Tangles and Temptation (10 page)

Kyra’s shoulders slumped in relief. She had stayed long enough to witness the spilling of blood before her fleeing feet had urged her away. Eris’s cry of outrage had followed her through the hollow hallways, resonating and vibrating in rage. She whispered, “Perhaps there was no doubt in your mind, but I have been on the receiving end of the snake’s strike. There was nothing
just
about that.”

The queen stared at her. She blinked in surprise. “Do you really believe Eris acted purely on his surrendering to his baser needs? That he
chose
the path that resulted in your hurts?”

Kyra sighed heavily. She levered herself up from her seat. Her body ached from uncomfortable stiffness resulting from the many hours she had sat still. She paced impatiently, allowing the blood to flow freely into her numb limbs to alleviate the pinpricks of pain piercing her feet. She strode also to alleviate some of the frustration and aggression that simmered and broiled within her. “What else am I expected to feel toward a man who has hurt me? His actions were not an act borne of lovemaking but of inflicting pain and seeking to instate his masculine dominance.” She turned furiously away from the queen and shook her head. She stared at the far-stretching horizon, strewn with vast plantations of golden crops, as parts of the fields darkened in the shadows while others glorified in last dredges of this day’s rays. Her voice left her in a whisper, devoid of the heated anger of her earlier words. “He did not give but simply took. That is not the art of lovemaking.”

“As to that statement, I find it totally unbelievable. Are you being honest to me when you say you derived no pleasure at his hand? Are you truthful with
yourself
when you utter that you derived no passion by his lance?” She tittered in disbelief. “Mayhap you could fool one who is less apt in the art of lovemaking. However, you speak not to such at present. I was one of the first whom Sappho called out to for assistance, and what I witnessed cannot be denied. Bruised and battered you may have been after that session in the bathing chamber, but pale you were not. Even in sleep, the heated flush of contentment kissed her cheeks. Besides, the screams that had echoed through the hallways prior to his marking of you were quite lusty.”

Kyra blushed at the queen’s words, but she argued nonetheless, “Asleep I was not but put into that unconscious state by a man who could have easily
killed
me.”

The queen nodded. “But
he did not
.”

Vasiliki Akantha joined Kyra at the edge of the garden. “You speak of the incident as though you were the lone victim, Kyra.”

Kyra bristled. “And was I not? Pardon my ignorance, but as I recall it was just me who lay abed, wounded and fevered for days.”

The queen kept her gaze straight ahead as she replied, “You lay abed a complete four days’ span. Eris would have been abed just as long were he not forcibly awoken. Kyra, Eris was abed two days as well. He spent most of his wakeful hours outside your chamber. The medicine women refused him admittance, but he stayed at your doorway until he was satisfied by your recovery.”

Snorting inelegantly, clearly unimpressed, Kyra argued, “Then that was of his own hand. At whose door could he have possibly laid the blame at?”

Vasiliki Akantha turned to her suddenly. “
The beast
.”

Kyra frowned at her in the dimming light. She was not about to allow the callous actions of a man be dumped upon a mere marking on his person.
The beast indeed!
She hissed in impatience. “And should I choose to mark myself with the juices of the henna plant with the mark of a tiger, it would give me plausible excuse to ravage those around me? Speak not of the beast as a living thing, capable of controlling the actions of its possessor. Eris acted of his own accord.”

The queen shook his head patiently. “Did he indeed? I will tell you something, Kyra. You may choose to believe as you will. Eris was as much a victim that night as you were. What transpired is something new to you, but it is a blessed occurrence for the legends calling themselves gladiators.” She watched Kyra with shining eyes as she reached out and touched the tender wound at her throat. “He has marked you.” Before Kyra could ask for an explanation, the queen grabbed her arm. Her hold was not harsh, but it remained firm. “Come. I shall show your eyes what your ears refuse to accept.”

* * * *

The pathways they followed were twisted and narrow, riddled with shadowed passages and cold stone walls. Kyra lost her sense of direction after what she assumed was the fifth right turn. She clutched the torch she held in uncertainty. The queen she followed without question could wish her harm. There was no real warmth between them, and Kyra could be effectively removed from existence without anyone being the wiser. Her footsteps slowed in indecision. Was she walking heedlessly into a trap?

“Come along. We are not far from our destination.”

Kyra watched as the queen moved forward without pause. Surely if the woman had wanted her dead she would not have to be so specific about location. She could have carried out the deed many turns ago in these dank, deserted tunnels without a single pair of eyes to witness the crime. Kyra swallowed down her trepidation and stepped after the fast-disappearing figure. Furthermore, she surmised, should she lag behind, she would surely be lost, possibly for all eternity.

