

A Tale of Apollo's Men

By Kayla Jameth

Smashwords Edition

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

© 2014 Kayla Jameth.

Cover Art  
© 2014 AB Gayle.  
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Author, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Kayla Jameth at KaylaJameth@hotmail.com.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Lexicon

Bio

More from Kayla Jameth

Dedication

Thanks to Deanna and Charley for betaing this story. Additional thanks to Alison for all her help with editing, cover art, and formatting. Without her help this story would not be available to you.

Oh, far wandering muse, Calliope, Mother of Thrace,  
Tell me of the young prince of Aenus  
And the adventures that befell him,  
Traveling the fair kingdom that once was Croesus' pride.

# Chapter One

Ahead of Lykos, his guide paused, head cocked to one side. Lykos stilled and held his breath, listening for whatever had caught Narses' attention. There wasn't much in the canyon to see, just rocks and scrub brush and more rocks, shimmering in the heat.

Sand slithered across the road leading to Sardis, rattling as it laid claim to yet another unguarded stretch of arid desolation so unlike Aenus' green spaces and coastline. Lykos glanced around in distaste. Narses assured him once they descending from the barren mountain pass, the fertile Hermus valley would spread out before the great city like a rich spill of costly fabrics.

Lykos certainly hoped so. He'd eaten more than his share of dust on this journey so far. He didn't relish more. While he didn't see any travelers before or behind them, obviously enough feet traversed this path to prevent the growth of anything less hardy than the sparse acacia and similar brush well back in the shadows of the confining rock walls.

He studied his guide more closely. The Persian pursed his lips and squinted eyes as dark as obsidian beneath lined brows. His beard bristled under a light coating of dust as he scanned their surroundings. Shifting the pack containing his half of their supplies, Narses gripped his staff, nodding to himself.

Ever since Lykos was old enough to join the men in Father's court, he'd seen the Persian with his strange clothing and exotic ways, speaking his foreign tongue. At first, Narses had only been a Lydian merchant come to Thrace to trade with the king of Aenus. But as his relationship with the king grew, Lykos saw him more and more frequently.

On those occasions when the man was in Aenus, Lykos had pressed for and received instruction, endeavoring to become familiar with the langue of a possible enemy. Now as they traveled together, Lykos was attempting to further his knowledge of a language so different from his native Greek. The sounds were liquid and the words followed their own rules. He still couldn't speak much more than the necessary pleasantries required for guesting, but at least he wouldn't embarrass himself, or more importantly, offend a host.

Father trusted Narses as both a courier and to conduct business in his name here in the satrapy that had once been the neighboring kingdom of Lydia. Its ruler, King Croesus, had been defeated when he attacked Persia, and thus had "destroyed a great empire" exactly as the Pythia had prophesied to Croesus prior to the battle. Unfortunately, the kingdom in question had been his own.

Narses still hadn't moved. His long, brightly colored Persian robe hid the bulk of a man well versed in defending himself. Father claimed he had once watched Narses hold off a pack of bandits intent upon relieving him of treasure.

But the way the two men had shared an amused glance and laughed while staring at Lykos made him wonder if Father meant the time Hyllos, Sebastos and he had waylaid Narses for the exotic sweets they knew he sometimes carried. They hadn't been able to get the Persian delicacies, but then they had been mere boys.

Either way, Father insisted Lykos would need more than just a guide in the event of bandits and Narses would be perfect for both.

What had Narses sensed that he was missing? Lykos glanced around but he couldn't see or even hear anything out of the ordinary. Just rock, sand and wind.

The wind ceased and he heard it, a faint shout. The rattle he had thought was wind-driven sand resolved into the clatter of distant swords echoing down the canyon. Narses, more accustomed to this desolation, had recognized the difference first.

Hand on the hilt of his sword, Lykos pivoted slowly, attempting to discover from which quarter the battle raged. Someone was being attacked and doubtless required their assistance. His heart set a faster beat. _This_ is what he'd sought.

He'd been forced to leave his primary weapons and armor at home to avoid drawing too much unwanted attention. Only heroes or mercenaries went about dressed in full battle gear. Without his spear and shield, he would have to make do with his _xiphos_. He hadn't wanted to risk the Great King of the Persians hearing of his journey, or to tempt bandits with too rich a target. Hence he traveled discreetly with only Narses to guide him.

Narses stepped off the road to take refuge from the hostile sun under some thorny acacia trees.

"What are you doing?" Lykos demanded. "Someone needs our aid!"

"Not my business."

"I say it is." Lykos had finally shaken off the tutors and weapons masters Father had saddled him with. _I'm a warrior by Ares!_ He'd trained too hard to allow anyone to treat him as anything else.

"I was paid to see you to Sardis safely. Not tangle with bandits."

If Lykos wanted to be safe, he'd have stayed in his father's house. Instead he'd insisted upon this opportunity to journey through Lydia, taking the measure of the empire encroaching on their doorstep.

There! Another wordless cry and this time he could tell the shout came from some distance ahead.

Lykos strode over to his Persian guide and seized him by the scruff. "Come on!"

"The king, your father—"

"The king, my father, isn't here. I am." Using his recently acquired bulk, Lykos dragged Narses back to the road and propelled him toward the fray with a shove between his shoulders. "Now move! Father wouldn't have chosen you to accompany me if he had known you were afraid of a few bandits."

"Your father chose me because I'm smart enough not to go in search of trouble." Narses gave him a sour look, feet set and unmoving. "You shouldn't be in such a rush to play hero, Prince. Have you ever fought a man before?"

"Of course I have!"

"A man intent on killing you or ransoming you back to your father?"

Lykos would rather be dead than ransomed to Father. He would never be able to live down the humiliation of being returned to his father like some runaway slave.

"I thought not."

"I'm not afraid and no one's going to capture me!" He was a man now, not a child, and he wouldn't tolerate anyone treating him as anything less. Lykos strode down the canyon, searching for any sign of the combatants.

Narses refused to give in gracefully, muttering in Persian as he caught up with Lykos. His fingers bit into Lykos' shoulder with more strength than he would have attributed to the man. Lykos shook off his grip and kept walking.

"You fool!" the Persian bellowed. "You don't know what we may be facing."

"Then let's go find out." Lykos turned and met his belligerent stare.

"And when you see we are outnumbered and can do nothing, what then? Will you listen to me and stay out of it?" Narses snorted. "No, I can see you still intend to play the hero."

"I'm not playing! I'm a man and a warrior. You can't tell me you are afraid of some untrained villagers trying their hand at banditry? We are both better trained and likely better armed. I won't let you try to talk me into hiding or pretending no one is in danger."

"Ba'al, protect me from another reckless youth intent on proving himself!" Narses flicked his fingers in a warding sign that Lykos didn't need Persian to understand and spat on the dusty ground. "You're as unlikely to achieve wisdom as you are the age with which to appreciate it."

Lykos shrugged. If reaching Narses' age meant becoming a coward, then Lykos would just have to risk dying without heirs.

Seeming to give up on using Greek to convince him, Narses returned to his own tongue. Lykos was glad he didn't have a better understanding of the language. Narses was calling on Ba'al and Anat, praying to the Lord and his violent consort—more likely calling down curses on Lykos for drawing him into battle. Hopefully the goddess of war would turn on whoever their foes were. Lykos had heard enough about Anat to know that, next to her, bloody-minded Ares would appear almost gentle.

Even as angry as he had made Narses, Lykos knew the man would still follow, unable to return to the king of Aenus without his son. Together with whoever was being attacked, they should be able to defeat any enemy.

Although the older man didn't look like a fierce warrior, Father would never have permitted him to travel without a capable fighter by his side. Lykos had considered bringing a couple of his friends with him, but Father wouldn't hear of it. He had insisted a smaller group would draw less attention.

Maybe Father was right, but he would have liked to have Hyllos and Sebastos with him now. Together they would have rescued the harried lord or merchant without all of Narses' grumbling and fussing like a graybeard. Then they would have sat around the fire, drinking the man's wine and boasting about their exploits.

As they drew closer, Lykos discovered the din emanated from one of the infrequent side canyons. Although still unrecognizable, the shouts became clear when he entered the cleft. But he really didn't need to understand the words to comprehend the situation.

Near the back of the defile, two bodies lay sprawled on the ground. Before they could intervene, a third man went down under the combined assault of a pair of attackers. The coppery scent of blood mixed with the dusty smell of sunbaked stone told the story.

None of the men wore armor. Not aristocrats then. Probably some unlucky trader beset by bandits. Were the two still standing the bandits or the merchant and his guard? It wasn't as if they wore some badge revealing their trade. And their unfamiliar garments, colors dulled by dust, gave no indication of their status.

Farther back, another man, sword in fist, advanced on a youth who was attempting in vain to keep a pair of pack mules between them. Unarmed, the boy must have taken refuge behind his companions. Little good that had done him.

Not sure who were the attackers and who the defenders, nonetheless, Lykos knew the youth was the only innocent he could safely name as such.

"Help!" the beleaguered young man shouted at them as the armed man reached for him. Lykos couldn't wait for the other two to declare themselves. Even if they were the bandits, he wouldn't stand back and do nothing while the boy was harmed.

Either way, Narses wouldn't allow them to take him unawares.

Lykos dropped his pack on the ground and raced to the youth's aid. Narses cursed him in at least two languages and as many pantheons. _Like it or not, it's your problem now._

"Leave him alone!"

Drawing his _xiphos_ , Lykos stabbed at the boy's attacker. The man abandoned his attack on the unarmed young man and faced Lykos, dodging his blade. Busy evading the bandit's counterattack, Lykos barely registered the youth's cry of relief.

"Another boy?" The vulgar man grinned and raised his voice, speaking in a strangely accented Greek dialect. "We've got another one for the brothel! You two take care of the old man while I subdue this one."

"I'm not a boy!" Lykos spat. "Think you can take me, barbarian?"

"You're still young enough to make a nice addition to the House of Bacchus once I've tamed you." The man leered, exposing a gap where his upper teeth were missing, and licked his lips. Lykos' skin crawled everywhere the bandit's eyes alighted.

The man said something else in Persian to his men who cackled with rude laughter. He must have only wanted Lykos to understand the first bit.

The Persian youth cursed the bandit in response. The coarse man pursed his lips and blew the seething boy a kiss before making a "come here" gesture to Lykos.

Lykos shook his head.

The bandit circled. Lykos spun with him until he recognized his mistake. The man was attempting to force him to face into the sun's harsh glare, blinding him. Lykos shifted to his right, preventing the man from flanking him. He wasn't some callow unblooded youth, he was a warrior _prince_. Father would have his hide if he fell for that trick.

They both made several passes with their swords. The occasional clang of their weapons meeting was interspersed with their harsh grunts of exertion.

"Not so easy to capture me, is it?" Lykos could feel the smirk sweep over his face.

"I can still leave your corpse to feed the vultures."

Lykos' smile died as the man changed tactics. No longer just attempting to disarm or disable him, his foe aimed more deadly strikes.

Twisting to the side, Lykos brought his sword up, narrowly escaping a thrust to the chest he hadn't anticipated. _Hades! That was close._ The man might pose more danger than he'd foreseen. Lykos had assumed no bandit would be able to stand up to a prince trained by the best men Father could find.

The darkly bearded face of his opponent creased with a smile, and Lykos knew the bandit had reached the same conclusion. Where was Captain Hermokrates when Lykos needed some advice on tactics?

He had to trust Narses would keep the rest of the bandits from his back while he dealt with this one; although, Lykos didn't dare take his eyes from his own foe to see how the other man fared. Narses rarely went accompanied in his travels for the king so he must be capable of defending himself against whatever he met in his journeys.

Lykos resisted turning as an angry cry rang out, fairly certain the dark blur at the edge of his vision was Narses. Hopefully, his guide was still managing to hold his own against the other two men.

The cursed bandit came at him again. Lykos panted and tried to ignore the sweat rolling down his face. He couldn't risk taking his attention off the raider long enough to wipe the beads away. With any luck, the droplets would stay out of his eyes.

A screech of Persian filled the air. Caught off guard, Lykos paused. The bandit lurched forward as the boy leapt on his back. The man attempted to dislodge the youth as the shrieking continued. Lykos only made out "help", "dog" and "die" amidst the flood of foreign words.

Taking advantage of the opportunity the young man had given him, Lykos rubbed the sweat off his forehead and out of his eyes.

The boy narrowly avoided being beheaded by a wild swing of the raider's weapon. The man stumbled as the youth shifted on his back, pulling him further off-balance. Avoiding the young man's limbs, Lykos stepped forward and impaled the marauder through the belly. With a grunt, Lykos angled his sword up into the man's chest.

