“Just let me show you,” he said. If she didn’t know him better, she’d have thought he actually begged her, but Jordan didn’t beg for anything.
“I’m not interested,” she said. She turned back toward Fig, who’d been busy chewing up the green buds on a bush, and the sight of the village below surprised her again. With her back to it, all her attention on her brother, she’d forgotten it was down there.
Who
was down there. It didn’t matter anymore. She had nothing to trade and even if she did, not in this town. As much as she’d wanted to see that other familiar face again, it wasn’t the right thing to do. It would only renew the pain in her heart.
“I saw that,” Jordan said, his voice accusing as though she’d just committed some crime.
“What?” she asked, turning back toward him.
“That look. I saw you watching him earlier. You would have followed him if I hadn’t stopped—” Jordan cut himself off, looked at the village and then back at Cassandra. His eyes narrowed. “So that’s the real reason, isn’t it? Why you won’t come with me? You still
want
him, don’t you?”
Cassandra jerked back, as if he’d slapped her, just as she’d done the last time he’d accused her. The words still stung just as painfully.
“How dare you. After all this time!” Her hands itched to punch him again, but she wouldn’t let herself. She wouldn’t allow herself to live with that guilt again. She picked up her bags and Fig’s rope and pulled the goat as she stalked off, in the opposite direction of the village. She wasn’t even a quarter of the way down the hill when Jordan called after her.
“I’m sorry,” he said and she stopped in her tracks, disbelieving her own ears.
Did Jordan just apologize? The man who never said sorry?
“I truly am. Let me make it up to you.”
“How? Offering me money and power I don’t want?”
He stepped in front of her, but she stared at the ground. “I know you don’t want it. You’re right.
This
is your life. At least let me take you into the agora. If you go with me, they won’t harass you and you can collect the supplies you need.”
She looked up at him and choked back her shock. He looked sincere. He really meant it. She sighed.
“I have nothing to trade.”
Jordan glanced at the goat and back at her.
Cassandra gasped. “I’m not trading Fig!”
“Fig?” Jordan rolled his eyes. “You shouldn’t have named her. She’s valuable.”
“She’s very valuable to
me
. She’s been my only companion since you left.” Of course, that wasn’t exactly true. Niko had stayed for nearly two months longer, but she didn’t have a problem laying the guilt on her brother. It was better than punching him. “Besides, her milk and cheese probably saved me this winter. I need her.”
Jordan grunted. “Fine. I have a few things I can trade for you.”
Cassandra glanced down at the town and pressed her lips together. “Can we go to another village?”
“The next one with a decent market is three days away. If you want me to go with you, we go to this one. Here.” He unwrapped the himation from his shoulders and draped it over her head. “This will disguise you. Just keep your head down.”
As they entered the town’s gates and passed house after house, Cassandra marveled at the structures. She’d never been this close to a real house, made of large stones and tiled roofs, some of them nearly three times as tall as Jordan. Mother had told her about growing up in a real home, with a kitchen, bedrooms and a courtyard. About how the women stayed to the kitchen or the back rooms, while her father and other men socialized in their front room. When their house burned down, killing everyone but her—only because she’d been allowed to go care for an ailing neighbor—she’d realized even a comfortable, stone home couldn’t protect you from everything. She always said love and family were much more important than a house with many rooms. Cassandra now understood. How could you feel love and the bonds of family with everyone so separated?
Realizing she’d fallen far behind Jordan, she hurried along and caught up to him just in time. They’d entered the marketplace and she didn’t want to be too far from him. She kept her head down, following him from stall to stall as he looked for the supplies she needed. They finally stopped at a stand of grain and oils and she listened carefully to how Jordan negotiated and handled the trade, just in case she ever had the courage to do this on her own. Her mouth watered the whole time for the bread she couldn’t wait to make. He handed her the goods and she stored them in one of her bags.
She looked up to follow him to the next stall, but he was no longer there. He’d already moved on. But about thirty paces away were Niko and the little boy. She couldn’t tear her eyes away, watching as he talked to a merchant standing next to a cart piled high with stones—large ones, big enough for two or three people to stand on, like those used to construct the houses. The little boy squatted next to the wheel of the cart, apparently inspecting a pebble or bug. Who was he?
The answer nearly knocked her to her knees.
Niko lied to me. He’s already married. Even has a son!
What had he been thinking? Was he one of those men Jordan once spoke of, who took multiple wives? Did he think she would just accept that without being forewarned? Her chest heaved.
She turned, finding Jordan on the other side of the market, talking to a blond merchant—of course he had found the only other woman in the entire agora. The woman glanced at Cassandra and flicked her hand in the air.
Then something moved in the corner of Cassandra’s eye—an unnatural movement that caught her attention. Her head jerked to the left. The top stone on the cart teetered, as if being shaken. Then it tottered … slid … gained downward momentum … right toward Niko’s little boy.
“
No,
” Cassandra silently screamed.
