The Princess of Sparta: Heroes of the Trojan War by Aria Cunningham

when his flesh feeds the worms will Sparta be yours.”
    “A favor I have you to thank for.” Menelaus spat. “It’s you he despises, not me!”
    Agamemnon leapt to his feet, grabbing his jeweled scepter like a club. “You should thank me. You should bow down and kiss my feet! Had I not pressed your suit, you would not even be married and next in line to rule. A throne afforded you by contract, not divine right as I hold here. So you will obey me. ”
    Helen sighed. Direct demands meant this confrontation would not end well. Nestra was shaking like a leaf. If their husbands did not settle their differences, the wives would bear the burden of their displeasure. Nestra bore too many scars from Agamemnon’s fearsome temper.
    But there was no reason for them both to suffer. Helen lifted her shoulders back and walked into the throne room at a regal pace.
    “ Are you crazy?” Nestra whispered after her. Helen’s heart fluttered, secretly agreeing with her sister. But crazed or not, she would not let Nestra suffer. Not when she could do something to help. She entered the megaron behind her husband, quiet as a mouse.
    “I will not go.” Menelaus glared at the king, his foot on the raised dais that led to the throne. He taunted Agamemnon, standing just outside the king’s striking distance. “The foaling season is about to begin. I won’t abandon the herd to collect your tribute. Send someone else.”
    Agamemnon’s eyes blazed with anger, raising his scepter threateningly. But when Helen crossed his line of sight, those eyes turned to unveiled hunger. She bowed low, sure to accentuate her near exposed bosom. He had designed the dress with a purpose. Agamemnon could not claim her outright—especially in public—but his eyes had no qualms marking her as prey.
    “Sire.” She lowered her head and voice respectfully. “If I may be of service?”
    Agamemnon relaxed immediately. He retook his seat, casting his brother a mocking grin. “You spend too much time with your ponies, Menelaus, and not enough with your own mare. Be careful another stallion does not tend to your flock.”
    Helen blushed furiously. She tried to shield her face from her husband in her golden tresses. The audacity of the man... he knew well enough what other “stallions” were braying at her door.
    “Rise, Sweet Sister. What would you have from your king.” He said the words as though they were an invitation. Menelaus stiffened, his evil glare equally for her as for his brother.
    “The farmhands complain of a great bull harassing the wheat fields.” She rose to her feet, adopting a mask of indifference. “I told them I would petition you for a hunt.”
    “Bah.” He spat. “I have no time to dispatch every animal that ranges near our fields. Not when we have so many outstanding debts to collect.” He cast another glare at Menelaus, his potent ire simmering again.
    “Of course, My King.” She added quickly, trying to draw his attention back to her. “If it is conflict of circumstance, perhaps I can tend to the foals and free my husband to the task?”
    Menelaus grabbed her arm roughly, spinning her to look at him directly. “And what would a woman know of horse husbandry? You presume much, Wife.”
    She grit her teeth, knowing she was crossing into danger. “I know nothing, My Lord, save the troubles of giving birth. That, it seems, is a province of women.” She planted the barb with just enough defiance that Menelaus would redirect his anger and stop this futile fight with his brother.
    “Some women, perhaps.” He responded, taking her bait. “But not you, Wife. In that regard you are just as useless as a crone.”
    Agamemnon’s cruel laugh mocked them both. It struck a sliver of fear in Helen’s heart as it shamed her husband. “I will consider your offer, Sister. Now go. Both of you. I sense my brother is keen to give you a lesson in husbandry.”
    Menelaus didn’t bother to respond but towed her roughly out the hall. She