Warm blood ran down Lykos' hand before he could pull his _xiphos_ from the man's falling body. The blade caught on one of his opponent's ribs and nearly twisted from Lykos' grasp. He hadn't expected the blood to make his grip so slippery.

Chest heaving, Lykos wiped his hand clean on the dead man's clothing. His first kill.

A steady stream of vitriol welled up from underneath the bandit's corpse as the boy struggled to push the slack weight off himself. Lykos wasn't sure if he understood half of what he thought the boy said. Something involving the dead man's father and a he-goat. Was that even physically possible?

Taking pity on the youth, Lykos chuckled and pulled him free.

The boy screeched and pointed behind Lykos.

Lykos spun as a man raced toward him, weapon drawn back for a blow. He dodged the blade in time to avoid his own untimely death at the hands of one of the fallen man's friends. One of the pair who had initially engaged Narses, the man had left the other bandit to deal with Narses alone while he attacked Lykos from behind.

Unfortunately, Lykos' opponent must have seen how the first man had fallen. Every time the youth tried to flank the bandit, the man shifted to keep Lykos between him and the boy. Although, Lykos appreciated the assistance, children had no place in a fight as Father had been wont to tell him. Not that he'd ever listened any better than this boy.

"Kambujiya was too good a man to fall to a pair of boys like you," the man snarled. "Your tricks won't work with me. I'll spill your blood in the sand."

The youth shouted obscenities and lobbed rocks at the man to divide his attention.

Lykos could almost hear Hermokrates deploring such unworthy tactics. But this was one of the pair of men who'd slain the youth's companion in a two-on-one fight just as Narses and Lykos arrived. This was still a cleaner fight than they'd given him.

Licking lips coated with the dust stirred up by their feet, Lykos traded blows with the swarthy man. His new opponent didn't seem as skilled as the last, but Lykos would be outnumbered if the other raider overcame Narses.

One of the boy's lucky shots hit the bandit's calf. The man spat out something incomprehensible and limped after that.

Laughing darkly, the youth called on Anat, probably to claim the man's soul. Lykos wouldn't turn down help from any quarter, even the violent Persian goddess of war.

The nimble boy ran around the raider, dodging another blow. Lykos took advantage of his foe's moment of distraction to close with him. Swords clanging and jarring his arm, Lykos wished he had a shield to block with in addition to his blade.

His foot slipped on some loose pebbles. Lykos fell, twisting as he landed on his side. The sharp burn of a sword's edge kissed his ribs and withdrew before he could roll over and trap the blade beneath his body.

He sucked in several shallow breaths, his side sticky and aflame with pain. Before he could regain his feet, the bandit thrust again. Blocking with his off forearm, Lykos hissed as the _kopis_ drew fire in a sharp line from his wrist to his elbow.

The man shook his sword and laughed as droplets of Lykos' blood spattered on the ground. "That's just the start. Soon I'll give your soul to Asto-vidatu and he can pick through your bones."

_I've already fed your god!_ Lykos would have shouted, but he couldn't find the breath.

The boy, seeing Lykos' predicament, yelled louder and flung rock after rock at the bandit. The man scowled and raised his sword, going after his tormentor. The young man danced out of his way, giving Lykos a chance to rise without risking another blow.

Rolling to his knees, ribs and arm protesting, Lykos drew a pained breath. His sword trailed briefly in the dirt as he pushed to his feet. He could almost hear Hermokrates berating him as fifty kinds of fool for disrespecting his weapon. _How do you expect your_ xiphos _to preserve your life if you treat it like that?_

What was he doing? He knew better than allow his thoughts to wander in battle. But he just couldn't seem to focus through the growing haze. He drew several shallow breaths and the darkness receded somewhat.

The bandit. He needed to concentrate on his enemy. Lykos raised his _xiphos_ and shifted his weight, staring into hate-filled eyes.

The man came at him again, sword raised. Unable to block the blow, Lykos prepared to strike at his foe's chest instead. He might not be able to save himself, but maybe he could drag the bandit down into the Underworld with him. _Ares, lend me your strength and skill!_

The heavy curved tip of the _kopis_ flashed above his head as the cutting edge descended. The air displaced by the weighty weapon brushed his face. Lykos refused to flinch. He would meet death with honor.

If he died here at an unknown outlaw's hands, Father would descend into the Underworld to petition Hades for his return so he could kill Lykos all over again.

The man spun to his right, his sword no longer trained on Lykos. What? Had Ares heard and answered his plea?

With a grunt, Lykos' foe stumbled forward onto his _xiphos_. The bandit's weight forced Lykos' blade in all the way to the hilt. His eyes widened in shock even as they dulled.

Lykos staggered under the slackening body and fell to his knees in the blood slicked sand. Over the man's slumped figure, Lykos beheld the viciously grinning face of the youth.

"You...!" The boy kicked the dead man's shoulder while Lykos tried in vain to understand what else he shouted. "Asto-vidatu"—he was the monstrous eater of the dead the bandit had vowed to deliver Lykos to, wasn't he?—"you!"

The tables had been turned on the vile men who had sworn to slay Lykos and the boy if they couldn't force them into a brothel.

The boy spat in the blood drenched dust. Even though only a youth, the young man had saved him—had saved them both. Lykos flushed in shame. _Some hero you turned out to be._

Thinking he had Lykos at his mercy, the foolish raider had failed to keep the unarmed boy in his sight. Once the bandit had committed to his attack, the young Persian must have rammed him from the side. Unable to deflect the cumbersome blow, the evil man had fallen forward onto Lykos' waiting blade.

Head hanging, Lykos braced his hands on his thighs and drew the shallow breaths that were all his wounds allowed him.

A hand gripped Lykos' shoulder and he braced himself for the iron kiss of the third bandit's blade on his neck.

# Chapter Two

"Are you all right, you son of Seth?"

"Narses?" Lykos drew a deep breath, one he hadn't expected to lay claim to. The wound in his side twinged in protest. He would have to take care not to repeat that mistake. "The bandits?"

"All dead now. Only the three of us remain." Breathing nearly as heavily as Lykos, Narses shifted his blade to his off hand and used his forearm to wipe the sweat from a brow weathered like leather.

Lykos gaped at what Narses was wearing. The dirty cloth seemed familiar, but had never bunched up around his legs like that before. Had Narses taken the time to change his robe to something shorter and even more outlandish?

Blood dripped from Lykos' elbow, cooling and clotting between his fingers. Wiping his hand on his _chiton_ , Lykos stared at his sword wondered how he was to clean the gore from his _xiphos_. Blood covered the dead man's garment, soaking the cloth.

Narses must have understood his dilemma. "Just wipe your sword on his clothing."

The odor of spilled viscera and bowels filled the air. Men smelt little different from the bulls sacrificed to Zeus Lykos mused, startled to find so little distinction between man and beast. Would Ares accept the blood of men in payment for his aid? Or would Anat claim these barbarians for herself?

Lykos shook himself, trying to gather all the loose threads of his thoughts into something coherent. He was just glad to finally be victorious.

"Good." Lykos attempted to stand, but the throbbing pull of the wound across his ribs as he straightened stole his breath. He could feel blood trickling down his side. How bad was he cut? "Give me a hand up?"

Before Narses could offer his hand, the youth reached down and grabbed Lykos' injured arm, pulling him upright. Lykos winced and bit his lip to keep from cursing. The boy only did as he'd asked, but Theos the gash burned. And the bleeding that had slowed to a trickle oozed once more.

"Sorry. I sorry!" Earnest, concerned eyes met his. The youth _could_ speak some Greek.

"It's nothing." Or that's what Lykos hoped he replied in Persian.

The boy glanced between Lykos and Narses. Correctly choosing to address himself to the older man, he inclined his head and rattled off a long string of nearly incomprehensible words to Narses.

"His name is Kas," Narses interpreted when the boy finished speaking.

Well, at least "Kas" wasn't something unpronounceable like the dead bandit, Ka—Kam—Kamya—whatever the barbarian's name was. Lykos could manage Kas.

"He wants you to know," Narses continued, "you have his undying gratitude for your assistance. As you have saved his life, he is now yours to dispose of as you see fit."

Kas was short and lithe. He hadn't come into his full growth yet and Lykos wasn't sure he could afford to feed him through that. On the other hand, the youth was still smooth-faced and uncommonly comely. Straight limbs, large eyes and a sweet curve of soft lips.

Even through the throb of his wounds, Lykos' cock stirred. _To dispose of as you see fit_. From the boy's own mouth, no less. He could imagine several ways to "dispose" of the youth. The image of Kas glancing over his shoulder as he bent over Lykos' bed was particularly appealing.

Studying Lykos intently, Kas flashed a bright, knowing smile at him. Lykos felt the heat climbing his face. Why was he flustered? There was nothing wrong with admiring—and desiring—a youth.

"His life is mine? _He_ 's mine? What does he expect of me?" Lykos asked, hand pressed to his side. Now that the heat of battle was wearing off, the wound on his ribs burned worse than any fire he had ever known.

Until now, he hadn't tried his hand at anything more dangerous than sparring under the watchful eye of Hermokrates. Father's captain of the guard had taken great pains to see Lykos never came to harm. Lykos had not imagined the wounds would hurt this badly.

The injured warriors he had seen hadn't given any indication of how painful a sword cut could be. Lykos gritted his teeth, and neither would he.

Narses lowered his voice. "Personally, I think he's hoping you'll take him in as I suspect he has no one else."

While Lykos digested Narses' suspicions, Kas loosed another longer spate of Persian.

Attempting to distract himself from his growing discomfort, Lykos allowed his eyes to rove over the boy's body again. A cascade of raven dark hair brushed his shoulders, shimmering almost blue in the sunlight. When he reached Kas' eyes, the youth again met his gaze boldly. A faint flush covered his downy cheeks and a smile much too old for his face curled the corners of his mouth.

But Lykos couldn't afford the expense of feeding an extra mouth, even that luxuriant mouth.

"Kas' father was taking their annual tax to the Great King's Satrap in Sardis when bandits set upon them. Four armed men attacked them. Their slave tried to help his father, but they killed him."

"Sons of dogs!" Kas spat on the body at their feet. "Who kill slaves?"

Normally, Lykos would agree. Slaves were a valuable commodity. As ownership of the slave would have transferred to the victor, the bandits had likely planned on claiming him as part of the spoils. But if the slave had attacked them, he wasn't all that surprised the men had simply slain him as they had attempted to do with anyone who had resisted them, including unarmed Kas. Or maybe they had only meant to wound him?

Narses' calm voice continued, "His father slew one of the raiders. And we saw the rest."

Lykos glanced over at the other group of bodies. Kas' father lay among them. Poor boy.

"We should take him the rest of the way to Sardis with us," Narses suggested. "Unprotected, he would make a tempting target for raiders."

Lykos nodded. He didn't relish the thought of abandoning anyone in this desolate place.

Allowing his gaze to linger over the youth, Narses muttered, "Or even some villagers." Nodding as Lykos turned to him, startled. "Many would like to enslave him, and not just for his possessions."

He had just been thinking in terms of bandits, but they weren't the only threat to a youth on his own. Greed and lust could steal not just Kas' belonging, but his very freedom. A covetous landowner and his sons or an innkeeper with an eye to attracting other business.

"I didn't rescue him just to let someone else lay hands on him," Lykos growled.

Narses spoke again, pointing to Lykos, and said his name. The boy grinned broadly, nodding. What had the guide told him?

Lykos studied the youth's wiry limbs where they extended beyond his worn tunic. Even though Kas had offered his freedom, Lykos had no need of it. "Tell him I don't need a slave, especially a puny boy."

Kas blushed and thrust his chest out when Narses conveyed Lykos' words. Glaring at Lykos, Kas spoke vehemently with his hands as much as his voice.

"He says he may be small for his age, but he's a man. Around here that usually means eighteen summers."

Eighteen, nearly Lykos' age; although, their similarity began and ended there.

Lykos was taller and his shoulders broader than this slender, smooth-faced youth. He'd thought the boy—young man!—was closer to his younger brother's age. Fifteen or at most sixteen years.

"We need to bury Kas' father," Narses said after another exchange in Persian. "He says they live too far away and there is no other family to visit the tomb."

And Kas, what of him? He had no one. Did the young man dare risk traveling back home alone and unprotected? Wouldn't he only continue to draw the same fate down on himself?

