For the Most Beautiful (30 page)

‘What? You … you … but you always … but you never …' I stopped and tried to gather my thoughts. ‘You are in love with
me
?'

Patroclus stared at me. Then, inexplicably, he started to laugh. Not as if he were mocking me, though. More the laugh of someone who had thought he was acting in a comedy, only to find out it has been a tragedy all the time. ‘You think I am in love – with
you
?'

I frowned. ‘Well, yes,' I said. ‘Who else could it be?'

The look he was giving me was one of pure disbelief.

‘Briseis,' he said, and his voice cracked slightly. There was a long pause as we gazed at each other. ‘Briseis, I am in love with Achilles.'

I stared at him.

The silence stretched between us.

‘I am sorry if it shocks you,' Patroclus said stiffly, into the silence. ‘I know that Achilles fancies himself in love with you. But I have loved him far longer,' he said, and he walked on, across the line of the sea. ‘You had no right to tear us apart. At least now that he has refused the embassy, you will not be returning, and we can be as we always were.'

I felt my temper rising as I hurried after him. ‘Tear you apart? I did no such thing! Achilles fell in love with
me
, Patroclus!'

‘Oh, really?' he said, his voice louder and his strides longer. ‘If he loves you as much as you say, then why did he refuse to take you back?'

The heat rushed to my cheeks. ‘He listened to my advice!'

‘I did not tell him!' Patroclus rounded on me. ‘I did not tell him what you said! There! I have said it!'

He looked like a man in torment. His eyes were wide and his fists clenched, the knuckles white.

I glared at him, anger still pulsing in my ears.

‘It is no wonder that Achilles does not love you, Patroclus, if you are a man of so little honour!' I shouted at him. ‘How do you think a warrior such as Achilles could love a coward who spends all his time hiding behind the camp walls? He told me so, Patroclus! He told me so himself! He thinks you are a
coward
!'

Patroclus' face whitened in the moonlight. Then he turned away. ‘Did he say that?' he said, his voice very quiet.

At once I regretted what I had said.

‘I am sorry, Patroclus,' I said. ‘I was angry, I only said it to upset you—'

But Patroclus held up his hand to silence me. ‘I should leave,' he said abruptly. ‘Achilles will be missing his cowardly companion.'

‘Patroclus, no … I—' I tried to reach out to catch his shoulder, but he was already walking briskly away across the moonlit sand.

‘Patroclus!' I shouted after him.

But there was no reply.

A searing white light blinded me, and I fell to the floor, shielding my eyes.

The glare dimmed to a warm golden colour. I took my hands away from my eyes.

A young man was standing in the centre of the temple before me, where Apulunas' holy stone should have been – a man so handsome that my breath caught in my chest and I almost choked. His whole body and skin seemed to be made from a fine golden light, as if he were not wholly real but just a spirit, a being of light made from the rays of the sun. His fair hair had threads of gold in it and his perfectly muscled body was like the image of a carved statue, a golden cloth wrapped around his waist, the skin chiselled into soft ridges over his bare chest. His eyes were deep and golden, like pools of sunlight, and the hint of a delicious scent, like all the flowers of the world distilled into a single perfume, wafted from his hair and skin, the very scent of desire.

‘Sorry about that,' he said, leaning on a thin golden sceptre.

The air around him seemed to shimmer, as if he were radiating heat or light – I could not tell which.

‘I always forget how fragile you mortals are.'

‘Mortals?' I asked weakly. ‘What – what do you mean? Where is the stone? Who are you?'

He gave a laugh, like the sound of golden bells tinkling on the breeze. ‘I'm a god, Krisayis,' he said, curling a perfect lock of hair around one finger. He smiled. ‘I'm Apollo.'

There was a long silence. Then I put my hands on the ground and pushed myself to stand. ‘I don't understand,' I said.

‘Apollo,' he repeated, bending down to examine his reflection in the white marble pool that lay before where the sacred stone would normally stand, then turned to me. ‘Oh, I see,' he said. ‘Apulunas? Maybe Apaliunas?' He rubbed his forehead. ‘I lose track of all the names. Surely you must have heard of me.'

