I must see you in action. I suppose Anicetus will let me attend the events?" "He will have to. Nobility is expected to show and urge their favorites to victory. Wear what you want; you will be talked about on every gossip column and imitated." He flipped through magazine with the tigers on it. "They are called ‘tigers,’" she re-explained. "Ah." Zerro scratched behind his ear. "Such amazing creatures." He went through a few pages across and showed her some elephants. "This is an elephant?" "Yes, it is. Your ancestors wrote of them?" "Very sketchily, and it was hard to visualize them by their descriptions. Now that I see one, though, it came together for me." Kallias swore and Demetria timidly left him alone, bowing as she left the bathroom. Apparently, he wanted to dress in private. "My lord is cranky," she informed them. "Great. He is going to be worse when I talk to him," Zerro indicated. "What is it?" Xanthe asked. "Heretic migration. The rumors are spreading and Kallias will look like a fool if his father hears about it before he can tell him." Zerro ran his broad hand through his tumbling curls. Kallias limped out of the bathroom, trying to fit his broad shoulders through the narrow door with his crutches, too. He swore the entire time. Xanthe covered her mouth, trying to keep her laughter inside. Zerro did not bother. He guffawed at the frustrated prince, who lifted a crutch and pointed it directly at Zerro. "Go ahead, laugh. I authorize your stipend," Kallias noted. Zerro turned around and sat the magazine on the table, still with a quirky smile, but it soon faded. Kallias worked his way over to the couch and sat gingerly. "Have Xanthe give you a tour. Her house is most impressive." "I have not the time," Zerro deferred. "Kallias, we have to tell your father about the

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heretics. General Arkhidamos knows, and he will seek audience with you shortly. I suggest you meet with him, thank him for his awareness during your time of mirth and take it directly to King Anicetus." The smile came back a bit. "Xanthe, are you going to hit the general again?" Xanthe sat back in her chair and tried to look very innocent. "I am here to see if the general is welcome in your abode, Heavenly One," Zerro said. "I think he learned his lesson, Xanthe," Kallias encouraged him. "We will have to hide all this," he said in reference to the magazines. "Demetria?" "My Lord?" "Make a hasty cleanup. Xanthe has that exercise room. Start moving all indications of Xanthe’s true origins in there." "I will help," Xanthe said, clearing the coffee table. "Do you think an hour’s wait will put off our grand general?" "He will wait." Kallias settled back against the soft couch. "Will you let Zerro have some soda? Chocolate?" "Sure. Show him where it is." Xanthe went to her study and closed the dual sliding cherry doors, blocking the general’s view from her earthly library. The general would just have to accept his limitations to the parlor, the bathroom, the dining room and the kitchen. Demetria grabbed data slates and pulled pictures down from the wall, tossing all into the exercise room. She paused a moment next to the weaving loom in the bay window attached to the parlor. "You know how to use this?" Xanthe nodded. "Not as well as my mother, though. I could barely see her hands move." Demetria fidgeted with the hem of her apron. "My mother taught me." "By all means, use it." Xanthe glimpsed around, looking for more tell-tale signs of her origins. "I think we are ready for the general." "It would seem so." Demetria walked down the hall and to the kitchen with Xanthe on her heels. She snickered and Xanthe soon saw why. Smears of chocolate stained Zerro’s hands and the corners of his mouth. "I am moving in," he claimed, licking his fingers. "I love chocolate." "Xanthe, it appears the gods have replenished our supplies of chocolate. I assume this is a trend that will continue," Kallias supposed. "Perhaps." Zerro now seemed very relaxed, even in Xanthe’s presence. "I want to go, too, Xanthe." "You were invited. You are most welcome." She picked up a paper towel and ran a few drops of water over it from the sink. Marching over to Zerro, she took his chin in her hand and wiped away the chocolate residue. "Demetria, send for the general," Kallias requested. "I will go," Zerro suddenly said, dodging around Xanthe as he stood. "I suggest not giving Arkhidamos any chocolate. Thank the gods for me when you next speak to them." "Noted," Kallias agreed. "Sure," Xanthe chimed in. "The palace sent us some supplies early this morning and Demetria moved all but one of the soda crates to the basement. Should we fix something for the

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general?" "He likes red wine," Kallias said. "Too much red wine, at times." Xanthe straightened her hair and her dress. "Act surprised when he speaks," Kallias instructed her. "I will, but we must really rethink my role. I think I have been chosen to usher in a new age of thought. Perhaps I should act on my sympathies for the heretics." "Talk with your gods, first, Xanthe. Make damn sure you have it right. The sooner we have an answer, the sooner we can leave this place and explore the universe." "Yes, leave," Xanthe breathed. "Chocolate is good, but still not enough."

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Chapter 18 Xanthe waited on the porch for General Arkhidamos, who ambled up the lane leading to the fountain. He spotted her waiting for her and approached tentatively, slowly taking each step. "Good morning, Handmaiden." He looked around. "Is this how you lived in the gods’ realm?" "Something like that," she responded. "Three stories high! They demand the people’s respect for you." He bowed slightly. "How is my lord?" "He is well." She held her arm to the side. "Enter." Kallias sat on the couch with his bad leg propped on a pillow on the coffee table. "Pardon me if I do not rise, Arkhidamos." "No need, Prigkipas." Xanthe pointed to the wing-back chair and encouraged him to sit. "I do not know how to explain this to you, my lord, our how it escaped my eyes for so long, but the heretics are emigrating to the lower continent." Arkhidamos accepted a goblet of wine from Xanthe. "Emigrating?" Kallias declined Xanthe’s proffered drink. "How many have left?" "They are getting all the wealthy, important ones out first. Xenon and his daughter Melissa are missing. The ships carry full cargo holds and nobility. The three representatives of the assembly with heretic leanings turned in their resignations a full week ago. They are long gone." "My father must know about this immediately," Kallias purported, swinging his bad leg to the floor and reaching for his crutches. "Here, Sir." Arkhidamos produced a data slate. "This list contains all known émigrés. There is also a newsreel from the lower continent, reporting a boom in housing requests in Ionia. They may take our economy with them." "I doubt it. Helios can well afford to lose these kind of troublemakers." Kallias sat the tablet on the table and struggled to his feet. "Xanthe, I will be home by lunch. Have Demetria bring something from the palace." "I can cook," Xanthe pointed out. "I know, but it is steak today. Cook for me tonight." He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "We need to get someone in here to establish a link between the palace and here with a line to the Knowledge Network so I can do some of my duties from here." "Of course, you are right." The dutiful wife, she put her cheek to his and hugged him.

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"You smell so good," he remarked and touched her face. "I will be back by lunch." # Xanthe and Demetria spent the morning rearranging her house. Xanthe made her new study upstairs in one of five bedrooms. Demetria never complained about the heavy boxes, but Xanthe did, muttering both under and over her breath. Her heavy books slowed them considerably. She even noticed some she never saw before, obviously her parents’ books. They cleared out the exercise room and moved everything but the equipment upstairs, but began transferring Kallias’ books and computer back to Xanthe’s original study. Demetria reminded her of the time, so Xanthe made a quick cleanup and changed out of her working clothes into something more princessly. Kallias followed the servants bringing their lunch, but they pushed their cart much faster than Kallias propelled himself with the crutches. Xanthe met him on the porch. "How did it go?" "You called it a ‘honeymoon,’ right?" "Yes." "This has to be the worst one ever," he crabbed. "I need to stop the outflow, which means troop mobilization to the areas. It will crimp the tourist resorts, but I am in charge of stopping it." "Do you have time to eat?" "Arkhidamos is already on it." Kallias looked drained. "My father is most unhappy." "I am sure he is." Xanthe pointed to the table on the porch. "Shall we eat outside?" "Sounds good to me." Kallias sat carefully, putting his crutches against the railing. He watched Xanthe, who watched the servants trying to enter the house, but the force field kept them out. "We are eating here," Kallias called over to them. "As you wish, my prince," one replied. Demetria brought plates, glasses and utensils, fully able to go in and out of the house. "The gods are very restrictive in whom they let enter your abode," Kallias remarked. "I do not know what to make of it. They let the servants with the groceries in this morning," Xanthe remarked. "Odd." "Quite." Kallias sat back. Apparently, Demetria gave them the standing order of nocourse meals, just the main course up front with extra helpings. Kallias liked his meat. As soon as Demetria pulled off the dome cover, Xanthe’s senses tingled. The hair on her arms stood on end and she felt danger. Hot blood pumped so hard that her pulse resonated even in her little fingers. She inhaled, worrying about a panic attack, but her nose picked up the scent of something strange. "Kallias, do not eat that!" She reached across the table and pulled the fork away from his mouth. "Something here is very wrong." "It looks all right to me," Kallias disputed. "Humor me," she begged. "I should like to have this tested." She looked pale but insistent, and Kallias heeded her warning. "All right," he said "I will send for forensics immediately." He snapped his fingers and Demetria set off. Kallias sniffed his fork.

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Neither said much, and the forensics specialist showed up, bringing along a cart. "You believe your food to be poisoned, Prigkipas?" "I do not know, but I wish for it to be tested," Kallias replied. "Excuse me," the sleuth said, sticking a probe into the meat on the serving platter. Within seconds, the device beeped. "This is not solely beef and spices," he informed them, picking up a sample between tweezers. He uncovered his cart and sat the meat inside and performed a broad spectrum analysis on it. Clucking his tongue, he read the printout and shrugged. "My lord, it is hemlock, cut up to look like flavoring on the top of your meat and injected with essence. May I?" He uncovered the other dishes and ran analysis on each dish. "Everything, my lord, everything is laced with hemlock, meant to kill and quickly so." "I see." Kallias stroked his chin. "Thank you." "Any time," the analyst said. He packed up his equipment and left, leaving Kallias staring unabashedly at Xanthe. "You want to tell me how you knew?" On the spot, knowing her half-god powers probably lent a hand to it, she sputtered. "I thought it strange that they could not go in the house. Something smelled musty. I suppose, chopped up, it looks a lot like cilantro." The answer did not satisfy Kallias, but he said nothing. "Xanthe, my dear, someone just tried to off us again." "I know." "We must be very cautious." "I know." She leaned over with her head in her hands and her elbows on the table. "Can I make you a sandwich of some kind?" "Sure." Kallias grabbed his crutches and followed her inside. # Zerro thoroughly inspected the palace kitchen, looking for traces of hemlock. No unexpected deliveries came through the castles, no unusual people in the kitchen, except for Phaedra, who suddenly developed cases of the munchies in the preceding week. The kitchen staff twittered; perhaps Phaedra, at long last, carried an heir. "She does not bother sending anyone down--she just comes in and raids our refrigerators," one of the apprentices said, snickering. "I can see it in her eyes. She is eating for two!" Zerro stroked his chin. Damn, this was frustrating. He, like Kallias, now suspected Xanthe had a higher calling or god-lent sensors. Neither pressed her, too grateful that Kallias and Xanthe still lived, no matter what method Xanthe employed. Anicetus learned of the second assassination attempt shortly after. With word spreading, he needed to make an appearance at their residence, a concerned father ruse. Politely, Xanthe and Kallias lounged on the front porch, enjoying the pleasant weather if not so pleasant company. "These attempts will stop, Kallias," Anicetus swore. "I must protect my investment." He looked directly at Xanthe. "I want Zerro getting no more than four hours of sleep at night to find the culprit." Others nobility milled around the gardens, all eager to see the Handmaiden’s three-story home, trying to peek past the panes into the dormers at the top level. Smartly, Xanthe pulled the

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telescope away from the window and covered it with a cloth. Anicetus finished his cursory visit, ending with a broad hug to both of them at the same time with sanctimonious kisses to their foreheads. "I do not know what I would do without you, boy," he said loud enough for the ears of his minions. Xanthe behaved, keeping her eyes from rolling as his fish lips touched her forehead, the buss nowhere near god caliber. They watched Anicetus walk down the path, taking his guards with him. Kallias decided he liked the porch swing and used his good leg to push against the deck. "Are you going back to work?" "Eventually." He stopped swinging long enough to pat the spot next to him, where Xanthe sat. "We need to talk." "As you wish." She panicked. Not about the sixth sense...not about the sixth sense... "We are increasingly in the public eye," he started. "We have lived through two attempted murders. Such events drive people closer together and the public will expect it to be so." He cautiously took her hand and kissed her fingertips. "We must act in such a way..." he trailed off and lifted his eyebrows. "Oh." She nodded and scooted closer to him, but not too close, because his bum leg sat next to her. Kallias extended his arm and put it around her shoulders. Xanthe grew very nervous very rapidly. Increasingly, she craved a man’s touch, but it became more targeted; she now craved his touch. Objectively, she held her dignity, but a little part of her heart secretly enjoyed his purported affection. Playing along, but not really, she put her hand on Kallias’ thigh. "Does that hurt?" she asked. "No." He leaned over and nuzzled her neck then sprawled out leisurely. "I am unsure I want you staying here without me." "This house protects me," she replied. "Still, maybe we should recall the services of Mysia and Persephone." "Kallias, there are many ways into to the house and each is sealed with some kind of device beyond my comprehension." She tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "It even has poison detection. This blows my mind." "You have not been exposed to such before?" "Not all at the same time. We have detection devices, but nothing like this." "Repairmen are coming this afternoon to wire your house to tie into the castle’s data system and give us access to the Knowledge Network. I am unsure I want you alone with them." "Call Mysia and Persephone. They can stick around until the workers are gone, then." "That is an acceptable arrangement." Kallias stopped the swing and reached for his crutches. "Consider going to the temples." "I have that in mind. Perhaps I will wait until dinnertime and the crowds on temple row dwindle." "I may not be home for dinner," Kallias warned her. He extended his hand once he rose, pulling her up to plant a gentle kiss on her cheek and inhale deeply. "You smell wonderful."

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"You do not smell so bad yourself." She brushed his hair away from his forehead. "I am considering changing hair colors," he said as he pulled away from her. "Oh?" "Do you like gold?" "I saw you in gold before you went burgundy. It was very flattering." Kallias smiled. Was that a touch of red in his swarthy cheeks? "Go inside," he encouraged her, waiting until she complied to leave.

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Chapter 19 Xanthe’s father tended to speak in riddles. Maybe Athena differed from him in certain respects, so she chose Athena’s temple. Such a fuss went into making her trip, what with Mysia and Persephone flanking the litter and the other hoplites, 20 in number, keeping the small and fairly respectful crowd from closing in on the litter. The formation split at the entrance of the temple, nine guards lining up either side of the walkway with two blocking the path from the rear. Mysia lent Xanthe her hand, covering her with her shield with Xanthe’s back to the litter while Persephone joined them. The Spartans looked overly protective; they felt their duty heavily when it came to Xanthe, the survivor of two assassination attempts. Xanthe left that all behind as she walked to the statue. She stood rigidly beneath it, folding her arms out front and putting all her hair over her right shoulder, trying to find a configuration that could be easily duplicated when Athena disappeared and time resumed its normal course. She heard Athena before she saw her. Athena hid behind her statue, popping her head around it, laughing like a child. She removed her helmet and her black curls tumbled down around her shoulders. "You came to see me!" she exclaimed, gliding up over the altar to float down to Xanthe’s side. "What can I do for you, darling baby sister?" "Athena, please give me some answers." "You speak my name like an equal! You are learning--you are one of us." "Who sent my house here?" "Oh, it was general consensus. You were so unhappy and we needed an extra measure to prevent Anicetus’ little displays of temper." "Kallias, Zerro and I are all grateful for the soda and chocolate." "We thought you would like that." Athena hopped up and sat on her altar. "We need to make this quick. I can only hold the time for a little while." "Oh. I hope that you can shed some light on my mission." "Well, in a nutshell, we are finished with this planet." "Finished?" "Oh, we will not abandon it. We will treat it very much like Earth, a study in progress. But, we have proved our points with race segregation and it is now time for Olympus to join the rest of the universe." "And I will bridge the two." "Precisely. How you go about it is completely up to you. We realize now that we hamper

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this world by our interference. Its natural supplies are dwindling and, because they refuse to look skyward, finding supply worlds will not be an option. We know from experience that lack of supplies leads to war between the haves and the have nots. The heretics are Olympians’ great hope, but they just don’t know it yet." Athena got up quickly. "Come back and see me if you have more questions. I have to go now. Oh, the kiss. I have to kiss you." "Yes, of course." Xanthe leaned closer to her and accepted the blessing. She then quickly stood in her original pose. "Thank you." "Not a problem." Athena stepped into the statue and time resumed. Now charged with the daunting task of elevating the heretics to the high levels of society, Xanthe turned around. The priests, although still awed, looked like they now expected her forehead to glow. She walked regally down the runner and back to her litter. # Xanthe surfed the Knowledge Network until Kallias returned from his duties at the palace. Dinner simmered on the stove, enough to keep it warm but not overdone. Xanthe, the queen of one-pot cooking methods, hoped Kallias liked stew. She really wanted some potatoes, but her spirits lifted. If she accomplished her mission, potatoes would soon come along for the universal ride. Carrots and celery were acceptable, so she used large chunks of carrot to substitute for the lack of potatoes. On the Knowledge Network, she found Kleiotos’ personal blog and read through it. Updated earlier in the morning, he had yet to put to verse the second misfortune of his brother and sister-in-law. His writing style bouncy and cheery, he wrote about the upcoming presentation party and his ice sculptures, along with a schedule for the day. Adhering to such, thought Xanthe, might be a problem. Her thoughts drifted back to Athena’s words. If they wanted a warp-speed planet, why should she have to do it? Why not them? This was a test, she concluded, an entrance exam to The Circle. Feeling pressured, she wondered where and when to go public. She needed Kallias’ support. As head of the military, he wielded great influence. Her brow hunkered down and she stared at the monitor, not really seeing anything but the blur of her thoughts. "Xanthe?" Kallias moved in a little closer and tapped her on the shoulder. "Xanthe?" She nearly jumped out of the seat. "Sorry. How long have you been there?" "I just got in." Xanthe got up and gave Kallias the chair. "How are things going?" "Father wants me to round up all the heretics and make them detainees." "He cannot do that." Xanthe folded her arms across the chest. "According to Athena, the heretics are the way of the future." Kallias registered neither good or ill in his handsome features. "I had a feeling she would say such." "Kallias, Olympus is running short on natural supplies. It was inferred that the other planets under your gods’ care developed space technology on their own and have secured resource planets for themselves, but because Olympians refuse to leave the ground, wars will break out. How much gold is left? Jewels? Metals?" "Our scientists say, at the current rate, many of our resources will be depleted within 300

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years or so." "That is plenty of time to allow Olympus to build spacecraft, but they may not have to." Xanthe tapped her chin. "I go forward and admit my true background. I explain about other worlds and introduce my people to yours. Instant fellowship." She paced for a minute. "I need a public forum, Kallias. I need to spread the word." "What you want to do is very dangerous. Need I remind you of father’s punishment?" "No, you need not." She pulled at her dangling earring. "It must be done, Kallias, or we will never leave this place." "I know." Kallias stood slowly, putting a crutch underneath each arm. "What is for dinner?" # Kallias, trying to take a middle ground, assigned house arrest to suspected heretics. He signed each order with a heavy heart, labeling himself as a guilty man with each data slate that left his desk. He grew surly while at work, but he looked forward to going home each night, where Xanthe usually met him with a hot meal. Kallias and Xanthe prepared for the presentation ceremony. Kallias put away his crutches and she donned the rose-colored monstrosity, enlisting the help of Demetria to cinch the corset and configure the bustle. Xanthe practiced sitting several times, evoking peals of laughter from Kallias. His contagious laughter eased her mind a little; she intended to address the assembly of the nobility, urging them to support the heretics. Tonight brought her big chance. Mysia and Persephone led a team of 10 guards, extra security to protect the pair from more harm. Anicetus met them on the portico. Xanthe tried to say, "hello," but Anicetus took her voice. Dejected, she leaned against Kallias and almost bawled. Her opportunity for her speech passed her by. In the palace, Anicetus reigned. Not even she could change that. Despite her dour mood, she appreciated Kleiotos’ impeccable touch. Pastel streamers hung down, corkscrewing and twisting, catching the light and sparkling. Their ice sculptures stood in the centerpiece, touching fingertips while they looked upon each other. Lovely, they had one flaw--the couple was naked. Xanthe made a mental note to ask Kleitos about that certain fact and how he came so close to capturing her form. Apparently, he even knew about the sapphire navel ring, represented by a fleck of blue ice. "I am uncomfortable," Kallias admitted in her ear. "It looks as if Kleitos has seen more of you than I have." She slapped him playfully in the shoulder, wanting to ask who told Kleitos about her umbilical jewelry. They walked away from the sculptures and to an overflowing buffet table. Kallias ate heartily, but Xanthe’s corset left her little room for much. Kallias never left her side. Always, he touched part of her, either with his arm around her shoulders or their hands intertwined. He felt her burden but knew his place. Encouraging her to smile, he gently goaded her into compliance. Kleitos buzzed around the room, making sure his guests had a good time. Wine flowed and the group segregated into males and females, where the ladies danced in the courtyard and then men lounged, talking politics. Kallias led Xanthe down the platform’s steps, circulating around the room with Xanthe on his arm.

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In the shadows, two men conversed, clearly wanting privacy. Xanthe zeroed in on them. Her senses again tingled and she pulled on Kallias’ arm. "What?" he asked. Xanthe pointed to the men in the corner. "I saw them earlier. They keep refusing the wine," Kallias noted. He felt her flesh crawl with goose bumps. "What it is?" he asked, just as the two men pulled weapons and sprinted toward them, guns drawn and with throaty yells. Xanthe immediately pushed Kallias behind her, knowing she had the better chance for protection. Kallias fought with her but she stayed out front, and the men opened laser fire. She saw the green bursts in their entirety, painfully slow, as she calculated her survival. Just as the plasma reached them, a sparkling shield shot out of the ground to shield Xanthe, and thus Kallias. The shots glanced off the shield and into the chandeliers, which came crashing down dangerously close to several party goers. Unsuccessful, the raiders ran back, avoiding palace security on their planned escape routes. Mysia and Persephone pursued them, but the fugitives knew the castle so well that they simply disappeared, probably into many of the servants’ halls. Zerro found shed clothing soon after that, guessing that they now dressed in black and slipped out of the palace unnoticed. Kallias held Xanthe close, where she put her head on his chest. When Zerro returned holding the spent clothes, Kallias took them and threw them on the floor, stomping on them. "They waited until everyone was drunk," Zerro noted. "They had extensive knowledge of the labyrinth we call home. Did you recognize them?" "No." Kallias stroked Xanthe’s hair. "You knew they were up to no good. Care to tell me how you knew?" She shook her head against his chest. This is getting old, she thought. "This is getting old," Kallias said, and Xanthe cringed. Control. She needed to learn how to control her thoughts, especially in times of duress. "They had everything planned so well," Zerro groused. "They used the servant corridors like they were castle employees. Someone gave them a very good map of the palace, Kallias." "Surely they must still be on the grounds," Kallias put out. "I have set up a security net, but I would not bank on finding them. For all we know, they may be hidden in a hovercar’s trunk, having already left with the early-leaving party goers." Anicetus rushed in from the outer portico. "What happened now? Another attempt?" "Yes, Father. Two hired assassins." "Well, were they caught?" "No. Someone made sure they knew every twist and turn in the palace." "This is just outrageous!" Anicetus gripped Zerro by the collar. "Put an end to this now, boy, or I will replace you!" Zerro’s face reddened underneath his helmet. "It is someone on the inside, oh most high Basilias. It makes it very difficult." "He is correct. Someone with access to the kitchens, stables, palace--" Kallias started. Anicetus growled. "I missed the excitement. What protected you?" "An opalescent shield deflected the shots." Kallias pulled Xanthe close again. "She is my good luck charm."

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"It would seem." Anicetus assessed his daughter-in-law. Her hands shook slightly and she left creases in Kallias’ shirt where she clutched it. "Go home, Kallias." Kallias motioned to Mysia and Persephone, who in turn organized their defenses and ushered the newlyweds back to the house. Miraculously, as soon as Xanthe entered, her voice returned, but to her dismay, Kallias wanted to chat--about her heightened sense of awareness. "You hold something back from me," he claimed, sitting on the couch. "What is it?" "I do not know, exactly. It is a feeling." "Hm. Perhaps being exposed to the gods so much has rubbed off on you." "Perhaps." Xanthe, bustled, barely fit between the banister and the stairs, on her way up to change her clothes and kick off her shoes. Demetria followed close behind, ready to deal with the corset. # Xanthe stood expectantly under her father’s statue, wondering how the sculptor came so close to mirror her father’s good looks. No wonder Kallias mentioned, upon seeing her father’s Earth picture, that he seemed so familiar. She hoped Kallias forgot about it. The timing wrong, Xanthe wanted to hide her heritage just a little longer, until she knew how to wield it properly. "You look perplexed," Zeus’ voice floated down. She looked around for him and found him standing behind her. "Hi, Dad." "Hello." Zeus put his arms around her and cradled her head against his chest. "You smell wonderful. Kallias picked out perfection." "I know. Hey, I just gotta know--who protected me last night?" "At the party? Nobody." "Nobody?" Zeus smiled fondly at his golden-haired daughter. "Um, you have some very good talents developing. Self-defense functions tend to develop more rapidly than others." "I did that?" She covered her lips. "Did you feel drained and shaky?" "Yes, but I thought it from nerves." "Well, they are a spin-off of nerve function in human form," Zeus explained. Xanthe looked at her hands as if they grew hairy. She shook them out. "Freaky, yes. Abnormal? Not for us." Zeus kissed her on both cheeks and then her forehead. "You were standing about right here," he said, guiding by the shoulders. "Composure. You must regain composure." Xanthe nodded stiffly and swallowed. "Bye, Daddy." "Bye, Little One." The warm, soft, scented wind died down. Xanthe shook from nerves, hiding it well from the priests by putting them behind her back. Of course, her forehead glowed. The priests in their orange himation wraps bowed out of her way, giving them the same deference as they did Anicetus. All the affection went wasted; Xanthe still saw them as blind sheep, although the anthropologist in her shouted that this was their culture, their way, and she interfered way too much, yet not enough.

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Chapter 20 Xanthe entered her home, still a little shaky. She sat on the couch with her head in her hands. How much longer could she stay part of the normal human population? What if she suddenly shot lightning bolts with her fingers? Feeling a danger to herself and others, she started to cry, quiet sobs wracking through her lithe frame. "Xanthe?" She jumped to her feet. "Kallias? What are you doing here?" Skirting the couch to put it between her and Kallias, she quickly brushed her tears away with her flowing sleeve. "I thought you would work until later." "What is the matter?" He reached for her, but she pulled away. "What have I done?" "Nothing," she attempted to assure him. "It is me. It is this place. It is your father. It is my fath--it is just everything." "You went to the temple. What did he say? Who protected us from the gunmen?" "One of their lesser demigods," she said, half the truth. "You are relegated to constant protection. That is a good thing. I will not worry so much." Kallias stroked his chin. "Be careful. If you speak outside of these walls, Father will wonder how you got your voice back." She nodded, touching her blotchy face. "You want to go home." "I want to go back to what it was before I came here." "That means no me," he said, the inflection in his voice sad. "No, it means before I caused all this trouble. Before I turned your father into some kind of monster." "He was a monster long before you came." Xanthe went the long way around the couch and sat on it. "You just do not understand." "Then make me understand. I see you carry a great burden; I see it in sudden dark glances in otherwise cheery eyes. I hear it in the throaty sighs coming from your bedroom at night. I see it in the kitchen when you stop suddenly with your ladle halfway to the bowl." He sat at the opposite end of the couch. "Tell me." "No," she replied after a short silence. "It is not yet time." "Time for what?" "Kallias, things are going to be very rough. I am frightened out of my mind, knowing what I must do and the reactions your father will have." She twiddled with her braided bun of Demetria’s creation. "I need that outlet to plant the seeds of hope for the heretics. I just do not

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know if I am brave enough to do it." "So how does this relate to what you need to reveal?" Damn. Her little speech did nothing to take his mind off her other, demigod problem. "I do not have permission to speak of it." After all, she did not. Her father never cleared that. "Oh." Kallias put his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands out front, looking at the handwoven Turkish rug. "I will wait then." # With no plans for the day, Xanthe lounged on her mauve chaise, holding the pillow across her stomach as she wrote in her diary, the one about the gods. Her friends on the station occupied her mind heavily. What would they do if they found out she was only half human? Her heart pounded. At the first chance, she needed to disclose everything, and she knew they watched her from above, every move. She heard Demetria below. The maid often carried things through the narrow hall, scraping her elbow against the rough plaster finish. The maid never cursed; rather, she made an ‘oomph’ sound. But she made another noise, like she tripped and landed on whatever she carried. Concerned, Xanthe put aside her god journal and sprinted to the stairs. "Demetria?" The maid did not answer. Xanthe flew down the steps, turning at the landing to go down the last stairs, when she ran directly into Kallikrates. The first son of Anicetus grabbed her by the wrist. "You have a voice today, but you live in such a secluded spot. I doubt anyone would hear you scream." Xanthe tugged, but his grip creased her skin and left burns. She hollered as she kicked at him, landing a blow but not near as close to his groin as she wished. Kallikrates laughed and pushed her back on the runner-lined stairs, and she sat hard. She remembered her father saying that self-defense mechanisms came more easily than the others. In her mind, she shrieked, and directed it inside of Kallikrates’ head. The prince covered his ears with his hands and stumbled backward. This was another test, she realized, for her father’s barriers protected her, but he, for some reason, let Kallikrates enter. Kallikrates quickly recovered from her initial volley. His insatiable hunger for female conquest drove him to madness, and he lunged for her. A sapphire shell formed around her just as he touched her. The force field sent him flying backward into the brick fireplace with his head smacking the mantle. Kallikrates slumped down slowly and finally fell forward, and Xanthe heard the distinct sound of cracking facial bones on the hardwood floor. Panting, she frantically looked around for Demetria. She found the maid out cold with a borrowed transdermal drug delivery wand from Therapon laying alongside her. She checked outside on the porch, looking for her guards, who came wandering back from the gardens. She waved Mysia and Persephone inside. "Where were you?" Xanthe demanded of them, pointing to the limp Kallikrates, who still remained face down. "Prince Kallikrates said that the suspects from the party were still on palace grounds. We

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went to aid in the search," Mysia explained. "He said you were inside a fortress and that you would be fine," Persephone relayed. "It was a diversion." Xanthe’s distaste for the heir apparent manifested in a twitching sneer. "He made advances." "The gods protected you once again?" Mysia asked. "Yes." Despite her lounging attire, she marched to the door. "Take me to Anicetus immediately." "Yes, Heavenly One." "Carry that bastard with you. Oh, and tell no one that I spoke." Mysia took one side and Persephone the other. Kallikrates’ nose bled and shifted to the right, an improvement in Xanthe’s assessment. They dragged the limp man across the porch and down the steps. Xanthe went back for the transdermal and straightened out Demetria’s body, using a pillow cushion to put under her head. She followed the women past the fountain, when Kallikrates started to come to. Without a word or explanation, she slapped the transdermal against his neck and he instantly went limp. They took no pain in hiding the prince’s predicament, dragging him all the way to Anicetus’ throne room, where they pushed past those in line to speak with the king. Mysia and Persephone let Kallikrates drop directly in front of his father at the bottom of the three steps that led up to the throne. "What is this?" Anicetus roared. Xanthe merely held up her bruising wrist. "Gods, let the woman speak," he entreated for the growing crowd of onlookers, and barely moved his scepter. Xanthe cleared her throat. "You keep him away from me," she emitted through gnarled vocal cords. "The god beings protected me this time. You will not allow it to happen again." "No, of course not." He took the steps down to his son. "Tell me exactly what happened. Quietly." "He used this on my maid." She tossed Anicetus the transdermal, which he bobbled but caught. "He met me at the bottom of the stairs when I heard the maid fall. He grabbed me by the wrist. Then, he did this strange thing of holding his head, like he tried to control his madness. The madness won out. He tried to touch me again. The shield formed and it tossed him across the room, right into the brick fireplace. He lost consciousness at that time and broke his nose on his way to the floor. He tried to wake up and I hit him again with his own device. And, here you are." She pointed to the drugged prince. Keeping her voice low, she hissed, "I trust this will not happen again, Basilias." The muscle at Anicetus’ jaw bulged. To have her act so superior in the presence of so many goaded him, but he broadcast her as above the even highest nobility, and he grudgingly needed to act accordingly. He walked away from his son and bowed, taking her hand and kissing it. "My apologies, Heavenly One. He will know he is not welcome in your place anymore." "That is acceptable." Xanthe wandered away from the scene, her Spartan women in tow, while Anicetus

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contemplated the implications of Xanthe’s total humiliation of his chosen son. No matter how quiet their conversation, the prince’s damaged reputation needed some serious journalistic spin to keep Kallikrates even remotely popular in the public eye. Obvious enough for the people to see, Kallikrates intended her bodily harm and came out worse for the wear. Anicetus’ anger burned at Xanthe. In one bold move, she shifted the power a little more to her. Either Anicetus punished Kallikrates or he let it go, both options damning. "Take him to Therapon," Anicetus instructed his servants. "Session is over today, my friends. I must attend to my son." He grabbed another servant by the lapels of his pressed suit. "I want a record of everyone in this room," he hissed. # Xanthe felt a need to attend to the maid first, but she desperately wanted Kallias, her one comfort. She sat next to the still-sleeping maid with her back against the hallway wall, drew up her knees and hugged them as tears formed. Sniffling, she wiped her nose unceremoniously on her sleeve just as Kallias bolted through the front door. "How far did he get?" he asked gently, cautiously pulling Xanthe’s hand into his own. "Not far." She rubbed her forehead. "It is to the point, Kallias, that I wish for boredom." "Why did you not tell me yourself?" Xanthe pointed to Demetria. "I did not want her alone." "Why would the gods let a scum like Kallikrates in?" "They wanted him embarrassed. I did a good job of that." "Father is aghast. He must finally deal with Kallikrates’ obsession with women, something he was happy to hide. You understand the implications of your decision to out him publicly." "I did not think, Kallias. I was angry. I wanted him to pay for his crime." Xanthe brushed a tear away. "I should have been more discreet." "Maybe, but there is a big part of me cheering you on right now." Xanthe squeezed his hand gratefully. "Another shield?" "He looked like a javelin flying through the air," she noted. "Boom." Kallias snickered. "I wonder who it was this time that protected you." Xanthe shrugged. "I must say, though, I am a little uncomfortable to have my privacy invaded in such a way." "I do not think they are here all the time. I think they have a watchful eye on Kallikrates." "It would seem." Kallias reached over and touched Demetria’s leg. "Damn it, Xanthe, you shifted power in your favor. Father can no longer groom Kallikrates as an heir." "If your world is anything like mine, this will be second-page news by tomorrow. Besides, many might speculate that I brought Kallikrates in after an accident," she hoped. "Not likely. You dropped him in front of the throne with an air of authority. Kallikrates is blackened." Xanthe hid her head in her hands. "I was just so angry." "Things will work out." Demetria began to stir. Still sleepy, she reached out for Xanthe. "Are you all right?"