_I can't leave him to his fate. But I can't accompany him home either._ Could they find honest guards in Sardis to take him home? Or would they only be making slavery harder for the youth to avoid?

No wonder Father had insisted he wait until Narses could accompany him. A young man traveling on his own was tempting the baser natures of all men.

"Wait. Slave? He did say slave?"

Narses nodded as Kas continued speaking.

"What does he want us to do with the slave?" Lykos couldn't make out the rest of the young man's words. _Might as well be gibberish!_ Lykos felt a spark of irritation at being left out of the conversation like a child.

As Persia conquered more of the world, the language had spread through Thrace. He'd learned some words at home in Aenus and even more as he traveled through Lydia with Narses. But he still couldn't communicate without an interpreter.

The boy's grasp of Aeolic Greek didn't appear to be much better. Close enough to Ionic that if he spoke slowly Lykos could make out the meaning.

"He wants us to bury the slave with his father. Kas doesn't hold with leaving bodies lying about no matter what some priest says about the gods demanding exposure. As for these others, their people can come claim their bones."

Startled, Lykos glanced at Kas and then Narses. "They don't bury their dead? They just leave them... like this? Don't the shades of the dishonored dead haunt them?"

"Not the Zoroastrians." Narses scowled at the dead bandits. "We need to hurry. I don't want to be here when the scavengers arrive for the others."

A tentative touch drew Lykos attention away as Narses stripped anything of value off the dead bandits. No sense leaving weapons for their families to use to avenge their deaths or continue their disreputable trade.

"Hurt...?" Kas frowned and made a wrapping gesture around his own arm.

"Bind my wounds?" Lykos glanced down at the red furrow on his forearm. The bleeding had stopped, but his arm throbbed in time with his heart. And yet the ache was nothing compared to the ragged torment of his side.

Even though the sword cuts needed to be tended, Lykos was dreading it. _You'll face this like a man_ , he could hear Father's admonition. Lykos wouldn't disappoint him.

The young man nodded enthusiastically and reached for the _fibula_ pinning Lykos' chiton over his shoulder. As Kas lowered the bloodstained cloth, Lykos obtained his first glimpse at the gash over his ribs. Kas carefully peeled Lykos' tunic away from where the blood had adhered the cloth to his skin, but it still tugged on the ragged edge.

Head whirling, Lykos fought to stay on his feet.

Lykos sucked in a harsh breath as Kas explored the shallow wound with careful fingertips. No exposed bone, thank the gods.

Kas tugged on Lykos' ruined chiton. "Off, off!"

After another discussion, Narses explained, "He wants you to remove your chiton. He'll give you one of his father's clean tunics and make bandages to bind the wounds from that rag."

Glancing down at the huge rent in the cloth, Lykos had to admit his chiton could no longer serve as a garment. Loosening the buckles holding the wide leather girdle around his waist, he removed his clothing. Lykos stood naked under the sun as if he meant to compete in the summer games at home.

Kas tore a swath from the damaged chiton and dampened the rag with water. Once the wound had been cleaned, Kas turned his attention to the slash on Lykos' forearm.

"Wait." Kas patted Lykos on the shoulder. "Wait."

The young man strode to the mules. Lykos suspected he exaggerated the roll of his hips for his benefit.

Digging through the contents of the mule's packs, Kas licked his lips and smiled at Lykos. Lykos watched as Kas' eyes roved over his body.

Narses shook his head, muttering to himself, "Boys! When they are men, they will outgrow these games." He took the ruined chiton from Lykos and focused on cutting the cloth into strips, ignoring Lykos and Kas.

Lykos bit back on the urge to assert he was a man. A _man_ played other games....

"Lykos," the wiry youth said his name with a lilting quality no Greek-speaker had ever given it before.

Glancing at him, Lykos waited to see what Kas wanted. The young man pursed his lips, muttered something, and then pushed Lykos' arm away from the wound on his chest.

With careful strokes of his fingers, Kas rubbed a clean, green-smelling ointment into the rent over Lykos' ribs. The unguent cooled and soothed the heat and throbbing, numbing the pain. Then with Kas standing before him and Narses behind, the two men swathed him snuggly with the remains of his chiton. Once they finished, Kas made short work of the wound on his off arm.

Then he ran his hands all over Lykos' torso and arms, tugging the bandages and smoothing the cloth over his body. He brushed his palm over Lykos' belly. Lykos shivered and the hairs stood up in the wake of Kas' touch. Callused fingertips etched desire onto Lykos' skin.

Lykos felt himself flush and his cock thicken, but stood still. He would only draw more attention to his erection if he tried to cover himself with his hands.

Meeting Lykos' gaze, Kas murmured, "Good, good...." What else had Kas said? Was he pleased with his handiwork on the bandages or his effect on Lykos?

"Yes...." Lykos sighed, drawing both men's attention.

Narses shook his head and muttered, "Greeks!"

Trailing his hand up Lykos' arm, Kas turned to Narses. He raised one brow and in a lyrical voice full of tiny, little breathy pauses he murmured something to Narses while stroking Lykos' arm.

Snorting, Narses glanced at Lykos and replied in Persian.

"What did he say?"

"We'd better get you covered up." Narses squinted up at the sun. "Even though it will be setting soon, the sun is still strong enough to damage your skin."

"That's not what he said," Lykos protested, but Narses ignored him. Surely, Kas wouldn't have used such a breathless voice just to point out the obvious.

And what had Narses meant with his comment about Greeks? The man had spent enough time in Aenus to understand the attraction between a man and a youth.

"While you Greeks may compete naked and think nothing of it, your skin will burn under the sun here."

Kas nodded and helped Lykos into a blue tunic, cinching the cloth tight around Lykos' waist with his leather _zoster_.

With a brazen smile that could have graced one of Diana's temple prostitutes, Kas asked, "Better, yes?"

"Much, thank you." Lykos would have been even better if the young man had taken care of the problem he'd given rise to betwixt Lykos' thighs.

"We need to bury his father so we can leave before the jackals arrive."

Kas chose a nice level spot near the western canyon wall, shaded by a type of tree Lykos didn't recognize. While Lykos attempted to assist as much as his wounds would allow, Narses dug the grave and collected stones to top it with.

Kas washed and wrapped the bodies of his father and the slave in shrouds.

Lykos paused, one hand pressed over his throbbing ribs. He was gasping and dripping with sweat when Kas approached.

"Good." The youth nodded at the pit and put a hand on his arm, tugging. "Help."

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Lykos followed.

Lykos wondered how Kas must feel having to bury his father so far away from home without knowing if he would ever be able to visit the tomb again. Father, and eventually Lykos himself, would be cremated and buried next to their ancestors with their family and the whole _polis_ turning out to mourn and honor them.

Kas didn't have the luxury of time and the resources to offer his father a proper burial, with all the accompanying funerary rites and mourners. If the dead man had been Greek, his shade would have haunted them for the dishonor paid him. Ashamed, Lykos would have done more had he been able. In fact, he would push himself do more if Kas requested it.

Under the circumstances, Lykos hoped the man's shade would understand the constraints forced on them.

They carried the remains of the last member of the young man's family and laid him carefully in the depression. The slave joined his master in the grave. Kas and Narses spoke some words over the bodies and then Kas placed some personal items alongside his father.

While Lykos caught his breath like an old man, Narses and Kas raked the earth back over the men in the depression, creating a small tumulus. Finally, they stacked the gathered rocks over the humble manmade hillock.

Lykos poured a libation, water would have to suffice as he had no wine. "Hermes guide you on your way and may Hades and his queen welcome you to the Underworld."

Kas, perhaps thinking he did the men a special honor, offered him a weary smile.

Narses untwisted the cloth around his hips. He released the folds and his familiar robe reappeared. That explained how he had changed his garment so quickly.

When they were ready to continue on their way, Kas stood with both mules' lead ropes in his hand, having repacked what the attack had disturbed. Lykos read the determination and challenge in the youth's eyes and the set of his shoulders. _Just try to claim what is mine._

After surveying Lykos from head to foot, Narses offered him his walking stick. Lykos considered refusing, but didn't want to lose an argument in front of a stranger. And truthfully, staff would be of assistance.

"Sardis, yes?" Kas queried.

"Sardis, yes." Lykos shook his head, chaffing at his inability to communicate. He sounded like a young child.

Narses smirked at him, but didn't say anything to either of them. Lykos glared at him, daring the Persian to draw attention to what he had been reduced to. He wasn't a child, he wouldn't speak like one.

"We're going to Sardis. You can come with us if you wish." Lykos hoped the young man would choose to do so.

"Go Sardis." Kas nodded, tugging the beasts into motion.

Narses and the young man chattered away as they walked. Lykos mostly ignored them. He trusted his guide to pass on any pertinent information.

How had he gotten himself into this mess? He wasn't looking for an _erômenos_ to mentor or even a slave. And his father didn't need any more sons. What should he do with Kas? He couldn't sell Kas just because fortune had left the youth at his mercy.

Maybe the young man would take his belongings and try to find himself a trade. _As what?_ Kas was likely a farmer not a trained craftsman. No one hired farmers. They bought slaves for that kind of work, didn't they? How was Kas going to find someone to take him on before he starved?

I can't!

Kas glanced over his shoulder at Lykos and he was lost in those eyes.

Maybe he could find a way....

# Chapter Three

Kas glanced back at the man who'd rescued him. The warrior's broad shoulders strained the cloth of his "father's" tunic. He'd never once thought Tahmasp a small man, until today. Maybe one of Tahmasp's robes would have fit him better. But Kas didn't want to cover any more of that magnificent body than he had too. Especially, as the man himself appeared comfortable in the abbreviated tunic he had been wearing when he first arrived.

When Kas' father died a little over a year ago and the land owner kicked him out, Tahmasp had taken Kas in and given him a place on his farm. Kas would always be grateful for not being forced into slavery. Now even in death, Tahmasp continued to provide Kas with the means to make his way in the world.

He may not have been born Tahmasp's son, but he was the only heir the man had. Tahmasp had lost his sons to Croesus' war with Persia and had all but claimed Kas as his own. The Greek and his guide would never know if he didn't tell them. Even though they had rescued him, he couldn't risk them stealing all that he had.

Today, when Tahmasp had fallen to the bandits, Kas had thought his life was over too. His eyes burned and for a moment his vision wavered. Kas dabbed at the corner of his eye with his knuckle. He hadn't cried while they buried Tahmasp. He was a man and he wouldn't start now.

He tugged on the first mule's halter in irritation.

The beasts carried the Great King's tax and supplies for their journey. There wasn't enough to purchase some land to call his own, but maybe Kas could find a potter in need of a helper like Babak had. He could be an apprentice instead of a slave.

Although becoming the man's slave wouldn't have been such a hardship. Kas ran his gaze over Lykos again. The poppy extract he had mixed into the salve must have done its job, Lykos moved more easily. Kas had purposely taken longer than necessary to gather the supplies to treat Lykos' wounds to give himself a chance to study the man naked. Now he had to settle for what he could see.

Kas licked his lips, but he had etched every line of Lykos' form into his memory.

A thin strip of leather held Lykos' hair back from his face. A short beard, carefully teased into ringlets softened the firm planes of his face.

Narseh claimed Lykos was a prince of some city in Thrace on the other side of the Bosporus. But unlike Persia with only the Great King, didn't the rulers of every Greek settlement style themselves as kings? Was it possible to go anywhere in Greece without finding a Greek prince?

Now the Greek was no longer in that outlandish tunic, he looked even more handsome. Clean, respectable clothing helped, but without a proper robe, jewelry and some makeup, no one would ever suspect he was a royal son.

Kas had seen the court officials when they came to assess the taxes for the village. Their robes were covered in intricate embroideries only a little less bright than the necklaces and rings the men wore. And their makeup was so much more elaborate than the kohl Kas was limited to.

At least Narseh was properly clothed in a robe befitting a successful merchant. After watching the older man move today, Kas suspected he was an even more competent mercenary.

Even though he wasn't attired like a prince, Lykos had attacked the bandits as if he were an avenging hero of old. Like Mithras, sword flashing as the sunlight wreathed his body with flames. Kas' fingers tingled at the remembered texture of solid muscles under skin covered with wiry hair.

He felt the tide of warmth rising in him again as he wondered what it'd be like to lie under the man.

The man's cock had responded to Kas' touch, betraying his interest. Licking his lips and biting back a moan, Kas imagined how Lykos' cock would feel filling his mouth, filling his ass.

Maybe Lykos didn't want a slave, but Kas would show him the pleasures of a companion.

It had been a while since he seduced the neighbor's son, he'd enjoy the challenge of tempting this burly warrior.