I felt my knees go weak beneath me.
Apulunas?
‘Of – of course I've heard of you! But – but my father said that the gods only appear to their chosen priests! W-why would you appear to me? I'm not even your priestess yet!'

I almost said,
Neither did I ever want to be
. But if this really was the god … if it truly was the Great God himself … I pinched myself, hard, on my forearm. It hurt a great deal, tears springing to my eyes.
This cannot be true.
‘Am – am I dreaming?'

He smiled again, that divinely handsome smile. ‘Fortunately for you, no,' he said. ‘I know it is much more convenient for you mortals to commune with the gods while you sleep. But, well, from time to time we like to
talk
to someone. In fact,' he said, his smile widening, ‘I have an offer for you, beautiful Krisayis.'

I swallowed. ‘An offer? What kind of offer?'

He chuckled. ‘Perhaps we should discuss it over some wine.' He gestured towards the aisle of the temple, behind the thick limestone pillars. In an instant plump cushions materialized upon the floor, low cedar-wood tables piled with roasted meat, dried fruits, almonds and wine, and burnished bronze lamps hung from tall slender stands.

I gasped. ‘How …'

He held out a hand as if to lead me over, but I noticed, as I reached out to take it, that I could not touch his skin. It was as if there were an invisible barrier between my fingers and the golden shimmering outline of the god's image. I stared at him.

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘One of the downsides of being divine. We cannot touch anything of earth. You know, food, drink, and …' he flashed me a sly grin ‘… a few other things besides.'

My eyes widened even further. Then I shook my head.
Surely – surely I am dreaming. This cannot be real.

‘Sit,' he said again, gesturing towards the cushions.

I moved over slowly and sat down, half expecting not to be able to touch those either, but I sank easily into their comforting warmth, so different from the hard stone I had slept upon. I reached for a honeyed apricot, a thick slice of roast venison and a goblet of deep red wine, realizing suddenly how very hungry I was after so many hours without proper food.

Apulunas – if, indeed, it
was
Apulunas, and not some apparition of my imagining – settled himself on one of the cushions, too, and watched me as I ate, with a curious expression – was it longing? – on his face.

When I had eaten my fill, he leant forwards. ‘So, Krisayis. As I said, I have an offer to make you.'

I did not reply.

‘I know your heart's desire, Krisayis.'

He had startled me. ‘My heart's desire?' I lowered my voice. ‘How could you possibly know that?'

Apulunas laughed, and his golden outline glowed a little more brightly. ‘I am a god,' he said. ‘I know everything. I know, for example, how much you
long
to be a princess of Troy.'

I stared at him.

He grinned, and settled himself a little more comfortably on the cushions. ‘I know how you wish you could be the equal of your friend Cassandra, how neglected and overshadowed you feel when you are by her side, however well you try to hide it. I know how you detest being a mere priest's daughter, and how the very idea of being a priestess and serving me in this temple for the rest of your life, as your father demands, appals you.' He paused. ‘I can give you the chance to make a difference. I can give you the power to choose your fate, to rule the city you love, to help the people of Troy.'

Apulunas dropped his voice, whispering now, so I had to lean forwards to catch his words, the golden light of his skin glowing even more brightly. ‘I can make you,' he breathed, ‘the queen of queens.'

The words rang in the still, musty air of the temple, like a drop of golden oil on water. I gazed at him, all thoughts of food forgotten. ‘You can?' I murmured, the words catching in my throat, my face very warm.

‘Of course.' Apulunas leant back, resting his head on his arm and smiling easily at me. ‘All you have to do is consent to come to Mount Ida with me and become the lover of a god, and I will give you everything you have ever dreamt of and more.'

My heart was racing as I considered his words.
All you have to do is consent to come to Mount Ida with me and become the lover of a god. I will give you everything you have ever dreamt of and more.