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"Yes." She took one side and Kallias the other, ushering the maid to the couch. "I saw him too late," she lamented. "It is all well. Xanthe was protected." Kallias put the throw pillow back under her head. "I missed it." "It was nothing," Xanthe said, covering the maid with a blanket. "Good night, Demetria." # Anicetus somehow managed to control the damage. Kallias assumed Anicetus emptied a large part of the palace coffers, ensuring silence from the witnesses. Only gossip shows carried sketchy details, cheesily announcing the continued saga and their promises to get the full story. Even if paid off, though, the nobles still saw and could not dispute. Many affluent members in society present, even if quiet, digested the event and formed their opinions, possibly removing their support from Kallikrates as heir apparent. Xanthe, surprised, felt comforted that the incident left little ripples instead of tsunami waves. Someone knocked at the door and Demetria answered it, announcing Zerro’s arrival. Xanthe quickly leapt off her seat and stood in the doorway, blocking Zerro’s entrance. "Kallias is not here," she informed him. "I know that." "We can talk on the porch out in open view. I will have no rumors." "I understand." He gallantly held his arm out to let her through, marveling at her choice in clothes, gauzy, loose pants that flared at the bottom with a matching tunic that hung to her knees, all in an understated taupe. She sat in the porch swing, inviting Zerro to sit in the rocking chair next to it. "What can I do for you today?" she asked. She could see Zerro’s eyes darting around nervously even under his helmet. "Well?" "Xanthe, you are in grave danger. We all know that. You are being accosted in all directions--assassination, attempted rape and Anicetus." "Yes, I am aware of that." "I am offering you safe haven." "What?" Zerro dropped his voice and leaned closer to her. "I have told the heretics about the device in your neck. I even stole one from Therapon and gave it to them to study." "I am uncertain that does me any good, Zerro. They have all but left." "There are ways, Xanthe. It may take a while, but there are ways." "How so?" "They think they can manufacture a device that would put a dampening field around your tracer--make you invisible to palace sensors." He had her attention. "Go on." "Let me take you away from all this," he said, his chin gaining some color. "I find this very inappropriate," she spouted. "What about Kallias?" "Kallias cannot protect you. That has been demonstrated time and again." "I have all the protection that I need." "Yes, but what if your gods are elsewhere? You say they cannot be in more than one

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place. Xanthe, my burden is heavy for you," he admitted. "When you get tired of the attempts on your life, torture or lecherous men, you know where to find me." He got up quickly and turned on his heel, his blue horsehair embellishment sweeping around his shoulders.

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Chapter 21 "Oh, it is nothing. I went to visit my sister-in-law and see her wondrous house. I actually tripped up the stairs. Have you ever heard anything so silly?" Kallikrates ventured, lying to explain his bruised face to one of the guests. Phaedra never lost that perky smile and she hung on Kallikrates’ arm like a dutiful wife. Kleitos fussed over her especially noticeably tonight, in between tending to his duties at the cocktail party. Xanthe took particular interest in Phaedra’s slender waist, which showed no signs of pregnancy. Kallias and Xanthe clung together, ready for another attack, but none came. The anticipation never left though, leaving them jittery and untalkative. Xanthe recognized some of the same faces present at the throne room when she deposited Kallikrates before the throne, obviously another attempt for Anicetus to buy them off with an impromptu party. "Zerro inspected all their vehicles and scanned them before they set foot in here," Klietos informed the melancholy couple. "Relax. Have some wine." He snapped his fingers and the servant brought a tray. Xanthe declined, her mind gift hard enough to control while sober. Kallias, though, drank one down while the servant waited, handing him another goblet. She was bored. With the way the guests flocked to Anicetus, she garnered their loyalty went deep. Hesitantly, she looked at Kallias. "Now is not the time," he said. "Save your thoughts for those who may listen." "I want a vacation," she announced. "I want to go to a beach somewhere." "The coastal towns are under heavy occupation," Kallias reminded her. "The heretics are being rounded up." "I need to find an outlet," she said through a sigh. "The regiments may listen to me and stop their persecution." "The time will come," he assured her. Sadly, Xanthe accepted it, knowing Anicetus prevented such a foray. Eventually, though, she noticed Phaedra slipping the pair sly glances, but she kept her distance. Anicetus walked out into the center of the room, beckoning his eldest son and his wife in the middle of everyone’s attention. "Friends, loyal patriots of Helios, it is with particular pride, that I announce the long-awaited news of a grandchild." He pushed the timid Phaedra ahead of him and rubbed her stomach. "To Phaedra and Kallikrates!" Applause resonated through the halls. Kallikrates winced under his broken nose as he tried to look absolutely ecstatic.

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"We will honor Artemis, of course. A special celebration--Kleitos, you are in charge-will ensue in the next few days. We need the full sacrifices, I believe." "Of course," Kallikrates agreed, kissing Phaedra’s fingertips. "Sounds exciting." Phaedra nodded. "So, Kallias, when will you provide us with similar joy?" one of the nobility asked. Kallias choked on his wine. "We have made no plans." First, the color drained from Xanthe’s cheeks, then flushed quickly. With her eyes very wide, she looked at Kallias. "Oh, get to know one another first," the nobleman recommended. "You are still very young, Handmaiden. How old are you? Nineteen? Twenty?" "Thir--" she started. "She is 20," Anicetus said, muscling into the conversation. "Raised in the grace and decorum of the heavens and sent here for the purpose of uniting the world!" Not fooled by Anicetus’ proud father-in-law act, Xanthe tugged on Kallias’ arm. "We need to congratulate Phaedra," she whispered in Kallias’ ear. Kallias led her to the dining room, where Phaedra already sat, anticipating the appetizers. Xanthe wondered how fake her smile really was; Phaedra perfected it. Kallias leaned over and kissed Phaedra’s cheek. "Congratulations." "Thank you." She felt her stomach. "I am just barely pregnant. I hoped Anicetus would wait a little to announce it, but he is very excited." "Sure he is." Xanthe bussed Phaedra’s cheek. As she did so, a tingle ran down her spine. The reaction quite out of place, Xanthe backed away, smiling gently upon the dainty woman. Others came in and sat at the dining table, but the servants made sure Phaedra ate first. Artemis. Xanthe wondered about visiting her. Another half sibling thrown in the mix made her nervous, and she had little to offer Artemis, since she never hunted, was not a virgin and had no plans for bearing children. Still, the thought intrigued her. "Xanthe?" Kallias nudged her. "You are doing it again." "What?" "Disappearing off to another plane of consciousness, apparently. I called your name twice," he said, chuckling. "It is time for dinner." "Dinner. Oh joy." "Relax; father set up troops around the kitchen. There is no way to target us with so much dinner to be consumed. Unless they intend on poisoning us all, we are safe." "I will not eat until your father has," she disclosed. "Xanthe!" he hissed. "You grow cranky." "I grow intimidated." She sat in the cream-cushioned stained-black chair, moving to the side a little so that the servant could serve her next after Phaedra. All expected such for the Handmaiden, but she waited. "Eat, Daughter," Anicetus encouraged her. "I will wait until all are served." The seating arrangements left her very close to Anicetus, only three people away, one of them Kallias. "Fair and just," Anicetus praised her.

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The efficient black-and-white-clad servants worked quickly, and the others all watched for Xanthe to take the first bite. She took a long look at her tart, and felt no danger, so she sliced into it with her spoon and nibbled. Never even contemplating a child of her own, Xanthe snuck furtive glances at the new vessel for an heir. Poor Phaedra; that was all she was. A means to an end, weathering the stormy marriage and restricted freedoms allotted someone her class. Perhaps the child brought joy in her life, something to look forward to. In the back of her mind, though, that little extrasensory feeling when she stood near Phaedra bothered her. Perhaps she sensed new life. "The Handmaiden is quiet," one of the guests noted. "She never says much," Anicetus answered for her. "When she opens her mouth, be assured it is important." Xanthe contemplated Kallias who, too, was similarly quiet. From her study of him back on the Columbus, she always knew him to enjoy such functions, getting a little too much to drink and bantering back and forth with his guests, usually with his shirt loosened down the front. Apparently, Kallias grew warm after a few rounds. Not that she did not like his chest--she did-but her presence put a cloud over his entertainment. "I think I will go home, now," she whispered in his ear. "You do what you normally do and have a good time." "I most certainly will not." He dabbed his chin with his napkin. "I am doing all I can to spend every minute with you. You get into trouble by yourself." "Kallias, you used to love parties," she replied. "What happened?" He thought on her words for a minute. "You. I would rather spend every free moment I have than have a few drinks and make a complete boob out of myself." He stood and pulled her chair away to help her up. "If you are tired, we will go." "I am not tired," she said, still with her voice low. "I want to see those creases in your forehead disappear for a little while. You have become too serious." "Perhaps." Kallias put her arm over his and walked to the head of the table. "Father, we had a lovely time, but we are leaving early." For the benefit of the guests, he winked and Xanthe hit him playfully on the shoulder. "Good night, everyone." All stood at the table, except for Kleitos, Kallikrates, Anicetus and Phaedra. Murmurs of "good night," "goodbye," and "have fun" circulated around the room. Mysia and Persephone led their team of guards. Every day that passed made Xanthe view them as almost furniture. She talked around them, stopping at anything downright juicy. "Kallias?" "Yes?" "When was the last time you had any fun?" she posed. "Other than the exotic food tasting, I really don't remember," he realized. "Yes, that is my point." Xanthe patted his forearm. "I am a big bore. Go back to the party and live a little." "You are not a bore," Kallias assured her. "The situation we are in negates fun, I think." "I want to have some fun," she whined. "I want to laugh until I cry." "Oh." The entourage stopped as Kallias thought. "Let us go home, first." "All right."

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"You started ignoring everyone when the talk turned to Artemis. Do you wish to visit her?" Xanthe almost stopped. She hated when he read her mind. It meant loss of control, but perhaps gentle enough to prevent Kallias from knowing she put them there. It repulsed her as much as it fascinated her. Planting suggestions at random put her in a place of power, which scared her. But, what if she could completely inhabit a person’s mind? "Xanthe?" Almost to the fountain, Kallias sat on a bench and patted the seat next to him. "Do you want to see Artemis or not?" "I will wait until the festivities are planned. I really do not have any ties--" She covered her mouth. "Ties? What ties?" "Well, you see, childbearing is at the bottom of my list of things to do," she said, hoping to cover her tracks well. "I am afraid they would expect a blessing from her to me, and I doubt she would show up and do so. If they did, Kallias, your father would want us to give him a grandchild, too. A blessing from Artemis could be disastrous." "I see." Kallias took her by the hand and kissed her fingertips. "You look very lovely tonight," he said on an exhale. "Thank you." She smiled. "You look very good, as well." "About this ‘fun’ you want to have--what do you want to do?" "I do not know. Anything I want to do is probably off your father’s list." "What if we ditched the palace for a while?" "What?" Xanthe noted that he kept his words out of the earshot of the guards. "Come." He got up and tugged at her hand until she got up, as well. Excitement pumped blood to the roots of her hair. The guards kept their distance, now not needed in the fortress Xanthe called home. Just inside the door, Kallias shut it and pushed Xanthe against the wall. "Listen to me. This is the picture. You and I--we wear black. You have black clothes, right?" "Of course I do." His breath tickled her face and she felt perfectly fine with him hemming her in like that. "We are leaving the premises, but you have to do everything I say, understand?" "Anything you want." Her eyes widened at her boldness. "I mean, I will do everything you say," she backpedaled. For a fleeting second, it looked as if Kallias might just lean in a little closer, heading for her lips, but he stood back and took her by the hand, leading her up the stairs. "Black," he reminded her, pushing her gently toward her room at the far end of the hall. As she tore through her dressers, her heart twittered. One little push, and Kallias could have had it all. Now that was not a bad idea for fun. "Oh god, girl, get it together," she chastised herself. "You haven’t known him long enough. I don’t care what Aphrodite says. It is not fair to entice him when he has no alternative." She grabbed a similar outfit to what she wore the other day, gauzy loose pants and a tunic that hung down to her knees, selecting comfortable shoes, Olympian style, with a flexible,

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treaded sole. "Are you talking about me?" Kallias asked as he knocked on the door. "Um, I stubbed my toe." She still pulled the tunic down around her as she opened the door. "You cuss at Aphrodite when you stub your toe?" "Oh." Her face reddened. "It would not hurt if just this once she kept your father occupied with a nice lady." "It is not fair to put my father upon ladies of good standing," Kallias acquiesced sadly. "Kallias, I want out." She grabbed him by his dark shirt lapels. "I did not know just how badly until you thought of it. Take me away for a while." He released her grip with gentle fingers and took her hand. "We have to be very sneaky. How are we going to get past the guards? They block all three exits." "No, they do not." Xanthe’s forehead crunched down. "There is a window downstairs that sits underneath the back porch. There is a little gate to the porch for putting unused furniture, lawnmowers and the like." "Have you ever used this before?" Xanthe swallowed and her eyes grew large. "Just do not tell my father," she joked. Hand in hand, they went down the narrow basement steps into a barely finished room. "We ought to do something with this room," Kallias ventured. "Let Kleitos have at it." "I think it would be nice to give to Demetria. She deserves all this space." Xanthe grabbed a stepladder and positioned it under the window. "Why put a window under a porch?" "Daddy built the deck over top of it." Her eyes narrowed. "This is the unattended part of the house. If we slip out, we can take cover in the rest of the gardens." She paused. "What?" "From an intellectual standpoint, Kallias, how sane are we to do this when assassins lurk, intent on our blood?" "All attempts had a plan, knowing where we would be. We are in less danger out there than in here." "You have talked me into it." Xanthe climbed up the ladder and flipped the window lock. Carefully, oh-so quietly, she pulled the two panes apart, fiddling with the screen, finally turning it sideways and pulling it through the window. Looking at the window, she judged its size and glimpsed back at the broad-shouldered Kallias. "Who else has been through this window?" he wanted to know. She sighed. "I only had one boyfriend when I was in school, and Dad did not like his family. He soon grew interested in someone else, but he was able to fit through here." Xanthe started through the window, but Kallias tugged on the leg of her pants and pointed to a ragged, frayed plaid couch down further on the wall. He wiggled his eyebrows and nodded toward the couch. "Is that where?" Xanthe’s face turned crimson. "This is most inappropriate," she snarled. "Hush, or you will bring someone to inspect," Kallias chortled. Xanthe pushed her torso through the window into the dirt under the porch. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw an rusted tricycle, complete with purple and green streamers sticking

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out of its handles. Awed by the god-beings attention to detail, she thought of the crater back on Earth where her home used to be. Twisting around, she gave Kallias her hand while he contorted his upper body to fit through the aperture. She imagined all that rippling muscle under that shirt and lost her objectivity for a brief moment. Even if caught now, this was fun. When Kallias made it through, she crawled on her hands and knees until they came to the storage gate on the porch. Sticking her hand through the lattice, she undid the simple hitch that kept it closed and carefully, bending each blade of grass back one by one, opened the gate.

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Chapter 22 Now on palace grounds, Xanthe deferred the rest of the breakout to Kallias, who took long glances left and right. He judged the light given by the waning moon and took stock of the clouds. Like a cat, he grabbed Xanthe’s hand and leapt out from under the porch. They headed directly for the shrubbery hedge. He found a break in the hedges and catapulted around it, tugging on Xanthe so hard she landed with her face planted against his chest. She stifled a giggle. Kallias, though, put his head down, looking through a space. "We did it," he whispered. "You are shaking." "This is great," she breathed. "Now what?" "At the far end of the gardens sits a parking garage. That is where Zerro keeps his twowheeler. And two helmets." "Ah." Xanthe rose, still doubled over, to keep her back lower than the hedges. "Go." They followed the hedge row until the gardens provided enough of a backdrop for them to stand straight. # "Doctor, we have her again." Penelope scooted over. "She has changed out of her dress and gone to something loose and comfortable. It appears she and Kallias are making a break for it." Fritz stood over the screen, one arm folded across his chest and his hand stroking his chin. "Perhaps the prince is taking her somewhere to get that chip removed." "Maybe. She is all smiles, according to the images." "They’re moving to the garage. Wait a minute...they’re stopping," Fritz noted. "Who’s this?" "Zerro." Penelope pushed away from the console in disdain. # The two turned the hedge, right into Zerro, who held a slender, small tracker display. "What are you doing?" he wanted to know. Kallias pushed Xanthe behind him. "We are going to borrow your two-wheeler and go have a little fun." Xanthe peered around Kallias’ strong shoulder. "Just a little foray." God, she hated that helmet. It hid all emotion. "Kallias, your father and I have a tenuous relationship at best. He finds out about this, and he will send me away, of this I have no doubt."

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Kallias let out a long breath. "She needs out," he insisted. "I cannot overlook this. Kallias, our friendship has always been based on trust. Perhaps if you planned this with me earlier, and included me in your plans, we could have made this work. On the basis of our friendship, I am asking you to go back." "We forgot the Zerro factor," Xanthe piped up. "Do you carry that tracking slate with you wherever you go?" "Yes." He stuffed it back into his pocket. "You make any sudden movements over a span of one akaina and it alerts me. You have made several fast movements and I knew your trajectory." He rubbed his chin. "You must go back." Xanthe touched Kallias’ back, noticing the tightness there, which she massaged gently. "He is right, Kallias. Zerro has suffered enough of your father’s wrath. This is a friendship thing and I will not put myself in between the two of you." She tugged Kallias’ hand. "We had some excitement. It will last me a while." Kallias growled and it seemed to rumble all the way down to his fingertips. # "Well? What do we make of this?" Anna asked of Fritz. "Do we put Zerro on the enemy list?" "Apparently so," Fritz gleaned as he watched the pair retreat back into the cover of darkness and trees. "What is in that chip to make it impervious to our gateways?" "Unless we can get our hands on one, we will never know," Penelope said. "I just do not understand." Fritz paced back and forth between Penelope and Anna. "The god beings protected her so well during the chariot explosion. The castle rumors tell of two more attempts, and she comes out unscathed, yet the cloud beings will not let her free. What do they want of her?" "And the blessings. She freaks me out with that glowing forehead thing," Anna mentioned. "Maybe she’ll have another book to throw our way before long." Penelope yawned. "Are they back to the house yet?" "Xanthe just slid under the porch. Hey, there’s Kallias’ hiney." Anna zoomed in. "Too bad it’s dark." # Both sat on the sofa with a soda in one hand and a bar of chocolate in the other. Kallias stayed quiet and his forehead hunkered down the bridge of his nose. "Are you angry?" Xanthe ventured. "Yes." Kallias harrumphed. "Zerro." "Zerro is right. We put his job and his life in jeopardy with our recklessness. What would you do if your father discharged Zerro from his services?" "I know, I know, but you would think a good friend would help." Kallias bit into his chocolate. "What we want to do takes planning, fool-proof planning." "Forget it. It is just not worth it." Xanthe wadded up the paper from her chocolate and went to the kitchen to demoleculize it. When she turned around, Kallias stood inches from her nose. He tossed the bottle and paper in the demoleculizer and stood there expectantly.

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Cautiously, he traced her cheek. Heat spread through her body with just one heartbeat. Her eyes darted nervously and she stepped back against the counter. "Tell me you feel it, too," he breathed. He twisted a strand of her hair loosely around his fingertip, pulling it down to her shoulder, which he massaged, noting her tight muscles. "You are scared." "Kallias, the only exposure you have had to my world is me." She sought his eyes and found them soft and sad. "I promised I would stay by your side until you have acclimated to the new environment, but it feels wrong to hedge you in." She took his hand off her shoulder and pressed it into her chest. "I like you. I like you a lot, but we have been forced into this and it feels unethical." "Unethical?" "I am an anthropologist. Part of what I do is study worlds. I am submerged in it to my neck, but, at heart, I am studying your world. You are a bonus, but when I get out of here, I will compile data and conduct symposiums, maybe even be assigned to a university post. Once I am off Olympus, my life will return to what it was." She turned her eyes down. "Sleepless nights in the midst of data slates, compiling and categorizing, writing characterizations of the key players on Olympus. I may contract with the government to push for official contact and give your people a way to replenish your essential planetary needs." "You will not have time for me?" "I would make time for you, but you must be free to explore. It is not fair to you. Can you not see that?" Kallias withdrew his hand. "What I feel for you is powerful," he admitted after a moment, sticking his hands in his pockets. "What if we make commitments to one another? What if we get out there and you wish to pursue someone else? I have friends back on the station, all of whom could turn your head and impress you with endless opportunities." Kallias rocked back on his heels, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You are scared." "Yes. No!" "You are afraid that some redhead will come along and snatch my heart away just like she did your husband." "No." She did not look convincing and she knew it. "I am just saying keep your options open. Some of the ladies I know water ski. You love that. They like to throw parties." She lifted her arms to encourage him to look around the house. "I have lived in this place my whole life and, after Mom died, I never once threw a party. I have the perfect place for it." "Why not?" "Friends, Kallias. One must have friends." Confused by her emotions, a small tear hung at the corner of his eye and she wiped it away before Kallias saw. "I have associates, Kallias. I miss the people back on the station, I really do, but no one even knows my favorite color." "It is blue, a nice rich dark shade of blue," he said, confidently. She looked up. "You listen to hard-driving music when you are mad." He took a step closer. "You

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would rather endure father’s pain than live a lie. Your character is without blemish. You could make a living with your artwork, yet you only use it in connection with your objective studies of our planet." His hand slid up her cheek, tangling his fingers in the hair around her ear. "I hear you in the middle of the night when you cannot sleep and sneak downstairs into your weight room." He let go of her hair, letting his hand slide down the curve of her neck onto her shoulder. "I know you. If friendship is all you offer me, then it is friendship I will take." He never expected her to lunge for him, throwing her arms around his neck and hiding her face in his hair. Returning the embrace, he stroked her soft hair and held her. "I must be honest. I see this as a beginning of a long road to walk. You have to understand that." He felt her nod against his neck. "I can only imagine how alone you must feel." His eyes rolled back as he inhaled her succulent scent. He continued to bunch her loose hair in his hand, the other committed to just under where her arm met her shoulder. Reluctantly, he let her go and they pulled apart slowly. "You are all I have," she said quietly. She straightened her shoulders and hair. "I think I am going to bed." Carefully, she stepped around him, tight quarters in such a large space. "Just one more thing," he said, catching her by the arm. When she looked back at him, he closed his eyes and leaned forward, planting a single, warm kiss on her blood-red lips. "Good night." Even for such a benign, friendly kiss, Xanthe traced her hand along the wall on her way to the stairs. She took a deep breath at the landing. Kallias had to know the power he held over her. Still, it felt wrong. Her heavy steps wanted to turn the other way and go back to finish that kiss properly. Xanthe finally made it to the bathroom, where she brushed her teeth after opening the medicine cabinet’s mirror so far open that it no longer showed her face, a giddy conglomeration of unspoken emotion. If Kallias only knew. She anticipated another midnight trip down to the gym, eager to pump off more hormones that doomed her to a sleepless night in a big bed all alone. # Kallias sorted through the miscellaneous reports from the coastal towns, angrily noting each one. Xanthe’s scent still lingered on his clothes and it gave him small comfort. She clearly delineated a desire to escape Olympus without a broken heart, but he knew he could have her if he pushed, but decided not to. Honestly, though, he could see himself with no one else. Her perfection lay in a benign, modest package with a very enticing face, one content to stay in the background and watch the world go by. He liked women with no pretensions. Compiling more orders, he made sure that his orders ensured comfortable living spaces for the detainees. They were, after all, beings under his father’s rule, fellow Helios born-andbred citizens, afforded certain rights his father carelessly ignored but Kallias doggedly implemented. Someone knocked at the door and Kallias went after it, grateful that they did not ring the tri-tone bell. Apparently, the someone outside knew Kallias office sat next to the door, so it meant either an assassin or someone he knew well. He reached for his pistol next to where he left his sword and approached the door carefully. When he saw Zerro’s helmet, he stuffed his gun into his pants and opened it. A pregnant pause ensued.

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"Um, can I enter?" Zerro posed. Kallias nodded and stood out of the way. Zerro removed his helmet and sat it on the now-empty coffee table. "I want to talk about earlier." "Xanthe sided with you." "That gives me little comfort." Zerro sat with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped. "How far did I damage our friendship tonight?" "None." Kallias disappeared into the kitchen and fetched the desirous sodas, one for each of them. He handed Zerro the bottle. "You are sure?" "Yes." Kallias sat in the chair across from the couch. "We did not think about how our actions would affect others." "I am glad to hear you say that." Zerro straightened out and put his arm up on the sofa’s back. "I bring news." "Oh?" "We caught one of the assassins." Kallias leaned forward. "Who is he?" "I do not know. He may have had plastic surgery before the attack, but he does not show up on the Knowledge Network anywhere. He is a man without an identity." "Where did you catch him?" "We used the image capture from the security cameras and sent out hoplites with them, scanning the citizens at random, particularly in front of weapons dealers. We made a positive match." "He is a professional. One who disappears and appears at whim. Who hired him?" "He will not talk." "Of course not." Kallias took a drink. "Perhaps we should let my father have at him." "I do not like the use of torture." "And I do not like Xanthe in danger!" Kallias snapped. "No more than I do, but we cannot bend our principles." Zerro let the sweet, fizzy drink roll down his tongue. "Your enemy is relentless and we cannot even establish motive." "My father is convinced that it is a heretic." "No, I am afraid he is mistaken." "Then whom?" "Kallias, it boggles the mind. You are not in line for the throne, so it is hardly a political assassination. Xanthe gets routinely blessed by the gods, so it is hard to fathom a religious person trying to get her. Someone wants you both out of the way. Why?" "I cannot think of anyone we threaten." "Where is Xanthe?" "In bed." Kallias got up and paced around the furniture. "I want to suspect Kallikrates so badly, but, again, he has no motive." "Perhaps we are looking at this from the wrong perspective. Fast forward to the time when Xanthe gets her chance to lay it out for the people that the heretics are a welcome sight in the gods’ eyes. Who loses?"

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"My father." "Yes, but we have considered that. He needs her now. He might consider offing her in the future when she destroys his plans, but not now. And that still does not explain why you are a target." Kallias rubbed the back of his neck. "How are the heretics coming with the device?" "Communication is slow. It must be routed through secure channels. They have the implant and are studying it. Chances are, though, she will have to go to the southern continent of Ionia herself for removal." Kallias sighed heavily. "Perhaps I should give her to you and try to smuggle you both out of Helios. I hate it, but it seems the only viable option." By the look on his face, it was a loathed thing. His eyes darkened with sadness, which Zerro saw immediately. "No, Kallias!" he hissed. "Give me more time." "Time I will give you, but I want you working on something to make the transition easier if it comes to that." Zerro nodded and glimpsed up the stairs. "She is very lovely, Kallias." "She is." He still smelled her and took a deep breath to take it all in.

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Chapter 23 Kleitos’ nose wrinkled as he compiled his list of necessities for the upcoming party at Artemis’ temple. "Bull testicles." He shuddered. Xanthe laughed. "You may think it is funny, but I have to be the buffoon who has to order this icky stuff." Xanthe felt at ease in the office of the middle prince. Kallias hated shutting her in the house all day and this seemed the opportune situation for a little fun for her. "Are we going to take the bull and hack them off ourselves or do they come already in a neat little package?" Xanthe desired to know. Kallias dropped his slate. "You propose the more traditional approach." "I propose nothing. I will be watching the entire ceremony with my hand over my mouth." "They do not do sacrifices where you come from?" "No, and they have not for millennia." "Lucky you." Kleitos stroked his square, dimpled chin and fiddled with his now-purple hair. "I want to see your world, you know." "I do, too." Kleitos took note of her sudden fall in countenance. "I am sorry. What color scheme should we employ?" "What color is Artemis’ temple?" "Black granite. I am surprised you did not know this." "I knew she had a temple. I was more interested in her status among Olympian society, not the building itself, if that makes sense." "Perfect sense." Kleitos, a gifted artist himself, started sketching the austere temple. "Nothing fancy on the outside, but the inside is filled with lusty statues, some quite rude." "Are you bringing wild animals, too?" "A white stag." "Ah." Xanthe watched Kleitos add banners and streamers to the columns of the temple. Her senses started to tingle, a strong feeling of being watched. She looked around, even stood. "What is it?" "Kleitos, do servants corridors separate the walls between this room and the next?" "Yes, they do." Kleitos watched her grow sweaty at the brow. "You are terrified." He stood and walked around the table, just as two hissing noises erupted from behind a bookcase.

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One dart hit Kleitos in the neck and the other embedded deep within Xanthe’s thigh. Kleitos slumped over, but she remained standing, coming face to face with her enemy. A slight woman, she wore black from head to toe and a black cap covering her hair. All she saw was her eyes, and those were enhanced by a violent haze. Fatigue overtook Xanthe and her head spun, making her miss the foe’s exit, but she heard the door between the shelves close. Her breathing labored, she realized her one best hope was to get across the room. With all her strength, she lunged for the door, making it to the knob just as she lost consciousness. # Zerro sprinted down the hallways, collecting guards as he moved, barking orders for immediate lockdown of the palace. Per protocol, all royalty soon found themselves with extra guards. He followed Xanthe’s trace to Kleitos’ receiving room and flung open the door, only to have it stopped followed by a loud thud. Xanthe’s arm flopped over to the side. He squeezed in through the narrow opening, watching fresh blood drip down a large gash on the crown of her head of his own doing. With one graceful movement, he picked up Xanthe and carried her out into the hall, ordering two of the guards to take Kleitos with him down to the infirmary. Therapon worked quickly, assessing each royal’s situation. By the time Therapon knew, Kallias tore into the room and directly to Xanthe’s side. He saw her bloody hair and looked up at Therapon, his eyes begging for good news. "Hemlock," the wizened man said. "Concentrated, unadulterated hemlock." "She should be dead," Kallias noted, feeling her limp hand. "I cannot explain it. She is fighting it. The bump on her head..." "I put that there," Zerro admitted dejectedly. "She was laying right in front of the door and I threw it open. I am sorry." "What about Kleitos?" "Eh, he will be fine." Therapon loped over to the gurney. "He is merely asleep." "So whoever did this had great love for Kleitos in order for them not to kill him." "The assassin had two darts, one for him and one for her. He probably tagged Kleitos first, directly in the neck, to avoid detection. It mattered not if Xanthe saw him; she was going to die anyway." Therapon sat on the stool next to her and rubbed her hand. "Prince Kallias, your wife should be dead. The amount of poison could kill three big bears." "They could not kill you together, so they attempted to kill you separately," Zerro pointed out. "Do you care to tell me how she is battling this?" Therapon persisted. "I do not know." Kallias brushed her blonde hair away from her pale cheeks. "The gods bless her in ways I do not understand. Perhaps they give their energy to her. Zerro, inform Arkhidamos that he is in charge. I will not be leaving here for a while." "Yes, of course." Zerro kneeled by the gurney and took Xanthe’s hem in his hand, kissing it. "If she comes out of this, she may take a javelin and split my head open." "Somehow, I hardly think Xanthe has that in her." Kallias eyed her blood-dyed hair on her crown. "How she thought to leap that akaina to set off your alarms is astounding." "I wonder if she got a good look at the assassin."

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"It is doubtful she got a good look at him." All stepped away from the table, for just then, Xanthe began to ooze a milky substance from the sweat glands on her forehead. Therapon’s orderly wiped the goo away, but the toxin leaked through her clothes, and a pungent smell filled the air. Thinking quickly, Therapon grabbed an instrument and tested the seepage. "Hemlock." He clucked his tongue. "This is most incredible." Amazed, the three hung back until an orderly noted how stained her dress became and began to undress her. Zerro left, and Kallias stepped behind a screen while the orderlies performed the undressing task, repeated several times when Xanthe’s body continuously expelled the poison, soaking through the sheets. It continued for an hour while Therapon made fastidious note of her brain activity and neural function, always with astonishment written on his furrowed brow. At last, she finished, and the orderlies gave her a final bath, concentrating on her abundant hair. "I hope she saw him," Kallias said. "He will be shocked that she survived." "She," a raspy voice said. All looked down at Xanthe. "She," she said weakly. "A woman? A Spartan?" "Not enough musculature." She held her head, feeling the laser-closed lump on her head. "Ow." Therapon checked her blood levels again, using a transdermal to filtrate blood from her capillaries. He analyzed it, shaking his head. "It is gone," he relayed, incredulous. "The bump on her head is giving her more problems than the poison at this point." "I do not remember getting hit over the head," Xanthe muttered. Therapon checked Xanthe’s pupils with a flashlight. As they were still sluggish, he recommended that she remain in the infirmary for a few hours. Kleitos roused without any interference, confused at his surroundings but soon settling comfortably against the pillow. "I do not have time for a nap," he groused. "We were ordering bull testicles." "You are free to go, unless you have something to add to this attempt on Xanthe’s life," Therapon informed him. "I saw nothing. I heard nothing. All I felt was a prick in my neck." Kleitos flipped his hair out of the way of the little scab. "She knew it was coming though." "Yes, she is a little scary in that regard. She has some kind of sensor." Kallias stood and addressed Therapon. "Run a thorough scan, Therapon. Maybe she has some kind of implanted device." "I have been very thorough, my Prigkipas. There is nothing here." Kallias sat back down, holding his head in his hands. "Your life is in danger, too, Kallias," Kleitos voiced. "Maybe the two of you should just stay in Xanthe’s house." "I am tired of being a prisoner!" Kallias yelled, instantly wishing he kept to himself, for Xanthe’s face skewed from the loud noise in the presence of a headache from the bump on her head. "This must stop."

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Xanthe mulled her options. A suspicion grew in her mind, but she told no one. "Call Demetria for some clothes," she begged Kallias, aware enough to know her nakedness. # With no real reason to stay in the infirmary, Xanthe and Kallias went home. Exhausted, Xanthe crashed on the couch, sprawling out with a sofa cushion under her head. Demetria flew into action, bringing a throw to cover her until whenever Xanthe wished to attempt the stairs. Kallias studied Xanthe’s face. Instead of pale and lifeless, her brow hunkered down in thought. "I am getting tired of this," she muttered. Kallias wanted to sit on the couch, so Xanthe picked her legs up while he sat and she dropped them in his lap. He sniffed, so Xanthe lifted her head off her pillow to watch him brush away a tear. "I cannot take any more of this," he said quietly. "If it were just me, that would be one thing." "Has your father been told?" "I am sure he has." "It must be tough," Xanthe started. "The first thing I would do is run for my daddy after a crisis like this." She nestled her head against the cushion. "I will find no comfort there." "I must tell you, Kallias, that I think the person today was the one who wants us out of the way. I saw her eyes. They were filled with hate." "Amarante," Kallias breathed. "I wonder where she was during the attack." "Does she know the palace well?" "Well enough to know whom to ask for the castle schematics." "Well, that is a start, I guess." "You sound unconvinced." "I have never had the opportunity to be around her. I would not know. Is she any good with a gun? She had deadly aim. I mean, she hit Kallias with the dart exactly right to deliver the drug in the most efficient way possible." "Amarante is good with weapons." "Maybe." "Well, that is where I will begin my search. Get some sleep." He twiddled her big toe, noting a fresh coat of blue paint on her toenails.