***

Even though there was yet a little while until the sun set, Kas watched the Greek stumble again. Pride and the walking staff were not enough to keep him on his feet much longer. Narseh met his gaze and they shared a nod.

Lykos took several more unsteady steps before seeming to realize they had come to a halt.

"Narses?" The warrior couldn't keep the pain and exhaustion out of his voice. He was so obviously withdrawn, Kas doubted he was even trying any more.

Kas wondered why the Greek insisted upon calling his guide "Narses" when his name was Narseh. Maybe he couldn't pronounce the Persian name, Hellenizing it like everything else the Greeks touched. At least when the Great King Cyrus conquered Lydia, _he_ didn't rename everything in the kingdom.

Narseh pointed to a shadowed area in the western wall of the hilly pass. "There is shade and hopefully some cover over there. We should make camp." With a concerned glance Lykos' way, he continued, "I don't think he can go much further."

"You're right." Kas felt a twinge of guilt. The man's wounds had been earned in his defense. "He needs rest and a good meal."

He touched Lykos' arm, and when the warrior glanced up, gazed into bruised eyes. "Come."

Lykos turned without a word, reaching out his free hand to balance himself on the lead mule's pack when his feet tangled together. Good thing their destination was only a few short steps away.

Once they reached the steep side of the ravine, Kas saw that Narseh had been right. Previous travelers had made use of the site, clearing the area and constructing a large fire ring from the stones littering the ground to either side of the shallow cave.

Narseh came to a stop beside him and grunted in approval.

"Give me hand." Kas began to unburden the mules. He handed off the bedding to Narseh. While the other man used the blankets and ground cover to create a soft resting place for the night, Kas piled the supplies to the side of the opening. They wouldn't need to set up the tent tonight.

Just as well. Lykos hadn't looked like he could have stood up long enough for them to get the tent erected.

By the time Kas had the beasts staked out with fodder, Lykos was reclining on the blankets and Narseh was gathering the sparse dried grasses and fallen branches.

He collected the ointment and additional strips of cloth from the strange tunic Lykos had been wearing. He would treat the man's lacerations properly now and let the poppy extract sooth them, then make dinner while Lykos rested.

Lykos' eyes were closed and his breathing still heavy when Kas approached him. "I'm sorry, but I need to treat your wounds again."

The Greek didn't seem to realize Kas was there until he spoke. He stared, dark eyes clouded.

"You don't understand me." It was half question half statement.

Blinking slowly, Lykos shook his head. "What?"

Kas looked for Narseh, but the man was nowhere to be seen. Probably still searching for something to put in the fire pit. Kas sighed. He was going to have to do this himself.

"Wounds. Treat wounds." He reached for the thick leather girdle at the man's waist, loosening the buckles.

Lykos' eyes dilated, turning the dark irises nearly as black as the pupils. His breath caught and Kas couldn't decide if that was desire or pain. Lykos' lips parted, his tongue stealing out to wet them. Maybe both.

Once the belt dropped away, Kas reached for the hem of his tunic. "Off, off. I can't treat you with this in the way."

Raising his arms above his head, Lykos allowed Kas to strip him, only breaking eye contact for the moment required to get his clothing over his head. As soon as he was naked, he fell back on the blankets, panting lightly.

Some blood had seeped through the bandage over his ribs. Lykos had pushed himself too hard. They should have stopped sooner.

"Sit up." Kas tugged on Lykos' uninjured shoulder. "Up."

Lykos drew in a breath and sat with Kas' assistance. He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees.

"I'm going to take this off and then we'll see how you look." Kas began carefully unwinding the strips of cloth binding the man's torso. He went more slowly, peeling the blood soaked patches back from the wound.

Kas smelled hot, sweaty male tainted with the coppery scent of blood, but no corruption. The wound didn't appear infected.

He considered asking Lykos to lie back so he could clean the blood from his side, but didn't want to have to make him sit back up to rebind him. Instead, he reached for the water and cloths. Once he cleared all the blood, Kas could see the edges of the slash had retracted, leaving a small line of exposed muscle. Kas drew in a sharp breath. Purple-black and bluish bruises covered Lykos' ribs.

Mouth open, Lykos panted, head hanging.

"This will make your wound feel better." Kas removed the stopper from the jar of ointment. He debated mixing the poppy seed extract into the salve, but in the end dripped the oil directly onto the exposed muscles. He was using up the extract faster, but the poppy would numb the wound better this way. Spreading the ointment over the extract would keep it in place longer.

Lykos sighed, shoulders relaxing as the poppy worked its magic. "Thank you."

Narseh returned as Kas was helping Lykos back into the blue tunic. He nodded at Lykos. "How is he?"

"The wound looks clean—" Kas began.

"Much better," Lykos declared at the same time. He paused, but when Kas didn't add more, he continued speaking in incomprehensible Greek.

Narseh shook his head and looked at Kas. "He says he feels fine and will be able to go on tomorrow. What do you think?"

"There is poppy extract in the ointment I am using. He does feel fine at the moment." In fact, Kas' fingertips were numb from spreading the ointment. "I think he will be able to travel tomorrow, but he will be stiff and won't be able to go as far or as fast as he might like."

Nodding as if he expected nothing else, Narseh said, "We will just have to go a little slower. Now that you are here with the mules and additional supplies, the delay won't be a problem."

Kas glanced at his possessions, wondering if the man meant to steal them from him.

"Don't worry, you are safe. We're not thieves." Narseh clapped him on the shoulder and showed him a pair of rabbits. "Here's a little something for dinner."

# Chapter Four

In the morning, Lykos stretched and pain filled his side, reminding him that he had seen his first battle. He groaned and someone shifted next to him. The pleasant scent of a warm man filled Lykos' nostrils. When he opened his eyes, Eros himself gazed back at him. Desire given flesh.

Lykos caught his breath, still taken aback by eyes so deep a blue as to almost be black. He had never seen their like before. Brown eyes like his own or the occasional hazel, but nothing this shade. Gazing into them was like falling into the nighttime sky. For a man whose tutors bewailed the lack of poetry in his soul, he seemed to be taken enough with Kas' eyes to find some bit of foolishness.

A gorgeous smile lit up Kas' face and warmed Lykos' heart like Helios rising into the heavens. Lykos blushed. Had one of the muses inspired him?

"Good morrow."

Lykos was surprised to hear the archaic greeting from Kas. Or was that due to his Aeolic dialect?

"Good morning," he replied.

Kas continued in a liquid spate of Persian. Lykos enjoyed the soft way the words sounded dripping from the handsome young man's tongue smooth as honey. Would they taste as sweet? Lykos needed to learn the language so he could listen to its music and still take its meaning.

Lykos sat up in his nest of blankets and reached for his borrowed tunic.

"No." Kas shook his head and moved the garment out of his reach. He spoke some more, this time addressed to Narses.

"Let him dress your wounds. Then we will set out after breakfast." Narses narrowed his eyes, pinning Lykos in place. "Just be glad he wants to tend to you. I'd leave you to deal with the consequences of your rashness on your own."

Sighing, Lykos gave himself over into Kas' care. He doubted Narses would have done as he'd threatened, but he wouldn't want to wager on Narses' temper.

Lykos watched as Kas mixed something into the ointment. Whatever he added to the unguent soothed his pain every time Kas applied the salve.

This morning, Kas had him roll onto his side and tuck his arm tight to his chest. Lykos bit the inside of his cheek as slender fingers poked and prodded at the slash, but the sounds the young man made seemed to be positive, almost happy. The warm spot in Lykos' chest expanded to think he'd done something even that indirect to please Kas.

Even after the wound had been bandaged, Kas hummed and stroked his hands over Lykos' abdomen, absently toying with the hairs growing there. Lykos' eyes slid shut and he listened with half an ear as Narses asked Kas something. He allowed the conversation to flow around him without attempting to make out the meaning.

They would tell him what he needed to know.

"Do you want me to tell him to stop?" Narses inquired.

Lykos opened his eyes and considered Narses' offer for a moment. Did he really want this handsome young man to treat him like a stranger?

"No, don't."

"I thought not." Narses nodded and muttered, "Greeks."

But he offered them both some dry bread from their packs and Kas removed his hand to eat breakfast.

***

After eating, Kas helped Lykos into his tunic and sandals. Bending was still uncomfortable for the warrior and would likely open the wound again. The gash on Lykos' side seemed to be healing well even though the laceration hadn't closed as cleanly as Kas would have liked. Lykos would carry the scar until his death, but thankfully that should be a long time from now.

Kas felt a little warm to know even with the injury Lykos hadn't shied away from protecting him. He would be happy to lavish care on a man who had risked everything in coming to his aid.

He packed the mules, carefully arranging space for Lykos' pack. He should have done so yesterday, but they had been packed and moving by the time they reached the entrance of the ravine where Lykos had dropped his burden. Today would be different.

When Lykos reached for his pack, Kas left the mules and laid hand on the bundle. "Mule." He gestured at the beast. "I'll put it on the mule."

Lykos eyed the burdened animals for a moment. "Not too much?"

"Tsch!" This frustrating inability to communicate directly was slowing everything down. Kas glanced over at Narseh. "Tell him the animals were carrying a lot more when we started this journey. His pack—and even yours—will not overburden them. If he's that worried about the beasts, I'll carry the pack for him."

Narseh carried his pack over to the mules, all the while explaining to Lykos.

"Yes, I don't understand," Lykos said as he relinquished the bundle.

Kas smiled at the slip. Based on his warm chuckle, Narseh would soon explain the difference between the positive and negative forms of the verb to Lykos. The man must have learned the phrase by rote without understanding the root words.

Once both men's supplies were safely stowed on the mules, they continued down the dusty road to Sardis. The upkeep on the roads had improved since the Great King came to rule in Lydia. Tahmasp had pointed out some of the changes to Kas as they made their way to the capitol city.

But Tahmasp had spoken too soon. Shortly afterward, the bandits had attacked them. The Great King needed to send some warriors to patrol his roads and hunt them down like the brutish beasts they were. And in Kas' opinion, display them in particularly gruesome ways to discourage others from preying on honest travelers.

Kas watched Lykos closely. He appeared to be moving more easily this morning. Eyes bright, he was taking an interest in his surroundings that had been missing the day before. His stride was more even and his fingers weren't white bands on the walking stick Narseh had insisted he use.

Lykos pointed at a stunted tree and asked a question. He received a one-word answer from Narseh. Probably the name of the tree. Kas glanced at the tree in question. That particular oak only grew in the mountainous regions of Persia. " _Balūt_."

"Persian oak... Bahloot." Instead of giving the syllables a choppy Greek pronunciation, Lykos drew them out too long.

" _Balūt_. _Ba...lūt_." Kas exaggerated the sounds.

"Baloot?"

"Good." Kas nodded and patted Lykos' shoulder. The word was still strongly accented with Greek, but it was close enough. Lykos smiled at the praise. The man was trying, he seemed to genuinely want to learn.

Kas drew his fingers down Lykos' arm, watching the hairs rise up in his wake. Lykos shivered and caught Kas' gaze, staring into his eyes. He swallowed and for a moment Kas thought he meant to say something further. But he glanced away, focusing on where he was placing his feet.

They played the what's-that-called game for the rest of the morning. Lykos would point at something and ask, "What?" Narseh gave the Greek name and Kas the Persian. Lykos did remarkably well with the shorter words, but some of the longer ones or ones with mixed vowels gave him trouble.

When the noonday sun became too hot, they rested in the meager shade of an outcropping. Once they settled Lykos on a ground cloth, Narseh helped Kas offload the mules.

Lykos staggered to his feet again. Before the wounded man could approach, Kas made shooing motions with his hands. "No, no! Sit back down. Rest while you can. We will go farther once the day cools a little."

Narseh spoke for a while in Greek. Kas understood just enough to know he passed on Kas' message, elaborating on his words. Once he'd watered the beasts, Kas joined the other men.

"The shade won't last much longer." Narseh glanced to where the shadow cast by the outcropping barely covered Lykos' outstretched legs. "I saw you have a tent."

"If we don't attach the side panels, we will still have the breeze as well as the protection from the sun."

"Stay!" Narseh told a startled Lykos. Who was valiantly, but needlessly, trying to stand again.

"But—!"

While Narseh backed his command with what Kas assumed were threats, Kas separated out the portions of the tent they needed. The four corner posts and the felt sheet to drape over them.

Working together, they erected the cover over Lykos and then settled beside him under the tent to rest.