Jordan was too far away, even as fast as he was. It was up to her. Dropping Fig’s rope, she streaked to the cart, catching the stone just inches above the boy’s head, letting out an “oomph!” as she did. It rocked her on her feet, but she caught her balance, steadied herself. The boy flew to Niko’s side and stared at her with wide eyes. Niko hadn’t even turned, hadn’t even noticed that everything had almost gone terribly wrong.
She didn’t notice that it already had—for her.
“How, in the name of Zeus, did you do that?” a man bellowed from behind her. She turned, still holding the stone, to find a large man covered in dark hair and beard, staring at her. “It takes three men to move one of those and you—” His eyes bugged, as if he’d really just noticed
her
, not what she’d done. “You’re a woman!”
Cassandra swallowed hard. Her whole body started shaking. She glanced around for Jordan, but couldn’t see him anywhere, nor the blond merchant-woman. She lowered the stone to the ground, ducked her head and turned back toward Fig, who waited patiently, chewing her cud. A strong hand on her shoulder spun her back around.
“Who are you? Where’s your master?” the burly man demanded.
“I-I d-do not—” Her throat constricted, making her stammer. “I-I am not a s-slave.”
His eyes narrowed. Three more men came over to join him.
“Then what are you doing in the agora?” another asked. “The only women allowed here are slaves.”
Cassandra looked around again with desperation.
Where is Jordan?
But still, he was nowhere to be seen.
“I came with my brother,” she said.
“Your brother allowed you to come here? Where is he?” The first man looked around, then called out, “The brother of this woman must retrieve her now.”
Cassandra’s heart pounded in her chest. Her stomach squeezed and bucked and bile jumped into her mouth.
Where is he?
Jordan never came forth.
“You’re a liar,” one of the men said. “You’re a runaway, aren’t you? We don’t allow that here. We’ll keep you until your master comes.”
The first man grabbed her upper arm, pulling the himation off her head, and jerked her toward him.
“No! I’m not a slave. I have no master,” she cried out, struggling against his grip.
“Then I’ll be your master,” he growled.
“No, please. My brother—”
The man tightened his grip and yanked her again. “When my slaves lie to me, they receive the hardest punishment.”
“I’m not lying. He’s here!” And just as she said it, she saw Jordan standing in the shadows between two buildings, the blond woman with him. She locked eyes with him, hers begging him to help her. With a slight shake of his head and a smirk, he turned and sauntered away.
Her heart stopped cold. He was allowing this to happen. Allowing her to be taken as a slave. Was that his solution so he wouldn’t have to worry about her anymore? Or his punishment for not going with him?
As the man dragged her along, past Fig, the goat nudged her hand, pushing her fingers into a fist. Could she hit this man? Hard enough to make him release her? It would draw even more attention, but she could easily escape. No one but Jordan could catch her and he had abandoned her. Again. It was her only way to escape. She tightened her fist, pulled back and just as her knuckles crashed into the man’s ribs, someone else called out.
“Wait! She’s telling the truth. She’s not a slave.”
The man released her, but not because of Niko’s words. Because of the force with which she’d hit him—he flew to the ground, landing hard on his large rump. His face turned purple with rage. Cassandra looked from her near-captor to Niko, her eyes wide with disbelief and terror. She should run, she knew. But she couldn’t release herself from Niko’s green-eyed gaze.
“How do
you
know?” the man growled from the ground.
Niko swallowed. He tore his eyes from hers and stared down the man. “Because she is my master.”
Chapter 8
Jordan didn’t go far—just around the building to another shadow, where he could watch as they captured his sister. Inga, the witch who’d made the stone fall, had already disappeared, waiting for him at a nearby creek. But he couldn’t leave yet, too delighted with his work, needing to see it to the end.
Except this man was about to ruin everything. Why had he ever bothered saving him from the werewolf?
“You’re not a slave, Niko. You’re a soldier,” said the man who Cassandra had punched as he struggled to rise to his feet. When he did, he lifted his chest, likely trying to make people forget a woman had knocked him down. “You just want to take her from me.”
Niko bent over and whispered something to the boy by his side. The boy ran off, then Niko spoke, his voice firm and convincing. “When I was gone all that time, I was with her. She saved my life, nursed me back to health. I am forever indebted to her. But I ran away and she is here to reclaim me.”
Jordan could see the surprise all over Cassandra’s face. He shook his head. If this all worked as he’d planned, when he rescued her from her enslavement, the first thing he needed to do was teach her to be a better liar. But this was not going as planned. Not at all.
“You indebted yourself and ran away?” the man demanded. “You ought to be stoned.”
“Yes,” someone called from the crowd that had begun to gather. “You shame your family and your town!”
The corners of Jordan’s lips turned up.
Maybe it will work out after all. Perhaps even
better
than planned.
But Cassandra surprised him.
“No,” she said, her voice loud and firm. She’d recovered from being dragged, now standing with her back straight and putting on the façade of someone in a higher class than she was. “He is my slave. I will take care of the punishment.”
Protests came from the crowd, but they were quickly quieted. To Jordan’s dismay, both Cassandra and Niko were allowed to leave … as long as Niko left with her. He watched as Cassandra grabbed the goat and Niko’s arm, and pushed her way through the crowd and out of town. Then he followed.