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Chapter 24 Xanthe dressed semi-formally, but Kallias dressed officially, a holstered sword and pistols on either hip. Instead of going to the palace, they took a leisurely stroll--well, as leisurely as traveling with a small army could be--toward the firing ranges. Kallias insisted that Xanthe train with a weapon. Xanthe nervously touched the pistol in her belt, even though Kallias assured her that the safety was on. The warm grass tickled her foot where exposed by her sandal. With summer now halfway over, Athens enjoyed unusually mild weather, but out in the sunlight and her nerves still a little bit touchy from the hemlock incident, Xanthe sweated. Amarante still topped the list of suspects, although she provided adequate corroborated alibis. Several shopkeepers claimed seeing her the afternoon of the event, but Amarante liked to leave her servants behind and disappear into a crowd, preferring to shop alone, especially for dresses, for she wanted no imitation or forewarning of her clothes by her house staff. Kallias never confronted her directly; he let Demetria accidentally bump into one of Amarante’s servants and coyly fish out Amarante’s whereabouts of the date in question. The guards opened the gate to the firing range, right into Phaedra. Timid as ever, she smiled and nodded to Kallias. She now wore a dress ready for a baby to move in and held onto her stomach. "Hello, Sister." Kallias kissed her on the cheek. "How did it go today?" "It went well." She looked over her shoulder to the digital targets. "I feel I need to provide my family as much protection as I can offer." "She’s quite good," Kallias informed Xanthe. "While courting, Kallikrates brought her here many times. How long has it been since you practiced?" "Months." She wore her red hair extra curly, and the waves flounced as she turned and looked at Xanthe. "Handmaiden, you look exceptionally well all things considered. Blessings be to the gods who protect you." "Thank you." Xanthe bobbed her head respectfully. "How are you feeling?" "A little queasy until the evening, but ravenously hungry after that. The kitchen servants are tired of seeing my face, I believe." She fiddled with the sleeve of her shirt. "Kallias?" "Yes?" "Will they come after me next?" She flipped him a nervous glance. Stepping away from her entourage, she pulled the couple closer to her and dropped her voice. "Kallikrates offers no protection for me. He is never around." Xanthe felt the hair on her arms stand up, not acutely though, the closer Phaedra moved

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toward her. It was far from a jarring sensation, and it failed to perplex her as much as the first time. "I will have Zerro increase the guards around your home. Do you want them inside your quarters, as well?" "I would rather trip over the legs of a guard in the middle of the night than feel so exposed without them. Yes. Please tell Zerro that I want Spartan women. I think two should suffice, although I wonder where Xanthe’s guards were during the attempt on her life." "They were guarding the door. No one thought to cover the servant’s opening in to Kleitos’ library," Xanthe provided. "The foe is faceless," Phaedra lamented, her large eyes wide. "Was faceless," Kallias corrected her. "Oh?" Phaedra’s grip tightened on Kallias’ arm. "Tell me you have a suspect." "It was a woman this time," Kallias explained. "Kallikrates knew of this? He has said nothing about this to me. Nothing!" she hissed. "I carry his child and he shuns me still." She covered her lips with her hand, clearly double thinking such a tantrum with so many observers. Expertly, almost schizophrenically, her face lit up and a spark returned to her weary eyes. "I am glad the hunt has turned for the better." She clapped her hands. "I am ready to go now," she informed her bodyguards. "Goodbye, Phaedra." Kallias bowed his head and pulled Xanthe closer to him. Xanthe, still contemplating her body’s response to the pregnant woman, barely acknowledged Phaedra’s departure. "You are doing it again." Kallias poked her gently in the ribs. "Xanthe?" "What?" Xanthe came out of her fog. "Sorry." "What goes through your mind that makes you unaware to your surroundings?" "I have always been such. I do not do many things at once very well." Xanthe watched her feet move as Kallias resumed his course to the firing range. "I apologize." "I just wish you would let me share your burden." "You already do; you just do not let it preoccupy your mind." "Oh, but I do. I have just many years of practice hiding behind a smile, which, I assume, you have never had to do." "No, I have not." Realizing she now stood in front of many targets, her hands grew sweaty. Kallias pulled her pistol out for her and tried to hand it to her, but she withdrew her hand. "Kallias, I have never touched a firearm." "Never?" "No. Bows and arrows, yes." "Such primitive weapons in such an enlightened society?" he whispered. "High school gym class," she responded. "Were you any good at it?" "I could hit the hay bales." She held out her palm and Kallias put the weapon there. Nervously, she maneuvered it around until she held it like she saw in movies, always careful to keep the business end out front. "You are shaking," Kallias noted.

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"This is useless." She handed it back to Kallias. "There is no defense for me in this fashion. I cannot do this." "Sure, you can." Kallias took the weapon, but stood behind her, wrapping his long arms around her until he reached her hands, where he put the gun back in her noncommital grasp. She trembled a little when he guided her thumb to release the safety. To make matters more complicated, Kallias pulled his hand back to encircle her waist, massaging it gently. "Just pull the trigger." His words tickled her ear and his hand touched her wrist, aiming it for the first target. "Go on, do it." Xanthe swallowed and fired, dropping the gun and hopping once on each leg when it kicked back. The shot whizzed through the air, striking the clock on top of the wall. Kallias roared with laughter when people all over dove for cover. Xanthe stood with her hands covering her mouth, looking at the crooked time piece, which now hung from the wall by its wires. "It is only a stun setting," Kallias announced, retrieving the firearm. He put the piece firmly back in Xanthe’s hand. "You know what the gun will do now. Aim and fire." Xanthe nodded, this time holding her wrist steady with her opposite hand. Again, Kallias wrapped his arm around her middle. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and looked down the barrel. More confident, she squeezed the trigger, the blast hitting the top of the target. "See? That was easy," Kallias assured her, again rubbing her stomach. Xanthe nearly doubled over from his affection. He smelled so good and she wondered how much of his touch was for show. He let go of her long enough to put his chest to her back and reach for her wrists, guiding her next shot, which hit the outer corner of the target. "Kallias?" "Yes?" He felt her lungs expand against his chest. "Please let go." "I distract you?" "You have no idea," she muttered. "What was that?" "I think I have the right idea." She pointed to the target once more and fired, this time coming quite close to the center. Shooting again and again, she peppered the target all over, save the dead center. "What did you do?" Kallias asked, fairly impressed. "I put your father’s face on it," she replied tersely. "Can we go now?" "No," he laughed at her. "That was with a handgun. Now, we try the rifles." "A rifle? That will not fit in my purse," she declared. "No, but it provides cheap entertainment for the common man," Kallias said, pointing to the growing audience. # "In other news, an inside source from the palace indicates that Prince Kallias took his bride to the firing range," the reported announced. "The Handmaiden looked shaky for a while, but soon graduated to assault weapons. According to palace gossip, the couple has been plagued by yet another assassination attempt, and talk is that Kallias wants his wife better prepared. We

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tried to get an official statement from Prince Kleitos, but his office cited the prince was at a charity function." Kallias switched the news off and looked over at Xanthe, who fell asleep with her legs propped up on the coffee table and a throw pillow behind her head. He smiled. She looked positively holy with all her blonde hair spread around her shoulders, draping across her chest. After introducing her to a variety of weapons, Kallias put her through basic gun safety classes, which he should have done first, but she provided irreplaceable mirth with her initial reactions. Demetria came in to tidy up the empty soda bottles and chocolate wrappers. She tiptoed around Xanthe, smiling at her peacefully slumbering charge. In her desire to be quiet, though, her shin hit the coffee table and she bounced around on one leg, with Kallias leaping off the couch to help her. The sudden motion jolted Xanthe awake, who stood sleepily as the maid danced and Kallias tried to catch her from falling. "I hate that thing," Demetria claimed, pointing to the errant coffee table. She inspected her shin, where a swelling knot appeared. "Ach, I am off to bed." "I apologize," Xanthe called after her. "My arms hurt," she mentioned to Kallias. "Are you finished laughing at my shortcomings?" A smile popped up on Kallias’ charming features. "No." Xanthe threw the cushion at him. "I fully intend on showing the video to Zerro and Kleitos tomorrow." "Video?" Xanthe retrieved the cushion and smacked his head with it. "You vidoeod that?" "Purely instructional video," he mockingly assured her. "I loved the clock. It looked perfectly hung after you got finished with it." "Yikes." Xanthe rubbed her nose. She playfully pushed the cushion into Kallias’ chest, with a little extra shove for good measure. "I am sure the entire palace will rest easier knowing Xanthe has such command of weapons." She strode past Kallias and up the stairs, turning back when she reached the landing, suddenly stricken with an aftereffect from the hemlock. "You all right?" Kallias rushed up after her. "Yeah." She took a deep breath. "How did I survive hemlock?" "I do not know." She looked pale, so Kallias put his arm around her back and under her opposite arm. "Come on." She relied on him up the rest of the stairs. "I wonder how long I will feel like this." "It is a miracle you are still here." Kallias escorted her to her door. "Can you make it from here?" "Yes." She huffed. "Thank you." Through the open door, he saw her nightclothes laid out by Demetria, a nice, soft, silky black gown. Xanthe closed the door gently in his face. "Good night," she said as she did so. After the door closed, she leaned weakly against it. The threshold was an imaginary line she dared not let Kallias cross, the point of no return. She refused to give her heart away, not to someone with the potential to explore a new universe with endless possibilities, leaving her behind in the process. Left behind. She thought about it as she changed into sleep wear. It seldom happened to her, but

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she saw many parallels between Kallias and her first husband. She introduced Ricky to high society and off he went and she fully intended to let Kallias into her universe, a hungry child in the kitchen of kings. Always one to laugh at herself, she rethought her day and tickled herself with her inexperience. She still saw the clock swinging by its wires and the fear she instilled to other, more experienced, target shooters. At least she learned quickly, but remained fairly certain of Kallias’ interest to show the juicy parts and not her improvements to Zerro and Kleitos. Wondering how Kleitos fared with weapons, she entered her sheets and rolled the covers around her. # Zerro walked along the outer wall of the castle, stopping ever few feet to line up his scope with Xanthe’s house. The gods’ placement of Xanthe’s abode astounded him; wherever he attempted to mimic a sniper, trees or statues blocked a clean shot--any shot. His scope failed to penetrate anything. In fact, he could make out no distinct features of her house, even when the wind shifted and parted the branches of the garden’s trees. Still, he doggedly inspected all aspects of the wall, enlisting the help of other sharp shooters, who all made the same conclusion. After that, he walked the palace’s roof, again looking for a clean shot, finding none through the heavy copse east of the palace and in front of Xanthe’s house. At any angle, from any stance, the house prevented assassination in sharp-shooting form. Zerro scratched the stubble on his chin and harrumphed.

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Chapter 25 Once again, Zerro paid Xanthe a visit, and, once again in Kallias’ absence, she ushered him to the porch, where she sat on the swing and Zerro in a rocking chair, all in plain view of her guards. "I feel like an old man when you do this to me," he grumbled. "Please." Xanthe rolled her eyes. "What brings you by today?" "Two apologies, a compliment and a suggestion." "Apology?" Zerro’s jaw clenched and released. "I gave you that knot on your head." His chin slumped to his chest. "I threw open the door and you were there." "Mystery solved." She touched her once-tender head. "I should have known better than to lie in front of a door. Second?" "Xanthe, I try everything in my power yet I cannot keep you safe. My job is tenuous at best; perhaps my replacement would serve you well." "I hold you to no accountability. I know you have tried," she assured him. "I knew about the servant’s exit into Kleitos’ library. I should have insisted Mysia and Persephone guard more doors than the main one." "Unforeseeable." Xanthe waved her hand. "Next." "Kallias showed us the training video. Your form improved drastically from the first to last." He swallowed. "Seeing you with an assault rifle is the sexiest thing I have ever seen." "Zerro!" She stopped swinging. "I find that highly inappropriate." "Which leads me to the suggestion." He rocked to and fro like nothing happened. "I think we can remove the chip, but we must take you to Ionia." "I am not listening." Xanthe stood and crossed her arms over her middle. "Is Kallias aware?" "No." Zerro, too, stood. "Xanthe, please listen to me." "They can track me anywhere I go," she pointed out. "They are trying to make me a device," he said, catching her by the wrist as she walked stiffly past him. "We cloak you and we can go anywhere you like." "And how do you propose to get me out? I cannot walk to my door without a guard tracking my movement." "I am working on that." He let her wrist go. "You may return, Xanthe, free of the chip, claiming abduction. Surely Anicetus cannot implant another device. Let me help you." She took in his words behind narrowed eyes. "Coordinate it with Kallias and I might

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corroborate with you." "That I will think about." Zerro touched his fingertips to his forehead, which, as always, sat behind that silver-plated helmet. "Try to stay out of trouble today." "Handmaiden!" Xanthe saw the feet of a few hoplites and the voice from in between them soured her stomach. "What are you doing?" Anicetus cried out, looking directly at Zerro. "You should be ashamed to visit the Handmaiden after your string of failures." "I was here to apologize, my most forgiving Basilias." He dropped to his knees as Anicetus passed him by. "I will not make the same mistake again." "Pah, I should banish you." Anicetus looked like he wanted to strike his scepter against Zerro’s helmet, but Xanthe quickly stepped down the stairs and put herself in between them, catching Anicetus gently around the forearm. "I have accepted his apology. Considering that I am the target and I have suffered, I have also found that I cannot place the blame on his shoulders. Zerro, free your conscience." Zerro bowed in her direction and left. Anicetus and Xanthe strolled up to the porch. Graciously, Xanthe offered him a chair and reclaimed the swing. "What brings you by?" she asked pleasantly. "Oh, the faithful expect a loving father-in-law to pay a visit to his devoted daughter-inlaw, especially in the face of your last unfortunate event." Anicetus lay the scepter across his lap and tented his ringed fingers. "I need you to survive, Xanthe. I am interested, however, in your trips to the temples. I have thought and thought upon what you hide from me. I have come to the conclusion that they talk to you." Xanthe, on the spot, said nothing, tracing her fingers nonchalantly down the arm of the swing. "Your silence screams the obvious." Anicetus rubbed his scepter. "What do they say to you?" "You would do well to treat me with respect," she warned him. "Why do you think they barred you from my abode?" She sat forward, threat clearly evident in her eyes. "Never forget who sent me here, Anicetus." "But you are to unite the world under my hand," he stated. "That is the plan, is it not?" "Think what you like." She got up. "Thank you for stopping by." Bowing, she walked backward to her front door. # People jammed temple row. Over fifty hoplites escorted the royal entourage, and Xanthe, from inside her litter, saw snipers on each temple's roof. The crowd behaved, though, and Xanthe left the curtains open on the litter to let the faithful snap her picture. Although not driven by ego, Xanthe felt the need to be more accessible, considering the bomb she intended to lay on them about accepting heretics at her earliest opportunity. Phaedra rode in a hovercar with Kallikrates and Anicetus, but Kallias walked alongside the litter, holding his wife’s hand tenderly. Kleitos, already at the temple of Artemis to set up the grand party, waited by the altar brought out of the temple for the live sacrifices.

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Xanthe eyed the altar with disdain. She hated the idea of consorting with Anicetus during this time. Her revulsion stemmed from their unnecessary appeasement to their gods. The altar sat upon risers, elevated up six steps to the platform. Kallikrates wore the himation, assuming the role of priest for the occasion. Alcibiades stood by to provide guidance, but before the sacrifices, the nobility needed to kneel in front of Artemis to ask her blessing on the affair. As expected, Xanthe walked up to the statue, playing her role that dictated her familiarity with the goddess. She held her pose and memorized it. The warm wind blew and Xanthe found herself wondering what the hunting and fertility goddess wanted from her. Artemis was nothing short of stunning. She wore her hair in the traditional Greek bands, letting chestnut curls drape around her nape. Cool blue eyes regarded Xanthe warmly. Xanthe felt awkward. "You look sick," Artemis said. "I know the quandary. I bless you, people will expect you to bear children. I do not bless you, it looks as if I ignore you. Any suggestions?" "Bless Phaedra and Kallikrates." "I will not." She looked at the frozen couple. "He is a whore and she lies." "What?" "There is no child," Artemis indicated. "What?" Hair went flying as she whipped her head around to look at Phaedra. "Time is short. We need a solution." "Bless Kallias. He likes to hunt, or at least he did before I came." "I think that will work." Artemis touched Kallias’ forehead. "I bring warning to you as well." "Yes?" "Stay away from the altar." Artemis reached out to touch Xanthe’s long locks. "I look forward to the day when we can chat like sisters. You are just a maiden to my making." "It was my pleasure." Xanthe hurried back and struck her pose. "Thank you." "Stay away from the altar," she reminded her, and faded into nothingness. "I hate bull testicles," drifted down from the statue. All awoke to Kallias’ glowing forehead. With a pang of desire, she appreciated just another level of handsomeness on his confused but iridescent brow. In fact, all paid more attention to the blessed prince than the couple of celebration. So Phaedra lied. That preoccupied her thoughts as they filed out slowly, wondering if Phaedra needed a last-ditch solution to a very unhappy marriage. Obviously, she planned a miscarriage in the future, involving Therapon at some point. What were her intentions? Perhaps living so long with such pain clouded her judgment. Kallikrates kissed his wife, leaving her at the bottom step, where fancy chairs waited for the elite. Ascending the steps confidently, he joined Alcibiades in front of the altar, waiting for the first animal, the stag draped in wreaths and ribbons. Anicetus walked up the steps and stood next to his son, where hidden microphones carried his voice to the furthest reaches of the crowd. "It is with great joy that I announce my heir’s anticipation of fatherhood," he started. Clouds gathered overhead, a sudden shift from the otherwise sunny day. They filled the

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atmosphere with charged particles. Xanthe thought perhaps it was just her picking up on the change, but Kallias rubbed his arms, smoothing the raised hairs. No rain fell, but the clouds continued to accumulate as Anicetus bragged. "Kallikrates will take my place and rule you all," Anicetus said, just as the clouds formed lightning that jumped from cloud to cloud. More interested in his words, Anicetus spoke of Kallikrates undying devotion to the people of Helios. The clouds sparked, chain lightning brewing. With a great snap, a single bolt of lightning drove straight down into the altar, dividing Anicetus and Kallikrates, who both staggered to the sides of the platform. Anicetus dropped to the floor, but Kallikrates rolled down the steps, his red himation unfurling, leaving a trail behind him. Phaedra leapt to her feet first, charging past Kleitos and Alcibiades. She checked for a pulse, looking back at Kleitos with begging eyes. Kleitos reached Kallikrates merely a half step in front of Kallias. Xanthe, beyond stunned, shook from head to toe. She realized the implications of such a bold statement from a thunderbolt of Zeus--he rejected Kallikrates as a proper heir. As he mind cleared, she realized all attended to Kallikrates. One of the royal house needed to be with Anicetus, and, with a grunt, she figured that meant her. Anicetus’ bodyguards helped the shocked king sit upright. Xanthe got on her knees and inspected him methodically for scorch marks. The tyrant sat under his own power, quickly flailing around for assistance to stand. "My son," he whimpered, staggering across the riser. Xanthe’s opinion of Anicetus softened when he saw his eyes, clearly bent on finding his chosen child. "The Handmaiden chose the king over the prince," she heard some priests whisper to one another. God, everything she did on this world had a consequence. She unintentionally sided with the gods in their rejection of Kallikrates by her hospitable acts to their king. Blood coagulated in Kallikrates’ nostrils and he still lay horribly still, limp in Phaedra’s lap. She clutched Kallikrates’ red hair in her hands, begging him to wake up. Someone in the crowd called an ambulance, which shrieked and honked its way up temple row. The din rousted Kallikrates for just a mere second. His eyes fluttered, and he moved his injured arm, which lay under singed cloth. So, her father did use thunderbolts. Xanthe rubbed her throbbing forehead. She had the option of warning her in-laws, but chose to keep it to herself. Feeling guilty, she sat on the uppermost stair and cried as they put Kallikrates on a gurney, let Phaedra inside the back and left for the hospital. As she sobbed, she felt Kallias’ warm arm around her shoulders. "You knew?" Kallias asked gently. "Artemis told me to stay away from the altar." "Do you think he will live?" Xanthe leapt to her feet, grabbed Kallias by the hand and ran for the temple of Zeus. The frenzy went wholly noticed by the crowd, who assumed the Handmaiden went to beg for Kallikrates’ life, which is exactly what Xanthe wanted. She outran the guards, pushing people

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out of the way with polite "excuse me" and "begging pardon." She kneeled in front of the statue. "Oh great Zeus, god-king of Olympus, please hear me!" Zeus did not appear, so she made it look good. "Spare Kallikrates. Please--" The wind blew and the room rippled into stopped time. "Dad, I did not see that coming. Why did you do that?" she asked before she saw him. "We do not like Kallikrates. He is worse than his old man. At least Anicetus respected his wife." Xanthe sat hard on the steps under the statue. "I hope there is a reason for this." "This will clear the way for you to do what you must do." He sat on the step next to her. "You are falling for Kallias, aren’t you?" "I hardly think this is the time or place for such a discussion. I mean, you just informed all Athens that Kallikrates is unfit to rule--rejected, even." She rubbed her nose. "This is bad. This is very bad. I should’ve warned all of them to stay away from the altar." "I would have done it had he been in the crowd, darling. I finally heard about his rape attempt on you. I am pissed." "I’ll say." She let her breath go in a throaty exhale. "I’m sure I’ll be back for further instructions." "Instructions, comfort, love, guidance," Zeus said, touching his daughter’s chin lovingly. "You’re doing fine. Keep on the path you travel and we’ll all be just fine." "What happens if I fail?" "You’re not going to." He stood and patted Xanthe on the shoulder. "See you later, kitten." "Bye, Dad." She grabbed him for a quick hug. He disappeared in her arms, so she rushed back under the statue and continued to plead for Kallikrates’ life.

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Chapter 26 All waited in Anicetus’s antechamber. The doctors at the hospital transmitted sporadic updates. Currently, Kallikrates held his own, but needed IV fluids to replace the deficit caused by the burns. He had burns on 25 percent of his body, mostly on the arms and torso, and they prepped him for surgery and skin grafts. Anicetus paced in front of the screen. Now that it looked like his chosen successor would live, he grew angrier with each step. Xanthe, Kallias and Kleitos saw the venom in his dark eyes and stayed on the opposite side of the room. He whirled on his heel, his vestments swinging behind him. He lunged for Xanthe and caught her by the wrist, tugging her roughly into the center of the room. "You knew!" he said in viper-like overtones. "Artemis told me to stay away from the altar. I thought maybe she was going to reject the sacrifices or something. I am not very good with blood," Xanthe replied, wrenching her arm back. "The gods delude you, make you think you are special. They protect you, but I still have ways of making you comply with my desires." Xanthe froze. Already, she could feel the tingle in her spine and expected more, but Anicetus turned. He extended the scepter and aimed for Kallias. Kallias’ face displayed acute fear. Within a second, his features twisted and he dropped to his knees and hands, swaying, trying to keep upright and fight it. Xanthe caught him just as his limbs failed, catching his head in her lap. "You would do this to your own son?" she cried out, trying to make Kallias stop convulsing. "How could you? He has a chip?" Of course he does. Her own encounters with Anicetus’ scepter dimmed as she watched Kallias’ limbs flex and extend. "Stop!" she pleaded. "Please, stop!" She looked at Kleitos, who cowered in the corner of the room, petrified, squeezing his little dog up between his chin and chest. By the look in Kleitos’ eyes, Xanthe gathered that he had a similar device implanted, too, rendering him a quivering mass of fear. She tried her defenses, to wrap them around Kallias, but only succeeded in adding to the flow of electricity coursing through him. Obviously used to such torture, Kallias remained conscious, sweat pouring down his face. Xanthe had one final option. "Stop!" she shrieked in both voice and mind. Anicetus staggered back and dropped his scepter, covering his ears.

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Kallias’ writhing ceased, but he lay motionless on the plush rug, except for the random aberrant twitching as his neurons fired on their own volition. Sweat and all, Xanthe’s arms encircled him. "Kallias, I am so sorry. Forgive me." Kallias said nothing, but that was no surprise. Xanthe, even with her low tolerance levels, understood just a bit about this kind of torture. Anicetus recovered quickly. "What was that?" he demanded, cocking his head to the side as if the screams echoing in his head left quicker that way. "Your gods have endowed me with certain defensive devices." She refused to relinquish Kallias’ upper body, even when she figured out Kleitos called Therapon. Therapon knew the situation, but played along. "So the seizures have returned," he said carefully. "This has not happened in years." "A brother in dire need of salvation could trigger such a latent response," Anicetus said, his eyes flickering up. "Come, my lady; he needs rest." Therapon gently pried her fingers away. "He will rest in my house," she insisted, hesitantly letting go. "As you wish." Therapon lent her a hand to rise. Servants lined up in the halls to watch Kallias’ transfer through the gardens and back to the house. Xanthe picked up on whispers on how unfortunate Anicetus must be to have two sons stricken in the same day. Demetria saw Kallias on the gurney through the bay window where she worked on the loom. She seemed to take the stairs in one great leap. "A seizure?" she asked tremulously. "Yes, a cruel twist of fate if you ask me," Xanthe muttered. "Prigkipissa, say no more," Demetria begged, battling tears. "I thought he outgrew them." Sadly, all went into the house, where they put Kallias in his bedroom. Xanthe acutely remembered her own torture, so she sat next to the bed, stroking his throbbing forehead. Kallias made no attempt to speak. In fact, his bland face registered nothing, but his limbs twitched and jerked. Xanthe sobbed off and on. She intended to grab the spotlight at the next public function and announce her decree to free the heretics, but she herself no longer faced punishment; Kallias did. No surprise, Zerro showed up an hour after the incident. He kneeled next to the bed and patted Kallias’ hand. "I thought we got past this," he said, completely bewildered. "I did not know," Xanthe murmured. "Why did he hide the fact that he had a chip implanted from me?" Zerro rose, pulling Xanthe outside the room. "We hoped to give you more time to deliver your message to Olympians. If you knew he had a chip, you would have never tried it." Xanthe wiped tears away. "I have never felt so awful and so responsible for my deeds." Zerro cupped her chin in his hand. "Watch for personality changes. From what Kleitos described, Kallias was subjected for an inordinate amount of time." He swallowed. "We always fear the same changes now seen in Kallikrates."

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"Kallikrates? How?" "Kallikrates was once anthropinos," he informed her. "He was an idealist. He saw wisdom in the ways of the heretics, but, through the chip, his father erased all that and left him what he is now, a compliant cohort, a victim of his own evil." Zerro glanced over his shoulder toward Kallias. "Will he be angry with me?" Xanthe asked in a small voice. "I do not know what to expect." Zerro smoothed her hair and kissed her cheek. "I guess we will know in a few days." Xanthe barely acknowledged his tenderness. Her stomach flopped around and she held on to her middle. "Zerro?" "Yes?" "Thank you for coming by." She tiptoed back and sat in the chair next to the bed. After a while, she got up, returning with her current volume on Olympus and some art supplies. She sketched a vivid picture of Anicetus extending his scepter and the stricken look on Kallias’ face, a moment frozen in her mind. Trying to capture his terror, she modified his eyes several times until satisfied. Demetria checked on him often, persuading Xanthe to eat, which she did, and then she went right back upstairs and sat next to him, falling asleep with the book in her lap. # Twelve hours passed, and Kallias failed to come out of his stupor, other than random muttering and incoherent thoughts. Xanthe thought he called her name once or twice. She brushed the hair out of his mouth and kissed him on the forehead. After making herself a sandwich, she sat in front of the viewscreen, where reporters gave regular updates on the crown prince’s condition. In between those reports, though, experts-politicians and priests--gave their views on this blatant attack by the great god Zeus. "It can only be interpreted one way," one started. "This must be viewed as Zeus’ complete rejection of Kallikrates as an heir. What other explanation can it be?" "In your opinion, esteemed sir, what does this say of King Anicetus?" "He was struck but not harmed. I think it is safe to say that his rule is set for some time. The Handmaiden rushed to his side. That must account for something. But, it leaves the question: Who is now the heir?" Xanthe switched it off. Kallikrates now rested in a bed somewhere, vilified by his own people. She never realized the extent of her father’s wrath. In fact, she remembered no incidence of anger from him before, except for at the time of her mother’s death, where he nearly killed the drunken driver who collided with Xanthe’s mother’s car at his arraignment. In retrospect, he exhibited clear restraint, given his actual god-like abilities. A question brewed, though. As she checked on him, she cornered Demetria. "How long will this last?" "He may be like this for days." "In that case, I will be going to the temple." Xanthe went to her room and changed hastily, leaving her current dress on the floor. It mattered not; being seen in the same dress twice violated Anicetus’ edict. Kleitos enjoyed the order, offering her dresses at auction for his charitable trusts. Running a quick brush through her hair, she called Zerro from the downstairs

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computer. "How is he?" he asked, concern clearly evident in those perfect, dark-blue eyes. "About the same." Xanthe rubbed her chin with her thumb. "Zerro, I must go to the temple of Zeus. Would you arrange security for me?" "Of course. They will be at your house in minutes," he assured her. "Anything else?" "No, thank you." She touched the screen and ended transmission. With moments, she heard footsteps and saw her litter. Mysia and Persephone escorted her to the litter and flanked it as the priests shouldered it and took her to the temple. "I wish to be alone," she said at the temple, pushing the priests back to the door. "I must be able to concentrate." No one argued with her, leaving her on the woven runner down the main aisle of the grandest temple of them all. "Daddy?" she called out, pacing in front of the statue. "Daddy, can you hear me?" He did not answer, but she waited for a good five minutes. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and her forehead glowed, but her father made no appearance. Perhaps the statues automatically triggered such a response. Not satisfied, she exited out the temple and directed her entourage towards Athena’s temple. Again, she asked the priests to remain outside. She held her breath but let it out when Athena appeared. "Where is my father?" she demanded. "He's indisposed." Athena genuinely looked concerned. "He's in so much trouble, Xanthe." "Why?" "The lightning-bolt thing. Our gods have not publicly interfered in this world for a long time. Once established, we must turn loose. Our father didn't." "His decision affected Kallias this time. He must stop." "Of course, but Olympian gods support his decision, although the others do not. Anicetus must be stopped." "So Kleitos will assume the throne?" "I do not know. We introduced the cause, you and your people will supply the effect." "But Kallias--" "We understand, Xanthe." Athena stood next to her and held her hand. "Is there anything else?" "What happened to the man who killed my mother? Do you know?" Athena swallowed twice and her Eve’s apple quivered. "You do know, don’t you? He interfered in our world without approval, did he not?" "Yes, he did." Athena touched the bridge of her nose. "He made the man go mad." "Oh." Xanthe folded her arms across her chest. "He must savor revenge." "He cannot tolerate injustice, especially to those he holds dear." Athena tucked Xanthe’s hair behind her ear. "I have to go now. Make sure Anicetus pays for what he has done. It is not revenge; it is justice." "Okay." She sat on the steps as Athena disappeared, waiting for a while, checking for light that shone to her hand when she held it up. Slowly, she left the temple, back into an ever-

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growing crowd. She contemplated the hierarchy of the Olympian gods. It stood to reason that a family controlled the happenings on Olympus; perhaps Isis and her family controlled the Egyptian planet. There had to be one, perhaps and Incan or Druidic one, as well. Thoughts of Kallias laying ashen on the queen-sized mattress at home contributed to a brewing headache. "You and your people," Athena said. Xanthe sure did not feel as if these people were hers; she watched them press against the hoplites for better view of the litter. They entered the palace grounds by the main gate, turning left to head toward the gardens. Once in the lush grass and manicured trees, Xanthe hopped out of the litter and strolled through the roses, all of the long-stem variety, avoiding the thorns to snap one blood-red rose from its bush. She carried it, thoughtfully bumping the sweet-scented flower against her chin all the way back to her house. Silently cussing at the squeaking stairs, she climbed them as quietly as possible and checked on Kallias. Demetria attempted to keep him covered, but his limbs refused to cooperate. Just the same, Xanthe tried to straighten the covers. Kallias caught her by the wrist, pulling her close to him. "Xanthe?" "Kallias?" She massaged his forehead with her free hand. "Can you speak?" "How long has it been?" "About a full day." Softly, she sat next to him. "Kallias, I am so sorry." He said nothing, but let go of her wrist. Closing his eyes, his head rolled to the side. Xanthe toyed with his soft hair. Her chin quivered from emotion and she loosed a tear. It rolled down her cheek and dripped on Kallias’ chest, which she quickly wiped away. He tensed at her touch but continued to close his eyes. Not wanting to disturb him, she went downstairs, where she sat on the couch and bawled. Guilt consumed her. None of this would have happened if she were born to a different father. She felt a gentle hand squeezed her shoulder. Demetria stood behind her, her own eyes misty. "You cannot blame yourself," she murmured, placing her palm on Xanthe’s crown. "Anicetus is a cruel man. Kallias endured much of this during his formative years before he found a common ground on which they both could stand, and the torture ceased. All who knew saw this coming. It was unavoidable." "Maybe." Her words did nothing to slow Xanthe’s tears. "I wish someone had told me, just the same." "Kallias did not tell you to encourage your strength. He knew the price." "Price. Life is very expensive." Xanthe kicked off her slippers and pulled her knees toward her chest and hugged them. "How long do you think he will be like this?" "A few days. I have never seen him so limp." "I am trouble. I should leave." "And go where? There is no place Anicetus cannot find you." Suddenly, Zerro’s offer became tempting.

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Chapter 27 Kallias sat under his own power by the third day, greedily consuming anything Demetria brought for him. Xanthe stood in the doorway, her shoulder against the jamb, watching him. Still pale, he often took breaks just to breathe. "Are you just going to watch me eat?" he asked gruffly. Demetria cleared what was left, and promised to go restock their refrigerator for his next meal. "Well?" Kallias said, pushing up closer to the head of the bed. His hands shook when he placed them in his lap. Xanthe still leaned against the jamb. "Kallias, I do not know what to say." Again, tears formed. "This is all my fault." Kallias waved her off. "I did not tell you." He took a deep breath. "We knew he would torture me. It was only a matter of time, as you grew beyond his control. I hoped it would wait long enough to deliver your message of support for the heretics, but it did not happen that way." "I am sorry." "Not your fault. I know where to place the blame." He pointed to the chair next to the bed. "Have a seat." Xanthe brushed her tears away on her sleeve, sniffed, and accepted his invitation. Cautiously, she reached for his trembling fingers, massaging his knuckles. "How is Zerro? I do not remember him being here." "He was, a few times. I can call him if you like. Kallias, I must know--who else has chips implanted?" "All three of us children do. Father trained us early, especially Kallikrates." His voice tapered off, and then he remembered. "Kallikrates! How is he?" Despite all the animosity, Kallias worried about his haughty brother. "I do not know exactly other than what the news anchors report. The details are very sketchy and I have not sought audience with your father." "Take me to the palace." "So your father can do this to you again?" "No, so I can find out about Kallikrates." He swung his legs off the bed and tried to stand. "I do not expect you to understand, Xanthe, but he is my brother." "Whatever you want." As Kallias steadied himself, she opened the closet and took out his hover chair, which he declined. "I am fine," he insisted.