***

Lykos opened his eyes. He must have dozed off in the heat. To one side of him, Narses snored softly. But that wasn't what had awakened him.

Kas lay sprawled across his chest, draped over his uninjured side. Heat radiated wherever his lithe body covered Lykos'. Head pillowed on Lykos' shoulder, Kas' hand curled protectively over Lykos' heart.

Would Kas be pleased or alarmed when he awoke to find himself in Lykos' arms? But more to the point, how did Lykos feel about this?

His cock flexed and filled. At least part of him knew how to respond. He liked Kas, but he didn't care for his uneasy impression he might be taking advantage of the young man's situation. Just because Kas had flirted with him, didn't mean he wanted Lykos. He could just be using any assets he had at his disposal in an effort to protect himself.

While Lykos didn't intend to keep Kas as a slave, he wouldn't sell him to someone else either. Maybe Kas hadn't realized that and was using any means at hand to influence him. Lykos needed to talk to Narses and have him explain to Kas that he was safe from slavery.

But is he safe from you?

_If he wants to be._ Otherwise, Lykos doubted he would be able to resist the young man's charms for long. He already found Kas to be more desirable than anyone he had ever dallied with before, female or male. Something about the soft, almost lost look in his eyes made Lykos want to wrap him in his arms and continue to protect him from every monster in the world.

He leaned down and kissed Kas' brow. The man shifted in his arms with a drowsy little sigh.

Darkest-lapis eyes that stole his breath blinked up at him, sleep-clouded. The kohl smudged around Kas' lids deepened the effect.

Kas smiled at him, and just like every other time, Lykos' heart sped up. He felt light-headed like he had indulged in too much wine. A flush spread over his face and Kas' smile turned wicked. Lust and maybe something else sparked in those dark eyes as Kas shifted his hand lower.

Lykos gasped as agile fingers closed over his hard cock, squeezing him through the cloth of his tunic. Surely Kas hadn't feigned the hunger in his eyes.

Panting, Lykos' eyelids slid down. This beguiling creature could send him over the edge so easily.

Narses coughed and sat up. Kas released Lykos' cock and stretched, making a big show of just waking up. The little tease patted him on the shoulder and stood.

"Rest." Kas said something longer to Narses before ambling over to the mules. Apparently, he wasn't so hard that he found walking difficult.

Lykos glanced down his body to see what state Kas had left him in. He could make out the outline of his cock under the rucked up tunic showing his inner thigh and the haired curve of his sac. Sitting up, the cloth pooled in his lap, hiding his nakedness from Narses.

He flushed. While he would have stood proudly naked to compete, being seen aroused as another man left his bed was different. Too personal to share. Maybe another man would have bragged of his prowess, but Lykos kept such details to himself.

Too bad he couldn't hide his interest.

As Kas loaded the mules, Lykos kept his gaze riveted on the young man, following every movement of that supple back, lean legs and rounded ass with his eyes. He drank in the subtle dance and play of muscles under Kas' tanned skin.

He must have groaned because Narses gave him a strange look from where he was dismantling the tent. Wondering what Narses had read on his face, Lykos smoothed the tunic down as he stood.

"Here. Let me help you with that."

For a moment, he thought Narses would refuse. But with a nod, the older man handed him one of the posts. Soon he held all four posts as the other two men folded the felt into a square that would fit on top of their supplies.

When they set foot back on the trail, Narses nodded to himself and seemed to come to some decision.

"Lykos, come walk with me."

A few quick steps drew him alongside the man. Glancing back over his shoulder, Lykos could see Kas' bright eyes upon them. He had to be just as curious about what Narses wanted as Lykos was, but wasn't pressing forward, trying to overhear them.

"What are your plans for him?" Narses inquired.

Lykos' heart jolted, Narses _had_ seen something in his expression. How much should he say?

"He's been a lot of help. I think we should help him get to Sardis." There. That was safe enough.

"And after we arrive?"

"I don't intend to sell Kas to anyone, if that's what you mean! You should tell him not to worry about being sold. I'm not a slaver," Lykos gave vent to his frustration.

"I will let Kas know. I'm sure your assurances will relieve him immensely. And you should think of his position before you accept anything he might offer."

If Lykos hadn't been concerned about the same thing himself, he would have been angry at the implication Kas would only offer his body to Lykos as some form of payment—either to keep himself off the auction block or in gratitude for Lykos' refusal to sell him.

He gritted his teeth. "I have been thinking of his situation. That's why I want you to tell him he'll remain free. No matter what he does."

"The question still remains: What are your intentions?"

"We'll have to find someone trustworthy to watch out for him until he looks like a man instead of a boy. Do you know someone in Sardis who won't just sell him once our backs are turned?"

"I could probably find someone who needs an apprentice. His life wouldn't be much better than slavery, but at least he would have food and a roof over his head while he learns a trade."

"Once he has, they won't try to retain him, will they?" Lykos couldn't help glancing back at the young man whose life they were discussing so casually. Lykos didn't know if he cared for the feeling of holding a man's future in his hands.

"Not the men I have in mind and I will be back at least once a year to look in on him."

Lykos exhaled, gustily.

"Worried about him, are you?" At Lykos' nod, Narses continued, "Concern for someone who is under your protection is a good trait in a man who will one day rule. Your father may yet be very glad you made this journey."

# Chapter Five

The sun sank behind the canyon walls, bathing the road in shadows and stirring up the evening winds. The cooling breeze was welcome, but the loose dirt and grit it carried worked its way into everything Kas wore.

"The moon will be nearly full tonight. If we use her light to travel a while longer, we'll reach Sardis tomorrow before the heat of the day," Kas suggested.

Lykos nodded when Narseh conveyed Kas' recommendation.

The stars shone brightly overhead as the moon eventually relinquished the sky. In the dim light, Kas led the men into a small canyon he'd camped in last year with Tahmasp. Tahmasp said he stopped here every year. _Except this year._ Kas' chest tightened and for a moment he couldn't draw breath. He had no one unless he could convince Lykos to keep him close.

A stone-ringed fire pit stood guard over a smooth spread of sand. Trees and brush kept the sand-laden wind from swallowing up the site.

"We'll set up the pavilion here, if you can gather wood for the fire."

Kas gathered the tent poles and handed them to Lykos. He'd finish unburdening the mules once the tent was erected. Narseh gathered fallen limbs and the dried dung from previous travelers. Kas doubted the foreigner would have known to do that.

"Here, here, here and here." He showed Lykos where to place the posts and pantomimed driving the ends into the ground. Countless tent posts had created pits in the soil. Lykos would have to use the stones stacked nearby to wedge them in place after seating them as deeply as he could. With his build, the task would be easier for Lykos as long as he didn't overexert himself and open his wounds.

While removing the pannier with the felt panels, Kas watched the play of muscles in Lykos' back and thighs. The man would be more than capable of providing the type of pounding Kas desired.

"Let me." Lykos reached to take the fabric from Kas.

"No, I know what I'm doing. You don't." Kas felt comfortable saying whatever he wanted since the man likely didn't understand even a portion of what he'd said.

In the time necessary for Narseh to start the fire, Kas and Lykos raised the tent, including the inner panel dividing the space. "Go, go!" Kas made shooing gestures and pointed to the fire. "Rest and eat." At Lykos' puzzled gaze, Kas mimed taking food from his cupped hand and putting it in his mouth. "You will need your strength later," he finished in Persian with a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

He tried not to grin as he laid out his bedding alongside Lykos' in the larger section, imagining the Greek's face when he realized Kas' intentions. He put Narseh's belongings behind the screen. No need for an audience.

Kas stripped the remaining supplies from the tired mules and rubbed the poor beasts down with handfuls of dried grass. Retrieving more of the poppy-containing ointment to treat the warrior's wounds, Kas planned his seduction.

Some bread, cheese and the last of the wine should do nicely.

Narseh had spread a cloth between the fire and the tent. Folded blankets arrayed in a semicircle took the place of seating cushions. Lykos was already ensconced in the center.

Placing the plate of bread and cheese within easy reach of them all, Kas glanced at Lykos. Tonight, he only appeared tired, not exhausted like the previous night.

Either the midday rest had refreshed him or his wound was not troubling him as badly today. Kas was just glad to see the lines etched by pain smoothed away, giving Lykos back his strength and virility.

Seeing his rescuer vulnerable had been discomforting. Kas would do anything in his power to see that never happened to Lykos again. He wanted the glorious warrior who had come flying to his aid to return.

A strange pain filled his chest at the thought that Lykos could have died at the marauders' hands. _All for me._

"Here." Narseh added dates to the plate in front of them. "We might as well eat the last of these since we can obtain more in Sardis."

Kas couldn't help grinning as he reached for them. He loved dates and couldn't get enough of them. In fact, Tahmasp often teased him about his taste for sweets. His smile faded and he left the date on the plate. Tahmasp would never call him a glutton again.

Lykos caught his eye, concern easy to read on his face. Kas turned away, fumbling for the cups through a haze of tears. He swiped at his eyes. Men kept their grief private.

When he turned back, Lykos was gazing into the fire. Just as well, Kas didn't think he could stand to see that look leveled at him again. As if Lykos feared losing him.

***

Lykos savored the soft bread and salty cheese, washing the repast down with the sweet wine Kas had provided. Maybe keeping the young man around wouldn't be as costly as he'd first imagined. Truth be told, Kas currently had more belongings with him than Lykos did.

Kas refilled Lykos' cup. Swirling the dark wine in his _kylix_ , Lykos breathed in the sweet scent of the grapes mixed with smoke. He exhaled and leaned back against one of the bundles from the mules. Lykos sipped his wine and allowed the melodic sounds of Kas and Narses' native tongue to flow over him.

He was mesmerized by the graceful sway of Kas' hips as Kas moved. The young man bent over to fill Narses' cup. Lykos sighed at the perfect curve of his ass. Kas glanced over his shoulder and caught Lykos licking his lips.

A knowing smile curled Kas' full mouth and a wicked glint sparked in his eyes. He arched his back, thrusting his ass higher in the air.

Lykos groaned, unable to look away as Kas somehow managed to shimmy like a harem girl without spilling a drop of the wine. His cock swelled in appreciation of the supple feat.

With a sound of disgust, Narses complained, "Subtlety is lost on the young." He said something to Kas, likely repeating himself in Persian.

Kas blushed and replied, ending on a question.

Narses answered Kas in Persian. Lykos heard his name mentioned a couple of times, each time Kas glanced his way. Kas still smiled, but with more reserve. Narses' final words had Kas' eyes sparkling with mischief again.

What had Narses said to make Kas so happy? It had to be something about Lykos, didn't it?

"What?" Lykos demanded of Narses who only raised a sardonic eyebrow.

"Leave me out of this. I'm too old for all this foolishness." Narses rose and stirred the fire, setting another branch on the flames then he wandered over toward the mules and their supplies. Opening on of the heavy sacks, he poured a handful of grain out for both animals.

Kas turned his way and crawled the short distance between them on his hands and knees. The leonine grace of his movements held Lykos spellbound.

He wanted Kas and hoped Kas wanted him as badly.

Upending the small amphora over Lykos' _kylix_ for a final time, Kas urged him to drain the cup. Even while a warm sense of contentment relaxed his muscles, Lykos found a familiar tension growing in his belly. He glanced down at where his cock rose up and tested the constraints of his clothing.

Stepping between him and the dancing flames, Kas' body was wreathed in the golden glow. The boy rivaled Zeus' cupbearer Ganymede for pure seductive beauty.

Reaching down for his sound arm, Kas tugged. "Up, up..." Whatever else he said was lost to Lykos. The throbbing in his side and injured arm were nearly gone, only twinging if he moved suddenly.

With an amused huff, Narses entered the tent before them and disappeared behind the partition. Kas drew Lykos to where his blankets were spread.

A small, fanciful lantern made from colored glass and pierced bronze sat to one side. The flickering, red tinted flame cast a warm glow over the interior of the tent. In its light, Lykos could see only one pile of bedding.

Before he could wonder further, Kas' hands were on his girdle, working the buckles. "Off, off. Bandage hurt."

Lykos wobbled as Kas drew the tunic over his head, overbalancing him. "Just a moment. Let me sit down first."

The bandages came off cleanly and were piled to one side.

"Down." Kas straddled his lap and, placing his hands on Lykos' shoulders, pushed him into the nest of blankets. Lykos tried to resist by putting out a hand to balance himself. Kas narrowed his eyes and Lykos relented, allowing the young man to have his way.

