The four o'clock light slanted into Athena temple's side chamber. Warm gold filled the room. Like melted honey. Incense smoke rose slow and thin.
The scents of olive oil, myrrh, mixed with old dust from the rugs. They drifted together, dancing in the sun. The distant chant of priests' evening prayers drifted in. Added a sacred note to the quiet afternoon.
Creusa led the five rescued girls inside. Her deep brown hair was tied in a practical ponytail. Her usually cool grey-blue eyes widened as she took in the scene—
Besides her expected sister Cassandra, even her sister-in-law Andromache and younger sister Polyxena were present. They were all gathered around Andromache's personal guard, Arsinoe. The Amazon warrior's bronze cheeks were flushed with excitement. She was talking animatedly, gesturing wildly. Creusa's heart skipped a beat when she caught a few key words.
Oh no! Creusa groaned inwardly. Now the whole city will know how unladylike I was today... How could I have laughed so many times? Arsinoe must have spilled every detail!
She instinctively pressed her cool hands to her hot cheeks. It did nothing to stop the rising heat.
Arsinoe, completely unaware the main subject had arrived, was doing a perfect imitation of Aeneas. She puffed out her chest. Put one hand on her hip. Waved the other dramatically. "And then the Dardan young master said: 'If men can take concubines, women should be able to take lovers!'"
Her mimicry was spot-on. She even captured Aeneas's slightly raised eyebrows and his flirtatious charm.
"Wow!" Polyxena gasped repeatedly. She cupped her cheeks in her hands. Her large eyes shone with admiration. "He dared to criticize the gods for you, sister! How romantic!"
Cassandra frowned deeply. Her slender fingers gripped her priestess staff tightly. "Blasphemy! What's romantic about that? It's pure sacrilege!"
Andromache covered a light laugh with her hand. "Oh, don't be so stern! Look, Cassandra, our little iceberg came back smiling today!" She patted Cassandra's arm. Smiled toward the newly arrived Creusa. "Besides, he did rescue those girls."
Creusa tried to appear composed. But her cheeks betrayed her with a blush. "Don't believe Arsinoe's exaggerations..."
Polyxena eagerly cut her off. Tugged excitedly on Creusa's sleeve. "Don't be shy, sister! Look! To please you, he didn't just criticize Perseus, he scolded the gods themselves! And he fought for you! How romantic!"
"But his disrespect towards the gods is a fact," Cassandra said sternly. "Creusa, you should keep your distance from such a frivolous man." Unfortunately, the excited noblewomen weren't in the mood for warnings.
The gentle Andromache stepped in to mediate. "But he did save those people, didn't he? It takes great courage to stand up in the slave market. And he took down five men alone, for you, Creusa! How heroic! Hector's never done anything like that for me..."
Creusa had no energy left to argue. They all think he did it for me... But did he really? And yet... I really did enjoy myself today... The thought slipped into her mind like sunlight through a crack. It left her utterly flustered.
The noblewomen talked and laughed around her. Creusa's face turned red. She didn't know what to do with her hands. Or her feet.
Polyxena tugged at her sleeve excitedly. Cassandra just shook her head, black hair swinging like water.
In the corner, the rescued girls whispered. They kept stealing glances at the royal women.
While the temple's side chamber hosted a cozy "secret girls' meeting," a very different kind of marital discussion was underway deep within the palace—in the king's chambers. The atmosphere was starkly different.
The room was dim, like an early twilight. Only a few bronze oil lamps cast flickering light on the walls. The Trojan founding myths painted on the dome seemed to come alive in the shifting shadows. The heroes' gazes appeared to look down from on high. The scents of aged parchment and sandalwood were stirred by an intangible tension. Every breath felt heavy.
Queen Hecuba stood before a large obsidian table. Her eyes burned with worry. She looked directly at her husband. Her voice was taut as a bowstring. "If you're so wary of Aeneas, why marry Creusa to him? Are you sacrificing our daughter?"
King Priam sat back in his ivory chair. Lazy, half-awake.