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"Kallias, I--" "I will be fine," he snarled, but he quickly apologized. "Xanthe, I did not mean it that way." "I understand." "Yes, you and I can commiserate now," he put out. "I need to bathe before we do anything." "Yes, of course." Xanthe called for Demetria as Kallias proved his point by walking down the stairs unassisted. "I want a bathing pool installed," he mentioned. "I love your house, but I miss my pool." "We can do that." "If I had one, I could float and save my strength." "Point taken. Whom shall I contact?" "I will take care of it." Demetria indicated that his clothes waited on the towel rack, ready for him to shower. "He seems all right," Demetria commented. "I worry so." "I do, too." The thought of another Kallikrates in the making scared her. # By the time they reached Anicetus’s great chamber, Kallias stopped twice to lean against the wall in between the vases and portraits, collecting his resolve. He nearly staggered into Anicetus’ throne room, but showed great composure by walking like a warrior all the way up the runner, interrupting the nobleman who conversed with his father. "How is Kallikrates?" he asked with no preamble. "Excuse me, Ermin, but my son has been ill and has no knowledge of Kallikrates’ fragile state of health." "Of course, Basilias," Ermin said, bowing out of the way. Kallias, gray, took one of the side thrones when his father offered it to him. Xanthe heard his breathing from the bottom of the steps. "Kallikrates will live," Anicetus said slowly, "but it will not be much of an existence. His memories have been erased, and it is doubtful they will ever come back." Kallias merely nodded. "How is Phaedra?" "Frantic? Histrionic? Inconsolable?" Anicetus crossed his arms. "She refuses to leave the hospital other than quick trips home for hygiene purposes, and in her condition. The doctors speak and she will not listen." "I am sure that is to be expected." "Kallias, it is increasingly clear that I must pick a new successor." "Yes, father, I had contemplated such. Let it be Kleitos." "Kleitos? I doubt he will produce an heir." "Then let Phaedra’s child be next in the succession. I have no desire to claim the throne." Xanthe listened attentively at the bottom of the stairs, wondering when to tell Kallias that Phaedra lied about her pregnancy. Maybe it was not her place; Phaedra could not hide it for much longer. After a few moments, Kallias looked ready to go. He used his arms to push off the

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throne, treating his father as if he merely received a reprimand instead of such a powerful punishment. Xanthe took his arm and he escorted her down the runner and back through the grand double doors of the throne room. "I really hate that man," Kallias uttered. Xanthe patted his hand sympathetically. "Perhaps it is you he should put on the throne." "I think not." Xanthe swerved with him. "Let me call someone. Do you really think you can make it home?" "I can and I will make it to your house," he stated. Xanthe watched his shirt rise and fall over his gasps for air. She sniffled and brushed away a tear. "What are you crying about now?" he asked petulantly. "I still feel I am to blame for your condition." "I forgave you once. That should be enough." Kallias saw daylight at the end of the hall, where a simple portico led to the gardens and therefore home. He talked no more, loping through the cement path through the gardens. Eyeing the steps to the house warily, he took his arm away from Xanthe and gripped the bannister, hoisting himself up to the porch. Xanthe walked behind him with her arms outstretched, just in case he fell backward. Once inside, he flopped on the couch and refused to move further, leaving one arm hanging down, letting his hand rest against the floor. "Are you hungry?" Xanthe asked. "Yes." "What would you like me to cook?" "Send for something from the palace." "Oh. All right. Do you want a soda?" "I do not want to do anything but stay here for a while." "Oh." Xanthe stepped into the next room and called Zerro. "Hello, Handmaiden," he greeted her cheerily. "Hello." "You look exhausted." "Worried, more like." She dropped her voice. "Kallias insisted on going to see his father. It wore him out." "I see." Zerro tapped his chin thoughtfully. "What do you need?" "Kallias would like his lunch from the palace today." "Very well. I shall send a guard to oversee the preparation." "Thank you." "Xanthe?" "Yes?" "You look especially lovely today." Xanthe’s cheeks flushed. "Thank you." "No need. I will be by later to check in on Kallias." "Yes, of course. Goodbye." She ended the transmission hastily. Did Kallias hear Zerro’s compliment? If he did, he said nothing about it when Xanthe sat down in the wing-backed chair

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and picked at the slightly worn spots on its arm. "I do not need to be watched constantly," Kallias said. "Would you like a pillow? A blanket?" "No." He stared at the ceiling. "Why did Artemis bless me?" "She wants you to come hunting again soon." "Why not Phaedra and Kallikrates?" "Kallias, there is something you should know, and I do not know how to tell you." "Say it." "Phaedra lies. There is no child coming." "Who told you that?" Kallias lifted his head quickly. Pain ensued and he let his head drop back down. "Artemis. That is why she refused to bless them." "Why would Phaedra lie?" "I do not know. Is she seeking fertility treatment? Perhaps she is so miserable and pining for Kallikrates’ affection that she tried to get his attention that way." "It is something she cannot hide for very long." Kallias massaged his brow. "Now I have a big headache." "Sorry." Demetria brought a load of laundry up from the basement, already folded. She sat the basket behind the couch and fished something out of her front pocket. "This arrived for you, Prigkipissa." Xanthe took the card, the front of which said "an invitation for you" in embossed gold. She almost placed the scent, but definitely pegged it when she read the handwritten invitation inside from Phaedra. Tilting her head, she read it several times. "What is it?" Kallias wanted to know. "An invitation for lunch with Phaedra." "Is she back from the hospital?" "I assume she will be about lunchtime tomorrow," Xanthe replied. "Perhaps without Kallikrates the philanderer around, she feels more safe letting you into her life." "Huh." Xanthe sat the card on the table. "What do I wear?" "That is not a question for me. You already wore my favorite dress." Kallias folded his arms across his chest. "Did you save it or send it to the auctioneer?" "The silver one with the neck down to my navel?" Xanthe smiled. "I kept it, even though Kallikrates saw more of me than I ever wish him to see me again." "That is a good dress," Kallias said, closing his eyes. Xanthe got up quietly, tiptoeing to the back door, where Demetria accepted goods from the castle, touching each crate, looking for the telltale signs of poisoning. Her senses detected nothing and she helped the maid put away the groceries, not really trying to be helpful, but she liked her refrigerator’s contents put in just so, labels out and tall to short from back to front. Demetria, now used to Xanthe’s particularities, just smiled and handed her the foodstuff from the crates. Xanthe let Demetria finish when the palace staff rang the tri-tone doorbell, announcing

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lunch. "Kitchen or porch?" Xanthe asked, nudging Kallias gently on the shoulder. "Hm?" Kallias sat up slowly. "Oh. Outside." He collected himself upright for a few moments, holding his weary head. Xanthe stood next to the cart, taking lids off and sniffing each dish. She stood upright, right into Zerro’s chest. "Hello," he said. "Hi," she said back. "Do you need to see Kallias?" He looked inside, seeing that Kallias still struggled to his feet. "No. I came to get a good look at you." He smiled arrogantly. "I wonder, Xanthe, if he truly appreciates your beauty." "I would rather be known as someone with more substance than good looks." "Looks can take you a long way," he replied, his voice dropping as Kallias approached. He suddenly turned from Xanthe, clearing his throat. "You need some help there, friend?" he asked of Kallias. "No, no. I can manage." Kallias waddled to the table. "What is for lunch?" Xanthe opened her mouth to announce it, but Zerro beat her to it. "Pork tenderloin smothered in sauteed onions, carrots braised in honey, honey rolls and stewed grapes." "Did they pass the Xanthe detection device?" Xanthe nodded, waiting for Kallias to sit, accepting plates from Demetria to set the table. Inspecting the fork, she wanted to launch into the history of forks on Earth and how it echoed her own world, but she sat the fork next to Kallias’ hand. Avoiding any further contact with Zerro, she pulled her chair up to the table and waited for Demetria to serve lunch. "Kallias, I still think Xanthe does not like me," Zerro joked. Xanthe sipped her wine, a particularly diluted wine, specially ordered through Demetria. "Zerro, I barely know you," she responded. "But you hardly give me the chance to know you better. You let me in to check on Kallias and leave. What is so important that you cannot break away for a brief chat?" "You came to see Kallias. I let you see Kallias." She cut into her meat. "See? She even gives me short, to-the-point answers." Xanthe put down her fork. "Seeing as how I have very little to do, talking about the content of my day hardly seems fodder for conversation." Zerro’s vocal volume dropped significantly and he bent in closer toward her. "Seeing as how you are from an entirely different world, you must have many things to talk about." "He is most certainly correct," Kallias acceded. "You invited him to be part of your universe. Should you not prepare him for such an undertaking?" Xanthe avoided eye contact with both of them. Now, she had to devote time to Zerro, with Kallias’ blessing. Still... "He can only visit when you are here," she capitulated. "Then it is settled," Kallias announced, already halfway through his dinner. "Have you discovered anything else about our assassins?" "The assassin we had in custody is dead." Kallias smacked the table with his fist. "Dead?"

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"Hemlock. Another dart, just like Xanthe’s. The poor man received it directly into his blood stream." Zerro frowned. "I do not like this perpetual assault on my skills as overseer of the palace guard." "I bet Father is livid." "Where did he die? In the dungeon?" Xanthe wondered. "We have no dungeon," Kallias informed her. "For occasions like this, we have a special holding cell on my command wing." "Which is laden with servant’s corridors in between the walls," Zerro lamented. "We inspected the walls thoroughly. Someone removed an electrical socket, creating a hole large enough to point a dart through." "Zerro, if you do not come up with better defenses, your tenure here is over," Kallias reminded him. "I cannot stop her! Kallias, you and I grew up in this place. Not even we have the knowledge of all the corridors. When I set up defenses for that room, I took that into account, posting guards at each entry point. They created a hole! I could not foresee them attacking from behind the cell." Zerro hung his head. "She outsmarts me at every turn." "Perhaps they sent a woman last time to throw us off," Kallias thought aloud. "Could it be one of the servants? Xanthe, do you remember anything specific?" "Only the look in her eyes, cold hatred so fierce that I cannot remember their color or placement on her face. Sorry." Now not hungry, she pushed her plate away. # "Welcome, fellow Prigkipissa," Phaedra said warmly, although she looked overwhelmed. She dressed regally, but wore an apron over it, filled with embroidery thread and needles, presumably, for a pillowcase waited in a circular frame on the table next to her chair. "I am so glad you could join me today." "I appreciate the invitation." She kissed Phaedra on both cheeks, the usual tingle coursing through her spine. "Are the guards all set?" Phaedra asked nervously. "I hope you understand, me being in a certain condition, that I am terrified." "Mysia and Persephone guard the main door and Zerro assures me that the servant’s entrances are covered." "I am surprised Kallias did not escort you. Are you sure they should stay behind the walls instead of in here?" Xanthe shook her head. "Kallias has not quite yet recovered." Phaedra offered her a seat in a comfortable horsehair burgundy chair. She took the other one. The two sat separated by a sofa table filled with treats and bottles of white and red wine. "How is Kallikrates?" Phaedra’s eyes shifted from tired to melancholy. "I think the experience will make him a better king." "Anicetus says that his memory is gone." "Not quite. He is able to form new ones. Now, I can shape him in the man I expected him to be when we married." Phaedra poured wine and handed Xanthe a goblet. "You do think he will recover, do you not?"

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"I hope, for your sake, that he does." Xanthe accepted the wine and sipped. Awkward silence ensued. Xanthe straightened her hair and necklace, crossing her legs. "That necklace--it is beautiful. Did Kallias give it to you?" Phaedra stood and leaned over to touch it, twirling the jewel around her finger as her other hand reached into her pocket. Too late, Xanthe felt something cold against her neck and a heard a hissing noise. As Xanthe’s world faded from light to black, she heard Phaedra say, "Die, bitch."

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Chapter 28 The guards, as per instructions, made a personal check on the princesses at quarter-hour intervals, poking their head inside to make sure the women still chatted. However, when Mysia opened the door, she recoiled in horror. Persephone put out an immediate communique to Zerro and rushed in to help her mistress, who lay bleeding on the floor from a gash in her forehead. Blood ran down her face and made rivulets of red running down her chest where exposed by her deep neckline. Zerro, who always knew Xanthe flirted with disaster, made it a point to be close during her visit, and he rounded the doorjamb by the time Mysia tucked her arms under Xanthe’s blood-soaked hair. "That bitch will not die!" someone screamed from above. "No matter what I do, she just will not die!" Zerro placed his hand on Xanthe’s chest, feeling the rise and fall. He looked up. Phaedra hung by a luminescent spider’s web from the ceiling, stuck to it like a fly, with a knife in her clutches. As she wriggled, the transdermal fell from her pocket, along with a bundle of thread, which Zerro caught precisely. She squirmed and wiggled, her hair entangling in the fibers. "She just will not die!" she gushed, tears also dripping from the ceiling. "Why?" Zerro asked. "Why have you done this?" "She looks to put Kallias above Kallikrates!" Phaedra writhed and twisted, only managing to get more entangled. "All I have in this miserable existence is the chance to be queen of it all and she takes it from me every moment I must endure her presence! I will be queen! No one will strip me of that right!" "How did you get up there?" Zerro asked warily, noticing the maniacal gleam in her eyes. It all made sense now, her unwillingness to delegate the same fate to her sole confident, Kleitos, as she tried to do to Xanthe. "Well? How did you get up there?" "Some she-demon sent by Hades!" Phaedra continued to spout epithets of Xanthe’s perfection in comparison to her abused existence while Zerro and his team contemplated how to remove Phaedra from the ceiling. In the end, they decided to wait until Anicetus and Kallias had a chance to see the spectacle for themselves, including Xanthe, still covered in blood. "Why did you not call me sooner?" Kallias demanded when he found Zerro holding Xanthe very tenderly. "You beat Therapon down here." Zerro pointed to the ceiling. "Phaedra?" Kallias warbled. "It was you?"

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"I almost had the god’s darling pet project’s throat slit from ear to ear!" she hurled back as a reply. "I spend four years of torture, holding to hope I would be queen! Her gods--not mine-struck down my only chance when Zeus launched a thunderbolt at my husband!" Zerro tried to calm her from far below the vaulted ceiling. "The blood you spilled would tarnish your child." "There is no child," Kallias informed him. "There is so!" Phaedra insisted. "He awaits transplantation!" "Kallikrates’ child?" Kallias asked. "Of course, you idiot puppet for that bitch!" Phaedra, now completely ensnared, wailed so loudly that Xanthe stirred, a chilling screech from such a tiny body. Therapon arrived and they put Xanthe on top of the gurney just as Anicetus blew past them all, stopping to touch Xanthe’s warm skin. "She lives?" "Yes. She fights the Ypnox in the same fashion she battled the poison." Therapon held up the transdermal wand given to him by Zerro. "This was a lethal dose." He tucked it in his pocket, exchanging it for a light, which he shone in Xanthe’s eyes. "She hit the table on the way down," Zerro explained. He tapped Anicetus on the shoulder and indicated for him to look up. Anicetus staggered back when he saw his crown prince’s perfect wife so strung to the vaulted ceiling. "Phaedra?" He stepped closer. "Phaedra?" "Back, you piece of shit! You are responsible for Kallikrates! You turned him into the asshole he is and allowed him to treat me as he saw fit!" She spewed more venom, launching a surprisingly accurate wad of spit, which landed at Anicetus’ feet. Zerro still held Xanthe by the hand, which he placed in Kallias’ when he finally noticed his presence next to the gurney. "Get her down," Anicetus ordered. "Who spun such an intricate thing?" As if his scepter could reach it, he lifted it toward the web, intent on its delicate opalescent fibers. "Arachne? Does she still live as a slave now to Athena?" he asked himself. "Speak, Phaedra. Who appeared?" "She appeared in a helmet with a spear. She lifted the spear toward the ceiling and a huge spider crawled down its shaft. It released some kind of noose and pulled me up to the ceiling." Phaedra’s tempest faded, defeat finally grabbing hold as they pushed her victim into the hall. "I had her, too. I had the bitch." She kicked again. "Why must they punish me so?" Zerro had no answer, and gave none. So many years, he directed sympathy toward the slighted woman. Equally glad that Xanthe still lived, he was equally glad to see Anicetus get the blame placed on him so succinctly. Getting Phaedra down proved sticky business. Workers raised scaffolding up to her, clipping each sticky fiber cautiously, starting with her limbs. Some of the craziness came back and she cussed and fought, making slow progress. "Why? Why does she still live?" she sniveled. Zerro relaxed. Mystery solved, he watched their progress, certain about his job security. Kallias, on the other hand, felt panicky. He almost lost her, once again. His head throbbed. He loved Phaedra and hated Kallikrates for his part in this. Still, Phaedra needed held

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accountable for her actions. Perhaps Anicetus would mete out an adequate punishment. After all, he could ill afford more ripples in an already uproarious family situation. Staring down at Xanthe, he saw her eyes flutter and her lips move. "Xanthe?" He nudged her shoulder, as it was a rare clean spot in her otherwise bloodtinged dress. A large flap of skin hung down between her eyes, exposing bone. "Hold on." Her mouth made the shape of an "O." "If she were a normal person," Therapon started, "I would say her concussion would keep her out for a full day or so." He shrugged. "There is no way to gauge how she will handle such a thing." The orderlies positioned the gurney underneath the body scanner, which Therapon pulled down to her nose. "It is as I feared. She has a subarachnoid hemorrhage." "Arachnoid," Kallias fumed. "I have heard enough references to spiders for today." "She will be fine, though. Look; even as we watch, the wound heals itself." Therapon touched the screen to zoom in on her other systems. "The gods’ blessings on her are so mysterious. Nothing shows up on my scans. You would think such a blessing would render her somewhat different than anthropoi, but she is exactly like you or me." Therapon once again checked her cranial bleed. "Well, we have complete resolution at this point." He lifted the screen. "I guess we will repair the forehead laceration." "Can it be done without scars?" Kallias asked. "To be sure." "I want no mark left. She has been through enough without having a constant reminder of her misfortune." An orderly brought a chair and Kallias took it, sitting in it backward with his arms crossed on its back. "Do you suppose Phaedra intended to inject herself, as well, and feign an attack on herself?" he thought aloud. "Therapon, you must start tracking the whereabouts of your transdermals more carefully." "I buy from a medical supply house. They are not so hard to come by." Therapon set to work, using a transdermal in a local form, aiming it at her forehead. Xanthe twitched a little bit as the medicine took effect, and Kallias reached for her hand. "Hold still," he begged her. "Xanthe, it is all over. No one will get you now." Just a tear answered him. Therapon put the loose skin back in place, soldering it to a fine line, which he erased with a laser beam to completely approximate the skin edges without leaving a scar. "It might tan differently," he warned Kallias, "but that should fade with time." He stepped back and folded his arms across his chest. "Once she wakes up, there is no reason she cannot go home with you." "I will request Demetria bring a change of clothes and you clean her up. I will have no other witnesses seeing her covered in so much blood," Kallias directed. "Of course. If my calculations are correct, she will walk out of here under her own power." Theapon took a deep breath. "Such a mystery, this one." Kallias said nothing, rubbing her hand gently before getting up and walking over to the wall console, where he called home, got Demetria, and requested a change of clothes. # "Phaedra is over the edge. She laid out her entire plan," Zerro said, sitting across from Kallias and Xanthe, who sat on opposite ends of the sofa. "She was going to hit Xanthe with a

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megadose of Ypnox, slit her throat, set the transdermal for a normal dose and pretend she was attacked, as well. She would insist on going to the hospital for a thorough workup, get the implanted embryo, hold on to the child as an heir and hopefully get Kallikrates back to full health. She felt everything being pulled away from her, starting with Xanthe’s arrival. Even without the thunderbolt incident, she slated Xanthe for death. Your father, I understand, still contemplates her punishment." Xanthe touched her forehead, feeling for any remnant of a scar. "I see no hate in your eyes," Zerro noted. "I do not think I could let something like this go." "She is crazy. I pity her. I do not look forward to being alone with her ever again, but I seem to be impervious to death lately." Xanthe poured a glass of diluted wine for herself and sipped. "Anicetus will not banish her, surely." "I think you must accept the fact that Phaedra will continue to live on in the castle. I expect she will be heavily guarded at all times." "Perhaps." Xanthe rolled out a kink in her neck. "I suppose Anicetus will let her implant her embryo? It seems a shame to waste an innocent life." Xanthe cleared her throat. "Does Kallikrates still have the ability to father a child?" Zerro choked on his wine. "What a question, Xanthe." "Well?" Kallias smiled. "I do not think he sustained that kind of damage." "I would like to know how Phaedra provided her physician with--" Xanthe started. "Xanthe!" Kallias roared with raucous laughter. "You are too open with your views." Xanthe stood, picking up plates from their afternoon snack. "It is sex. Everybody got here somehow, might as well know how it was done." She tiered her plates and walked to the kitchen. "She seems just fine," Zerro pointed out. "Yes." Kallias looked over his shoulder, watching Xanthe wash the crumbs off the plate and stick them in the dishwasher. "How are you?" Kallias shrugged. "She needs to have an outlet for her message. I receive the punishment from here on in." His chin dimpled. "I have a choice to make. How much pain can I handle?" "Why do the gods not just remove her chip for her? Why bless you and leave your torture device in? They make no sense." "It is not up to us to question the gods’ wisdom," Kallias replied, reaching for the wine bottle. Xanthe ambled up the hall. "Goodnight, gentlemen." Zerro stood. "I hoped that you would walk me through the known races of your universe tonight." Xanthe’s brow furrowed. "Zerro, I nearly died today. Give a girl a break." "Quite so. I apologize. I am just an eager pupil." He bobbed his head respectfully. "Get some rest." "Goodnight," Kallias wished his wife as she took the stairs gingerly. She picked up her skirts and they made a soft swishing sound as they brushed against the

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woven stair runner. Soon after, her door closed. "Where is Demetria?" Zerro wondered. "Probably in the basement. She moved down there. More room." "Ah." Zerro still stood. "Show me the weight room." Kallias agreed to it and Zerro tested out each machine. Soon thereafter, fueled by one another, they took turns pushing the limits of their bodies in a friendly competition. Xanthe sat by her bed, using the security camera to zoom in on their workout, watching them on a tiny screen. Even with poor resolution, their now-shirtless bodies enthralled her. After a few moments of voyeurism, she turned the system off and went to bed. # Kallikrates came home with no fanfare. The ambulance simply backed into the garage and security and medical teams met him there, transporting him to his private quarters. Phaedra, who underwent intense psychotherapy, stood by with a glazed look in her eyes from psychiatric medication. Anicetus was noticeably absent, but Kleitos and Kallias watched with great sympathy, ready to re-introduce themselves to their brother. Kallikrates, of course, recognized neither of them. He understood rudimentary conversation, but tired easily, and Kallias and Kleitos kept it short. To everyone’s surprise, though, Kallikrates spotted Phaedra and reached out to her, and she held his hand as the nurses wheeled Kallikrates into his room. "Maybe this is not such a bad thing," Kleitos commented. "I have had a long talk with Father. If I am to be successor, I will insist Phaedra bear a child groomed to be king." "Is he agreeable?" "He seems to be. How is Xanthe? I do not blame her for staying at home." "She is more concerned of the effect it would have on Phaedra," Kallias disclosed. "Phaedra is making progress?" Kleitos pulled one shoulder up to his ear. "It is too soon to tell." "Maybe a child will bring her back." "She is like all of us, Kallias. We all want someone to love us back." He nudged Kallias’ shoulder. "That is the case, is it not?" Kallias said nothing, waving goodbye as he left, his sword brushing against his thigh.

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Chapter 29 "It is very simple," Anicetus went on, scepter in his lap, rocking slowly on Xanthe’s front porch. "You will be on the platform when I announce Kleitos as successor. I highly doubt the gods will reject my choice in your presence." "I will do as you request," Xanthe said demurely, flaking paint away from the porch swing with a fingernail. "You will go to the temples and ensure that Kleitos is an acceptable exchange." "You speak of Kleitos as if he were inferior. He is a noble man." "Pah." Anicetus glared at her. "You and I both know Kallias is more equipped for such. If I step over him in the line of succession, though, I cast a stone in the water of an already troubled pool." "Kallias says he has no interest in it." "The boy has always been unmotivated." Anicetus rose. "I know you have nothing on your personal schedule. I want you at the temples at once." Xanthe watched him leave, part of her wanting to strike him down with another mind shriek, but if he knew of her heritage, how would he manipulate her then? What would he put Kallias through? Fully compliant, she went back inside and changed into something suitable for her trip to the temples. Demetria arranged her hair in layered braids. Between the glitter body lotion and the jewelry, she radiated like silver bells in the sunlight. Xanthe found this particular dress to be stifling; it was a reproduction of the gown she wore on entry to this world and the beading, although not genuine jewels, weighed her down. Holding up her skirts, she descended the stairs, just as Kallias staggered through the door. "Kallias!" She rushed over to him, missing making contact with him as he collapsed on the couch. The hilt of his sword jabbed his waist and he cursed as he unbuckled the scabbard and let it drop to the floor. With jerking limbs, he cursed and writhed while Xanthe stood over him in tears. "What happened?" she begged of him. "Father sends you a message," he said between gasps. "You did not go to the temples quickly enough." "Oh, god." Xanthe’s hands flew up to her face. She kneeled next to the couch and took Kallias’ shaking hand. "I would prefer the full dose of torture," he griped. "At least it knocks you out for the

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worst of it. Go," he pleaded with her. "Go before he does this again." "Yes, of course." Xanthe planted a kiss on his sweaty, furrowed brow. "Kallias, I am sorry." "Just go." He made brief eye contact, and exposed the depths of his pain in those doebrown eyes. "Quickly. Demetria can handle this." Xanthe hopped into Kallias’ study to call Zerro, who made security arrangements as quickly as possible. # "Dad’s still confined?" Xanthe asked Athena. "Yes. They still hold court. Don’t worry. Things will work out just fine." "All agree? Kleitos is a good choice?" "Anicetus could pick a beggar child from the north province," Athena said. "We are not to interfere in any way, shape or form." "But I can?" "This is a little different," Athena disclosed. "You are a fledgling inductee to The Circle, making her way." "Just remove the chips," Xanthe begged. "I know you can." "But who are you without the chip?" Athena walked around her, studying her glimmering attire. "You need motivation. You have never been the assertive type." "Then take Kallias' chip," she implored. "It will just get worse from here." Athena paused thoughtfully, twisting a ringlet around her finger. "I’m sorry. They have to stay in." "Why?" "To give you a better understanding of Anicetus’ cruelty." "I have tasted enough of such!" Athena stopped for a moment. As they were totally alone under the vaulted ceiling with tapestries bearing her image, Athena felt no need to stop time. "Here’s how it is. Father screwed up royally. We are all under close watch. There are limits to the assistance we can give you. Blessing you is about as far as we dare go, besides guarding your life." "This is absurd." "I know it seems so to you." Athena readied her helmet and spear. "Don’t hate us so, please. We do what we can." Xanthe’s shoulders slumped forward. "Will you bless Kleitos?" "Probably not. Our main concentration is you for the time being, elevating you to the highest reaches of society. We’ve done that. Shine for us, Xanthe. We want you to know your true heritage." Xanthe leaned her lower back against the altar. "Will I ever be able to go home?" "Can you really go back?" "I promised two people I’d help them explore the universe." "You will be able to do that once you establish yourself," Athena promised. "Your ties, however, will always revolve around Olympus. Your friends on the station already suspect something. Perhaps it would be good to send them the book you wrote on your encounters with us."

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"But I will reveal my demigod status." Athena shrugged. "And that is supposed to be a problem?" "I doubt they would believe me, anyway." She sniffed. "How are they?" "Fine. They brought someone in named Fritz DuMontier to take your place." "Fritz?" Her lip tugged up into a trembling sneer. "That is so Heifer Hurford to slap me in the face like that." "That’s what I thought after I did a little research. Honestly, though, he is very objective in his assessments and the crew seems responsive to him." Athena’s eyes glinted with mischief. "He’s a very striking man." "Before Zed, I would have agreed with you," Xanthe muttered. "What do you all think of me?" "Honey, we are all rooting for you. You are a pleasant surprise to us." "Surprise?" "Our father crossed the line on your world by producing a child. He couldn’t help it. Your mother was a flawless woman." "She was." "Anything else I can do for you?" "Send an angel to sit on Kallias’ shoulder. I can protect myself but not Kallias." "That ability will grow in time. Talk to me," she said on a whim. "We are talking," Xanthe replied, confused. "Talk to me without using your lips," Athena directed. "You know about this?" "You have already started? Wow." Athena clapped her hands. "Is it just a power of suggestion or is it something more impressive?" It is just the start, I think, Xanthe intoned. "I hear you loud and clear. You project your voice well. Have you used it in defense?" "I shrieked in my mind twice, once when Kallikrates accosted me and once when Anicetus tortured Kallias." "Good. Work on it and think about its possible implications. This will help you dig your way out of this quagmire you currently experience." Athena looked up suddenly. A scuffle outside the doors caused her to evanesce instantly, leaving Xanthe with her forehead glowing. When the doors parted to let Anicetus through, Xanthe still stood under the statue. "Well?" "Kleitos is very acceptable as your heir." Xanthe picked up her skirts and slipped down the stairs. "They will not harm me, either?" "They will not interfere in any way. Kleitos is acceptable," she repeated. "I hoped to catch you in the act," he glowered. "Was Athena here?" "She was." Anicetus walked around Xanthe, looking for any signs of Athena’s presence. "Where did she go?" "I do not know where they go when they leave here. I should ask sometime."

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"I am not good enough to hold audience with Athena?" "She is not happy with the way you treat either Kallias or me," Xanthe depicted. "But they will not interfere there either," she muttered under her breath. "So, my rule is still solidified," Anicetus theorized. "As it stands, yes." "Hm." Cogs and wheels worked behind his steely eyes. "Let us leave now, yes?" Gallantly, he held his arm out and Xanthe warily accepted it. "Happy, happy, my dear, or Kallias will suffer." Xanthe controlled her arm, guiding it with extra effort to keep from dismantling the haughty king then and there. # Kallias still rested on the couch, now with a down pillow at his neck and a comfortable throw draped across his long body. He stirred when Xanthe passed him, her jeweled gown jostling together for a soothing sound. She thought she left him sleeping but did not. "Is Kleitos the next heir?" He sat up on his elbows, peering over the back of the couch. "Yes. They would have approved you, as well," she assured him. "Xanthe, I want to be free of responsibility when we finally get off this planet," he replied. "Arkhidamos knows my role. Zerro’s staff is very competent." He let his arms give out and hit the pillow heavily. "I want out." "So do I." She reached over the couch and touched his forehead. "I already see your breath steaming a window pane in a shuttle, watching the stars go by." "And what will you be doing?" "Sitting at one of the tables, sifting data into coherent blocks of information." Xanthe tucked a strand of Kallias’ hair behind his ear. "I am so boring." "I do not think so. Zerro sure does not think so," he iterated. "We wait anxiously to eat chocolate and drink soda in reckless abandon as we careen around the universe at the speed of light." "I always wondered how you managed to calculate your days and hours, given your father’s and ancestors’ taboo on the study of the stars." "The ancients did it for us, I guess, before we made laws to keep us bound to the earth beneath our feet." Kallias sighed. Zerro rapped his knuckles against the screen. He entered before invited; his knock was merely an announcement of his presence. Xanthe straightened and stood with her hands draped across the sofa’s back, and Kallias turned his head hair by hair to avoid vertigo. "He got you again," Zerro fumed. "Kallias, this has to stop." "I agree. Do you have any bright ideas?" Zerro flopped down in the chair, sending it scooting a little, digging into Xanthe’s prized wood floors. "None." He pulled off his helmet to reveal a concerned face in full concentration. "My friends work so hard, yet they come up with nothing." Pinching his wrinkled brow across the eyebrows, he grunted. "Kallias, I am trying everything I know." "We understand." "I discovered something this morning," Xanthe announced. "Kallias, if you feel up to it, I

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will show you." Kallias judged himself, rising up to look past the couch and toward the stairs. "Maybe." "I will help you," Zerro offered. "I can and will take the stairs on my own," Kallias insisted, standing shakily. He did it, though, teetering up the staircase, bracing his hands against the walls, while Xanthe tugged a chair across the carpeted hallway into her office to have another seat for Zerro. She sat it somewhat behind her. The screen saw her presence and immediately kicked on, bringing up her list of options. "With all the excitement, it never occurred to me..." she said, her soft voice drifting down. "What is it?" "This is my Gnosi Diktyo, the universe Datanet." The computer picked up on her keyword and opened the web browser. "What do you want to know?" she asked merrily. "Pyramids," Kallias breathed. "From Earth or from Daltusi?" "Earth," Kallias responded, and the computer took off, generating hits and thumbnail images. He reached out for the Giza Pyramids and the screen took it from there. "Pictures," Xanthe further instructed the machine. Kallias drew in his breath as the colossal structures came online. "They did this in the desert? How?" He saw the pyramids in comparison to a camel with a rider. "They are massive. How?" "We still do not know. I am beginning to wonder, though, if the ancients had outside influences, like Olympus does." "Does this mean you can link up to your station?" Zerro wondered. "No, they have conveniently prohibited that," she said with a snort at the end. "But, I can tap into the web blogs I have created." She tapped a few screens and said a few keywords. "This is what your planet looks like from space." She let them take in their first glance of their world. Quiet for a full moment, Xanthe suddenly had an idea. "Excuse me." She tapped the screens and accessed her web blogs, pulling up a page where she entered her information and tried to add to the blogs, perhaps leaving a message that her cohorts up above could read, but the transmission failed. "That’s not surprising," she muttered. "Why do they let me send the books but not send data electronically?" Kallias shrugged. "You have a job to do," he theorized. "Yes, but it means detriment to you. Kallias, that chip must be removed before I try anything." "Good luck," Zerro said, his voice gruff. "We three do not seem to have Tyche on our side." # Anicetus allowed Phaedra to implant her son, making her about two months’ pregnant. She stayed to herself, not even going to the gardens for relief, presumably somewhere with her feet up until the implantation completely took. Kleitos played a big role in his father’s decision; his lifestyle lent to no heir of his own and he forgave her for her misdeeds to Xanthe, knowing Phaedra definitely needed someone’s friendship.

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Kallikrates slowly came to terms with his new world. After a week or so, he seemed to retain all information thrown at him, and no one mentioned his previous haughtiness and philandering in desperate hope to make him a new, more gentle man, a fact that even Anicetus played. Eventually, through brief chats with Xanthe, Anicetus gleaned that Zeus punished his son for his numerous misdeeds, culminating against one so highly thought of by the godhood. Xanthe, ever cautious with her mind gift, still slipped up occasionally, but only to Kallias, who reveled in it, thinking it meant their compatibility reached new levels. Nightly, they sat on the porch swing or took casual strolls in the gardens, acting like lovers. Or were they acting at all? The tenderness stopped once in the house, and there were always awkward moments of silence in transition from lovers to friends. Publicly, though, Xanthe craved every moment of their togetherness, and looked forward to it, where Kallias nuzzled her neck and made her knees go weak. Xanthe watched Demetria weave at the loom, enchanted at her fluid hand motions and likened it to her own mother’s. She felt eight again, and Demetria did provide a motherly influence. It was a good thing to be impressed by someone, Xanthe noted, for how else would one strive to better themselves? "You weave so nicely that you might anger Athena," Xanthe joked. "Arachne was foolish, making such claims. I neither brag nor boast. I just do what makes me happy," the maid responded. "I very much like it in this house." "We like having you here," Xanthe responded. "My house has never been cleaner." Demetria laughed. "I take it you were a lousy housekeeper." "The worst. Did you not see all the clothes stacked next to the dryer? I had no intention of folding or putting them away, knowing it would be well over a year at the research post." Xanthe shook her head, turning at the end to see Kallias nearly collapsing through the door. "Oh, no!" Xanthe flew around the couch. "What have I done now?" she begged of him, watching him crawl toward the couch. "This," he huffed, "is a reminder," he clawed his way onto the couch, "that you are supposed to bring blessing upon Kleitos, stay present on the risers and keep your gods from vaporizing any royalty tomorrow." "Kallias, he tortures you at will, now," Xanth said, alarmed. "There was no need for this. I already assured him of my compliance." "Yeah, well, here it is." Kallias undid his belt and his sword met the rug with a thunk. As Xanthe ran her tender hands over his face, he picked up one wrist and very gently pushed it back at her. "Xanthe, leave me alone." She rose slowly, rebuffed. "I thought you might like to know that they finished installing the bathing pool." "Later." He closed his eyes and waited for the twitching to stop.