He watched in amazement as Kas' mouth curved and his face lit up. Between his scowls and smiles, Kas would have him trained like one of Father's hounds in no time. _Which of you is the prince?_

Lykos gazed up at the beautiful youth above him as Kas smoothed more ointment over his ribs. The deft touch on his skin deadened the pain and had his cock filling again. Had Kas, astraddle him, noticed?

But how was he supposed to control the desire Kas brought out in him? None of Lykos' previous lovers could compare to the sloe-eyed youth. Those wide, dark eyes were made larger by the tracing of kohl around the lids, even the sooty lashes were more breathtaking than his favorite slave's.

So engrossed with the exotic man's beauty, Lykos hadn't at first noticed the hands now wandering over his chest until Kas plucked at one nipple. Groaning, Lykos came up on his elbows.

With a mischievous smile that all but stopped Lykos' heart, Kas reached down and pulled his own tunic up slowly, revealing smooth ochre skin several shades lighter than his exposed arms and legs. Kas' cock sprang upright from the cluster of dark curls at the apex of his thighs.

He didn't need words to tell him that the young man desired him and was willing to do what he must to make this clear to Lykos. No longer having to guess, Lykos allowed his gaze to roam over Kas' body.

Dark hairs trailing down his flat belly drew Lykos' eyes back to Kas' dusky cock. The stiff length curved upward nearly reaching his navel. The purpled head gleamed wetly from within the shrouding foreskin. Kas' shaft twitched as Lykos watched, flexing and dabbing sticky fluid on his smooth abdomen.

As the youth raised his arms over his head and shifted, his balls brushed Lykos'. Instantly engorged, Lykos' cock twitched as if reaching for the young man above him. Gasping, Lykos gripped Kas' hips and urged him forward until their shafts lay side-by-side. Kas shuddered and moaned low in his throat, murmuring something Lykos didn't understand. Lykos' breath caught at the raw sound.

Rubbing his thumbs over the hollows of Kas' hips, Lykos marveled at the soft, suppleness. A warm flush rose under his palms. He wanted to nibble on the delicate skin, marking Kas as his.

Kas tossed his tunic to one side and ran his hands up his ribs and over his nipples. Lykos groaned. He wanted to taste those bronze peaks.

"Do you want me as much as I want you?" Lykos murmured, unable to keep quiet even though he knew Kas would not understand.

"Fuck? Yes?" Kas asked in a sultry whisper, eyes glazed and half-lidded. Lykos was hard pressed to believe he had such an effect on the sensual young man.

"Yes, yes!" Oh, by all the gods, Lykos hoped that word meant fuck in Aeolic or there was no telling what he'd agreed to. And nothing could induce him to ask Narses to translate—a loud snore came from the other side of the partition—even if he were still awake.

Eyes widening at the sound, Kas chuckled. After a moment, Lykos joined him. He pressed a hand over his mouth, trying not to awaken the older man. But as long as they were careful, they wouldn't have to be so quiet now.

His side twinged and he sternly warned the bothersome thing to hold its peace until he'd finished with this tempting young man. Time enough to nurse his wounds later, especially if what Kas had in mind involved Kas' hands on his skin.

Kas leaned on his shoulders and Lykos collapsed back onto the bedding as Kas' weight bore him down again, grinding their cocks together. Lykos grunted and thrust upward, shivers running over his skin at the press of Kas' shaft.

"Oh Theos! That's good." Lykos slid his hands down over Kas' hips and gripped his ass, fingers digging into the muscled globes.

Kas rolled his hips relentlessly, driving Lykos ever closer to his release. Even Damocles had never brought him to the edge so quickly. He needed to find some way to slow Kas down before this was all over.

Lykos clenched his hands, pulling the rounds of Kas' ass apart. He ran a finger lightly down the crease. When he stroked over the furled entrance to Kas' body, the youth shuddered and his motion stuttered to a halt. Lykos was unprepared for the deep moan working its way through Kas' body.

Kas pitched forward, bracing himself with his hands to either side of Lykos' shoulders. His hair brushed Lykos' face, their open mouths nearly touching as their breath mingled. The pupils of Kas' midnight eyes so large they could have swallowed Lykos' soul. Lykos stared, stunned at Kas' ethereal beauty.

Suddenly, he wanted to possess the man entirely.

He caressed Kas' hidden opening, rubbing his finger around the wrinkled skin. Kas panted, eyes squeezed tight. Lykos pressed more firmly and felt Kas' body give, surrendering to his desire. When his finger breached Kas' defenses, sinking into his tight heat, Kas threw his head back and groaned loudly.

Smiling, Lykos moved his finger in and out of Kas' hot, welcoming body just to hear his breathing grow more and more ragged. Clear fluid dripped from the end of Kas' cock, painting Lykos' belly. The sharp scent of his arousal filled Lykos' nostrils.

"Not yet." Lykos withdrew his finger from Kas' depths. The man whined and pushed back, trying to reclaim Lykos' digit. "Soon, but we need something to smooth the way if I am to fuck you."

He scanned the tent, searching for some oil. _Please, Eros, let there be oil!_ He desperately wanted to fuck Kas, but not at the risk of hurting him.

Finally, he spied a small vial and pointed toward the flask.

Kas glanced where Lykos indicated and grinned like Lykos had granted his fondest wish. Maybe he had.

***

The Greek lay below Kas. Not how he'd imagined this night coming to pass. He'd intended to be the one pressed into the blankets by Lykos' weight, but this way he was less likely to do further harm to the wounded man.

He reached for the vial of oil, having to half dismount to lay hand on the small bottle. Lykos grabbed his leg, gripping him tightly where his calf stretched across Lykos' belly as if loath to have him gone even for a moment. Kas settled back into the cradle of Lykos' pelvis. The Greek's fat cock pressing into the crevice of Kas' ass.

His eyes slid shut almost without his volition. Close, so close.... He need only rock forward and then back to take them both to heaven. But then everything would be over too soon. He intended to indulge all his desires before that happened. He'd show Lykos what he was capable of.

Kas ran his hands over the firm planes of the man's belly and chest, fingers tangling in the dark hair. Lykos' warm skin shivered under his touch, turned a rich red-gold by the lantern light. His lips parted and his mahogany eyes darkened as his pupils expanded at Kas' touch. The bronze discs of Lykos' nipples beckoned.

Pinching and twisting the nubs, Kas leaned forward to take one into his mouth. The bit of flesh tasted of sweat and musk. Groaning, Lykos arched into him, fingers tangling tight into his hair. Broken words Kas interpreted as encouragement tumbled from the man's lips. He wished he knew what the man was saying as his voice grew louder and more urgent.

"Yes! Eros..." He was the god of desire, wasn't he? "Good..." What else Lykos might have said was lost on Kas. Although, the desperate way Lykos clutched at him wasn't. His body spoke more eloquently than any language.

Smiling, Kas bit down on the hard bit of flesh. Lykos shouted something.

A disgruntled voice rose from the far side of the partition speaking first in Greek, then in Persian. "He has sworn to do unspeakable things to you, Kas, if you stop. All I ask is that you let an old man sleep."

Grinding his hips against the man under him, Kas whispered a promise into Lykos' chest. "I won't stop until I've taken everything you have to offer." He doubted Lykos could understand a single word he'd said, but for some reason the words rang true for him. Wanting the night to be special for them both, Kas wouldn't stop until he had given everything he had to offer in return.

Clapping a hand over Kas' mouth, Lykos shifted his eyes toward the partition Narseh "slept" behind. "Shhh...."

Kas licked his palm and turned his head, sucking Lykos' finger into his mouth. He tongued the salty, callused tip until Lykos groaned and pulled his hand away.

"Quiet. Don't wake Narseh," Kas admonished with a smirk twisting his lips.

"Narseh?" Lykos appeared puzzled and shook his head. "Narses." He emphasized his pronunciation of the name.

Shaking his own head, Kas carefully shaped the syllables in case Lykos had difficulty with the sounds. " _Narseh_. His name is Narseh."

"Narseh?"

Kas nodded. "Narseh."

Lykos flushed. He could obviously say the name correctly. Maybe no one had ever told him?

A ragged snore made Kas snort. Then a loud, discordant paean to sleep rose from behind the partition and filled the tent. Now that the old man was asleep and unlikely to interfere with their fun again, Kas needed to stir Lykos' lust up again.

He leaned forward and traced one of Lykos' collar bones with his tongue. When he reached the little indentation between the two, he sealed his lips over the thin skin and sucked. Lykos groaned and dug his hands into Kas' hair again.

Sucking and licking at the skin, Kas pictured the color blooming there. He could feel a smile forming on his lips at the thought that Lykos' tunic would be unlikely to cover the mark.

Sitting back, he touched the bruise. _My mark... on a prince!_ His smile grew.

Lykos' hands slipped down his back, fingers stroking and massaging the muscles along his spine. Kas wanted to purr like one of those spotted cats a nobleman had once brought to hunt the mountain gazelles.

He just needed to coax Lykos to reach lower.... Wriggling in Lykos' lap had the desired result. Lykos grabbed handfuls of his ass and positioned him over his cock. Parting the globes, Lykos pressed his length into Kas' cleft.

"Yesss...!" Kas hissed. He could get what he wanted without uttering a word if he put his mind to the task. Now to reward him.

Kas clenched his buttocks, gripping Lykos cock, and rocked, grinding down against the rock hard shaft. Lykos' mouth fell open and he exhaled explosively.

"Oh Theos!"

This time Kas slapped his hand over the other man's mouth. "Shhh...."

Lykos nodded, eyes huge above Kas' fingers. The man's beard tickled his palm. When he was sure Lykos would remain quiet, Kas traced his lips with one fingertip. He wondered what they would taste like.

Fingers digging into his ass, Lykos urged him to meet his thrusts faster. Kas panted, reveling in the moans echoing through the man's chest.

Lykos parted the globes of Kas' ass and a thick finger explored the crevice, searching again for his darkest secret, probing, pushing against the entrance to unspoken delights. Kas didn't fight the groan tearing its way up his throat. Even if Kas didn't have the words to tell him, Lykos deserved to know just how much Kas enjoyed his handling.

Kas' balls drew close at the promise of paradise. He pushed away from Lykos, gripping the base of his cock tightly to stave off his release. "Not yet! I haven't tasted you."

Wide puzzled eyes met his. He slipped down the man's body, and a fierce hunger replaced any other emotion on the man's face. Kas knew that hunger, felt it for this warrior. Wanted to sate their craving in every way possible.

He licked a trail down Lykos' belly, drawing the man's musk in with the salt of his skin. "Oh Ba'al!" This is what a man—not one of the boys he'd played at this with—tasted like.

Lykos shifted restlessly and his cock nudged Kas' jaw, painting his skin with slick fluid. Kas wanted to stretch his mouth around that hard, hot flesh.

Drawing his cheek down the length of the man's cock, Kas listened to the incoherent babble. He drew in a deep breath of aroused man.

Kas wrapped his hand around the base of Lykos' twitching cock and dragged his tongue up the throbbing shaft. Even fully erect, Lykos' foreskin covered the head. Kas slipped his tongue under the mantle, pushing the covering away from the purpled crown. He moaned at the sharp taste of Lykos' seed.

Hips rising and falling, Lykos called on Eros and Dionysus. Even Kas had heard of the Greek gods of lust and the love between men. And of course, the House of Dionysus was the brothel the bandits had intended to sell him to.

"Please!"

Kas knew _that_ word. Stroking the flared edge of Lykos' cock and probing the slit with his tongue, Kas held the man still beneath him, determined to drive him mad with desire.

Sucking Lykos deeper, Kas savored the bitter salt of the man. He threaded his fingers through the springy curls of Lykos' groin, feeling the skin tremble under his hand.

Lykos burrowed his hands into Kas' hair. Gripping tightly, he urged Kas to take him deeper. The man panted and groaned with each down sweep.

"Please, please, please..." Lykos chanted—begged—in a mixture of Greek and Persian.

Kas felt a surge of pride at being able to bring the warrior to his knees, make him forget what tongue he spoke.

Not willing to forgo taking the man inside himself, Kas withdrew before Lykos could spill in his mouth. Judging by the way the man cursed, he'd been close.

Glancing first at Lykos and then the central wall of the tent, Kas reminded him of Narseh. Lykos drew in a breath and exhaled heavily, but ceased his exclamations.

Lykos half rose, attempting to take control, but relaxed when he saw Kas reach for the oil. Kas settled back on Lykos' thighs and held the small vial up for him to see. When he poured some into his hand and anointed the warrior's shaft, Lykos groaned, eyes shuttering.

