Helen of Sparta by Amalia Carosella Page B

green of spring grasses and myrtle leaves. Last night, he would have sworn they matched the turquoise o f the sea.
    “Theseus!”
    He jerked at the call, tearing his eyes from hers and excusing himself. Athena, help me. I must keep my wits. He thanked the gods it was only Pirithous who had noticed. Theseus j oined him.
    “Do you want Menelaus to have you killed in your sleep, Theseus?” he hissed.
    “He would n’t dare.”
    Pirithous gave him a dark look that suggested otherwise. “All the same, you would do well to keep your admiration to yourself until you speak to her father. I don’t understand how you ever got on without me. Even with Antiope you did not behave so f oolishly.”
    “Antiope would have sneered if I had.” He shook his head, hoping to clear it, but it did not help. All he could think of was Helen, and he searched for her again in the crowd.
    Menelaus had gone to Helen’s side, leaning down to whisper against her ear. Helen stiffened and pulled away. She raised her chin, her voice sharp even at a distance, though Theseus could not make out the words. Helen walked quickly away, joining Castor and Pollu x instead.
    “Menelaus takes too many liberties,” Pirithous murmured.
    “Let him. He only succeeds in driving her away.” But his hands had balled into fists at his sides. Whatever argument they’d had the previous evening, Helen had clearly not forgiven the son of Atreus.
    “Whatever it is she wants of you, Theseus, it will have something to do with him.”
    Menelaus’s expression was dark as he watched Helen, but he recovered himself and offered his company to Clytemnestra. Helen’s sister welcomed him without re servation.
    Whatever she wanted, Theseus hoped it was within his powe r to give.

    Theseus paced his physician’s small room, really no more than a short hall and a sleeping chamber, though the walls were painted richly with leaping fish and dolphins. Bread and watered wine sat ready on a small table, but he could not bring himself to eat while he waited.
    The sun had risen, and the morning’s entertainments had begun in the megaron. Pirithous was there, no doubt enjoying himself with whichever servant made herself available, and none the worse for his lack of sleep the night before. He claimed his stamina was a gift from Zeus; considering his other appetites, Theseus did not doubt him.
    “My lord, would you prefer to sit? Is there something I can have brought for you?” Aris ton asked.
    “No, thank you.” Theseus forced himself to stop, standing before the window. He clasped his hands behind his back. Ariston was a good physician as well as an old friend, but Theseus was still his king, and a king should not show anxiety or worry. Certainly not over a yo ung woman.
    A knock on the door cut through him, and he turned. It could not be anyone other than Helen, but the woman who slipped into the room kept her hair and face covered by a scarf. The green eyes that met his were unmistakable, and splashes of her red gown peeked out from beneath a pale blue robe.
    Ariston shut the door b ehind her.
    “My lady.” Theseus crossed the room to meet her and brought her hand to his lips.
    Helen squeezed his hand. “My lord. Thank you for s eeing me.”
    “It would be rude of me to refuse you.” He nodded to Ariston, and the man disappeared into the bedchamber without a word. “May I offer you food or drink?”
    She shook her head, reaching up to unwrap the scarf from her face. “Thank you , but no.”
    Her golden hair fell free of the scarf, no longer encumbered by the ornaments. A single diamond rested against her throat. It was something he had found in Egypt before he had settled into the kingship of Athens, and one of his gif ts to her.
    Theseus lifted the stone, rolling it between his fingers. “I thought this would suit you, when I heard of your beauty. I’m pleased I could finally offer it.”
    A blush began at the fair skin of her chest and rose all the way to her cheeks.