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Chapter 30 Zerro ambled down the stone path. He and Xanthe discovered each other simultaneously, where Xanthe spotted him from the porch swing. Unsure, she hoped he came to visit a very sullen Kallias, perhaps bringing him some cheer. Unfortunately, Zerro being Zerro, he sought her company first. "You’re alone," he remarked, coming around the curve of the wraparound porch. "Anicetus zapped Kallias again." She sniffled and wiped her eye. "And you are out here?" Her shoulders sagged. "He wants no comfort. All he does is demand that we leave him alone." Zerro sat in the rocking chair and lowered his voice, leaning toward her. "Watch for personality changes," he reminded her. "I know." She twisted her loose hair and put it over one shoulder. "I guess we should get in there and try again." "You know," Zerro said, putting a hand on her shoulder when she tried to rise, "if you want Kallias to be free, you must leave. That turns Anicetus’ eyes elsewhere. Come with me," he enticed her. "You have the device?" "It is not in my hands yet, but it is ready." His cheek shields on his helmet hid the wider aspects of his smile. "We get you out of here, take you to the heretics, you become their champion, you complete your task and we come back for Kallias, if he still wants to go, and leave this planet." "Zerro, I refuse to leave Kallias behind." "The heretics only had the resources for one device," he admitted. "The logical choice is that you take it." "You pay for this with your own funds?" He batted the air. "Everything I require I get for free in my position. I have millions stored away. Have to pay for it somehow." Getting up slowly, he extended his hand to help Xanthe up, as well. "Think on it." # Zerro’s visit did little to change Kallias’ mood. Demetria played hostess while Xanthe stood behind the couch, worry etched in her brow. During their brief conversation, Xanthe learned Anicetus had several power settings on his scepter, one to initiate a slow burn, such as he used on Xanthe; a short, evil burst of which Kallias now was quite familiar; or a pulsed wave of

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short bursts, saved for his most cruel moments. Zerro glanced at Xanthe frequently. She looked tired, bewildered and confused. Having the backing of the pantheon made little difference. # Kleitos fretted, pacing in front of the main doors. His long cape helped ruffle the rug. Already, Xanthe sat in the litter, waiting for the procession to take them to the riser sitting in the middle of temple square. Kallias stood off to the side, making no motion to approach the litter until the priests hoisted Xanthe on their shoulders, and he reached inside for her hand...limply. She panicked, clutching his fingers tightly even if he did not respond to it. Wanting to cry, she put on a brave face when the doors opened. The crowd noticed the missing Phaedra and Kallikrates right away. Of course, all knew the assassin had been captured; they were not told exactly who it was. Anicetus led the troupe down the stairs, raising his hands and scepter in the air in response to the jubilations of the commoners and nobility present at the festival square. The guards parted the crowd to let them pass. The priests sat the litter next to the riser. Kallias tugged her from behind the curtains and cameras rose all over the throng. His touch seemed warmer now, and he hugged her shoulders like always. Picking up her skirts, she went up the stairs with Kallias’ hand at the small of her back. She looked around. This was her opportunity. Not a meter away, a stand held Anicetus’ microphone. Swallowing over a lump in her throat, she darted a nervous look at Kallias and back at the microphone. Her feet turned in its direction, but she felt Kallias’ hand wrap around her forearm. "Have a seat, Darling," he murmured, tugging her to one of four thrones waiting on the platform. Crushed, Xanthe kept her features pleasant while Anicetus announced Kleitos, gesturing for Xanthe to rise. A priest brought forth the gold laurel wreath, the crown of the future king. Kleitos caught her gaze and smiled as Xanthe lifted the crown from the purple pillow. He bent down to give her an easy reach. With trembling fingers, Xanthe crowned the heir apparent, who kissed her on both cheeks. Anicetus purposely stayed next to her, afraid of another jolt in his direction. In fact, it was he and not Kallias who led her back to the litter, exposing himself to the public eye for as short a time as possible, foregoing his long-winded speeches and requests for blessings from the gods. Clearly scared out of his wits, Anicetus indicated the priests to lift the litter as Kallias strode over to it and walked alongside, not bothering to put his hand where she could reach it. # Xanthe looked at the clock. Now dark out, Kallias still worked. Two days in a row now, he spent nearly every waking moment in the palace, not even coming home for lunch. Demetria said nothing, but she noticed it, too. Xanthe decided to read a book, a rare tome of Olympian science fiction, part of Kallias’ library. The ragged corners showed its age and the paper smelled musty, a scent only true readers appreciated. Hugging a pillow, she concentrated. From her standpoint, it was like trying to read Shakespeare in an ever-evolving language. It challenged her, though, and she accessed the Knowledge Network several times to check on the meanings of the words.

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She walked out of Kallias’ library right into his chest. Startled, she nearly dropped the book, but caught it by its spine. "Hello." She focused on the buttons of his shirt. "Having fun?" "This is a good book." She tapped it against her palm. "How are you?" "Fine." He touched the book. "I have read that several times. It used to make me wonder." "About?" "Other places outside our world." He stepped back two paces and went down the hall to the kitchen. Not sure what to do, Xanthe put the book on the coffee table and followed him. "Are you hungry?" Kallias looked at the stove. Xanthe kept a pot there on the back burner, hoping that Kallias returned. "I saved some for you," she said. "Why is it that everything you cook goes in one pot?" Kallias took the lid off and sniffed. Xanthe’s version of Alfredo noodles with lentils and fish stared back at him. "I used more than two pots, but they all ended up in one," she replied, miffed. "Could you not serve them separately?" "Yes, but the flavors I used work well together." She took the lid from him and sat it down on the pot. "What is with you?" "Nothing." Kallias removed the lid. "Serve me." "Serve yourself." Xanthe spun around and marched down the hall and up the stairs, grabbing her toothbrush and toothpaste. She scrubbed until her gums bled. Even at the early hour, she changed into her nightgown and sat on the bed, hugging her knees and battling tears. Maybe she overreacted. Maybe Kallias did have pressing matters at the palace. Maybe... Kallias opened the door without knocking. "I know what this is about. You are angry for not letting you take the microphone and sway the audience’s opinions." Xanthe shot off the bed and put her hand on his chest before he came in any further. He grabbed her by the wrist, not painfully, but rather firmly. "What do you want? Do you want to see me writhe on the floor, begging for mercy?" He released her wrist and pushed it back toward her. "No, of course not." Xanthe touched her wrist lightly. "I want to go home, dammit." Kallias theatrically looked around, jerking his head in the direction of certain aspects of the house. "It looks like you are home to me." "Good night, Kallias." Xanthe stepped back and shut the door in his face. With barely a second’s hesitation, she locked it, too, watching the old-fashioned lock slide into its waiting hole. As she turned around and leaned against the door, she heard Kallias chuckle. Now completely unsettled, tears ran down her cheeks and she flopped on the bed face first. Demetria stood by the bottom of the stairs, listening to every nuance. She used the corner of her apron to dab her eyes before going back to the basement. # Two days passed. Zerro, too, stayed away from the house, given Xanthe’s edict that he

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only be there when Kallias was home. Kallias came home early, but Therapon’s orderlies wheeled him in on a hover stretcher. Xanthe’s anger left her as she saw Kallias there, helpless and nearly unconscious. Zerro came by as the orderlies transferred Kallias directly to bed. Unlike Xanthe, he approached the ailing prince and tried to get the details before Kallias succumbed to the fatigue. "What happened this time?" he pressed. "Father found out I issued house arrests with work passes. He wants detention centers." Kallias wriggled under the covers, maybe not entirely his doing. "Tents. No toilets. He wants a message sent." "Oh, no." Zerro sat heavily in the chair next to the bed. "Xanthe must send her message soon." "No!" Kallias bellowed. "No. She must keep her mouth shut." He raised his head to look over to her. "You open your mouth, woman, and it will be to the detriment of us all!" "How could you say such a thing?" Zerro asked, amazed. "We always do what is in the best interest of the people, Kallias. We decided so as children and did our best to live what we believe." "What do you want me to do? Father will kill me," he panted. "Do you know something I do not? When did this become all about you?" He pointed to Xanthe. "She holds the key to all our freedom. We must let her have a chance." "No." Kallias’ face drew up in a repugnant sneer. "I do not hate her, Zerro, but my life would be so much easier without her." He stifled a gurgle of pain. "I rue the day the gods sent her to us." "So, you tell me that this is all Xanthe’s fault?" Zerro inferred, his voice rising. "She is just a victim of this as you!" "Out!" Kallias bellowed, thrashing around, trying to get comfortable. "Out, the both of you!" Zerro stood sharply. The horsetail on his helmet whipped about as he turned and he took Xanthe by the arm. "Come on." He pulled her away from the door before he noticed the tear stains on the organza collar of her dress. "He does not mean that, Xanthe; he is in pain." "I meant every word of it!" Kallias hollered after them. "Be gone from me!" Zerro helped Xanthe down the stairs. The poor thing wept like a leaky faucet and, by the landing, sobs broke free. He led her to the couch and sat down next to her. "Now will you hearken to me?" She shook her head slowly. "Anicetus’ punishment will be horrible. I cannot put him through that." Letting her back collapse against the comfortable sofa, she picked at the pleats in her skirt. "The gods should never have brought me here." "You--you do not listen to him," Zerro begged. "It is time you seriously considered my offer." She glossed over him. "How long do you think he will be like this? It has only been four times," she assessed, studying the intricate flower designs woven in the upholstery, tracing a bud with her fingertip. "Surely the personality changes would not happen so swiftly." "With Kallikrates, it was overnight," Zerro disclosed. "It is like he snapped, ready to comply with his father’s desires instantaneously. It was horrible." He touched Xanthe’s cheek

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and lifted a tear away. "He destroyed his entire room in the rage that followed. He gave up, Xanthe, and I suspect Kallias will, as well. Remember, he is older now. It has been years since his last exposure to this. His brain now works differently than when he was younger." "Kallias is made of stronger stuff than Kallikrates." "Kallikrates was of a very strong mind," Zerro differed. "He was one day and the next he was not. We did some study on it. It affects the part of the brain with judgment. Perhaps that part is being destroyed." Xanthe doubled over with her elbows on her knees and her face hidden by her hands. "Do not tell me such things," she pleaded. Zerro massaged her spine. "You love him." "Yes, I do," she admitted. "He is my friend." "Am I not your friend?" "Zerro, I do not know what to make of you." She stood shakily, away from the gentle hand between her shoulder blades. "You offer these things to me. What do you expect in return? Sex? Are you so conceited to think that any woman would be so taken with you to bed you immediately?" "No, Xanthe, it is nothing like that," he claimed. "You have a job to do--a job that will empower our world, make it a part of something bigger. I want to be a part of that." So rebuffed, Xanthe folded her arms and looked down on him, wanting to remove the helmet to see his sincerity or lack thereof. "Anicetus will kill him." "Not once he makes Kallias a complete devotee of his doctrines. I think he is already there. He has lost the fight." Zerro rose in one fluid motion and put his hands on Xanthe’s shoulders. "It is up to you and me now." Xanthe’s brow crinkled and she shook her head. "I cannot do it." "Then live in hell," Zerro said curtly, and headed for the door.

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Chapter 31 Kallias neither yelled at her or called her names. Instead, he did something far worse--he ignored her. If she stood in the kitchen near the stove, he merely walked around her like he would any other piece of furniture. Xanthe, defiant, now only cooked a meal enough for one. It made no difference. Kallias ordered his food through the palace via Demetria, whose face wore crinkles if her attire did not. Xanthe stayed out of his way. It hurt less. Little things affected her now. Kallias stayed away from the chocolate drawer and left her soda alone. This outright rejection put a big hole in her heart, and her anger burned even more at Anicetus for taking one of the world’s most beautiful gifts of life and beating it down into this...this...thing. Xanthe wiped a tear from her eye as she went upstairs. A snort later, she wondered if her father would let her borrow a thunderbolt or two to shock some sense into her husband. Husband. She heard his footfalls up the stairs to brush his teeth in the bathroom on his way to bed. Kallias stayed mostly in the castle, still, a few days later, leaving Xanthe to raid his bookshelves. She found his notes in the margins of some logic study, and she wept. His underlined passages consisted of helpful, thoughtful ways to lead Olympus. Her tears made the ink there run. That Kallias was gone. Zerro announced his presence by rapping on the storm door. Xanthe sniffled and wiped her tears away with her sleeve, but the blotchy red spots remained. "Hello, Xanthe," he said in soft, gentle tones. She allowed him entrance with a slight wave of her hand. Taken aback, Zerro looked both ways before setting foot inside the premises. Cautiously, though, he stayed right next to the door, in easy view of the Spartan guards. Now was not the time to start any more rumors, rumors that spoke of atrocities in the coastal towns against their heretics. "I came to see how you were doing," he muttered. He reached up and touched her blotchy face. "I take it not too well." "He says nothing. If he is here at all, he surfs the Knowledge Network or sits between piles of slates." Her lip quivered. "It as though I am not even here." As if they were the magic words, tears spilled down her cheeks. She wandered over to the couch and sat with her back slumped over and her elbows on her knees. "Your heart is broken," Zerro gave council, tucking wet strands of hair behind her ear. "Is there any hope?" She said it more like a statement, for she thought she already knew

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the answer. "I have lost mine." He took a deep breath. "He is very quarrelsome to me. He threatened to expose my heretical leanings." Talking through clenched teeth, he continued. "He pushes everything dear to him away, Xanthe. He went after Kleitos, too, from his report. It left Kleitos in tears and only me to comfort him. It was not pretty, from my standpoint. Kleitos is in abject fear of his father doing the same to him." Zerro relished her soft hair between his fingers, so he ran his hand through it several times. "Xanthe, the heretics are being forced to build their own detention camps. Men, women, children--they are all subjected to this." "I will talk to him." "Talk?" Zerro uttered a nasal, wan chuckle. "There is no talk, Xanthe." He let go of her hair and stood straight. "Anyway, all I wanted to do is commiserate with you for a while. I have to go." "Thanks for coming by." She rose as he left. "Zerro, he will not send you away. He cannot...right?" "I do not know what this new Kallias is capable of," he replied. He leaned toward her face and his lips brushed against her cheek. "You know where to find me." Xanthe nodded as Zerro left. The sun set and Kallias had yet to return, fortunately or unfortunately, depending upon how Xanthe looked at it. She tried cooking dinner, but abandoned it before the water boiled. Going straight for the candy and soda, she imbibed and ate her way to a sugar rush, which, in turn, made her head straight for the exercise room. She actually changed into a unitard, letting the form-fitting apparel show every curve. One more chance, she decided. Give him one last chance. She pumped, twirled, lifted and kicked for well over an hour. Her long braid damp, she leaned back on the weight bench, sucking in air. Her attempt a beguiling failed; Kallias still worked in the palace. God, nothing in her life went right. Defeated, she collected her night clothes and went to the bathing pool. # In bed, but not asleep, she glanced at the clock, torturing herself with time. Kallias came home a little before then. She heard his footsteps in the kitchen. After that, he went to the weight room. Water ran downstairs in the new pool, and, finally, his feet caused the stairs to squeak under his sturdy weight. Even with a door between them, she saw his developed chest and wet hair clinging to his neck. So close, she was. So close. "Xanthe?" He called her name as he beat on her door. "Xanthe, wake up." Xanthe waited a few minutes, pretending to be a sleepyhead, not wanting him to know how much he goaded her. She pushed on the bed, making it sound like she was really entangled in sheets and sleeping carelessly. "Xanthe?" She opened the door five centimeters. "What?" "I am leaving tomorrow." "Good. I think you should," she said coldly. "Oh, you are not rid of me that easily," he gloated. "I will be gone for about a week. I need to oversee the detention centers."

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"But those people are your friends," Xanthe protested. Kallias said nothing in reply to that, but haughtily intoned, "Xanthe, I can only do so much." He closed the door for her. Xanthe grabbed a pillow and threw it across the room. "You will see me off in the morning. That is expected of you," he noted, his voice carrying through her door. She threw another pillow and another. Angrily, she collected them and arranged them in her preferred style, two for her head and one for her leg and another for her arms. She liked to snuggle when she slept, and pillows were all she had for the moment. The morning came and she put on a simple robe, left her hair rumpled and watched the stewards carry out Kallias’ traveling cases. Kallias himself emerged from the kitchen, smelling his very best. "Good morning," he said cheerily for the benefit of the servants, and she waved to him from the landing, not bothering to put on a happy face. "You look like you will miss me. It is only a week. Can you make it a week?" "I could make it ten," she muttered, completely out of earshot of everyone. "Come, Darling, give me kisses before I go." He tugged on her hand and helped her down the remaining four stairs. Cruel and insensitive, he pulled her into a very close embrace and nibbled her lips. God, she wanted him. Her body caved to his touch. She responded to it, even for show, taking what she could get. He proved a practiced kisser, light fingers touching her throat as their tongues danced just a little. For a second--just briefly--she caught his eye. Some of the madness there left, and she knew she saw her Kallias. He quickly turned away and followed the last steward out of the house. "Goodbye, Love." # That look lingered in her mind over the day. That little kiss, just a simple taste, left her craving more. She tried weights. She tried a book. She tried three meals. As the sun set, the loneliness set in, another night in a king-sized bed all alone. She tried her bed for a while, but eventually went into Kallias’ room. Demetria had yet washed his sheets and his scent clung there heavily. Tentatively, she traced the pillow where his head normally rested, slowly sitting on the bed’s edge, letting her arm fall against his warm scent. Xanthe tangled herself in his covers and buried her head under a pillow. Sleep came a little more easily. # Demetria caught on to Xanthe’s loneliness the next morning when she stole upstairs to clean the toilet. Her mistress slept all sprawled out in Kallias’ bed, with sheets and bedding twisted around her limbs. She shook her head and sighed heavily. Xanthe appeared to earn cruelty for nothing. She slept more, ate little and spoke less over the next couple of days, wandering around the house like a ghost with no one to haunt. Not even Anicetus came to visit, and Xanthe

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preferred it that way. The man not need gloat to her about his victory over Kallias’ will. Zerro stopped by around breakfast time, catching Xanthe still in her nightgown, but covered modestly with a tattered, comfortable robe. Demetria announced him and Xanthe allowed him to come inside. "What are you doing still lazing around?" he asked cheerily. "Get dressed! I have to show you something." Xanthe poked her barley mush around with her spoon. "It will take a while." "Take your time; take your time. I will just be waiting on the porch," he said, turning around, making his words true. "Come now, Holy One." Demetria pulled her chair away from the table as Xanthe rose. "This change of pace will do you good." Xanthe looked at the maid, lowering her eyes quickly. "I will fill the pool," Demetria offered. "I will shower," Xanthe declined. "Good." The maid pulled fluffy towels from the linen closet while Xanthe collected clothes. In direct defiance of the king, she purposely selected her comfort clothes, presentable but definitely not trend setting, with wide-legged pants and a long shirt, in pastel pink. It fit the weather, which turned cooler, but the sun still shone brightly and warmed a person quickly. She used the dryer, but her thick hair still held some water as Demetria plaited it in a single braid. "Shoes?" she asked. "Oh. Um, the white ones, I guess." She assumed Zerro meant to take her somewhere, maybe just for a walk in the gardens, but the shoes had a flexible sole for whatever he had in mind. She stiffened. Whatever he had in mind. Mysia and Persephone needed to tag along; that was a given. She ambled down the stairs and gestured for her guards to draw near. Walking around the bend in the porch, she quickly located Zerro on the swing. "Ah, you are ready." He jumped up quickly. "Good morning, lady Spartans," he greeted the guards, who nodded their reply. "I have to show someone. I am about ready to burst!" His excitement pulled the corner’s of Xanthe’s mouth up a little. "What is it?" "You will see." Graciously, he offered her his arm and led her down the steps. He made no attempt at conversation, pulling her briskly along. The garden opened up and they turned south, heading for the road that encircled the palace. He stopped at the road and held his arms out. "Well? What do you think?" The sun glinted off gold metallic paint and off a bubble dome. Its air jets matched the paint job and the fenders tapered off into fashionable points, where brake lights fit on the tips. If Zerro was going to drive, this car was certainly his style. "Well?" "It is very nice," she finally said, touching the bubble dome, which was divided into fours, looking past the glass to the leather bucket seats and bench seat for the back. The full-sized sedan had four doors and Zerro opened one and part of the bubble dome came with the door. "Get in," he invited her.

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She looked back over her shoulders at her guards. "Oh, they do not have to come," Zerro indicated, closing the doors. "Mysia, a demonstration, if you please." Zerro tugged Xanthe out of the way as Mysia shouldered her rifle and sent a green salvo at the dome. "See?" Zerro walked back to his prize, noting not even a scorch marked remained on his crystal-clear dome. "I am so excited. This came off the assembly line yesterday and, as far as I know, I am the first to get one," he said glibly. "Let us go!" Xanthe smiled, slipping into the seat as Zerro assisted and closed the door behind her. Zerro explained to the guards their planned tour of the palace grounds as Xanthe rued about her and Zerro being alone together. "Do not worry." Zerro perceived her hesitation. "Wherever we go, people will see. Just a leisurely drive around the premises. Would you like to see the stables?" "Yes, I would," Xanthe replied. "I would also like to see the mausoleums." "Whatever for?" "History," she said. "I want to write more about the burial customs." "Why? You planning on putting Kallias among his ancestors?" Xanthe let out a very slow exhale and crossed her legs in the spacious interior. Instead of watching, she looked at the numerous buttons on the control panel between the seats. Always a sucker for buttons, she traced each one lightly, reading each function labeled by tiny script. "You have never driven an Olympian car, have you?" Zerro realized. "No." She shaded her eyes from the sun, which came in bursts through the tree-lined lane. Already she smelled the horses. For being so well rounded, she never encountered a horse, save for the severely injured one when Phaedra blew up the chariot, and then she paid more attention to Kallias. But instead of driving toward the stables on the main road, Zerro took a side one, driving around the pasture. Xanthe grew nervous; his path meant more seclusion. "I do not think this is wise," she said, just as Zerro reached across her seat. "There is no wisdom left," he said grimly, and pressed a transdermal against her neck.

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Chapter 32 "What is it with you people and your damn transdermals?" Xanthe uttered. Over the past hours, she recalled several instances where she nearly made it to consciousness, only to have Zerro put her under once more. She fought with a checkered blanket, which covered her face. Now in Zerro’s backseat, she found her arms and ankles bound and some strange device enveloping her neck. "Zerro, you pompous ass, stop this at once!" She moved the blanket from her head by clutching it with her teeth, lowering her chin to her chest, and then repeating. Darkness sat just over the horizon, trying to chase the last pink hues into the mountain range. She called for Zerro several times, managing to sit up and look around, not liking the mechanism pinching against her throat. The car sat at the top of a small mountain in front of a used--still impressive, but obviously used--motor home. "Zerro!" she hollered. The motor home bobbed on its shocks as Zerro came down the steps. Even in the looming night, Xanthe saw clearly his shorn locks, now colored golden. He wore comfortable clothes. "Zerro, take me back this minute! When Anicetus finds out, he will do something terrible to Kallias!" She twisted her arms in the metal clips. "Get me out of this at once!" "See? I always knew you did not like me." Zerro sauntered to the vehicle, adjusting his sleeves. "I have never heard you talk so mean before." He clearly looked hurt. "If I let you loose, will you kill me?" "I am considering it," she groused. "What is the meaning of this?" "Plain and simple. When you came to us, I swore upon my honor to protect and defend you to the death. I am fulfilling my oath." Zerro fished in his pockets and found the keys for her locks. Cautiously, he reached for Xanthe’s stiff wrist, pulled it to him gently and freed her. "I can no longer sit by and watch your torment." "So you put me in shackles?" Xanthe thought about spitting on him. "Xanthe, if we get caught, it will look better if you were kidnaped. Anicetus’ retribution might not be so hard on you. I think we have dodged them adequately and you can now come out of your bonds, but there are times when I will have you wear them." Zerro tugged on her braid. "Xanthe, you deserve much better." "And you are ‘better,’" Xanthe gleaned, swinging her legs over the side of the car, only then realizing that Zerro retracted the bubble dome to hear her when she came around. "What is this thing on my neck?"

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"A very attractive stack of golden rings that dampen your chip. I am sure you find it uncomfortable, but it was the best they could do. It is gold, though. Real gold. Worth millions, I bet. Hey! Watch the paint," Zerro begged, slipping his arm under her ankles before the stocks scratched the golden finish. "In reply, I will tell you I have only one interest in mind, Miss Xanthe. I will take you to the heretics, where you will fulfill your destiny and we can leave this place." He walked back carefully, afraid Xanthe might lunge for his throat. She did not. In fact, she doubled over and started to bawl. "You fight Ypnox so good that I had to dose you every hour or so. It has the side effect of depression. Come on. I will take you inside." Zerro opened the door and reached for her hand, which she pushed away. "Xanthe," he tried, "I am your only true friend right now. Do not shut me out." "So it has come to this." She wiped her dripping eyes on her sleeve. "This is my only option." "Xanthe, I am afraid so. If this were a perfect world, you and Kallias would be happy, Anicetus would be dead and Kleitos king of Helios." He turned around and leaned on the car. "I have planned and plotted this for a while. I always knew there was the possibility of Kallias changing into some kind of monster." "But he is not completely gone," she sniveled. "I saw it in his eyes, briefly, when he kissed me goodbye. He is still in there somewhere." "I am not calling you a liar, but I think you saw what you wanted to see." "Maybe." "Can you stand?" Xanthe slid across the leather seat and shakily stood. "Where are we?" "Well north of Athens." "But the direct route is from the coastal towns southeast." "Yes, but the fishing is best up north." Zerro looped his arm around her elbow. "I do not want to fish," she said. "Yes, but the fishermen go down south to peddle their wares in Southern Ionia. It may be a little smellier, but we are going to be journalists to document their excursions." "Journalists?" Xanthe wobbled up the steps to the mobile home. Inside, a highly organized system of shelves met her, which sat over a small sink. No dishwasher. "So the whole car thing was a ruse." "Yes. I think we gave us a two-hour head start, and they probably think we head to the southeast." Zerro pointed to a small table in front of a bench seat, which sat against the wall. "Go sit for a while. We have a lot to discuss." "Where are you going?" she asked as he started back outside. "To get rid of the car," he said, sighing. She got up quickly and swayed. "What do you mean, get rid of the car?" As she followed him outside, she realized they stood right on top of a tree-filled gorge. "Oh, Zerro. Is this necessary?" Zerro got behind the wheel and inched it closer and closer to the overhang. Xanthe stood in front of him and ran back to the ledge, looking down. "That pass there will let you hover down, surely. Hide it in between the trees. Do not wreck a perfect car."

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"I am not planning on it. This car has a high hover capacity. You are correct about the pass." He reached into the car and got out a remote control. Sun glinted off the faddish prime automobile as Zerro guided it expertly down the slope. Only twice did the rocks underneath jostle, making Zerro correct with lightning-fast reflexes to keep the car from going over on its side. He turned on the headlights about halfway down, using that to guide him through the trees. Finally, the car had nowhere else to go, because thick trees blocked its passage. Satisfied, Zerro shut the car down and tossed the remote way down into the ravine. "How many thousands did you blow on that?" Xanthe asked carefully. "I told you; I have millions to spare." Zerro walked back toward the RV. "There are benefits to being an only son from a wealthy family." Xanthe scrambled around him to put her hands on Zerro’s chest to stop him. "You would squander it all for me?" He took each wrist gently and held them against his heart. "I would." Xanthe quietly took her hands back. She kept trying to look up but found it hard. "I do it out of nobility," Zerro assured her. "I made a promise to Kallias. If he will not keep up his end of the bargain, I will uphold mine." He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her crown. "You were given a sacred trust. I have to do this, by any means necessary. Do you understand?" Xanthe nodded. "I am going to require some cooperation from you," he counseled. "I suppose I am going to have to fight with you about cutting your hair." Xanthe grabbed her braid defensively. "What?" "At least let me color it. Add a perm or something." "You perm hair?" "Yeah. You think I am naturally curly?" He laughed. "Zerro, I am not sure I know what to think of you." She sat on the steps holding her face. "Hey, I am just here to help. Help, Xanthe, something you need so desperately." "I have to go to the bathroom." "Well, there are some bushes out back..." She looked up sharply. Zerro broke out into peals of laughter. "Just kidding. Down the hall, last room." Xanthe muttered epithets in English as she found the bathroom. It made sense to buy an older model mobile home, she contemplated. Everyone associated Zerro and his altar ego Adonis with the best of the best. He did look good with gold hair. Not as good as Kallias did with similar coloration, but he did look good. She used some bacteriocidal gel to clean her hands. Water needed conserved for the RV. Wandering up the narrow hall with a berth on either side, she spotted Zerro looking over a data slate at the table. He picked it up and plugged it into the navigation system of the vehicle, programming his desired routes along the back roads, not the route that took them there in the most direct way possible. Xanthe slipped onto the bench seat and put her elbows on the table, sliding them down until her hands clasped and she put her weary head on her hands facing Zerro.

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"What did you do with your helmet?" "It is in the trunk of the car. I just could not get rid of it. It represents a very significant portion of my life." He sat next to her and rubbed in between her shoulders. "What shade of pink do you want to be?" "Pink?" "Pink." "Did you bring me any clothes?" "Nope. We will have to stop along the way." "Where is Kallias now, do you think?" "He probably found out you were missing about seven hours ago, while he was in the Halicarnassus. I am sure he took the first train out, back to Athens. Appearances, you know." "Those poor people," she murmured. "Building their own detention center and he endorses it." "What shade of pink?" "I like blue." "I was out of blue, but I do have red and white. White is too close to your natural shade and I think red is out of the question with your complexion. How pink do you want to go?" "Pick a shade," she acquiesced. "I sound like Kleitos, but pastels...ah, pastels." He nudged her shoulder with his elbow. "Come on." He opened a closet and pulled out an old shirt. "Go change. You need to keep that one clean until we can find a clothing store." She disappeared into the cubicle he called a bathroom and changed. In the mirror, she tried to visualize herself with hair the same shade as the outfit she currently wore. # "She left with nothing, Sir," Mysia said. "She got into the car with Zerro and never returned." Kallias’ lips twitched and his brow formed a V above his nose. "Incompetent fools!" "It was Zerro," Demetria spoke up. "You always trusted him. We thought we could, as well." Mysia and Persephone looked positively ashen behind their helmets. "We reported it after two hours. We shut down the palace grounds and coordinated it with local authorities. We completely shut down Athens, but Zerro must be taking back roads." "He was too far out before you suspected anything," Kallias acceded. "Go! All of you. Get out!" Demetria picked up her skirts and left in a huff, but the Spartan guards turned stiffly and marched out of the house. He stormed upstairs, barging into Xanthe’s room, looking around for telltale signs of a wife in flight, but he found none. She had several suitcases stashed in a closet, but even the smaller bags remained. On her dresser, her scent line sat on a silver tray. He picked up the bottle and inhaled deeply but nothing registered on his face for good or ill. Demetria bravely walked down the carpeted hall and leaned against the doorjamb. "None of her clothes are missing. She was definitely kidnaped." Kallias fumed. "I told you to get out!"

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# Fritz DuMontier watched Xanthe disappear into the RV. "So is Zerro the good guy or the bad guy?" he asked, exasperated. "He ties her up and then sets her free. He drugs her and hides her in the backseat, but she seems to comply with his wishes willingly." He rubbed the wrinkles in his brow and looked around at his team. With so much activity as far as Xanthe was concerned, most ducked on and off the observation deck to keep track of the ongoing saga. "She still does not look happy," Anna noted. "Kallias and she must be having marital problems. I have not seen her smile for days." She yawned and stretched her arms overhead. "I am off to bed. I’ll report back around midnight or so." "Do that," Fritz agreed. "I think I will rest, as well." He nodded to Penelope, who took her turn in front of the station monitor. Instead of taking the lift to the crew quarters, he went down another level and stole down the hall, looking over his shoulder constantly. Heifer Hurford be damned; this needed to be done. He scampered inside the store room and went to the closest panel. Taking the return key module, he stuffed it in his pocket and opened a portal. # Xanthe stood over the sink while Zerro rinsed her hair. The water came away tinged pink. "That just about does it," he announced, wrapping her hair in the towel turban style. "You look lovely." She rolled her eyes and stood up and then bent back, loosening the kink in her lumbar muscles. Someone knocked on the door, causing Xanthe to jump and Zerro to grab a pistol. He pushed Xanthe to the back part of the motor home and cautiously approached the door. "Who is it?" he called. "My name is Fritz DuMontier. I am a friend of Xanthe’s," he said in broken Greek. "Fritz?" Xanthe shot down the hallway and threw open the door before Zerro could protest. She grabbed her colleague by the wrist and hauled him inside. "What are you doing here?" "Hurford’s gone too far. We need to make contact with you. Is he treating you well?" Fritz pointed to Zerro. "Long story." Xanthe pushed him over to the booth. "Zerro, Fritz. Fritz, Zerro." "Who is he?" Zerro demanded. "A colleague from up there." She pointed to the heavens but quickly grabbed her towel before it slid off her head. "What’s going on, Fritz? Why haven’t they sent Hilliard down with a shuttle to get me out of this fucking mess?" Fritz’s eyes grew very wide at her choice expletive. He never heard her say "damn" before, let alone graduating to something so heavy. "Hurford." "Ah, Hurford." She whipped off the towel and started blotting her pink tresses. "Xanthe, we need to get moving," Zerro said, noting the time. "What is he doing here?" "Moving? Where?" Fritz tried to speak so all could understand, but his attempt lacked Xanthe’s fluency. "Where did my last book leave off?"