"Let me prepare myself and then I will ride you until neither of us can move." Kas' own words sent a jolt of heat rushing through him. If he had been able to understand them, what effect would they have had on Lykos?

He held his fingers, glistening with oil, before Lykos' eyes and then very slowly reached under himself. They both moaned as he slid two fingers past the gateway of his body. Lykos' gaze stayed fixed to where Kas' digits disappeared into his depths.

Kas rushed, barely able to wait the short time necessary to spare himself the pain of a rough entry. When he moved forward on his knees, Lykos' hands on his hips steadied and guided him. He paused, poised with the blunt head of Lykos' cock pressed to his hole.

"I want you," Kas panted.

Even though the man probably couldn't understand the words, there was no way he could doubt their meaning. "Yes!" Lykos' fingers dug into the skin over his hips and pulled him down as he thrust into his depths.

A triumphant cry rose from deep inside as Lykos filled him. This time he didn't care if Narseh heard.

Lykos barely gave Kas time to come to rest in his lap before he braced his feet and plunged deeper. Kas rose up until only the head of Lykos' cock remained within. Lykos pulled him down, driving his length into Kas' passage again and again.

Shifting until Lykos' cock found that secret place within, Kas attempted to slow the pace. His cock throbbed and he gasped with every stroke. If Lykos could hold out long enough, Kas could spill just from the cock in his ass. "Please Diana, let it last!"

The language differences proved his undoing. Lykos seemed to think the words heralded Kas' release. Wrapping his arms tightly around Kas, Lykos rolled them on the blankets until he rose above Kas exactly as he'd fantasized.

Hitching Kas' thighs over his arms, Lykos folded Kas back upon himself and pressed in, unerringly driving his cock against the source of Kas' pleasure.

"Good.... Yes.... Good...." Kas panted between strokes. He started to tremble as he drew closer to spilling. Lykos was going to give him what he wanted. Needed.

Lykos set a punishing pace, panting and flushed, mouth slack and eyes glazed. Kas was amazed Lykos could become so intense that rapidly, especially after the wine and poppy extract.

Every thrust forced Kas' breath from his body. He could feel the tension coiled in his belly as his balls pulled up tight. Diana, the goddess of love, must have heard his prayer.

Kas gripped the warrior's strong arms, attempting to pull him deeper. Every thrust drove Kas' throbbing shaft against his belly, striping him with his own seed. He was close, so close.

Arching, Lykos lost his rhythm. Kas felt the man's shaft swell inside him.

_Don't let him be finished._ "Fuck me! Oh fuck me! I'm almost there!"

"Theos!"

Lykos stiffened and collapsed on him. Kas groaned in despair, but after a moment's pause, Lykos bit Kas' shoulder and drove his still hard length once more into Kas' body. Grunting with each thrust, Lykos shuddered, cock twitching and pulsing.

"Thank Ba'al!" Kas thrashed and pumped his seed between their bodies. He convulsed as Lykos proceeded to fuck him through his release. Lykos must be a god in human form. Maybe Apollo who was said to take men as lovers.

"Enough!" Kas wrapped his arms around Lykos' shoulders, attempting to hold him still. "Enough."

Subsiding, Lykos rested his weight on Kas, pushing him deeper into the nest of blankets. Lykos slipped to one side, arm across Kas' chest, legs tangled together.

When he could breathe without gasping, Kas kissed Lykos' neck and jaw, rubbed his face in the soft beard. Lykos tipped his head down and met Kas' lips with his own. The soft press of mouths did something indescribable in Kas' breast.

He'd never really kissed any of the boys. They'd always been more interested in spilling their seed and running off before anyone caught them at it, so he allowed the more experienced man to lead.

Lykos' tongue exploring his mouth came as a shock. But after a moment, Kas wanted more, needed more.

Finally, Lykos pulled back. He gazed into Kas' eyes and sighed.

"I've fed you of my bounty and you've bedded me. You will never be free of me now," Kas informed him. No matter if the man didn't understand him now, he would eventually. Then he burrowed under Lykos' chin. "Sleep. It will be dawn soon."

# Chapter Six

The next morning, Lykos lounged by the fire, admiring Kas while he cooked.

After seeing him naked the night before, Lykos had to admit the man might be slender, but he wasn't the puny boy Lykos had first taken him for. Tonight he would take his time and lavish more attention on Kas' body, especially his very prominent manhood.

How would the heated flesh feel in his hand? Taste?

Lykos groaned and Kas glanced up, flashing him another of those radiant smiles.

Narseh, red-eyed and disapproving, stomped out of the tent and shook his fist at them. "I'm not sharing a tent with either of you again!"

"What do you mean, Narseh? We were quiet." _Mostly_.

The Persian narrowed his eyes and examined Lykos more closely. "Since when do you call me Narseh, prince?"

"Since someone told me I was saying it wrong. Why do you allow Father to call you Narses if that's not your name?"

"Because Narses is the Greek form of my name, and when in Greece...." Narseh turned on Kas. "And what else did he tell you last night?"

Lykos blushed. Bad enough he suspected Narseh knew everything they had said, but he hated knowing Narseh knew.

"'I won't stop until I've taken everything you have to offer.'" Narseh mimicked in a husky voice. "Would you like to know what else he said? Or should I tell him what you threatened to do if he stopped? I'm pretty sure he understood when you could only manage please over and over."

Face burning, Lykos felt a brief, guilty respite when Narseh focused on Kas again. He hoped Narseh wasn't telling Kas that Lykos had promised to hold him down and give him as much as he could handle if he didn't stop teasing.

"What's that?" Narseh pointed at the love bite Lykos' tunic failed to cover. He glared at them both. "Allowing him to claim you like he swore to after you bedded him?"

"What?"

"Tell him," Narseh demanded.

Kas bit his lip, eyes downcast. For a moment, Lykos doubted he would speak. But then haltingly, Kas spilled a few words at a time. He didn't look up and he sounded almost pleading, apologetic.

"I thought so." Narseh shook his head. "Boys and their desires."

Lykos glanced at Kas slumped by the fire. He wanted to touch him, but Kas was out of reach. Instead, he settled for glaring at Narseh. "Men," he growled.

"Oh yes, by all means men, the both of you." Narseh sat down between them. "Now it is time that men made some decisions and lived with their consequences." He said something—likely the same thing—in Persian to Kas.

"What am I going to have to explain to your father when we return to Aenus?"

Fighting off the urge to shrug, Lykos thought about that for a moment. Tell Father he had taken an _erômenos_? A lover? A slave?

Even though Father would understand Lykos adding a slave to his household, Lykos had already sworn not to enslave Kas. A lover? Father would laugh at him and tell him if he wished to play with boys, to choose someone worthy. An _erômenos_ would seek the most prestigious man he could find. Lykos didn't want to think he was nothing more to Kas than an _erastês_ to raise him above the station to which he had been born.

"Was last night just a way to say thank you?" Lykos mumbled. A bribe to keep him from selling Kas? Now he couldn't look at Kas. Lykos didn't know if he would be able to hold his head up if that was all their time together was. He didn't even want to know what Father would say about a prince who allowed himself to be lead around by his cock.

Narseh and Kas spoke quietly together. Kas seemed to have some difficulty expressing what he meant, hands moving through the air as if he were speaking directly to Lykos.

"Kas wants me to assure you it may have started as gratitude, but as he grew to know you, he wished to spend more time with you."

Lykos glanced at Kas. Kas wore a tentative smile and nodded. Never having seen Kas as anything but confident, Lykos was at a loss as what to say.

Kas made a questioning sound. Narseh put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"How do you feel about this, Lykos? Kas deserves an answer."

Narseh was right. Kas deserved more than just an answer from Lykos. But Lykos was still sorting through everything that had happened since Narseh had heard the fight.

Kas' breath hitched. Lykos saw motion out of the corner of his eye and looked up to see Kas huddled down into himself. No, he couldn't be responsible for Kas thinking he had given himself to someone who didn't care.

"I want...." Lykos licked his lips. "Can I have what I want?"

"Are you not a man and a prince?" Narseh asked gently.

"I want him to," Lykos swallowed, "to stay by my side. As a free man."

He waited while Narseh conveyed his words. Kas began to smile like the sun breaking through a clouded sky. "Yes. Yes!" He nodded.

"But you can leave any time you want. I'll never force you to do anything." There, he had said it, given Kas an out if he ever needed to escape.

By the time Narseh had stopped speaking, Kas was repeating, "Stay, stay, stay."

"I doubt he wants to leave." Narseh chuckled drily, "Those words he said last night—I've fed you of my bounty and you've bedded me—are the simple words of a peasant wedding. He is correct: you will never be free of him."

Lykos' heart jolted. Kas _did_ want him as much as he wanted Kas. Then those dark expressive eyes sucked him in and he knew he'd never want to be free of Kas.

# Lexicon

Aenus—A city-state in Thrace where Lykos' father is the king.

Aeolic Greek—a Greek dialect spoken in Asia Minor, most of modern Turkey.

Anat—the Persian goddess of war. She is variously the virgin sister or consort of Ba'al Hadad. She was especially bloody and violent.

Ares—the Greek god of war.

Asto-vidatu—an inescapable Zoroastrian death god/demon who chases the souls of the dead as they rise to heaven. His name means "dissolver of bones."

Ba'al—is an honorific that means master or lord. It can be used to refer specifically to Hadad or can be used as an honorific for several patron deities in Asia Minor.

Bosporus—is the Strait between Greece and Asia Minor (most of modern Turkey).

Calliope—one of the muses. She inspired epic poetry and was thought to be Homer's muse. Her sons were the founders of the Thracian tribes.

_Chiton_ —a Greek tunic made from a single piece of cloth, pinned at the shoulders with fibulae and worn with a belt. The female version goes to the floor and often has ornate sleeves. The male chiton is much shorter, usually falling to just below the knees, and sleeveless. Slaves wore an even briefer garment.

Croesus—a king of Lydia. He approached the Oracle at Delphi and asked if he should attack Persia. The Pythia replied that if he went to war, he would "destroy a great empire." So he launched a war with Persia and destroyed his own empire.

Cyrus the Great—The Great King of the Persians. He conquered Lydia.

Diana—Unlike the Greek Diana, the virgin goddess of the hunt, Diana of Ephesus was a fertility goddess. Her temple prostitutes were famous in the ancient world.

Dionysus—originally a Phrygian, Dionysus found his way to Greece and became one of the Twelve Olympians when Hestia stepped down in his favor. He is the god of wine, revelry, madness and effeminacy.

_Erastês_ —literally means "lover" and refers to the older male in a pederastic relationship. The mentor.

_Erômenos_ —literally means "beloved" and refers to the younger male in a pederastic relationship. The mentee.

Eros—one of the Erotos, winged gods of love. Aphrodite's son, he drove men mad with his passion tipped arrows. Eros is the god of desire.

_Fibula_ (plural: _fibulae_ )—the earliest form of a safety pin, usually made of bronze.

Ganymede—a handsome young man that Zeus carried off to Olympus and made his cupbearer. He is Zeus' erômenos.

Hades—the god of the Underworld.

Helios—the god of the sun. He drove his chariot across the sky every day.

Hellenizing—to make something Greek. The Greeks called themselves Hellenes.

Hermes—the messenger of the gods. He also escorted the dead to Hades.

Ionic Greek—a Greek dialect spoken in Thrace and portions of Asia Minor.

_Kopis_ —a recurved short sword capable of chopping and thrusting.

_Kylix_ —a shallow drinking bowl with two handles and a foot.

Lydia—a kingdom in Asia Minor (now part of modern Turkey) that became satrapy, or province, of the Persian Empire.

Mithras—the Greek name for the Persian god Mithra. He is a Zoroastrian angelic divinity who is associated with the Roman mystery religion associated with Sol Invictus, the Unconquered Sun.

Persian Empire—an empire that originated in Persia, modern day Iran, and expanded as far as Egypt and parts of Greece. At the time of this story, Persia has not conquered Thrace, the portion of Greece just across the narrow Bosporus Strait, separating modern Europe from Asia Minor.

_Polis_ —the Greek word for city-state.

Pythia—the Oracle at Delphi, any priestess who prophesied at Apollo's temple at Delphi.

Sardis—the capital first of the Lydian Kingdom and later of the Persian Satrapy of Lydia.

Satrap—the governor of a Persian satrapy or province.

Seth/Set—the Egyptian god of deserts, storms, disorder, violence and foreigners. The Egyptians called him Set. The Greeks Hellenized his name and called him Seth.

Shade—the spirit of the dead.