His thin fingers played with the onyx ring. It turned on his finger, slow.
Like a sleeping snake. "My dear," his tone was disturbingly calm, as if discussing the weather, not their daughter's fate, "Aeneas is a fine young man. I shall reward him generously. Show him great leniency."
Hecuba felt the lie at once.
His eyes, dark and deep, glinted in the firelight. Same look he had at their wedding. Long ago, but she still remembered. He'd known how to mask his true intentions with sweet words even then.
Her intuition screamed. He was plotting something dangerous.
Their heated argument echoed in the vast chamber. Hecuba finally chose to relent. For now. Not because she was convinced. But because she knew opposing Priam once his mind was set only made things worse.
Her clenched fists as she left betrayed her unease... She could only pray the Mother Goddess would protect Creusa.
When the heavy door shut behind her, Priam was left alone in the gloom.
Shadows covered half his face. It split him in two. His pensive expression looked eerie in the dancing light. His eyes, which had seen so much scheming, narrowed slightly.
Use our daughter to leash the young lion. Then let her... remove him, if necessary. A fair trade.
Meanwhile, in a hidden room behind a tapestry in the palace's east wing, the swaying lamplight threw long shadows on the rough stone walls. Like ghostly listeners. The air smelled of sour wine and conspiracy.
"He knew Lykos was our man, and he still humiliated him!" A prince's voice trembled with rage from the shadows. He slammed his wine cup onto the crude wooden table. Dark red liquid splashed out. Like drops of blood.
The prince across from him calmly wiped his golden diadem. "Aeneas lacks the proper fear of royal authority. It's dangerous." His voice was steady. Like reciting scripture. "Father clearly wants to use him. But we can't let this threat grow."
"That damned country bumpkin, daring to touch my coffers..." the prince in the shadows roared again. "We can't let this slide! Or everyone will think they can pick our pockets!"
The prince across from him felt a flicker of satisfaction. This reckless brother finally agrees to a temporary truce. Deal with the external threat first, then our internal struggle. His gaze swept over the parchment map nailed to the wall. It lingered on the Dardan Valley, circled prominently in red pigment.
When they finally reached an agreement, they raised their cups in a cold toast. Like two beasts calling a temporary truce to share prey.
The prince in the shadows spoke, his voice like a snake through grass. "Let's show that Dardan upstart what real royal power means."
Far away in the temple, Creusa knew nothing of this. She stood in the center of the hall. Had just finished settling the last girl. She watched these young women, who had once trembled in the slave market. Hope was rekindling in their eyes. The ice in her own grey-blue eyes finally melted completely. One particularly young girl—no more than twelve—was carefully stroking the fabric of her new robe. Tears shimmered in her eyes. Creusa let out a soft sigh.
"They will all be well now," Polyxena's gentle voice came from beside her. She linked her arm with Creusa's. "Sister, I actually think... a man who considers women's plight might be a gift from the gods."
Under the distant marble colonnade, Cassandra stood quietly. She still frowned. Looked disapproving. But her eyes softened as she watched the new novices learning to tidy the altar. One girl accidentally knocked over a fruit bowl. Cassandra didn't scold her. Just shook her head slightly. Then continued observing.
Creusa watched the scene. Maybe Polyxena is right. In this court full of schemes, sincerity might be the rarest gift of all. It struck her then. Her youngest sister, always immersed in ritual and innocence, sometimes saw the simplest truths most clearly.
Andromache was gently instructing a new novice before the shrine. Showing her how to arrange the laurel branches and honey bread. Her patience was motherly. "No, dear. The leaf tips should face the goddess. To show our highest respect." When the nervous girl finally got it right, Andromache gave an encouraging smile. Gently patted her shoulder.
Polyxena leaned closer. Lowered her voice. "Look at Cassandra. She won't admit it, but I can tell she's pleased too." It was true. Cassandra was giving a slight nod. Watching a novice carefully light an oil lamp.
Outside, the sky had deepened to violet. But inside the temple, the warm golden hour seemed to have just begun.