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"You were being tortured," Fritz replied. "Okay, torturing me was not enough. Anicetus started zapping Kallias. Kallias changed virtually overnight into some kind of madman and they are rounding up the heretics for detention centers." "So Zerro’s helping you?" "Yes, Zerro is helping me. It looks weird, but if we get caught, it looks as if I was kidnaped and hopefully Anicetus will go easy on me." "And your contact with the cloud beings?" Xanthe’s mouth clamped shut. She looked between the two of them. "Xanthe, we have stayed in one position for too long," Zerro pressured her. "Fritz, there are a lot of things happening here that you do not understand." "Xanthe, I do not have much time, either. I’m not supposed to be here. If Hilliard discovers I disobeyed direct orders, I will be sent packing." "You have to go to my house. Second floor, room at the end of the hall. There are two journals, one for me and one specifically about the cloud creatures, who call themselves
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his forefinger. "Tell me." What did she have to lose? "There were three of us who studied together, hung out together and challenged each other. We all three strived to do our best. Zed, Fritz and I--we battled our way through the upper echelons of higher learning, always wanting to be the best in our field." She clucked her tongue. "Zed came on to me one night and would not take ‘no’ for an answer. Fritz walked in and interrupted us and I got away. I pressed charges; Zed’s mother orchestrated a plan. Fritz had damning evidence and never testified." She closed her eyes. "The scars are gone now, erased by the miracles of medicine, but I had a gash in my head, a broken wrist and teeth marks on my shoulder." "But there was one scar they could not erase," Zerro gathered. "No." She shrugged. "Nothing happened other than that, but society treated me like a freak, bringing charges against such a distinguished young gentleman like Zed Hurford." "Oh." Zerro stared at the road ahead. Both sat very quietly for a long while until Xanthe realized something. "Zerro, the pre-qualifying heats for the Olympics are this week." "I know." His face did not change expressions. "Oh, Zerro. I am so sorry." "Duty calls." He turned onto a side road as his navigation system dictated. "I was going to get beat this year, anyway. I am getting too old." "How old are you?" "Thirty-one." "That is not old. Some of our athletes retire in their forties." "I am sure your society is much more advanced than ours. Has yours found cures for the different types of cancers?" "Yes." "My parents both died from different cancers. I have been tested. I carry the same gene mutations as they did." Zerro frowned. "I try to live the best I can, but it always looms in the distance." "I see." "Just one of the many reasons I want off this world," he murmured. "Are you still angry with me?" "No." Xanthe massaged her forehead. "I think I see your point in all this." "Good. Now, the bench next to the table opens up into a box. I have installed a catch inside the trunk that you will have to activate if you need to hide, so the searchers will think the bench is solid. I have totally created a new identity for me. I have erased all traces of information, like fingerprints, DNA testing, etc., from every database of the palace. Yours, too. You are a completely new person. I set up my new profile with some false background information." "I hope it works," Xanthe said under her breath.

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Chapter 33 "He has erased himself from existence, Prigkipas," Zerro’s next-in-line informed Kallias. "What about the tracking?" "Deleted, but we restored the information. It gave him an ample head start." "Then why are we not picking up her signal?" "It must be some kind of dampening device. It is very apparent, Sir, that Zerro had heretical leanings. It is the only possible way." Kallias growled. By his own order, Zerro procured that device. But Zerro was also supposed to share the information that he had obtained it when the time came. His lids closed over soulless eyes. "What have you found?" Anicetus barked before he stepped through the door. "Zerro was very thorough, Father. She cannot be tracked," Kallias replied, eyeing Anicetus’ scepter with disdain. "I want every port shut down on either side of Helios," Anicetus dictated. "It has already been done. If they attempt go through any commercial port, they will be found." "What about a money link? He has to use his thumbprint to authorize transfer of funds," Anicetus suggested. "He emptied out his bank account last week. He carries cash. With the new identity he created for himself, he can deposit it in any bank he chooses. Every shred of Zerro’s existence is gone." Kallias shrugged. Anicetus beat his scepter against the desk. "I need her," he moaned. "You act as if this is not important to you. It should be." "Xanthe is the root for all my ills," Kallias disputed harshly. "She binds me down. I tolerate her because she is of utmost importance to you, but I welcome the break." Anicetus sneered and brought his scepter level to Kallias’ nose. "Rethink that position, boy." Kallias did not flinch. "See? Even as she is gone, she causes me nothing but trouble," he said. Anicetus lowered his scepter. "Find her, Kallias. Find her or suffer the consequences." # Zerro almost ran out of curlers from Xanthe’s thick hair. He looked older, Xanthe thought, but over 30 hours without sleep did that to a person. He nearly stumbled to the bench. "All we have to do is take the curlers out," he said.

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"I can do that," Xanthe insisted. "Get some rest." "Can you drive?" "No, but you have to get some rest." She pulled at the concentric rings around her throat, finding it odd that it almost matched the station. Zerro did not move. He crashed then and there. Xanthe took a pillow from one of the bunk, tenderly picked up his head and slipped the pillow under his neck, fighting a growing urge to trace his strong cheekbone. A few mornings ago, she kissed another man goodbye and now she considered a new life with Zerro. It was not right, she told herself, and sat in the passenger’s seat, removing the curlers. I’m on the rebound, she reminded herself. Leave Zerro alone. Zerro sure knew what he was doing, she noted, as she inspected her ringlets in the mirror. She looked completely different now, the curls adding some dimension to her angular features and the pink bringing out color in her cheeks. Aphrodite, she thought with a jolt. She might be furious for her leaving Kallias, but what recourse did she have? Surely the god-beings watched her from wherever they stayed, and let it continue as per Zerro’s plans. She reclined on her berth, looking out the small window at the camp site, where Zerro hooked up for running water. No attendant watched the place. Each lot had a machine for cash or credit. No other campers signified the changing weather. Xanthe shuddered and went to the closet, where she pulled out one of Zerro’s jackets. She liked the scent, so she rubbed the collar against her nose, trying to get used to his and trying to forget Kallias’. # Zerro stood over her, not completely rested, but now showered and shaved. He put forth a gentle hand and touched her shoulder. "Hey." Xanthe curled up and then sprawled out, rising slowly. "Hello." "You look perfect," he said. "I noticed that. You did a great job." "Of course. I never do less than my best. We are leaving now." "Oh." Xanthe swung her legs to the side and checked back to the window, which showed darkness. "I have gone and slept too long." "Not a problem." He offered his hand and helped her to stand. "I need to wash up." "Too late. I already unplugged us from the site. The reserve tanks are full, so you can sponge bathe, but no shower. Besides, you need to keep water away from your head for a few days." The night passed uneventfully. Xanthe, still missing Kallias, hid a few tears, but helped Zerro look for deer that might cross their path. "You thinking about him?" Zerro asked. Xanthe nodded. "I suppose it is natural. You were with him for quite a while." Xanthe said nothing, staring out the window. Zerro cleared his throat. "It is my sincere hope that you will contemplate a life with me." Xanthe’s breaths quickened, and she looked over at him. "I am."

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He smiled just a little. "Thank you." "You have been the most proactive with my care. It weighs with me heavily." Zerro reached across and touched her cheek ever so softly. "I do not want this out of gratitude." Xanthe shook her head. "It is not gratitude." "Time will tell," Zerro assured her. # Xanthe fell back asleep, lulled by the whir of the hover mechanisms. The window left a mark on her cheek, but she slept soundly. Zerro watched her out of the corner of his eye and smiled. This actually felt good, he noted, just the two of them against the world. She came around to the plan a little more easily than he anticipated, which helped. He thought back to nights in Xanthe’s house, sitting in front of a screen and learning about the worlds she knew, anxious to introduce her to what could be her most loyal followers in the heretic movement. Kallias left a permanent black spot on his current happiness. It hurt as much to lose him as a friend as it made him happy to have Xanthe by his side now. A good trade, though. He reached over and lightly pulled up his jacket over Xanthe’s shoulder. # Fritz found the anthropology station completely vacant by 3:00 a.m. He sat in front of the monitor, trying to concoct a story that would fly past Hilliard about how, exactly, he came by the two books in his possession. The quick trip to Xanthe’s house left him a bundle of raw nerves, not so much from breaking Hurford’s orders but by rifling through Xanthe’s personal articles. He found the books under layers of lace and pictured Xanthe lying on the floor under Zed Hurford, her shirt ripped open, exposing more of Xanthe than he had ever hoped to see, and under very different circumstances. The books sat heavily in his lap. Fritz loved her illustrations. He remembered sitting in class, Xanthe embellishing her books’ margins during lulls in lectures. Opening the first book, he perused the first page. Instantly, his adrenaline surged when he recognized the man in the first illustration. He had met Mr. Reynolds before, at a party thrown by the Greek Preservation Society. Now so fueled, he dove into the scrawls Xanthe called handwriting just as he felt a hot hand on his tense shoulder. He dropped the books and stood sharply. Hilliard stood behind him, hands clasped in front. "I know what you did." Fritz swallowed. "At least let me analyze this data before you make me pack." "It will take that long to channel things through Commander Hurford, don’t you think?" Hilliard looked very stern, but his lips twitched under his mustache. "You know, I think I witnessed you watch Xanthe request that a portal be opened and those books slipped inside. Don’t you remember that, Mr. DuMontier?" "Y-yes, I believe I do, Sir." The computer automatically tracked the RV with Xanthe plainly in sight in the front seat with Zerro reaching over every so often to keep her straight while she slumbered. Fritz looked upon them fondly. "Did you ever have feelings for her?" Hilliard wondered. "Who didn’t?" Fritz’s smile was fleeting. "You walked by Xanthe, you walked into an

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aura. She never knew how pretty she was, or how charming she was, or how nice she was, or what an impressive presence she possessed." The books called his name, so he picked up the gold tome, anxious to see how Xanthe’s father fit into all of this. Hilliard crowded his shoulder, but Fritz did not mind, holding the book so that both saw and tried to decipher Xanthe’s script. "Does that say what I think it says?" Hilliard propped his slack jaw with his hand. Fritz flipped the page, finding Xanthe’s rendering of Athena, with other anecdotes of their first meeting. "They claim to be my family," Hilliard read aloud. "By God, Mr. DuMontier, I believe we should keep this book away from the others. What a stir this would cause." He stroked his beard. "Is she being truthful?" "I spent over three years in her good graces, Sir. Xanthe always said what the thought in the most gentle, almost apologetic, way possible, but she had her opinions and always spoke truly." He traced the outline of Aphrodite. "Her drawings were always so accurate," he mused. "This is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen." "She’s beyond beautiful," Hilliard agreed. "What did you confirm down there?" "Not much; they are moving in a hurry." He picked up the first book and read the end, where Xanthe wrote of her heartache. "I believe Zerro is taking her to the heretics. She was wearing this kind of necklace--I believe it to be a dampening field for the chip. They can now move undetected." "Any idea as to why they head north?" Fritz put the books in the chair next to him and brought up a map of Helios. He touched the icon for the northern fishing villages and the screen enlarged, showing their normal trading routes. "They sell the fish wholesale to this company, who in turn take the exotic fish not known in the southern ocean down to Ionia. I presume they intend to hitch a ride. We’ve seen the detention centers under construction. The ports are completely under martial law. Every shipbound person must submit to a thorough background check using the Knowledge Network. It is a slow process, but cruise ships are starting their excursions again. Two left this morning, according to Anna." "Anicetus is going to blow the local economies." "He does not care. Xanthe, in view of this," he leaned over and tapped the book, "is more precious than jewels. Let me read further into things. I will have a more detailed report for you in the morning. Who is on Xanthe watch?" "Anna should be back in an hour. With them just driving around, I shooed everyone off to bed for a while." "I will take my leave, as well." Fritz gathered the books and held them tightly to his chest. "I do not expect to sleep well, though." "Keep busy, and keep me posted," Hilliard said. "I am rather fond of Dr. Reynolds, whoever she might be." # Zerro hooked them up to another campsite and exchanged the waste and drew in fresh water, enough for Xanthe to take a bath. To Xanthe’s chagrin, she found the only soap available was from Zerro’s personal fragrance line. She sniffed the gel and sighed. It grew on her, but

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Kallias’ scent made her weak in the knees hitherto. Definitely not a girly odor, she bit her lip and doused herself from the neck down, carefully avoiding her pinned-up curls. The camper allowed for tight quarters and Xanthe exited the showers just as Zerro came down the hall to find a change of clothes. They turned sideways to let each other through, but Zerro caught her around the waist. "You have smelled better," he commented. "I am not used to my aura invading yours." Xanthe smiled just a bit, but the now-open closet door cornered her in a bit. With her facing Zerro, she felt his breaths change just a bit. When she looked up, she saw his lips move for hers, and she let it happen. God, it felt so good to have someone love her back. At the first kiss, she knew Zerro’s gentle intentions and she knew he failed to see her as a one-night stand. She could tell it by the way he touched her, not with hot kisses of passion, but an "I’ve admired you from afar for too long" approach. He left her breathless with those soft kisses and respectful hands on her shoulders and arms. His apprehension made him more exotic and allowed Xanthe to exert some of her own desire. Her greedy hands massaged his back, sliding around front to feel his washboard stomach. Kallias certainly was fit, but he lacked the finer aspects of Zerro’s body. She now had him around the neck, pulling herself closer. His buzz-cut hair tickled her fingers and Zerro grew bolder, tasting her neck. Too fast, she chided herself, but she was not going to make him stop. Somebody else, though, had other ideas. "That is quite enough," the new voice said. "Step apart and face me, slowly."

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Chapter 34 The voice startled them and they slowly turned toward its source, still wrapped in each other’s arms. Zerro expected to see a Spartan with a gun, but Xanthe knew the voice and said her name before she finished turning. "Aphrodite," she said, a little relieved yet a little perturbed. "This better be important." Aphrodite hopped down from the table. She wore her usual flimsy attire. Zerro let go and dropped to the floor face down. "Oh, get up," Xanthe crabbed. "She is just another species in the universe." "Oh, I kind of like the whole groveling thing," Aphrodite said sweetly. "But she is correct. Please rise, Zerro." Zerro got up, but his eyes never left her gorgeous face. He walked sideways down the hall, afraid of bumping into her. He nearly jumped when she reached for his hand. "Come on, Handsome, sit at the table. We need to talk." She waited for them both to sit on the bench behind the table. Acutely aware of Xanthe’s displeasure, she tried to look pitiful. "I was going to let this happen," she said carefully. "I know Kallias treated you badly. I know Zerro is doing the noble thing. If Kallias drove you away, then Zerro was a very acceptable alternative. But, as you will see, this cannot be. I am sorry, but that is the way it is." "I am not going back," Xanthe said hotly. "I have suffered my last indignation from that family. You want me to unite the world. You want me to make the heretics an acceptable part of society. Zerro shares that dream with me. Kallias does not." She disappeared and reappeared, now sitting on the table with her feet on the bench, clearly keeping the two separated. "I found out something very interesting," she claimed, raising lithe fingers to place on their foreheads. "This, you must experience for yourselves." # Xanthe found herself back home, but with no control over her body. It took a moment to orient herself, but she found herself packing Demetria’s belongings, carrying a suitcase up to the kitchen door. Fingers rose to part the curtain, revealing a small moving van. The curtain fell back and a tissue rose to her eyes to wipe the tears away. Old habits died hard, and Demetria wandered down the hallway, tweaking the pictures until they all sat level. She stood at the staircase briefly, building nerve. Twice, she sat different feet on the steps, trying to go upstairs. Xanthe’s upper story was trashed. From the last stair, she saw into her room, where

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Kallias lay in the middle of her bed, tangled in her sheets. She felt Demetria’s emotions, a rough combination of anger and pity. At first, she thought Kallias slept, but he actually wallowed in Xanthe's bed, presumably saturating himself in her scent. Xanthe had trouble separating Demetria’s anger from her own, but immediately recalled doing something similar. God, did he actually miss her? Demetria cleared her throat and obtained Kallias’ woeful attention. "Congratulations," she said haughtily. "I quit as of today. I have had enough." Kallias pushed Xanthe’s bedding away, clearly caught unawares. The maid digested the hurt on Kallias’ noble face. He looked different, as if he tamed the demon his father created. In fact, his posture and affect belied someone in mourning, and the maid’s abrupt declaration sank him further into misery. "You would leave me, too?" he asked, his voice laden with emotion. "I will not associate myself with one who treats another so badly and then decides he wants her back on a whim. I will do what Adara did when Kallikrates turned and I will make my point known." Kallias grabbed a pillow and stuffed it between his forearms and stomach. "Demetria, through my life, you have been my constant," he protested quietly. "Having nothing to lose, my prince, I will happily tell you that I will not sit around and watch your destruction. Good luck finding another who will put up with this sudden burst of violence. I will have no part in it." Kallias stood and tossed the pillow back on the bed. "Of all the people in my life, I thought that you would at least get it." His jaw clamped down. "I was a hindrance for her, Demetria. A hindrance. I knew if I pushed hard enough, Zerro would never stand for it." Demetria’s hands flew to her face. "Do you mean?" "Xanthe is out of my hands, hopefully in his arms." Kallias sat weakly, holding his head in his hands and clutching his hair. "She is better off. All I have to do is get used to it." He hid tears. The servant rushed to his side and put her arms around his trembling shoulders. "My prince," she crooned. "What you have done is very noble, but very foolish." "How so?" He stood stiffly. "I cannot get her where she needs to go. Zerro can and possibly already has. It is much more than I can do." Demetria tucked his head into her neck and she held him, feeling a hot tear work its way through her shirt onto her shoulder. "You loved her enough to let her go." "And I hate myself for it." # "Enough of this!" Xanthe roared, jerking away from Aphrodite’s hand. "I thought you and your kind had an edict of nonintervention." "What?" Aphrodite released Zerro, as well. "You are supposed to say, ‘Zerro, you have to take me back.’" "For what? You heard it from Kallias himself--he is impotent." She jumped out of her seat and Zerro stood. Holding a warning forefinger toward her sister, she slowly backed up into Zerro’s chest. "I need to do this thing. I need to make my voice heard." Zerro put his hands lightly on her shoulders and turned her around, blinking away a tear

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of love lost. "You have to go back, Xanthe. I cannot love you like that. It is in your best interest to go home." "What is it with you people? Everyone has my best interest in mind, but nobody gives a damn what I think!" Her cheeks flushed, her lip pulled up in an uncharacteristic sneer and she brought both fists down on the table. "Xanthe, stop this." Zerro grabbed her by the upper arms and shook her slightly once. "Stop it!" Words failed her, but she exploded in another way. Her mindshriek reached both of them. Aphrodite felt it and put her hand on her forehead, but Zerro dropped to his knees, holding his head. With one quick motion, Aphrodite spun Xanthe around and slapped her face, breaking her hold on their brains. "You are going back," Aphrodite said sternly. "The tension of this world is still building. You will get your chance." "While those poor people trudge through life in a concentration camp?" Xanthe’s nostrils flared. "By your direction, you sentence these innocent people to squalor!" Zerro still swayed on the floor, now on all fours. He lifted his head far enough to get Xanthe’s line of vision. "What was that?" he panted. "For some reason," Aphrodite announced airily, "Xanthe is ashamed of us." "Well, that might have something to do with the fact that you populate planets and invade natural progression of society, taking delight in their worship of you." She spoke with her mind, but Zerro followed along better. "Arrogant snots, the whole lot of you. My father included." "F-father?" Zerro managed. "She is one of us," Aphrodite informed him. "Half one of you," Xanthe corrected her, kneeling to help Zerro upright. "You are a goddess?" Zerro eyed her strangely, trying to decide whether to accept her help or grovel in her presence. "Yes, she is," Aphrodite confirmed. "I am not!" "Not yet," Aphrodite replied. "She has a great power locked within her. She can prey upon the minds of men." When Zerro finally made it to his feet, Aphrodite tenderly fluffed his shirt and straightened the fabric around the shoulders. "Does Kallias know this?" Zerro inquired. Xanthe slumped back on the bench seat and slowly shook her head. "What am I supposed to say?" "How many suggestions have you planted in my head?" Zerro demanded. "Was this all my idea or did you play a role?" "I can vouch for her. She does not know how to use her gift properly," Aphrodite indicated. "That is nice to know." Zerro sat next to Xanthe. "Take over my mind." "No." "Invade my space," he pushed. "Make me think like you." "No!" "What are you afraid of?" Aphrodite pressed. "You are afraid he will feel what you feel?

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I have been inside your mind, Xanthe. You did not know it, for I am far better at it than you, but I know your thoughts and intentions. Give the man some closure." "Closure?" Zerro looked between the pair. "She needs to show you how she truly feels about you. It will make parting easier." Xanthe sat, nursing tears. "Do it, Xanthe," Aphrodite said gently. "Show him." More gently this time, Xanthe introduced her emotions little by little. Gratitude shone through the most, along with excitement from being away from her prison. Zerro, pressured by her thoughts, put a soft hand on her thigh. "You really do not want to go back, do you?" he whispered. "No." Xanthe folded her arms across her chest. "Can you read my mind?" he wondered. "No," she answered. "If you could, it would tell you that my thoughts are distracted between two beautiful women," he ventured, darting looks between the pair. "I fooled myself into thinking I could be by your side a lifetime. I have not had a lasting relationship ever. Never. Women are wonderful things, as long as they say goodbye in the morning." He hung his head in shame. "I would lie to you if I promised you forever after. Truth is, I am a lech. Always have been and probably always will be." He put his hands on Xanthe’s shoulders. "I care for you deeply, but I could promise you nothing." "He is correct," Aphrodite murmured. "I can read his thoughts, and he is already wondering what he has to do to gain my affection." Zerro turned red. "I am sure I do not have to remind you what a powerful ability you have." Aphrodite plumped her curls and put her arm around Zerro’s waist. "You have to go home. You must deal with Anicetus directly and love Kallias in return. I have seen his mind and know his heart. He wants it to stop beating, for it only pumped for you." Aphrodite smiled thinly. "What about Zerro? Will you make sure he gets safely to Ionia?" "I can have him there in a blink of an eye," she claimed. "What about me?" "I think we should go with the hostage approach. I will break your little dampening device there and they will catch your signal again. You will just wait until they come and pick you up." "Just send me back to the palace. Anicetus already knows that you all can transfer matter and in grand fashion." "I think you need some time to reflect before going back," Aphrodite said. "Give Kallias a little time to prepare. Remember, he does not know that you know how he truly feels." "So you are just going to dump me off?" "Start driving, Zerro. Take us to the next town." Aphrodite sat next to Xanthe as Zerro started the engine. "You need some time think things over, as well. Think about your powers and how they can be applied." She spoke hesitantly, apparently giving more counsel than allowed. "You can do this. Make us proud. Now, go and get some rest." She pulled her out of her seat and led her back to the berths. In you go." Aphrodite herself tucked Xanthe in. "He

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loves you, sweetie. I cannot let you blow it." Xanthe rested, eavesdropping on the conversation between her sister and her almost lover. Zerro started to describe his life in charge of the palace defense, and Aphrodite said she already knew. In fact, she replied similarly to everything Zerro said. Presumably, Aphrodite knew her handsome men. Xanthe rolled over and tried to analyze her feelings. Her anger at Kallias still burned, nearly boring a hole through her stomach. Going away felt exciting; going back felt frightening. She really wanted a chance with Zerro, too. Glimpsing up front, she caught the pair of them holding hands, hurting when she saw them and knowing Zerro spoke the truth about himself and women. Alone and scared, she thought of nothing but sleep. # "This is it, honey." Aphrodite nudged Xanthe’s shoulder. "We are dropping you off." Before Xanthe protested, Aphrodite touched her necklace and broke the device inside. Zerro brought the shackles, and apologetically put them on. "Her idea," he said. "Is this punishment?" "No, this is to make Anicetus think Zerro really treated you poorly. He will waste time and resources hunting for him, but I will already have taken him down south." Aphrodite snapped her fingers and Xanthe and Aphrodite vanished from the camper into a copse on the side of the road, where Aphrodite helped her get comfortable by leaning her back against a sapling. "The weather’s very nice and there is a small outpost in the town, but they will be receiving communication here shortly and will come out to get you." Aphrodite cupped her sister’s chin in her hand. "Look pitiful. Act downtrodden, at least until Kallias gets here. I have to get Zerro out of here, now." Xanthe nodded that she understood and took one last longing glance at Zerro. He turned and brushed a tear away with his sleeve. "I will see you later." Aphrodite patted her crown. "Take good care of him," Xanthe entreated. "I plan to," she said in a sing-song voice. "I definitely plan to." Aphrodite clapped her hands and she, Zerro and the RV vanished, not even leaving hover prints in the dusty lane.

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Chapter 35 Kallias refused to budge from the house. Days passed and a lingering depression took hold. Demetria encouraged him to bathe; he declined. Anicetus demanded his presence at the palace to coordinate the hunt for Xanthe; he insisted all that could be done from the house. Without shame, he wrapped himself in Xanthe’s comforter and slept on the couch, just in case any updates came through that he could take on his personal computer. The message chimes rang and he slowly rose, leaving his covers behind him, his shirt rumpled and his beard unshaven, and answered the hail. It was Zerro’s next in command, Dunixi. "Sir, your wife’s tracking chip just went active." Kallias jerked wide awake. "What?" "Her signal came through just two minutes ago. She is up north a bit, but we have ordered the outpost to bring her in. I would say she will be able to make contact in a few minutes," the guard swallowed, "if she is okay, Sir." "What about the infidel, Zerro?" "We have just found her. The wheels are rolling, though." What went wrong? Kallias ground his eyes with his palms. "Sir?" the waiting voice on the opposite end of the channel asked. "Thank you, Dunixi. Put her through as soon as they have her." Kallias despised the new keeper of the palace defenses, just for the simple fact that he was not Zerro. Kallias sat weakly on the couch. In a sudden fit of temper, he broke Xanthe’s coffee table when he brought both fists down onto it. Demetria heard the commotion and rushed in to see the splintered table with Kallias near tears. She waited politely off to the side until her lord decided to disclose his latest problem. He looked at her sideways. "They found her," he uttered. "What about Zerro?" "They just found her signal. No one knows anything else." "Things always work out for the best," Demetria said. "Tell me part of you is not screaming with joy." "Joy will come when I know she is all right." Demetria fixed a quick breakfast, making sure to bring a bottle of soda along. She shared Kallias’ burden, but felt jubilant at her mistress’ potential return. A wheeled cart held the morning’s offering and Demetria parked it in front of Kallias. "Eat. You are going to have to go get her," she gave counsel. "You need some strength."

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Reluctantly, Kallias picked up a spoon and ate the cold breakfast until a second hail interrupted him. Swallowing as he sprinted across the room, he flipped on the screen, revealing his bedraggled wife, bits of leaf litter sticking in her now very curly and pink hair. Before he knew it, his hand was on the screen, tracing her cheek. "How are you?" "I have been better." She never made eye contact. "I need some clothes." "I will send an immediate stipend to the outpost. You can buy what you need." Xanthe reached up to scratch her nose, her wrists still bound. "Nobody can find a key for these damn things." Her voice was bitter and she noticed Kallias’ unkempt appearance, but still avoided meeting his eyes. Kallias checked the time and her position. "I can be there tomorrow morning by train." "Fine." She nodded to her armed escort. "You may end the transmission." "She does not look happy," Demetria commented as the screen blacked out. "She is not supposed to be happy," Kallias replied. "What happened, Demetria? What went wrong?" "You will have to ask her that question." Demetria walked quickly down the hall to fill the bathing pool. "Inform your father while I ready your bath." "Oh. Him." Kallias rolled his eyes, but contacted his father anyway. The monarch looked peeved; his hair was still wet and his attendants scurried to keep up with him, trying to comb out his jet-black locks and provide him with a decorative bathrobe. "They have located Xanthe," Kallias said. Anicetus’ demeanor changed dramatically. "Where is she?" "Aperlae." "So, Zerro headed north. Perhaps we can still catch him at the nearest port. Did the device malfunction?" "I assume so. I will have Arkhidamos coordinate the dragnet. I have a train to catch." "Do it." Anicetus terminated the transmission. Kallias punched in Arkhidamos’ directory number, finding the general, as usual, definitely ready to report to duty. "They have found my wife." Wife! Ah, that word felt so good. "Good! What about the renegade Zerro?" "His status is unknown, but he is believed to be heading north." Let him avoid detection. He is smart. Zerro, may Athena guide your wisdom. "I leave you to the details." "Of course. Thank you for your confidence in me. Have a safe journey, my prince." "Thank you. Goodbye." "Goodbye, Sir." What was he going to say to her? Would she believe him when he told her the truth? "You will tell her you love her and apologize," Demetria said, seeming to read the thoughts crossing his perplexed mind. "You treat her as previous and I will employ myself to her service and hers alone," she threatened. "All right, all right." Kallias ambled down the hall, ready to bathe. # Afraid of another kidnaping, the guards moved Xanthe into the only hotel in the small farming community, abandoning their posts save for one to ferry information back and forth to

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the palace. They brought in a farmer with an electric saw who cautiously ground through the thick bond but nicked Xanthe’s wrist in the process. Once free, she rubbed each wrist and patiently waited for her ankles to be freed, as well. Empty of emotion, she needed prompting from the guard to get up. Her entourage accompanied her to a shop, where she purchased two loose-fitting gowns and some private articles. The lady at the registered tried to engage her in cheery conversation, but went ignored except for a tired smile. Her little room had no communication device and no viewscreen. Her soldiers barred entry to anyone else at the door of the community washroom, but Xanthe, out of respect for the other vacationers, bathed quickly. She should have bought a brush. With a towel wrapped around her hair, she instructed one of the guards to procure one, and he complied. Xanthe saw him sprint across town from her bay window on the barely above-ground floor. She saw all comings and goings of the village, which only had one true road going directly down the center of town. Someone’s goats got loose and the guard dodged them, hairbrush held high. The new curls provided a tough brushing. Xanthe cussed at each snag, tears often hanging in the corner of her eyes from the pure frustration of her overall situation. Her heart still split between Zerro and Kallias, but her practicality told her Zerro was never truly an option. Xanthe sat back in the window seat to watch the goats expertly dodge their owners. Some of them found an outside fruit stand, and the owner tripped over himself trying to get the pesky beasts back to their enclosure. Xanthe soon realized that the only true way to catch goats was to get the entire town involved. At last, each person had a goat by the horns or a rope, tugging the belligerent animals back toward their rightful home. Her entertainment gone, she reclined in the window seat with her legs bent up, catching the noontime sun on her belly. God, what was she going to say to him? She had until tomorrow to rehearse. The guards brought her lunch. The sun moved away from the window and she quit sunbathing. She ate little, her stomach churning at the thought of going back to Anicetus. God, she loathed the man. Thinking of her own father, she wondered how his trial fared and wanted to talk to him, if an option. Guiltily, she realized she probably should have asked Aphrodite what she knew. Her teeth clenched when she thought of what she and Zerro were now doing. Two beautiful people, she ruminated. After catching a glimpse of her wild hair in the mirror, she decided a trip to a beauty shop needed considered. The guards quickly located a hairdresser and escorted her to the shop. Slowly, the town came to know the nature of the new visitor, and Xanthe found flower offerings outside the hotel. Out of respect, she sniffed them and waved to some as they passed by. "Where is the train station?" she asked as the guard led her down the hall. "There is no station here, Prigkipissa. You husband will have to rent a car and drive for four hours or so." "Oh." "If I may say, my princess, you are far from haughty. I assumed a lady of such greatness would step all over us. We appreciate your asking for assistance and we serve you without hesitation." Xanthe stopped in front of the door and turned to the seasoned soldier. "I have humble

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beginnings. I hope they carry over forever." The guard bowed at the waist as she went back into her room. # Anicetus felt his son too good to ride in a normal car, and it took an extra two hours to rent a limousine. The extra time made Kallias even more jittery, and he sat trying to read data slates, a barrage of constant information telling him what he really wanted to know--Zerro eluded capture. The limo hovered along. The further they went from the last big town, the more patchy the updates became, until they turned a little to the east, growing close to the message nodes and cables, mostly buried beneath the earth with a little hub sticking above ground. Kallias crossed and uncrossed his legs at the ankles. Satellites, Xanthe called them. What a wondrous thing to have instant communication without glitches from anywhere in the world. He yearned to see what Olympus looked like from a tall mountain. Through Xanthe, it might be possible. Might have been possible. He thought he had it planned so perfectly. Push Zerro, push Xanthe and push them together. Did Zerro just dump her off? No, he thought. He depended on Zerro’s loyalty. Something went very wrong. He informed the outpost of his arrival time, and they, in turn, relayed it to Xanthe. A long night on the train and the delay at the rental place wore out some of his edginess. He wanted to see her, plead his case and take a long nap, hopefully with her by his side. Pushing the curtain back, he watched farm after farm whiz by. At last, the moment came. The chauffeur let him out in front of a simple, stack-stoned hostel. The sunlight glinted off the window, but Kallias saw her form, or at least her feet. The innkeeper gladly showed him the way and the sentry opened the door for him and shut it quickly. Xanthe sat on the window seat, her knees tucked to her chest, her bare toes wiggling in the warm sunlight. She made no movement, even when Kallias approached her, whispering her name softly. "You are not supposed to be here," he started in a low voice. "Zerro was supposed to take you all the way to Ionia." He found the only other place to sit, a plump purple chair, and sat softly, always with his face toward Xanthe, never taking his eyes off her. "Xanthe, forgive me. Everything I try to help you fails. I thought if I pushed you to Zerro and pushed Zerro away from me, things could change for the better for you." Kallias analyzed her carefully. She seemed unimpressed; moreover, she took the news without surprise. "Do I take your silence to mean you already knew?" Xanthe turned slowly, dangling her legs off the window seat. "Aphrodite did not care much for your plan." She counted her toes. "Aphrodite? I thought you said they would no longer interfere." "I was wrong. Aphrodite has it in her mind that we are to be together, and, well, here you are." She placed most of her weight on her hands, which clutched the cushion at the front of the window seat. "How did she know?" "She invaded Demetria’s body about the time she decided to tell you where to go, what path to take and how fast to get there." Xanthe’s entire chest heaved when she breathed. "If I had listened to her--if I had stayed with you like I was supposed to--Zerro would not be an

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outlaw, Kallias. He would be home where he belongs." "I made things very inhospitable for you. I thought I was doing what was best for you." Xanthe jumped to her feet, startling Kallias, who sat back in his chair. "I am sick," she heaved, "and tired of people who know what is best for me!" She nearly knocked over a vase and she made full eye contact then. "I wish to hell people would ask me for some input before they plan my life!" She held out her fingers and started counting. "My father knows what’s best. Aphrodite knows what is best. Zerro knows what is best--and I am still recovering from the large doses of Ypnox he zonked me with when he kidnaped me. You know what is best..." "Father?" Kallias blinked. "You mean he knew what was best for you." "No, she does not," a third voice said. Xanthe, once again, knew the voice. Kallias looked furtively around the room, finding the new person completely materialized and lounging quite comfortably on the bed. "Hello, Xanthe," Athena said. "Who is this?" Kallias asked warily. "I will introduce myself," Athena decided, waving Xanthe off. "My name is Athena." Kallias dropped to the floor with his nose in the carpet. "Oh, for the love of horse shit, would you get up?" Xanthe demanded. Athena laughed at Xanthe’s choice of words. "My dear, you are very frustrated." "Whatever was your first clue?" she retorted snottily. Kallias barely managed to peek up at his goddess before looking back down. "Xanthe, please be respectful," he begged her in muffled tones. "Rise, Kallias," Athena instructed him, slipping off the bed to take his hand and assist him up. "Xanthe has a few things she needs to tell you." Xanthe dug a rut in the carpet with her toe. "Kallias, if you had been truthful with me--" "Truth?" Athena giggled. "You are a liar. It is time you come clean." Xanthe swallowed and her cheeks now matched her braided hair. "What is he going to do?" Athena wondered. "He loves you. I doubt much will change that." Xanthe’s eyes scoped the room nervously. Kallias only half stood, still kneeling, despite Athena’s gentle prodding to stand. "I am a freak," she finally said. "Freak?" Athena scowled at her. "Try again." Xanthe’s shoulders slumped forward. "Kallias, meet my sister, Athena." Maybe it was lack of food, or perhaps lack of sleep, or both, but Kallias collapsed on the floor face first. Athena’s grin lit up the entire room. She covered her mouth and snickered. "That bombed, little sister. That bombed."