The Great King—the king of the Persian Empire was called the Great King. Darius I was the Great King at the time of this story.

_Theos_ (plural: _theoi_ )—Greek word for god. It could either refer specifically to Zeus or more generally to the gods.

Thrace—the portion of ancient Greece closest to Asia Minor.

_Xiphos_ —a short leaf-shaped sword primarily used as a thrusting backup weapon by Greek warriors.

Zoroastrians—the ancient monotheistic state religion of the Persian Empire. The priests called for the exposure of the dead, considering embalming and burial to be inviting putrefaction and impurity.

_Zoster_ —a wide leather belt, often fastened with buckles. Also known as a girdle.

# Bio

Kayla Jameth grew up on the family farm in Ohio. An unrepentant tomboy, she baled hay and raised cattle, and her father taught her to weld before she graduated from high school.

She attended Cleveland's Case Western Reserve University and later, Texas A&M University in her pursuit of veterinary medicine, taking her far away from her rural roots.

But it wasn't all hard work for her, her sojourn as the princess of the Celestial Kingdom left her with the title "Sir" and a costume closet the envy of many knights, lords, and ladies.

After declaring for years that she was not an author, Kayla now finds herself writing m/m erotic romance outside of Houston, Texas. While you can take the girl out of the country, you can't turn her into a city slicker. Kayla would still rather be outside getting down and dirty with the boys.

She shares a full house with her favorite animals: a cat, two guinea pigs, a gerbil, three guppies, as well as her husband, son, and daughter.

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E-mail: KaylaJameth@hotmail.com

# More from Kayla Jameth

Spartan Love: Book One - The Epics of Apollo's Men

For another tale in the same world (but not the same characters)

Here is an excerpt from  A Spartan Love published by Dreamspinner Press

Alone, Andreas toils on a remote farmstead for a Spartan overlord. When a kryptes enters his world, Andreas fears for his life. The dread warriors stalk and kill helots—like Andreas' father—as part of their training.

Andreas sees only one way to save himself: he must tame the fearsome warrior.

But what began as self-preservation develops into attraction. Yearning for the company of someone other than his ferret Ictis, Andreas decides to trust the Spartan warrior and risk the fate that claimed his father.

Born to rule by the sword, Theron sees the world as his and acts accordingly, taking everything Andreas offers and reaching for more. However, love between men in Sparta is considered shameful and requires either exile or suicide to redeem Sparta's honor. Now, only the gods can save them from the terrible price Sparta extracts from men who desire other men.

Shall I sing of far Sparta and a tale passing strange?  
Of a warrior fair, a straight-limbed youth  
And the one who esteemed him above all others?  
Their perilous tale, and bright Apollo's search,  
Oh Muse, make known to me.

Chapter One

" _Andreas! Get in here right now. How many times do I have to tell you that the kryptes will kill you if they catch you outside after dark?"_ He could hear his mother's voice as if she were still alive, calling to him from the safety of their house.

"I'm trying, Mother!" he muttered to her shade. He would never forget that one of the Spartan warriors had slain his father for nothing more than being a _helot_. Andreas crossed his fingers and flicked them away from his heart in an attempt to ward off a similar fate.

Andreas scanned his surroundings, his gaze veering between his home and the tree line beyond the goats' enclosure. The mud-brick hut with its tidy little garden dominated the otherwise smooth grounds. Silhouetted against rosy clouds, safety beckoned. However, the encroaching darkness under the trees drove a shiver up his spine.

He was all alone. Or hoped he was.

A spur of the forest behind him jutted between his house and his nearest neighbor. Petros lived on the far side, his dwelling hidden from Andreas' sight. Petros' family would already be safely bundled under their roof, locked up tight as twilight approached. No helot was foolish enough to brave the dark and risk death.

Even though the hut didn't look like much, Andreas wanted to be within the shelter of his home.

But Pan, the aptly named offspring of mischief, had other ideas. For some reason, when Andreas brought his flock home, the big buck had resisted entering the enclosure. The rest of the goats were milling about, following his obdurate example as the last of the daylight bled from the sky and Andreas grew more desperate.

"Curse you, Pan! If you don't get in there, I'll have you for dinner. How would you like that?" Knuckles white, he raised his staff and shook it.

Almost as if he understood, Pan bolted inside the lean-to with a startled bleat, his harem quick on his heels. Not a moment too soon. Nerves pushed to the snapping point, Andreas might have been willing to leave them to fend for themselves. He muttered imprecations as he shoved the brambles into the opening, blocking their exit. Though disgruntled, he was glad he hadn't been forced to choose between their well-being and his life.

Leaves rustled in the nearby forest despite the lack of so much as a breath of wind, and Pan bleated uneasily. Andreas strained to hear anything else, anything at all. What was out there? A rival buck? Wolves? One of the kryptes?

Andreas shivered as cold sweat covered him _. Please don't let it be one of the deadly kryptes stalking me, intent on proving himself._ The young warriors, the best Sparta could produce, killed helots for sport and to hone their skills.

The final rays of sunlight faded, leaving muted colors and hushed twilight in their wake, weighing down his heart with apprehension. Andreas hoped the kryptes who had been haunting the area didn't consider sunset to be the definition of "after dark." By decree, the warriors killed any helot they encountered at night, holding the subjugated population in check and using terror to quell any revolts before they started.

Glancing warily around, Andreas wondered if he could reach his home before being attacked. _It isn't dark yet. I can be inside before the last light fades._ He couldn't see anyone, but a good kryptes would be nigh impossible to spot. Drawing a deep breath, he sprinted toward the hut, his heart pounding.

_Nearly there!_ A branch snapped, and he lost his footing as he attempted to look over his shoulder. He scrambled to get on his feet and back inside before....

In his mind's eye, a red-cloaked figure strode calmly up behind him, a sword held in one fist. " _Theos_ save me!"

Andreas made the last bit on his hands and knees, too shaken to regain his feet. The statue of Priapos with its obscenely large phallus jutting before him guarded his doorway. The god stood ready to protect this boundary against any trespassers, wielding his prodigious cock like a club. Having never been in this position before, Andreas had no idea if the deity would be able to protect him.

He clawed at the door for a moment before he managed to slip inside. Back pressed to the thick mud-brick wall, he forced himself to draw one deep shuddering breath after another.

The sound of another twig snapping came through his open window.

Oh Hades! Someone is out there.

Andreas fought to quiet his breathing as his bowels turned to water. Had the kryptes come to wreak judgment on him as they had on his father?

A faint scrabbling at his door had Andreas attempting to wedge himself into the much too narrow space under his cot. The wooden frame scraped across the floor, the sound muffled by the packed dirt. Hiding there had been so much easier when he'd done this as a child at his mother's insistence. He barely fit now.

If the warrior was desperate enough to enter the one-room house, Andreas couldn't risk being seen. The young man wouldn't draw the line at murdering a helot.

He tried to convince himself the youth merely wanted something to eat. Everyone knew the boys in the Spartan _agōgē_ were kept on the sharp edge of hunger to encourage theft; although, if anyone caught the young man at it, he would be flogged. They trained to be effective warriors, capable of foraging while on campaign, not common thieves.

Andreas might have reached the relative safety of his home, but he still wasn't out of danger. The kryptes might yet kill Andreas to spare himself a beating for being observed. Not that Andreas would dare report him.

A breath of wind entered his home along with the intruder. Priapos' threat hadn't deterred the man. A shudder tore through Andreas as the door closed with a faint thump against the frame, trapping him inside with a killer.

Nearly soundless, bare feet padded across the packed earth of his floor and paused at the table. With the lamp still unlit, he could just make out the warrior's legs and the hem of the Spartan's crimson cloak, so close he could touch them. Andreas held his breath. If he didn't move, the prowler shouldn't be able to see him in the dim interior. He could all but feel the warrior's suspicious gaze sweeping the small room and his few belongings.

_Oh Theos! Where is Ictis?_ Now would be a disastrous time for him to wander out.

Helots who saw the legendary kryptes were rarely seen again. Would the warrior search for him and kill him?

Shaking and barely able to breathe, Andreas closed his eyes in panic. Fighting the urge to vomit, he relived his first brush with the killers.

Even though he'd only been eight at the time, Andreas could remember every detail as if he were a _stele_ with the record of the event incised into his very being.

After slipping out of his nest of blankets in the thin morning light, Andreas pushed on the hut door, but it caught on something outside and he had to force it open. He squeezed through the gap and into the chill morning.

His father lay in a tangle of limbs on the ground, sleeping with his feet blocking the door. Had his father been drinking with the neighbor again? Mother didn't like it when Father did that. She said it was dangerous.

" _Mother's going to be angry with you! She was worried when you didn't come inside last night."_

Andreas reached out to shake his father's shoulder, and put his hand in something sticky. He wiped it on his tunic, staring at the dark stain on the front of his father's chiton. If his father had ruined his clothing, Mother would be extra angry.

When his father still didn't stir, Andreas knelt down to get his attention. An awful blot marred his father's tunic and spread in tributaries across his chest, pooling next to him. A fly buzzed up from the blood. Even the sunlight seemed corrupted by the revelation of such a horror.

The first scream seemed to rise out of his very soul, tearing his throat as it spiraled up louder and louder. His inability to stop was nearly as terrifying as the yawning gulf in his life.

" _Andreas? What's wrong?" His mother had to force the door wider before she could join him. Her gasp only set him off further. "Themis, Lady of Law, how can this be?"_

Stunned, she dropped to her knees alongside his father's body. Her hands fluttered a moment before grasping her husband's. Tears burning down her cheeks, she stared at Andreas's father like one lost.

A knife-edged keening filled the air, startling him out of his own grief. His mother suddenly released her grip on his father's hand and flung handfuls of dirt into her hair. Andreas stared blankly until he remembered to do the same. He'd never mourned anyone before.

" _Careful, the kryptes may still be about." She pulled him into her lap, glancing around the yard and peering intently at the trees beyond the goat shed. "No. Surely he's gone." His mother's leaden tone, so different from her usual cheeriness, scared him._

She rocked Andreas, providing him with what comfort she had until his sobs turned to weary tremors, her tears all the while soaking into his hair.

Throat thick with tears, Andreas could only manage "Why?"

" _Because...." She faltered. "They fear us and kill the best of us."_

He stared at her red-rimmed eyes. "Why do warriors fear slaves?"

" _We helots vastly outnumber them."_

" _Then why don't we make them work for us?"_

" _Even though they are fewer than us, all they do from the time they are young like you is train to fight and kill. The kryptes who killed your father has nothing but a knife and a cloak. He has to take everything else that he needs to stay alive. Could you do that?"_

Andreas had learned the lesson well. Never excel, never earn the respect of your neighbors, and don't do anything to catch the Spartans' eyes.

Bitterness almost overwhelmed his terror. The monsters slaughtered helots as if they were cattle that needed culling. And maybe to their lords that was exactly what they were, just another training exercise.

His lungs burned and sweat trickled across his forehead. He prayed the young man would take the dinner he'd laid out for himself and leave before Andreas gave himself away.

As if in answer to his pleas, Andreas heard his wooden bowl clatter against the platter on the table. The warrior must be gathering his porridge and the bread. If that was all the man took, he would count himself lucky.

The door creaked in protest as the youth slipped outside.

Trying to fill his starving lungs, Andreas gulped a deep breath. Thank the gods, the youth had left. He was past any hope of remaining silent.

Andreas shuddered where he cowered under the bed. Whiskers tickled his face as Ictis sniffed his cheek. The brash ferret seemed unaffected by his alarm, unaware of the danger that had entered their home.

Once his breathing slowed, Andreas worked his way out from under his bed. This would be impossible in the future. He'd nearly reached his father's considerable size.

When he'd grown older and it became apparent he was his father's son in more ways than one, his mother had finally confided her suspicions to him. To demonstrate their skill, the kryptes targeted and slew the strongest helots, like his father.

Andreas had always been a sturdy child, and when he'd become a strapping youth, she'd nearly cried. He'd done what he could to limit his growth, but in the years since, working the land alone had produced a physique to rival his father's.

With trembling hands, he splashed a drop of honey for each of the gods on his hearth. "Zeus, Most High, I thank you for my life." The sticky libation flared on the embers in aromatic, abject gratitude.

"Athena, may you and Apollo, the Lord of Light, continue to defend me." He knelt with his brow on the raised hearth. "Hestia, continue to guard that which is yours." _Please, keep me safe._ Only the gods could preserve him now if the kryptes chose to return.

He slumped onto the floor, curling in on himself, shaking.

Had he just escaped the fate that had claimed his father?