I tried to force myself to think. But the image of myself as a queen, the equal of Cassandra at last, no longer the daughter of a priest, no longer afraid or overruled but free to choose my destiny, kept floating into my mind, and I could not concentrate. To make a difference at last … not to be ordered around by my father and Lycaon but to be free to choose my own destiny and to change the fate of Troy … I could do so many things. I could help so many people. What did it matter if I gave myself to a god, and the handsome, immortal sun-god at that, if I could save my city?

‘Wait,' I said, frowning slightly. ‘There are some things I don't understand.'

Apulunas raised his eyebrows. ‘And what are they?'

I tried to clear my thoughts and decide which to ask first of the multitude of questions that seemed to have flooded my mind from the moment he had uttered those fateful words:
I am a god.

‘My father,' I said slowly. ‘My father has served you all his life, yet you have never once appeared to him. If you are the god Apulunas, as you declare, then why have you chosen me? Why not appear to my father instead, if you truly wish to help us and our city?'

He laughed aloud, a laugh like sunlight upon a flowing stream, but he said nothing in reply.

‘And,' I pressed on, ‘when you say I must come with you to Mount Ida, you – you said you cannot touch anything of earth,' I said, my cheeks reddening slightly as I looked Apulunas full in the face. ‘Besides, my father has told me always that the gods are pure and chaste. That the gods do not have desires as we mortals do. Why would you wish to take me with you, if that is so?'

Apulunas smiled, and I felt myself shiver with pleasure at the beauty of him. ‘If a mortal consents to come with us to our mountain home then, yes, we can touch them,' he said. ‘But they must come willingly. My father Zeus is annoyingly firm on free will.' He rolled his eyes. ‘And as for pure and chaste, would you really expect us to live alone for eternity?' He grinned at me. ‘Surely that is a little harsh, Krisayis.'

I thought this over. ‘And I can return, can't I – afterwards? I can go back to Troy?'

Apulunas laughed easily. ‘Of course. As soon as you and I have, let us say, enjoyed each other's company a little more – you will be returned to the city.'

‘I have your word on that?'

He smiled. ‘Do you need the word of a god? I am divine, Krisayis. You can trust me.'

I frowned at him.

Apulunas leant closer, the ambrosial scent of him wafting over me. ‘When you return, you will be the most powerful queen in the world.'

There was another pause as I took this in. ‘But – but that's another thing,' I said slowly. ‘When I was in the Greek camp I heard them talk of their gods, that they had given them a prophecy that Troy would fall. They said that their gods protected them. But that cannot be true, can it? I mean, the only gods are ours – I mean you – the true gods, Troy's protectors. How could the Greeks have thought they had heard a prophecy from the gods?'

He waved his hand. ‘A mistake,' he said, in an airy tone. ‘These prophets, one can never rely on what they say. And, besides, there are so many prophecies flying around. They often catch the wrong ones. And if you lie with me, Krisayis,' he said, as if in a flash of inspiration, ‘you will have all my power at your disposal to give to Troy.'

‘But then …' I was thinking hard ‘… but then if power was all that was needed to save Troy, why haven't you already helped us? You have all the power in the world to save my home, the people you say you protect and love. And yet we have been fighting for weeks. Why not help us now to win the war?'

A flicker of irritation crossed his face, but in a moment it was gone. ‘You are a mortal, you would not understand such things.' He gave me a patronizing smile. ‘You humans are always so distracted by your love for your families and your homes. You cannot understand that it is far, far more complicated than that.'

There was something very strange in what he was saying –
as if
, I thought suddenly,
as if he is trying to avoid telling me the truth.
‘I do not see what is complicated about not wanting those you love destroyed.'

Suddenly, unbidden, another image came before my eyes. Troilus, looking up at me from his bed with love in his eyes. Cassandra, laughing with me in our shared chambers, giggling at our shared secrets. The warmth of the hand of the Trojan bard in the Greek camp, when his palm had touched mine.

And it was then, out of nowhere, I realized that perhaps Apulunas did not know my heart's desire at all – because I had not known it myself.

I struggled with this new feeling erupting inside me, this sudden certainty, as strong and unfamiliar as the first taste of new wine in spring. I looked up at the golden outline of Apulunas.