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Chapter 36 "I think it a good thing he passed out," Athena noted as Xanthe cradled Kallias’ head in her lap and patted his cheeks. "At least it got you to touch him. Call to him," she advised, but shook her finger when Xanthe used her lips. "Touch his mind." Xanthe swallowed and hollered so loud that Kallias’ eyes jerked open and he sat up in one swift, lithe movement. "He is awake," Xanthe pointed out, getting up. "So...so...so..." Kallias stuttered. "Yes?" Athena responded. "Zeus is her father?" Kallias pointed to Xanthe and nodded his head in the same direction. "Yes." Athena giggled. "The look on your face was just priceless." She clapped her hands, clasping them together when they met and held them at her chest. "See, he did not take it so badly." "I have abused a goddess?" he panted. "Oh, we know you were faking," Athena pooh-poohed. "Did we not, Xanthe?" "I did as of yesterday." "Well, but you know now." Athena pointed to each of them, propelling them across the floor until they stood side by side. "Oh, there are some things to work out, assuredly, but it is a start." She took control of their hands and joined them. "That is much, much better. Xanthe has another surprise," Athena conceded. "Do it." Xanthe dropped Kallias’ hand and looked him in the eye. Can you hear me? Kallias stepped back, stricken. Can you hear me? she repeated. "Yes. You say things but your lips do not move." He backed up slowly, stunned and wary. His finger rose shakily. "You put your mind in mine." "See? I am a freak!" Xanthe returned to her window seat. "I do not belong on Earth. I do not belong on Olympus. I do not belong with The Circle." Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. "I am nothing but a freak of nature." Athena looked at Kallias. Out of Xanthe’s sight, she jerked her head toward her sister, indicating for Kallias to go over to her. When he failed to take the hint, she pushed him with her powers. He stumbled forward a few steps and now stood within a man’s length of Xanthe. "How powerful is this?" he asked. "It is how I stopped your father from torturing you the first time and how I tried to stop

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Kallikrates when he attacked me. It is also how I woke you up just now." Xanthe rubbed the tip of her nose. With her knees to her chest, she leaned her face on them and looked outside. "I fainted like a girl," Kallias recalled, massaging his wrinkled brow. "Watch it," Athena cautioned him. "We girls are made of tough stuff." "My apologies." Kallias wandered back over to the purple chair and plopped down. "What a day." Athena shook her head, her ebony curls tumbling over her shoulder. "I have done what I set out to do." She shrugged. "The rest is up to the two of you." After striding over to Xanthe, she kissed her crown. "Love got you here. Love will get you out," she murmured. "Goodbye, Xanthe." With that, she walked toward the wall, her form diminishing with each step until she passed into the wall and disappeared. Kallias watched her leave with wide eyes. "This explains a lot, Xanthe, a whole lot. I remember when Father tortured you the first time and I knew, Xanthe, I knew I felt you think." Xanthe still looked away. With his hands steepled, he peered over them. "Where do we go from here?" "You put me in a very compromising position," she said after a moment. "With Zerro? Yes, I can imagine." His heart sank. "You now prefer him to me, is that right?" "Not entirely. It took him two seconds to get over me and go with Aphrodite." She sighed and wiped her nose on her knee. "Did she help him disappear?" "It was she who broke my dampening device and it was she who teleported them both to Ionia. He is probably now among friends even as we speak." "My forces will chase leads indefinitely," Kallias chuckled. "I am relieved he got away so easily." Her silence stung him deeply. What did he expect? Zerro’s charm was legendary, and she was supposed to fall under his spell. "Xanthe, forgive me, but I have not slept in a day and a half." He got up and headed for the queen-sized bed. "Perhaps in a few hours, you will think better of me?" Xanthe merely shrugged and whispered, "Goodnight." # The sun disappeared behind the inn before Kallias even changed position. When he did, though, he noticed Xanthe on the far side of the bed, as far away from him as she could be without falling off. She faced the far wall and Kallias exhaled heavily. Her entire body posture read "hands off" but, with nowhere else to sleep, Xanthe capitulated to sharing a bed. She wrapped the covers around her tightly. Kallias watched her carefully. Her breaths caught, like she just finished crying. In actuality, Xanthe indeed cried, still awake, trying to make her heart go one way or the other in relationship to the men in her life. God, Kallias smelled good. She felt him jostle the bed and quietly dropped his shirt back on the floor where he left it before going to bed. "Xanthe?" "What?" "Can we get past this?"

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She rolled over enough for him to see her tear-stained, blotchy face. "Kallias, I look at you and I hurt. I hurt!" She sniffed. "I gave you the best of me and you took it, stomped on it and then threw it out the door." "But...you did...love me?" She gave no answer either way, suddenly more interested in the floral print of the canopy bed. Kallias endured a moment of harsh silence until Xanthe got up and took her place in the window seat, watching a group of children playing a game very similar to soccer in a generous gap between two stores as dusk came. "Turn your back on me if you wish. I deserve that and more, but you have to understand that I was trying to help you." "I take that into consideration," she answered huffily. Kallias choked on his words, but he had to know. "How close did you and Zerro get?" She spun around. "That is none of your business." "Did he make you happy?" "He gave me hope, which my dear sister took away." Xanthe stood, looking out the window to see mothers calling their children home. "I have no desire to return to Athens." "We can stay here for a few more days--give you some time." "Each moment I stay here, though, the heretics suffer. They are running out of time and my family will not let me take the most obvious option." Still staring out the window, her shoulders rose with the deep breath she took. "We should be moving on." "Anything you say. Demetria sent me with clothes for you. Do you wish to change?" "I will do so in the bathing chambers." She went to the door and tapped the sentry on the shoulder. "Is there anyone else in the pool?" "They are all at dinner," he replied. "Bathe at your leisure." "Thank you." Xanthe spied two hanging bags, one opened with Kallias’ stuff hanging out, and another one, presumably hers. She fumbled with the zipper, noting the bruising skin around her wrists. She knew she had not struggled hard enough to obtain such, and wondered whether Aphrodite or Athena put them there. Another deep breath later, she found her elegant clothing, complete with shoes in specialized pockets on the outside of the bag. She also found bathing oil. Reluctantly, she hailed tradition and took it with her, smelling like roses when she returned. When she finished bathing and Kallias took his turn, it only took a few minutes for the innkeeper to transfer their belongings to the waiting limo. Suddenly confronted with the need to keep up appearances again, Xanthe wore a weary smile that quickly diminished as soon as she crawled onto her seat. Kallias knew better than to try to sit next to her, even though she kept very tight to the end of the bench, moving the privacy curtain to stare outside. He opened up his carryall and started reading off the reports he missed while catching up on sleep. Every now and then, he peeked over at her, but she sat motionless for at least an hour, watching the landscape change. Finally, darkness covered everything and she let the curtain close. Kallias cleared his throat. "I forgot that this is the longest you have ever been away from Athens. Did you enjoy your freedom?"

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She looked at his boots and nodded. "Do you really wish to travel all night?" Her mind worked behind those sad, blue eyes. "You are torn," Kallias gleaned. "You say yes, the people dwindle in their camps for a few hours more." His brow crinkled. "Are you putting thoughts in my mind or am I just guessing?" "You are guessing." She picked at the beading on her bodice. "We should keep going." "It is the right thing to do. The sun still rises early. You will see much tomorrow," he promised. "Will you ever tell my father?" "Tell him what?" "That Zeus is your father," he replied. "Xanthe, I know I have no right to ask this, but please let me be present when you tell him who you really are." She nodded and scooted to the middle of the bench seat, brought her legs up and lay on her back with her knees bent toward the ceiling, letting the draping dress provide her decency. Wondering if her sisters played a part in her thoughts, she reviewed the helpless look on Kallias’ face when Demetria saw him that morning. It brought a tear to her eye; she definitely knew the feeling of loss. Unconsciously, her hands rose to her ears, trying to squeeze some of the thoughts out of her head. "Are you well?" Kallias asked. "No." Xanthe wiped her brow. "Is there anything I can do?" "You have done enough already," she said bitterly and rolled her back to him. Wounded, Kallias sat aside his slate. "This is most certainly a side of you I have never seen. Spew invectives all you wish, but we share a house. Will you really be happy insulting me whenever you have a chance?" When she provided no answer, he reluctantly picked up his slate. "Go on. Drive me away," he said finally. "With Zerro gone, it leaves you with no one." He sniffed, letting his head fall back a little when he did. The slate barely held his attention, and he signed an order for his soldiers to conduct a house-by-house search of Aktipolis, a small seaside town, now free of heretical leanings, searching specifically for Zerro. "So why did you head north?" "The fishing is great up there, I am told." "Ah, travel with the merchant ships," Kallias understood. "I am sure you are the best fisherman around." "Pah." Xanthe at least rolled over. "Journalists making a documentary." "That, too. Zerro always liked his image on video." "And now we have alienated him. What will your father do? Will he demand the Ionians give him back?" "I am sure Aphrodite has hidden him well. Your family is very thorough." "You have no idea." Xanthe clasped her hands over her stomach. "Have you heard from Zeus since the lightning bolt incident?" Xanthe’s braid swung off the seat when she shook her head. "Do you worry?" "Yes. Despite what he is, he raised me. I will always have that," she acquiesced sadly.

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"If I were not so angry with you, perhaps I would have asked Athena how he is." More tears came, and Xanthe furiously brushed them away. With all the crying jags lately, she wondered if they would ever stop. She hated being so weak. Always an admirer of Spartans, she compared herself to Mysia and Persephone and envied their strength. "Cry. It is, as you say,
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She felt a little better about that and dug through the bag until she found them. The door hit the toilet on the way into the tiny bathroom and Xanthe barely squeezed through it. Her dress caught in the door twice as she tried to close it and she heard Kallias snicker. As much as she wanted to be angry with him, she found it amusing, too. Fortunately, the dress opened from the front, but she still wriggled and bumped her elbow against the soap dispenser as she changed. At last, she opened the door and walked out into the room, holding the dress high and put it away. Kallias already took the spot in bed closest to the wall. Nervously, Xanthe approached the bed, sitting carefully. With disdain, she looked at the single pillow. "Is something wrong?" Kallias asked, clearly delighting in the whole lack-of-space quandary. "Not enough pillows." "Call the porter," he advised. Xanthe looked for the bell next to the bed. She pressed it and waited at the door until he showed up. "Milady?" "I need pillows, please. Four of them." "Yes, of course." "Four?" Kallias called over to her from the bed. "You saw my bed," she verbally tossed back. "You saw quite a bit of it, as Aphrodite so clearly depicted." Sheepishly, Kallias settled back against his one pillow, his cheeks hot. "I missed you." That simple phrase pulled at her heart. Her anger, although diminishing, wanted her to say something biting, but she turned around and waited for the porter to comply with her wishes. When he came, she politely took the stack of fluffy pillows and carried them over to the bed, stacking one on top of the one already there, put one perpendicular to the two stacked ones and lay the other two end to end, creating a fluffy barrier between her spot and Kallias’. She nestled down as per her habit, stuffing one arm between the two pillows and leaned her body and one leg into the ones running the length of the bed. Kallias grinned. "You do this every night?" "Yes." She squirmed, trying to get the foreign pillows just right. "Good night." At least she faced him. If she lay the other way, though, the pillows would just slide off the side of the bed. Both lay there, waiting for the other to go to sleep, which did not happen. It soon came to the point, though, where each caught the other looking. "What?" Xanthe asked in exasperated tones. "This is the most time we have ever spent together without a break," Kallias informed her. "Are you going to punish me the entire time?" Xanthe’s teeth ground together. "You made me feel awful inside." She swallowed and another damn tear trickled down her face. Kallias tried to catch the tear, but Xanthe used a corner of the pillowcase to wipe it away before his hand got there. He pulled his hand back. "Is there not just a little part of you that was happy it was all a lie?" "I resent the lack of control I have over any situation, Kallias," she spouted. "The only

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choices I make are what to wear, and that is only sometimes. Everyone has these grandiose ideas for my life and, if I am lucky, they share it with me beforehand. Your father never asks my opinion. My father plans my life almost as well as yours. Zerro decided I was going with him whether I wanted to or not. You manipulated us. My sisters--do not even get me started." She expelled breath somewhere between a grunt and a groan. "So, what do you want?" he pressed her gently. "Tell me. Anything you want. You are a goddess in the making. Surely that gives you a foothold to something larger." He reached out to touch her face, expecting her to pull away, but she let him trace her nose. A pang of guilt stabbed her gut. For so long back on the station, her private desire of meeting the prince flared again, now with his proffered intimacy. Deep down, she wanted more of what she tasted before Kallias’ charade. He enthralled her, lying so close to her, inhaling his soft scent. She choked on her reply and, finding it foolish, did not bother to explain it further. Instead, she kicked two pillows off the bed, rolled over and put her back to Kallias’ bare chest, pulling his arm until it rested around her middle. Kallias tucked his nose into her hair and pressed her closer to him. "Oh, Xanthe." "Shut up," she whispered. "Your hand moves up or down, this is over, understand?"

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Chapter 37 The bunched-up covers rested at the end of the bed, but neither dared move to go and retrieve them. Against Kallias’ warm body, Xanthe nearly melted, clutching his hand where it rested around her waist. For the first time in so long, it felt right. Her eyes misted and she forgot all about Zerro while getting lost in the scent of her man, the one she wanted in the first place, starting on an observation deck from what felt like so long ago. Kallias breathed against her neck, right where the braid began to traipse down her shoulder. Both rested completely still except the fingers around Xanthe’s middle, where they both caressed their hands in a sensual dance all their own. Soft sighs punctuated the still cabin, and Xanthe knew without a doubt Kallias’ happiness. Nagging thoughts about the future, when she introduced him to the universe and he met more walks of life, failed to completely supercede her own contentedness. Kallias’ fingers stopped winding around her own and she felt his head drop into the pillow, now fast asleep. It did not stop her from continuing to massage his fingers. She had tasted such once before, a long time ago, with her husband at the beginning of their marriage, but now, older and wiser, she realized love’s true nature and agreed with Aphrodite. A creature’s, thousands upon thousands of years old, opinion needed hailed, not foolishly spurned like she tried to before. Finally, she herself slept, only partially dreading going back to Anicetus’ realm. She awoke to Kallias’ nuzzle of his scratchy chin against her neck. His hands roamed, respectfully, down her arms and once again around her waist. "Do you want to see the sun rise?" he barely said. Xanthe squinted into the still-dark coach. She rolled around until she faced him, and her body acted without her knowledge, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling herself close, to which Kallias responded with another low sigh. Still, he kept his hands in nonthreatening positions. "If we want to see the sunrise, we will have to go to the cabin with the long picture windows," he reminded her. "I think Demetria put a robe in there for you. It is just you and me and attendants. I am sure they would not scoff." "But I have to let go," she lamented. "No, you do not." Kallias artfully moved over her body, never letting her hand free. He tugged her up and led her to their travel bags, holding her around the waist as she dug through it. Xanthe giggled while Kallias held her by the ears as she slipped on the robe. "See?" He reclaimed her hand and pulled her to the door, anxious to get down to the car

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before the main event. Xanthe smoothed her hair with the opposite hand, assured she looked a mess, but Kallias merely smiled his easy smile, gallantly offering a seat in front of the window, and just in time, too. The pinkish-orange tinge came from atop of the faraway mountains, followed by a bottommost layer of pure gold, which pushed the other hues higher and higher until the sun itself crested over a valley and continued to rise, higher and higher, bringing the blue sky with it. Neither did more than breathe, focused on the symbolic message that, no matter what, tomorrow always came, and this tomorrow was the first they truly shared together. The light spilled onto their faces, and Kallias leaned over until his cheek matched Xanthe’s. "Will you marry me?" he asked simply. "I mean, none of this sham stuff. Will you truly marry me?" Xanthe pressed her cheek more firmly. "Yes." She closed her eyes in order to lock the moment firmly in her mind. "How do you celebrate such things where you are from?" "You get me a ring with a big diamond to wear on my fourth finger," she answered breathlessly. "Then, when we get married, we find matching rings and I will wear that in addition to the engagement ring and you wear the band." "What kind of ceremony?" "We find a judge or a cleric, who gives us vows to repeat. We exchange rings and kiss. Then, we are married." "Ah." Kallias sat on the seat next to her. "Will you look at me?" "I had better not. I will burst into tears again." "Is this the way you want to be married?" "Just the ring part, and I prefer sapphires over diamonds." She touched his fourth finger, envisioning a simple gold band there. Finding her nerve, she looked over to him, finding his face already glowing in addition to the sunlight. Her lips trembled when she pulled them up into a fragile smile. "I love you, dammit." The porter turned his back as they came together for their first true kiss. He puzzled about some of the things he overheard, but, in all his years, he witnessed nothing more beautiful, and fully intended to relay it to his own wife, maybe adding a spark or two to their decade-long commitment. Xanthe’s toes tingled when Kallias and she pulled apart, tenderness coursing through both sets of eyes. They sat there for a moment, silly smiles toying on their lips, until Kallias stood and lunged for her, sweeping her off her feet. "It is time to wake up," he exclaimed. "You must dress regally, goddess divine, and we shall watch the world go by." When they got back to their room, he righted her and kissed her cheek. "The shower is down the hall," he said, pointing the way. "I am sure Demetria packed something nice for you." He hummed and whistled, waiting just behind her as she looked for another outfit. She pulled out a dress covered in opaque plastic and looked at the silver hem. She smiled as she pulled the plastic over the dress, finding the same dress Kallias picked out for her when they just met. "Demetria had a feeling..." he laughingly told her. "You looked good the first time you

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wore it. Now, it will look fantastic." Xanthe gathered the dress and shoes, grinning bashfully. "And Kallikrates is not here to ruin the moment," he added, to which Xanthe nodded emphatically. "How is he doing?" "Phaedra grows happier and they look forward to a child." Kallias shrugged. "Things work out for the best, I guess." He gave her a gentle nudge. "Get going." He missed her golden hair but loved the curl. She sashayed down the hall, more confident in her sexiness. Her cheeks pinked up a bit when he inspected her from head to toe on the exit from the bathing chambers and drew her in closer for another long kiss. Xanthe, at that point, really wanted to shove him back into the cabin and take off the dress, but Kallias showed remarkable restraint and went to take a bath of his own. Dragging her hand along the wall, she stepped over where the two cars joined and back in front of the big window just as the train went subterranean. Automatically, lights flipped on in the car and Xanthe found a stool, disappointed at the length of the tunnel when she really wanted to enjoy the mountain path they now traveled. At last, they broke out of the tunnel into bright sunshine and passed through sheer rock on either side, only pechya from the train, keeping to the rule of not violating the sky more than necessary. Her hair held water well and dripped down the back of her dress. Zerro informed her that curly hair dried better naturally, and it felt weeks since her last contact with him. Soon, Kallias joined her, hair similarly wet, and all thoughts of Zerro faded. They sat next to one another holding hands as the train wove around the mountains, providing fleeting images of lush valleys in between. The porter announced breakfast and they went to the next car. Neither ate much or said much, exchanging sweet glances and cute smiles. They finished their meal quickly, leaving instantly for the picture window and the seats, holding hands as Kallias pointed out the finer aspects of Helios, which Xanthe only knew from far above. The train slowed through the towns and children waved from the tracks, but Xanthe caught site of something unusual. They passed a courthouse where citizens by the hundreds held signs, picketing some occurrence. "What is this town?" she asked Kallias as the train sped up again. "Suossa." "Did you see the signs?" "I could not make them out." Kallias got up and led her back to the cabin, where they connected to the local news network. "Hm. No video coverage." "It seemed to be a fairly small town." "Probably just institution of capital punishment. That always gets a rise out of folks." "Capital punishment is abhorrent," Xanthe opined. "Local jurisdictions," Kallias explained. "Popular votes and the like." "With that many protesters, I wonder if the votes were skewed." "Maybe." Kallias rocked back on his heels and grinned broadly. "I want to watch the world go by some more," he said easily. "Me, too." Xanthe grabbed his hand and tugged him back down the hall.

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# Farmlands became hills again, and they transected another mountain range, where long tunnels provided for tender embraces. Xanthe now sat on Kallias lap but soon went back to her stool when Kallias’ leg fell asleep. "You have a bony butt," Kallias commented. "Is that leg still giving you problems?" "Not really." He sighed and his smile diminished. "I suppose we should be plotting right now." Xanthe’s shoulders drooped ever so slightly and her hand covered her fluttering stomach. "I am not a leader, Kallias." "You led your anthropological team just fine," he disputed. "That is different." "How so?" "I had willing participants and I had knowledge to impart. This is all unknown," she replied with wide eyes. "Your father’s backlash could be deadly for you." Her face skewed and she battled tears. "I thought I lost you once," she whispered. "I cannot go through that again." "I will handle the pain if it comes to that," he said earnestly. "No." She straightened her shoulders and sniffed. "Get used to having me around, Kallias. I will not leave your side unless we are in my home." "Oh?" "I can shriek loudly and break your father’s hold on you. It is the only defense I know, besides forming shields." "Shields?" Kallias blinked. "I thought you said a lesser demigod protected us." "Well, I fit the criteria." She clasped her hands between her knees. "Sorry." Kallias sighed softly. "Xanthe, I always envisioned growing old with someone, sitting around holding hands after our twilight years, watching our grandchildren run around on the palace grounds." He tried not to look too disappointed for her benefit. "You will never age." "No, I guess not." The train broke free from the last mountain, winding around the foothills. "Kallias?" "Yes?" "I do not know if I am allowed to have children. The gods have some kind of hierarchy. Apparently, my father was in a lot of trouble for manufacturing me. I think he is some sort of rogue trouble-starter for the enclave." Xanthe rubbed the wrinkles out of her brow. "I need to talk to them some more. I need to find out if I am subject to rules of some kind." Kallias nodded. "What if I cannot bear children? Would you still have me?" Kallias rose and took her hand in his, putting it over his heart. "I will take you any way I can get you." # The train blew past another station. Now with two meals out of the way, Xanthe and Kallias returned to the window, and the tracks ran alongside a river, where fisherman stood at its banks as their children waded in the water. Watching them, Xanthe felt more acutely that she

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cheated Kallias out of a normal life despite his assurances. Kallias watched her face change but said nothing, marveling at her evolution as she entered godhood maturity. When would she take the form of a cloud? Would she ever? Those were questions that needed an answer, and he could see in her eyes that she desperately wanted her father’s directives. The train slowed normally at first, then jerked to a stop, sending Kallias flying to the floor with Xanthe on top of him. The porter regained his balance and went up a few cars to the engine. Xanthe and Kallias barely recovered before a swarm of people surrounded the train, holding signs or chanting. Focusing in on the signs, Kallias and Xanthe read them, hands intertwined tightly. "Haindmaiden, set them free," one said. "Fair treatment for the heretics," another read. Xanthe pressed her face to the pane, taking stock of the local police forces, who moved in rapidly to intercede and let the train get going again. "I bet your father did not foresee this," Xanthe muttered. "Apparently, his grip on Helios is not as tight as he thought." The train started moving again, and Xanthe kept her vigil by the window as the protesters stepped back from the train. They wanted her attention and they got it, made their point and moved along. Kallias immediately left for his room and his data slates, plugging into the port on the wall. He tuned into Athens’ news channels and found coverage instantly of the large-scale protests in temple square. He switched to another slate and located Arkhidamos. "What is going on?" he asked his top general. "Your father ordered me to start getting the warships ready. He wants to hem King Archon and demand the heretics be returned." Kallias’ eyes grew dark. "He did not consult me on this." "How is the Handmaiden, my lord?" "She is just fine." Kallias pinched his chin softly. "How far are you in the preparations?" "The first ships left an hour ago. They carry a peace envoy. The Basilias is interested in peaceful negotiations first." Xanthe watched the two converse with her hand over her mouth. Kallias, in theatrical mode, smiled at the general. "I want all troop movements, etc., uploaded to me this instant." "Of course, my prince." Arkhidamos snapped his fingers and shouted to his unseen aides. "You heard your prince. Be quick about it." After terminating the link with Arkhidamos, Kallias sorted through the information. "Father does not need twenty warships as part of a peace envoy," he disclosed grimly. "He knows their ports are loosely guarded. There is no conflict on the lower continent. Have you seen our ships and studied them?" "I know the overview, yes. One warship can carry up to 1000 men," she realized. "Yes, and their equipment." Kallias sat on the chair with his shoulders rounded and the slate between his knees. "This is an act of war. Why does Father just call it that and get it over with?" Angry, Kallias threw the slate across the room. "Xanthe, we have got to come up with something, and fast."

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Chapter 38 Once again, Anicetus’ antics put a cloud over Kallias and Xanthe’s happiness. Both wracked their brains for the hours left on the way back to the final station. "How did they know this was the train?" Xanthe asked, whispering, for the guards now hedged in on their privacy. They spilled in from the other passenger berths, encouraging the royal couple to take refuge in the tiny-windowed cabins, but the pair stubbornly insisted on keeping their spot in front of the picture window. No more protesters actually successfully stopped the train, but as the train slowed to move through towns, they held signs high. "I think it was fairly obvious. There were a few people who knew about my departure, my destination and my desire to bring you back. Any one of them might have heretical leanings and spread the word." Kallias hated the extra ears. Quite out of place, Xanthe giggled. Her lips held back peals of laughter, but it broke through with a merry "phthbut" sound. One of Kallias’ eyebrows rose. Xanthe clandestinely pointed to the closest guard, who kept scratching his nose. Every time Xanthe wiggled her eyebrows, the guard wiped his nose again, and Kallias soon caught on that Xanthe’s mind powers had something to do with it. Xanthe moved on to her next victim, still with an impish grin. She selected her target and made Kallias aware, and suddenly, the young man needed to use the restroom facilities, begging excuse from a superior officer. "Xanthe!" Kallias hissed, trying to conceal his own mirth. "Stop!" "I cannot help it." She crossed her arms in mock disdain. "You, Kallias, have forgotten how to have some fun." "Yes, but I think it rather harsh to have fun at someone else’s expense." "So that is how Cupid did it," Xanthe murmured, just loudly enough for Kallias to hear. "Aphrodite said she had Cupid plant the idea in your father’s head about our marriage." She tilted her head to the side and shrugged. "Huh." "You know, this could be useful," Kallias pointed out. "Application of knowledge, my dearest one." "I realize that." She turned back to the window, sighing along with the daylight fiercely fighting the nighttime sky, exploding across the far mountains in one last glorious display of reds and oranges. The train entered the suburbs first, where the homes grew progressively closer together and larger as they neared the terminal. Would she see such things again? Kallias sympathized with her anxiety, especially when the train pulled into the station and

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a multitude of protesters met them. Only a few unruly men spat epithets at them as they transferred down the steps and into a waiting car and the porters loaded their belongings for them. Hoplites surrounded the limousine and walked alongside it, clearing a path to the road. "We should at least say something to them," Xanthe insisted. "Let them know we hear their pleas." "No. Not yet." Kallias gratefully touched the tinted glass. "You will have your chance." The train station sat on the other end of Athens, and the driver negotiated centuries-old streets that wound around to accompany the houses built before cobblestone and pavement were even thought of. They met no cars, security being arranged for them. Kallias fretted. What if one of the more radical protestors got loose and tried to harm Xanthe? No, he thought, Xanthe could handle it. At last, they reached the side entrance to the compound and the guards on the gate saluted as they swung around the hinged part of the wall. Kallias requested that they be dropped off nearest the gardens and home rather than going to the garage. Demetria ran out of the house and threw her arms around Xanthe, who returned her affection. "I will get your things," she said. "You two go home." Kallias smiled and took Xanthe’s hand and they leisurely walked through the gardens. Xanthe immediately noticed the chill in the air, which whipped through the daring cowl of the front of her dress, causing certain parts of her anatomy to stand at attention. If Kallias noticed, he said nothing, and it was dark until they came to the house, where the porch light showed the way home. "You forgot to notify your father upon our arrival," Xanthe mentioned. "No, I did not. I intentionally did not." "He will be furious." "I will let him know in a minute," he assured her, "once you are inside." "All right." Xanthe liked the homey smells of her house, and she realized Demetria cooked something special for their arrival. She discerned cinnamon right away. Kallias nudged her forward with a gentle hand to the small of her back and pulled her to the couch. "Are you glad to be home?" he asked nervously. "I think so. I feel pressured, but I feel safe in here." She reached for Kallias’ hand and kissed his fingertips. "What about you?" "I had a taste of my own freedom," he said. "Just for a few hours, but it felt good not having such responsibility. Xanthe, we must work together somehow. My father must not be allowed to open war with King Archon and all Ionia. He knows he can and will crush them." Kallias looked quite bewildered. "What do you suggest?" "I think we should inform your father of our arrival in person." Xanthe straightened her hair. "After Demetria serves those honey rolls I know she has cooking." # The castle never failed to amaze Xanthe. Lost, she relied on Kallias to guide her through the mazes. According to Dunixi, Kallias’ father still met with his supporters in the throne room. Xanthe’s hand quivered in Kallias’. Her bravery diminished with each step toward the

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throne room. "We can do this after you have had some rest," Kallias mentioned. "No. It cannot wait." She took a deep breath outside the double doors and the guards opened them to let them through. Almost dragging Kallias, she marched past the ardent Anicetus supporters and up the steps until she stood nose to nose with Helios’ ruler. "Ah, you have returned!" Anicetus embraced her fondly, ignoring Kallias. He took her hands and lifted them, and the sleeve slid down Xanthe’s arms, revealing the bruises one of her sisters put there. "Zerro shall pay for his cruelty to you." He held her wrist up for the nobility to see. "You see this? He damaged her. Add to the list of demands from King Archon that we want Zerro as part of the peace deal." "Anicetus, we must speak," Xanthe said distinctly. "This must stop." Anicetus dropped her hand and glared at her. "Think about it. Where will Olympus be in 300 years? We must think about the future. Resources will run out. The heretics have means..." A flicker of the scepter and her voice left her. Without a beat, Xanthe got into Anicetus’ mind and pressured him to return her voice, which he did unconsciously. "...to provide us to looking into resource planets. We must provide Olympus..." Anicetus tried again, and Xanthe quickly overrode it. She noticed that the number of ears bent her way grew in number. "...with a future. Kallias will order an immediate withdrawal of your forces..." Click, unclick. "...en route to the lower continent." Anicetus’s furious face grew red in increments with each press of his button. He suspected equipment malfunction, not even really cognizant of Xanthe’s influence. "You speak heresy!" he hissed. "I speak from the gods’ mouths to your ears." She bowed humbly. "Rethink your stance, Anicetus. It is time." She straightened and smiled at the assembled guests. "Heed my words." Anicetus showed marked restraint, for he really wanted to tag Kallias with his scepter, but not in such a room with so many guests. Take stock of who is here, Xanthe instructed Kallias. How influential are they? Are they puppets for your father? "Most, yes, but you were wonderful back there," Kallias said, whispering. He grinned broadly. "The look on his face! Did you catch it?" "I did. Do you think he will take the scepter to the shop?" Kallias paused outside the double doors and herded her between two vases. "You were triumphant, yet you do not look overtly pleased." "I just put us both into the unknown," she disclosed. "I do not have any idea to combat his backlash. It will be swift and sure." "That is why we need to move quickly." Kallias pulled her down the hallway by her elbow, straight for his command wing. Xanthe chased him through the catacombs. Just as she thought she knew where she was, the next turn surprised her. "Kallias, if I am ever lost, I will never find my way out." "You will not need to. You said to get used to you; I hold you to that. They might as

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well shackle us together at the ankles, darling." Darling. Her stomach twittered. Guards at the doorways snapped in salutes, almost like dominoes, given their speed and the short distance between the doors. He burst inside the main control room, where officers sat in front of a myriad of computer monitors. The room buzzed from all the old-fashioned CPUs with their needed fans on their circuitry. Little blips from each machine indicated every computer on standby or in use, and the officers rose in unison, snapping to attention. "At ease. Where is Arkhidamos?" Kallias asked. "The general went home for dinner. He will arrive shortly." "New orders. Get the warships of the ‘peace’ envoy and have them turn around back to their docks." "My prince?" one asked warily. "My wife has spoken to Athena and Aphrodite. The heretics are to go unharmed." Kallias snapped his fingers. "On it, now!" "Of course, Prigkipas." Clearly confused, the officer shot a sideways glance at the next soldier and shrugged. Kallias ushered Xanthe into the back part of the room, his personal office. He sat behind the desk while Xanthe lounged in a chair, going through channels until he found the general in charge of the detainment centers. "Prigkipas!" he said, wiping crumbs from his crisp uniform. "What can I do for you?" "Set the detainees--" Anicetus blew into the room on a cloud of furor. He pushed Kallias in his wheeled chair out of the way and hogged the video feed. "Do not do a thing the boy tells you!" he nearly screamed. "Continue as is." The office on the other end snapped his head down and back up. "Yes, most high Basilias." Anicetus fist met the transmit button and he shut the link down. "What...are..you..doing?" he shrieked. "What the gods tell me to do," Kallias said simply. His father shook so hard from rage that the billowing sleeves of his robe quivered. The scepter started from beside his body on a slow rise up to punish his wayward son. "Anicetus, I would not do that if I were you." Xanthe stood, bold and proud. "Do not be a fool." Anicetus sneered at her and continued to raise it. Just as his finger began to press, Xanthe remembered. She remembered the beginning tingle, followed by a warm, icky feeling traversing her spine. And, what she remembered, she shared. Anicetus’ eyes grew large as he felt a dose of his own punishment. Still, he attempted to inflict harm on his son. Xanthe recalled the sharp pains shooting down her arms and out her hands. Anicetus dropped his scepter and doubled over. "Is that enough?" Xanthe asked him. "What are you?" he whined, panting.

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"Your superior," she quipped. "Leave Kallias alone, or there will be more." Anicetus shakily retrieved his scepter and loped around the desk. "I will not allow you to take what I have from me!" "Your subjects speak, Anicetus, and you do not listen. I saw vast protests today against your policies. If you wish to maintain control, you will have to modify your dogma." "Modify this, you treacherous bitch!" Anicetus swung his scepter right at her head. As Xanthe’s arms rose to protect her head, a sapphire shell formed around her. His blow met the shield and the force sent his scepter airborne and a shock to his hands. Baffled, but still outraged, he collected his scepter and pointed it at her. "I will defeat you," he vowed. "Athena sent you to unite the world." "And I will, how I see fit." Xanthe crossed her arms and nodded, a gesture of finality. "Kallias, release the detainees." "Pah! Release the fools. I will put them right back where they belong," he threatened, and stormed out of the room. # Arkhidamos returned to chaos. Half of his officers argued with the other half, having received conflicting orders from the king and their prince. In his office, Kallias tried having Xanthe give the orders for the detainees’ release, but the king had already spoken, and the overseer politely refused Kallias’ and Xanthe’s pleas. "My prince, what is this?" Arkhidamos said after gathering bits from all involved. He leaned against the jamb. "My Handmaiden, it is good to see you well," he said, remembering his manners. "I have always relied on your instant answers, based on years of experience, Arkhidamos." Kallias shook his head and rounded out his shoulders. "Step no closer unless you wish to participate in Father’s upheaval. The gods speak and he will not listen." "You propose a coup?" Arkhidamos asked, freezing in his steps. "I have no desire for the throne. My desire is freedom for our heretic brethren. If you are loyal to my father, turn around and leave now." Kallias grew acutely aware of his predicament and expected soldiers to infiltrate his office to forcibly remove him. Arkhidamos took a step back, but Xanthe saw his mind working behind his pale blue eyes. "Perhaps it would be best to turn back." Kallias stepped around his desk, grabbing Xanthe by the hand. "Come, we must fly to your house. Now!" He broke out in a run, dashing down the hall. Xanthe kept pace with him barely, clutching the hem of her dress and kicking off her slippers as they tried to beat the guards assembling in one of the halls. They rounded the corner into a wall of hoplites, and Kallias dragged Xanthe into the opposite direction, disappearing behind a wall panel and navigating the servants’ corridors. They wove between dirty linen hampers and passed serving carts, and Xanthe’s hip caught one, knocking it over and sending the silver clanging against the cement floor. Her feet slid through hot gravy and she lost her balance. Kallias helped her upright and kept on going. Solely using the corridors now, he paused thoughtfully. "You have no idea where we are," Xanthe gathered.

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"Um, we are in subfloor three," he indicated. "We should be directly under the ballroom." "Kallias, he already has guards surrounding our house." Xanthe’s fingers trembled. "We may as well give up." "Can you shield me?" "I think so." Xanthe tried it, watching her sapphire shell creep down Kallias’ arm and envelop him. "Yes." She let the shield drop. "All right. We get out and make a mad dash for the house. You shield us and get us inside. Can you do that?" "Yes." Her breaths came in short gasps. "Kallias, if this fails--" He put his fingers gently over her lips. "You are a goddess. I have faith in you." "Half-goddess, so have about half the faith." Xanthe took a deep, cleansing breath. "Ready." She stepped into the elevator. The lift carried them up three stories into a wider corridor, where extra tables and chairs waited for the grandest of parties. The panel next to them opened up just short of the exit to the gardens, and Kallias poked his head around the jamb. To their right, two guards waited to catch them at the entrance. As soon as Kallias emerged, one grabbed his communicator and started to speak. Two bursts erupted from Kallias’ pistol. Although the guard made contact, he never revealed his position or location, but if someone recognized his voice on the other end, it made little difference. Kallias stepped over the warm bodies, feeling Xanthe’s hand trembling. "It was on stun. They are alive," he assured her, and she hopped over them a little more comfortably. Now on one of the porticos, Kallias spied a small legion between them and their home. Before Kallias requested it, a blue, sparkling shield rose around them, and they broke into a full run, on a collision course with the hoplites charged to take them down. Apparently, Anicetus wanted them taken alive, for Xanthe experienced very little disruption in her force field, the stun bursts easily deflected by her shell. Two tried to stop them by hands alone, and the shock from her aura sent them flying backward. Xanthe’s steps faltered at the fountain, having difficulty maintaining their quick steps and their shielding. More tried to barricade their entrance at the porch, but again Xanthe prevailed, sending the hoplites soaring over the railing into the hedges. At last, they made it inside, Xanthe’s shield merging with the force field of the house, pushing them inside in a blinding burst of white light. Kallias tried to help Xanthe from the floor, but her sapped body lay there, crumpled in a heap. Tenderly, he picked her up and carried her upstairs, depositing her gently on the bed. His hand slid a straight line from her neck, between her breasts and down to her navel. When she made no movement, he stepped over to the window and looked at the guards amassing around their home. He smiled in spite of it all. With Anicetus’ prior claims to Xanthe’s legitimacy, and with her blunt message in the throne room, even among Anicetus’ most loyal followers, it presented a very large problem for the monarch. Right now, Anicetus reacted from rage. Once he really thought about it, he would seek Xanthe’s favor once again. He had to. Aimlessly, he wandered down to the kitchen and checked their food supplies, which he found plentiful.

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Demetria, though, sat at the kitchen table, quivering from head to toe. "Oh, son that my womb wished for, tell me what is going on," she begged. Kallias sat next to her and touched her face. "Xanthe and I just sat the kingdom upside down." He traced her cheek and took her by the hands. "The heretics must be freed. Only then will we be able to make contact with Xanthe’s people and open our arms to the universe." He dropped his chin against his chest. "I did not realize how it would affect you. Forgive me." "I am your servant." Her hand still shook, but she squeezed Kallias’ fingers. "You were given to me as my charge. Are we under house arrest?" "We are under something," Kallias speculated. "I anticipate the guards will diminish as my father’s anger fades. We shall see how this all plays out." "I saw a blue streak coming across the grounds. Was that you? Did Zeus bless you?" "I am not at liberty to say." Kallias’ shoulders rose when he took a deep breath and dropped when he let it out. "I assume your reunion went well." "Yes." He grinned. "She will marry me." "Oh, that is good." Demetria got up and puttered around the kitchen, also checking the food stores. "We might run out of milk." "We will manage," Kallias assured her. "How is she?" "Out cold." Demetria pushed Kallias down the hall. "You check on her. Will I have to change her clothes or is she comfortable with you doing it?" "I believe that is your job...tonight." When Demetria cornered him, he flushed. "The timing was not right...not yet." Kallias hummed as the took the steps. "All things considered, today’s been pretty good, yeah?"

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Chapter 39 "I worry that she does not recover more quickly than this," Kallias mentioned as Demetria sat out fresh clothes for Xanthe, who had not moved from where Kallias left her. "She shielded not only her but you too," Demetria pointed out, using a washcloth to scrub Xanthe’s soiled feet. "You speak to me like I should know something. I know she is capable of wielding power now. Is there something you forgot to mention?" "I met Athena," Kallias claimed proudly. "I will let Xanthe tell you herself about the rest." "Ah, Athena." Demetria made Kallias turn around while she wrestled with Xanthe’s limp limbs. "Was she pretty?" "Gorgeous. She let me rise in her presence," Kallias stated. "She touched me." "Oh, Kallias. How wonderful." Demetria put Xanthe in a very silky, very sheer nightgown. "Do I need to turn down your covers?" "No, I will sleep here." He caught a glimpse of the nightie before Demetria covered Xanthe with her blanket, grateful at Demetria’s assistance to help move things along for the couple. Kallias, though, a true gentleman, removed only his shirt and shoes, keeping his pistol within easy reach in case the hoplites somehow breached the house. He slid in behind her, easily scooting across the satin sheets. Like on the train, he wrapped his arm around her middle and got comfortable. "Kallias?" "You are awake?" He sat up on his elbow. "How do you feel?" "Like I have run the palace grounds with you." She groped around until she found the hand resting just above her hip. "I guess what I did counts as godly exercise." "Then it will only get stronger the more you use it." "That was my thought as well." Kallias pressed in even closer and nuzzled her neck. "You were amazing." He moved his hand from her waist to her face and felt her smile. "We created havoc." Chuckling, he traced her from her mouth to her ear. "I do not know how you feel, but I had a damn good time." "I was scared out of my wits," she admitted. "But, it was exciting. Now what do we do?" "Wait for my father’s reaction." # Anicetus’ stormy face made Alcibiades cower in his presence. The lord of Helios punctuated strong invectives with stark marches across the hand-woven rug.

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"I advise quick damage control," Alcibiades said, stuttering a bit. "You cannot treat her like this. Zeus struck once; he may do so again." "I never thought my beloved gods would turn on me so," the monarch heaved out. "What have I done? I have been their faithful servant." "The gods tend to her beck and call." "She damaged 15 hoplites tonight with that blue shield of hers," Anicetus recounted. "They could not touch her without being thrown back. She is cornered, though," Anicetus decided, shaking his finger as he thought. "I have her house surrounded. What is the advantage here?" "I am afraid I am only a spiritual advisor," Alcibiades answered. "Pah! Up until she arrived, you advised me on anything and everything. What? Has the head priest lost his nerve? Is it time to give Leonidas your job?" Alcibiades actually contemplated relinquishing his post. There was no shame in passing his tenure over to someone new. For 35 years, he conducted rituals to appease their gods. Athena herself called his name on a few occasions, a very noble woman. He replayed their last meeting, where she promised a gift to unite the planet. She never mentioned Anicetus; he only assumed she meant for Anicetus to be lord of all. Alcibiades knew of Anicetus’ fervent desire to unite the masses under the gods, but even he never predicted the limitless cruelty of Anicetus’ nature. The more he watched Xanthe, the more he knew she brought in the changes. If she came from her own planet, there must be scores more just like it, and Olympus looked to be left out in the cold. Under his own scheming heart, Alcibiades admitted the girl now held counsel he once enjoyed, and the gods now catered to her ear. "Well?" "Do what you think is prudent. You always listened to my advice in the past, when it suited you to do so. The gods no longer speak to me, and I think they have found their new mouthpiece in the girl." Anicetus bobbed his head in respect and kneeled. "Leonidas is worthy." Anicetus’ lips trembled. He wanted compliance, not capitulation, but his high priest said nothing as he walked backward out of the room, bowing the entire time. # Xanthe sat in her bay window, counting the guards surrounding her house. Day shift came to relieve the night shift, all in clean, precise turns. Their royal blue uniforms always made them look a little like ants, what with the rounded helmets, bulging body armor and flounced knickers. "Feeling all right this morning, Prigkipissa?" Demetria asked as she slipped into the seat behind the loom. "Well, better, but now tired." She never looked over. "I found it hard to sleep, so I created shells most of the night, to see how long I could hold them." "Kallias let you?" Xanthe laughed. "He sleeps soundly. I went into another room." She yawned and stretched. "If I hurry, maybe I can sneak back in and he will never know." Gracefully, she swung her legs around until her toes touched the floor. The floor overhead squeaked. "Too late," Demetria mentioned, getting up to fix breakfast. "Are you still going back to

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bed?" "I think probably so." She stepped around the loom, just in time to see Kallias turn the corner. "I awoke and you were not where I left you," Kallias said, reaching out to touch her face. Xanthe grinned tiredly. "I can hold my shell for three minutes," she explained. "Then I wake up on the floor." Sticking an elbow out, she pointed to a bruise. "You did this without telling me?" "You were sleeping and I was curious." She yawned and put her foot on the first stair. "Give me a couple of hours." She went up two more steps, but Kallias followed behind. "What?" "Just coming to tuck you in," he said pleasantly, watching her rear swing gracefully just in front of his face. "I want to see it." "The shell?" Like a light, Xanthe closed her eyes and her body became encased in sparkling sapphire. She held it as Kallias asked another question. "When are you going to tell Demetria? Do you think she has a right to know? I mean, if we are going to have her locked in with us, should she not know whom she serves?" Xanthe let her force field drop and swayed ever so slightly. "You are right." She put her shoulder against the jamb. "Can it wait?" "Sure." He touched the small of her back, guiding her gently to the bed. His cheeks pinked up as she pulled off her robe, revealing rather racy attire, and she looked good in it, too. Surprised at herself, she sat down sexily, reaching out for the covers when Kallias brought them up. "Get some sleep," Kallias said, gently kissing her forehead. "When you get up, we will do something about that atrocious pink hair." "The curls too?" "No, I like the curls." He brushed them back, watching the unruly hair pop right back up. # Xanthe wandered down the steps, turned at the landing and looked up to see Kallias in her hallway, his pistol in easy reach in its holster. "What is it?" "This is interesting," Kallias noted, and he did not look glum. "Watch." Xanthe tried to smooth her kinky hair, but soon gave up when she watched the spectacle at the front door. "I opened the door just so we could watch," Kallias explained as he let Xanthe see. He would not let her past him, always keeping a guarding arm in front of her, but Xanthe stood there with her mouth hanging open. Outside the house, a line of blue-clad soldiers systemically came up to her front door, checking the force field to see if it would allow his or her entrance. Every few seconds, the field let out a zap, signifying another soldier unable to breach Xanthe’s home. Xanthe ran back toward the kitchen, where a similar line formed to test the barrier there, and, when she checked, she found the dining room’s door under the same scrutiny. Demetria stood dead center of the kitchen, clumsily holding a weapon borrowed from Kallias. "Xanthe?" Kallias called from the hall. "What do you think they’re doing?"

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Xanthe scurried around to the bay window, where the line ran on endlessly, out of the gardens and presumably beyond the palace. "One of two things," she concluded, going back over to Kallias. "They are either trying to see if the gods approve of any of them enough to let them in, or they’re trying to break the shield." "Break the shield?" "Wear it down, as it were. It is a common battleship tactic. You barrage the shielding long enough and it eventually breaks down." "Do you think it will hold?" She shrugged. "Hopefully long enough for me to take a bath." She collected her own towels and her own clothes, opting to shower instead of soaking in the pool. When she came back downstairs, Kallias noted she shunned her Olympian-given clothes for her blue jeans and a short T-shirt. His eyebrow rose. "What? Does it look like we are going anywhere?" she posed sarcastically. "If the shield comes down, Xanthe, what will we do?" "I do not know." She watched another soldier test it, be repudiated and let the next one try. "Your father has some strange ideas." "Speaking of which," Kallias grunted, pointing to the door where Anicetus clamored up the porch and pushed two of his soldiers out of the way. "Enough of this!" the monarch bellowed. "Xanthe, Kallias, come out now!" Xanthe sidled up to the door, grinning when Anicetus reached up and tested the field with an index finger, but soon lost her smile when the finger slipped through, followed by his hand and then Anicetus himself. Kallias’ grip tightened around his pistol as his father entered. Curiously, though, the hand that carried the scepter came through last, and the shield blocked the scepter’s entrance. Anicetus tugged at it several times, unwilling to relinquish such a powerful thing. Xanthe laughed, which only prompted him to pull harder. "Drop it, Anicetus. Apparently, the gods wish that you and I speak." The muscle at the angle of his jaw protruded and his lip drew up in a lopsided sneer, but he let it go, sliding it down until it rested on the welcome mat. He stood quickly and turned fiercely, his hair whipping around his shoulders and his long cape brushing against his full robe. A squad of his personal guard lined up on the front porch. Without his scepter, Anicetus looked more like a scared boy than king of Helios. "Have a seat," Xanthe said, offering him her favorite wing-backed chair, and she and Kallias sat on the sofa. "I hope you are happy, Kallias," he began. "There is a great conflict brewing in my regiments." "As there should be," Kallias noted. "You have reigned for far too long. Change your ways, or you will be supplanted." "You? King?" Anicetus let out a defiant snort. "Kallias has no desire to be king," Xanthe spoke. "We do wish, however, that the atrocities against the heretics cease." "Father, you must listen," Kallias implored. "Olympus grows resource-poor. Unless we reach out to our cosmic brethren, or allow our own space exploration take place, there will be

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nothing left." "Everything is recyclable," Anicetus pooh-poohed. "Yes, but there will be wars between those that have and those that have not. Imagine an old man being robbed for the gold filling in his teeth! It will happen," Kallias insisted. "And your gods ordain this type of thing," Anicetus responded snottily. "Athena herself appeared to me. She said that Xanthe knows the way." Kallias doggedly looked for some sort of repentance from his father and found none. "Keeping us locked in here will change nothing." "I will quash this little rebellion of yours," Anicetus promised. "Door to door executions, if I have to. I may be powerless without my scepter against the two of you, but I will find ways to make you comply." Kallias gripped his stomach and Xanthe covered her mouth. Executions? "I see that does not sit well with you," Anicetus murmured, clearly back in control. "There are rumors abounding that you and I oppose one another, Xanthe. Those rumors will be quenched. Tomorrow evening, on the north balcony, I will address the masses. You will be there to support me, or I will either execute Arkhidamos or torture Kleitos." "Arkhidamos? He refused to help me," Kallias yelped. "I told him to step no further unless he promised me aid, and he refused to come forward. His loyalty is to you!" "Be that as it may, Arkhidamos failed to report for duty this morning, claiming illness. Upon close inspection, though, a thorough sweep of his house found the general in robust health along with a few of your top aides. We listened long enough and recorded plenty, enough to implicate him easily." Kallias hung his head, not finding any comfort when Xanthe took his hand. Being brave comes with a price, she said. Wars are not won by the weak. She gave him an image of her kissing his strong cheek, and his hand became more committed in hers. "We will be there on the balcony, but be warned--the gods are watching us carefully and want to ensure my success." Xanthe smiled politely and walked her father-in-law to the door. "I rather like thunderstorms." Anicetus glared at her, stepped outside and scooped up his scepter. His elite fell in around him and they marched down the steps and disappeared into the gardens. Kallias still sat on the couch with his hands between his knees and back rounded, defeated. "What have we done?" "Not enough." Xanthe sat carefully next to him and caressed his back, sitting her chin on his shoulder. "I will think of something to get us out of this mess." "Well, you have until tomorrow night," Kallias glowered. "He cannot harm Kleitos." "One way or the other, he will stop." "Do you have a plan?" "I am working on it." "Can you cry out for help from your siblings?" She shook her head. "I am on my own." Demetria cleared her throat. They forgot about her standing guard in the kitchen and potentially watching Anicetus’ visit. "What siblings?" Neither of them turned quickly, as they planned on telling the maid anyway. Kallias

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stood slowly and gave his wife his hand. "Xanthe’s blood line is celestial," Kallias disclosed. "Yes. I did not know it until I came here, but I had to come here--it was orchestrated that I come here, with my father’s blessing." Xanthe tried to be gentle. Demetria’s eyelid already twitched from the sudden upheaval of her life. "My father is Zeus, Demetria." "Out of a normal woman?" "Yes. I am a demigod." Xanthe managed a little smile. "I am developing little bit by bit." "Can you form a cloud?" Demetria put her pistol in the pocket of her apron after checking the safety. "Can you just not walk away from all this?" "No, I have to stay and fight. My acceptance by The Circle hinges on what I do here." Apparently tired of talking about herself, Xanthe wandered into the kitchen and looked in the refrigerator, nicely stocked although no sustenance came from the palace. She called the others into the kitchen, specifically pointing to two new glass bottles, one full of cow’s milk and the other from a goat. "They support me, though." She closed the refrigerator door. "We are not in this alone, but their help may be very minimal." "I will take help any way I can get it." Kallias reached into the fridge and grabbed some milk. "If they provide for us, I think we should provide for them." Xanthe smiled for his benefit. "I will think of something. I will."

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Chapter 40 Surprisingly calm, Xanthe waited for Demetria to strip the pink out of her hair with a special solution that attracted dye but left the natural color. Kallias presided over the affair; usually he was in the hair-fixing chair with Demetria attached to his scalp. He never failed to appreciate Demetria’s ability to adapt, and he loved both women in the house deeply. The pink rinsed away into the sink and Demetria made several more passes with the sprayer. "I think I got it all," Demetria finally said. "Do you see any, my prince?" "I think it has rinsed away." "Rise slowly, dear, so that I can rinse out the ends, just to be sure." Xanthe’s neck hurt, the water weighing down already plentiful hair. She eagerly stood upright and pulled up the towel around her shoulders to make a turban. Demetria followed her up to her room, where Xanthe sat in front of the vanity while Demetria captured her disobedient tresses, rolling it from the bottom up to let the ends spill out gracefully. She held the concoction together with white gold hair combs and plenty of hair spray. Xanthe hacked and coughed as the spray enveloped her. Xanthe already smelled her best, but she and Kallias ran into a conflict of interest about the bathing pool. If she bathed first, her bath oil residue presented a problem for Kallias’ scent line, and vice versa. In the end, poor Demetria found herself in the empty pool between bathings, cleaning away any remnants of either’s scents. They either needed two bathing pools or take the less saturating route of bathing in a neutral pool. Somehow, though, the scent stuck better when immersed in it by bathing. Kallias promised Demetria extra perks for her assistance in the dilemma. All trite, it helped pass another day stuck inside their house, where numerous guards still surrounded them, no longer testing the doors to gain entrance. They formed a neat circle, and Xanthe lounged comfortably with a quirky smile on her lips, which Kallias quickly noted. As he followed her gaze, he covered his mouth and his eyes grew wide. Like dominoes, each guard in turn shrugged his or her left shoulder, all the way down the line, causing a ripple effect. Soon, the guards took notice and Xanthe continued her mischief, this time causing them one by one to scratch her or his nose. Kallias barely contained his laughter, but, eventually, despite the decorum of being a palace guard, they all glanced back toward the house and the giggling Handmaiden in the window. "Does it tire you?"

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"No," Xanthe said, a little surprised. "I have been at it for half an hour and feel no fatigue at all. In fact, I feel pesky. Maybe I should make them turn cartwheels or something." "Save it for this evening," Kallias advised her. "I assume you have a plan." "Yes and no." She shrugged. "It all hinges on what your father does." "Are you going to get up and crowd the microphone before he does?" "No, I have something a little more devious in mind." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Xanthe, it concerns me that you see this as fun. Lives are on the line," Kallias stated. "Arkhidamos, my best and obviously most loyal subordinate, faces death!" "Kallias, I know that. I really do. But I am tired of the worry that consumes me." She rose and took her husband by the biceps. "I will stop this tonight, one way or another. That I promise you." # All stood while waiting for Anicetus to take his place on the balcony. Kleitos stood to the side, making furtive glances to his brother and sister-in-law. Clearly, he feared the scepter, and begged with his eyes for them not to do something completely foolish. Xanthe looked down on the growing crowd in temple square and the three jumbotrons to give the crowd full access to their monarch. At the center, though, Arkhidamos stood in chains, along with other familiar faces from Kallias’ command center. Kallias and Arkhidamos exchanged glances. Even from the great distance, he read his general’s face and knew that he bore no ill will to the renegade prince. Anicetus arrived theatrically, a gold-embossed cape over blood-red robes, and a particularly fancy crown, accented by a large ruby and lesser diamonds. He waved his scepter in the air as the crowd cheered politely--not the usually resounding thunderous applause to which he was used. That made his brow crinkle and he looked back at Xanthe as if to say, "See what you have done?" The noise died down quickly. As he took his place behind the microphone, many in the crowd lifted signs and banners, requesting Anicetus to free his hostages and stop the injustice to their friends. The furrows in his brow deepened and he appeared ready to snarl. The priests below sat in neat blocks, a different color of himation representing each house of worship. Curiously, Alcibiades was absent and Leonidas stood before the priests. Upon closer inspection, Xanthe saw more guards splitting the crowd, hauling the ousted priest next to Arkhidamos. Xanthe felt her pulse in her sweaty palms. She looked to the clouds, ready to beg for her family to intervene, but this was her fight. Her major test. Kallias watched her inhale deeply, fidgeting with the pleats of her dress. Wide eyes and wide nostrils filled out her features, and he sat a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "My beloved people of Helios," Anicetus began. "I summon you here today to inform you of the atrocities--" Blessings of the gods. "--blessings of the gods." Anicetus put his fingers up to his throat. "I mean, I am here to present the facts--" Come here, my daughter. His hand left his side against his will and motioned for Xanthe to approach. "Come here, my daughter," he said.

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Xanthe stepped closer to the apex of the triangular balcony. I introduce to you the heir of Zeus, one of his many children. "I introduce to you the heir of Zeus, one of his many children." Anicetus now sweated at the hairline, and his head whipped back to stare at Xanthe. The crowd below grew very silent. Kallias got his wish; he wanted to see Anicetus flummoxed by the news, and he was. Anicetus trembled as he tried to regain control of his thoughts. "This girl has misled--" Hidden the truth until more assured of her blessings. "Hidden the truth until more assured of her blessings." Anicetus gripped the podium, his nails digging into the wood. As Xanthe controlled him, he had enough left in him to counter move, making his motions sporadic and jerky, but Xanthe had him. "There is more to it than that, my friends," she said for him. "Xanthe was created on our sister planet, Earth. When the time came, her father brought her here to instruct her further. She now walks among us as we face our biggest crisis, a time where division reigns." She stopped him to give him an orator’s rhetorical pause. "We are no longer alone in the universe. We are merely an extension of a planet--our planet of origination." # Fritz DuMontier and the rest of the team watched intently as Xanthe gazed fondly on her father-in-law. "How did she change his mind?" Anna wondered, and murmurs went around the staff. Fritz and Hilliard exchanged knowing glances. Their hearts beat faster. Could she pull it off? "It almost looks like he is possessed," Penelope noted, tilting her head in concentration. "I mean, he says one thing but his body says another. Look how his fists are clamped down to his sides." "Odd," Fritz agreed. "Is this a new ploy, introducing her as a goddess?" Hooper asked. Fritz swallowed hard. More and more eyes looked upon him, the expert. "It is no lie," he admitted quietly. "I have a book that describes her meetings with the gods. She is genuine." He silently apologized to Xanthe. "Zeus came to Earth, married her mother and produced a child. This is her test for godhood. What she does here reflects the type of placement in their celestial order." All grew silent, but turned back to watch the viewscreen, seeing their former colleague in an entirely different light. "She’s controlling him then," Anna pointed out. "Go, Dr. Reynolds, go!" # "The heretics will be released from their detention centers, ready to research ways into securing resource planets for us. There is no longer a rift in our military or priesthood. Alcibiades and Arkhidamos are to be freed at once." Sweat dripped down behind Anicetus’ ears. When the confused guards hesitated, Xanthe made Anicetus say, "Now!" "There are more details to be made, of course, my friends. We will call a special session

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of our delegates to make the transition an easy one for all involved. Now, if you will forgive me, I will patch up relations with my son and his wife. I have been so blind. So blind." Xanthe made him bow his head humbly. The cheers nearly doubled from Anicetus’ initial appearance. He waved, not confidently, but, as was his habit, he lifted his scepter overhead under Xanthe’s command. Stiffly, he took a few steps to make a complete turn, trying desperately to get back to his podium and say what he really had in mind. Kallias gauged Xanthe carefully. She, too, perspired, but reached out for Anicetus’ hand to show the crowd their unity. Controlling him all the way inside, she kept hold of him until they reached the seclusion of the antechamber to his quarters, and then set him free. "You bitch!" he screamed, lunging for her. Kallias put himself in between them, catching his father by the shoulders and pushing him back. "I thought your speech quite eloquent," he jibed. "Silence!" Anicetus raised his scepter, but only Kleitos’ blood pressure rose. "I am betting you are exhausted, Heavenly One," he sneered, leveling the scepter in Klietos’ direction. "Not that tired." Xanthe stepped closer to Kleitos. "Harm him and harm yourself." He took a chance, a terrible decision, to press further. As the first wave enveloped Kleitos’ spine, Xanthe began to remember once more. This time, she held nothing back. When the pains traveled down his arms and legs, Anicetus lost his grip on his scepter. On his hands and knees, he fought it, but Xanthe pressed forward, giving him a recipient’s view on torture. An older man, Anicetus did well to resist her, but his arms failed him and he landed face first on the rug, twitching and drooling all over his black hair. "Xanthe?" Kallias touched her shoulder. "Xanthe! That is enough!" Surprised at her vindictiveness, she heeded him and stopped. Without remorse, she stepped outside the antechamber doors. "Seek out Therapon," she instructed them. "The king has had a seizure." Kleitos stepped over his father. "Is it true?" "Yes," Kallias answered him. "Xanthe? Are you all right?" Xanthe, who still stood facing the door she just closed, rested her head against the jamb. "Xanthe?" Kallias approached her cautiously, reaching out to touch her neck. "I just inflicted horrible pain on someone," she whispered. "The most awful pain imaginable, and I should feel guilty, but I do not." She straightened and took a deep breath. "Judging from his reactions," Kleitos broke in, "he will be out for about two, maybe three days. If I call an emergency session, we can hash out all the details before he is even aware." "That is your job," Kallias conceded. "Are you in agreement with Xanthe?" "Complete and total agreement," Kleitos assured him. "You oversee the disinterment and call back those ‘peace envoys’ and I will set the motions in the conference." Kleitos smiled victoriously. "We won, Kallias. We did it. We effectively ousted our father." "We shall see," Kallias said. "We shall see." # His father’s supposed change of heart made things messy, but doable. Immediately after freeing Arkhidamos, the general charged right back into the palace to take his place by Kallias’

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side. Xanthe rested on the couch, getting her strength back bit by bit, listening to the inflections of cheer in both their voices. A viewscreen ran in the background, and all took time to watch it. News broadcasters quickly spread the word and showed excellent video and audio feeds of the changed Anicetus. "Amazing," Arkhidamos said, watching Anicetus closely. "Now that I know what I know, I can tell he is being manipulated, but it does look natural." "She did a good job." "A miraculous job." Arkhidamos rubbed his neck, right about where the executioner’s axe might go. Aides popped in with various updates. The ships now moved home and a real peace envoy left in a single armed vessel, enough to outdo pirates but nothing more. Already, Kallias envisioned the role of satellites to make communication between the continents easier. The heretics spilled out of the detention centers and Kallias authorized pain and suffering stipends so that they could pay back rent and buy food. No one slept much, and Xanthe went home only to change, all trying to fit in as much as possible before Anicetus came out of his stupor and tried to destroy all their work. It came time for Xanthe’s turn to check on the monarch. She found him lucid but very weak, unable to stand longer than to use the toilet. "I hate you," he said, gingerly crawling back under the sheets with his servants helping him in. "Athena promised unity, not totalitarian rule for you," Xanthe quipped. "When you leave this room under your own power, you will find a kingdom ready for Kleitos to run. It is over." Like a scolded child, Anicetus harrumphed, fishing around for his scepter for one last chance to try and zap his most beautiful enemy. When he found it, his hands betrayed him under her edict and the scepter felt too heavy for him to lift. "What is to become of me?" he sniveled. "You can abdicate in lieu of Kleitos or work with us and retain your title. I will be the rings on your fingers. You are in my keep. I assure you I will be more fair with you than you were with me." Anicetus sulked for hours after she left.

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Chapter 41 Plentiful flowers and stuffed animal offerings littered the walls in front of the palace. Calm and assured, Xanthe stood at the gate with Kallias by her side. Her new sapphire ring and diamond-studded matching band caught the sunlight, and she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders in the fall weather, but reached for Kallias’ hand, who wore a similar band. Everyone knew her destination. She and Kallias shunned guards, Xanthe no longer requiring protection, and she mixed and mingled with her admirers in the festival square. She liked the children most, who darted up to her and kissed her hand, smiled shyly and then ran back to their parents. With all the attention, it took better than half an hour to make it to her father’s temple. The priests emptied out the temple and waited patiently outside. Xanthe walked leisurely up to her father’s statue. To Kallias’ amazement, the statue rippled until it released a statue-sized man, who walked forward and shrank in size until he stood in front of his daughter. Kallias dropped to his knees as Xanthe threw her arms around his neck. "Did I do it?" she asked. "Yes, you did." "How are you?" "Fine. I swayed the judges. They agree there are very few bonds stronger than that between a father and his child." "I have some questions." She touched Kallias on his shoulder, encouraging him to stand up. "Kallias, Dad. Dad, Kallias." "Hello, Son," Zeus greeted him warmly. Kallias bowed at the waist. "My most honorable Zeus." "Will I ever turn into a cloud?" she wanted to know. "Yes, when you reach maturity, say in about 50 years or so." "Earth time or the time of The Circle?" "Earth." Zeus backed into his altar and jumped up, sitting on the side. "I am sure you are here for the rules." "Yes." Nervously, she took Kallias’ hand. "How long can I stay among humans?" "You are allowed one full life cycle with the people knowing who and what you are. After that, you must start a new life as someone else." "So I can live with Kallias until nature takes him." "Yes. When Kallias passes on, you will come to the enclave, learn to live like us and be

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sent for assignments." "I see." She rubbed the tip of her nose with her index finger. "What about children?" "I am afraid, Xanthe, that it is not possible for you in this lifetime." "Oh." She glanced apologetically at Kallias. "We can adopt," Kallias assured her. "Yes, we can." Still a little disappointed, she looked at the floor. "Was this the only test I need pass?" "For now. Your more rigorous training will begin when you are free from this lifetime." "Must I stay here? Can I roam freely?" "I do not see why not. You are already quite the celebrity among your station friends." "Oh." She glanced up, as if she could see through the ceiling. "I will never be able to escape this, will I?" "No." She sighed. "All my life, I envisioned finding someone with whom to grow old, sitting on my front porch holding hands and watching my grandchildren play tag on the lawn." She nodded apologetically to Kallias. "Did I rob you of your visions?" "You have created new ones for me," Kallias assured her. "My possibilities are endless, Xanthe. You are a vehicle for a new age of enlightenment for Olympus. Do not ever underestimate the significance of your role here." He gestured past the doors and outside. "You are adored by the entire world." "With one exception," Xanthe glowered. "Well, Father has done himself in." Kallias grinned broadly. "He is a puppet and nothing more. Too much has passed for him to regain any semblance of control and Kleitos is now a darling of the council. My father’s rule is now in name only. If he wants to become more of a player, he needs to change his views and act accordingly." He shrugged, his now-golden hair draping across his shoulder. "What I want to know from you, my great lord, is when can I get off this planet?" Zeus laughed heartily. "Anxious to explore, are we? I would suggest--based on millennia of experience--that you organize an envoy and invite your brethren to visit, first. The public will swoon over their technology, and perhaps might get a few tips as they develop their own." "I will choose Zerro, as soon as I can get him back," Kallias said enthusiastically. "He is enjoying himself immensely, from what I gather." "Zerro is enigmatic. He is a perfect choice." Zeus extended his index finger and traced each of Xanthe’s cheeks. "I will be in touch. When you need me, I will be here." "Always?" she asked. "Always," Zeus answered.

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Epilogue Kallias sat, his nose to the pane of glass protecting him from the universe. For an hour, he held the same position, watching the stars pass by in streaks of white light. Xanthe merely chuckled, and Fritz and she sifted through data to present in the university circuits. "I can’t believe he’s not nervous about this at all," Fritz commented. "I remember my first space ride. I needed clear access to the toilet facilities the entire trip. The thought of breaking up in space chilled me to the bone." "Dreams are dreams," Xanthe said, gazing fondly at her husband. "I doubt we will see Olympus for years." Zerro came up from aft, after his own recent trip to the facilities. He sat down sheepishly next to Xanthe and wiped his chin. "The stars make me dizzy," he mentioned, still looking a bit pale. "Can you hold on for another week?" Xanthe asked. "I can and I will," he vowed. "I want to see where they grow chocolate. Do you think we can do that?" "Absolutely." "Sugar cane," Kallias requested, finally turning from the window, wandering confidently and took the seat next to Fritz. "Are you still working on our paperwork to join the Alliance?" he wondered, since Fritz and his wife spoke their native tongue. "It is already finished," Fritz explained. "We are putting together notes for our universities to purify our knowledge of Ancient Greece. The requests for speaking engagements are overwhelming. Xanthe, you will field some of these, surely." "I do not know if I should." A touch of pink settled in her cheeks. "I can already see the paparazzi accosting me from all angles." "It is a blessing," Kallias assured her. "All shall love you for what you are." "I hope so." She tuned out Zerro and Fritz. "You know, we can make our room go to zero gees." "Really?" Kallias’ eyebrow wiggled suggestively. "This needs research." "I agree." Xanthe stood quickly, as did Kallias, and they went to check on their quarters for the trip to Earth. Zerro watched them go wistfully, hiding it well from Fritz, or so he thought, but he saw the same sentiment echoed in Fritz’s pale eyes. Zerro cleared his throat. "What role shall I play?" he asked.

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Kallias laughed and Xanthe squealed as he picked her up, trying to carry her through the narrow door. "Anything you wish." Fritz smiled wanly. "The universe is full of opportunity, my friend. Endless opportunities." "Even for us?" Fritz nodded. "Especially for us, because we'll still be looking."