Finally they reached a solid wall. Kyra stopped and scowled at the barrier. The awaiting queen smiled faintly and disappeared into a darkened corner. Kyra quickly held her torch high and desperately searched for her. Her heart began to pound in her chest. Was this the plan then? Was she to be left here, deep in the tunnels of the palace, to wander the rest of her days aimlessly lost? She surged forward after the woman. She would allow this to happen. But just as her torch lit upon the queen, who hadn’t gone far at all, and noticed her hand withdrew from a dark corner in the wall.

A rumbling sound rang out, deafening and terrifying. Kyra covered her ears and stared at the wall before her.
It moved.
She screamed as the movement picked up speed. Was she to be buried alive?

But the walls did not close in on her. They did not trap or secure her.
They opened.
Kyra stared in wonder. The queen had not sought to plot some nefarious deed against her after all. The doors before her stretched wide and high. The yellow solid gleam could only mean one thing—
gold.
Her fingers trembled as she reached out and stroked the cold, smooth surface. The sight of her tiny hand on the great structure reminded her of looking upon an ant on the bark of a massive oak. She felt immediately diminished in size. She stared in awe as she caressed the panels in wonder.

The older woman stepped up to her side. “Wondrous, is it not?” She also placed her hands flat against the surface. But she did not caress, she pushed. “Help me, Kyra. This door of solid gold will not budge unless your lend aid.”

Kyra did not waste a moment. She wedged her toes firmly into the ground and pushed with all the strength she possessed. The door did not budge. Frustrated and panting in exhaustion, she stepped away and faced the queen. “Is there no other secret lever as the one you used to trigger the stone?”

Dusting her hands, she shook her head. “This golden doorway is much like the heart of man, and protected likewise. A spell, strong and potent, gifted by the Gods themselves, holds it sealed. And like the heart of man, always overcome with mundane worries and lack of hope. He believes in only what is before his eyes.” She smiled slightly. “Much like your heart at present, Kyra. You seek answers, but your heart remains closed. Free yourself of your reservations and simply believe. Now
push.
”

Kyra frowned but returned to the impossible task. The queen did not dither in her duty. “Come, Kyra. The spell will not allow us in unless you clear your heart and mind. Believe that it can be done and it will be.”

Kyra pondered a moment. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Heeding the advice made her feel foolish, but she longed to see for herself what remained beyond these magnificent doors. She allowed all her reservations, her misgivings, to fall away and focused only on the door before her. She wanted it open, and it would open for her. Her hands fell flat on the surface. It parted. What had been impossible to budge a moment ago now shifted and opened with ease. But Kyra did not ponder this wondrous feat for long. The brightness beyond the threshold held her spellbound.

The first step she took into the massive chamber made her gasp in awe. There were massive statues all around her. Everything, the statues, the flooring, the walls, and wide steps were all encased in gold. But this was not what amazed her. What puzzled her was the light. The entire chamber lay bright and well lit. Nowhere could she spot a torch or fire.

The queen laughed, the sound hollow and stifled in the dense room. “You wonder how we are bathed in glorious light even though we are undeniably far below the level of the ground?” She pointed up.

Kyra gasped. Towering impossibly high above her were massive, impressive sculptures, etched in stone but plated in gold. There were four individual pieces. They were of men, with heads bowed and their arms enfolded over the shoulders of the one next to him. Together they formed a circle, a band, and through the large gap left open at the center of their bowed heads lay the sky. The stars and moon shone down, reflecting off precisely placed fixtures, and lit the entire chamber. Her voice left her breathlessly. “The holy temples.”

Vasiliki Akantha stood beside her. “Indeed it is. And all through history the dreaded Cronus has not once succeeded in gaining entrance here.” Her voice filled with pride as she continued, “This temple is based far below the ground, yet it stretches from the very center of the palace, reaching for the skies. None can access this holy place from above, except the winged creatures and the Gods themselves. Everyday throngs of people walk right around this temple while traversing through the palace, but no one realizes—only the king and the protectors of our city, the Gladiators of Andromeda.”

Kyra looked around the chamber. The golden figure of a woman, hand raised valiantly, stood towering high above her. The queen whispered, “In honor of
Nikē
, the Goddess of victory.”

Kyra’s eyes strayed to the neighboring figure, golden but shrouded in darkness, nestled in a shadowed corner. All the other statues stood bathed in light except this. The queen smiled. “Ah. Our beloved
Nyx
, Goddess of night. She would prefer the darkness, would she not?”

Next Kyra’s eyes fell upon a statue that differed as well. It was bathed in light like the others, but this statue seemed oddly constructed. The malformation lay in the well carved out formation of a multitude of breasts, instead of just a pair. They were all heavy with milk and proudly displayed. Kyra did not need an explanation. This must be
Artemis,
the Goddess of fertility. Her eyes drifted to the feet of the statue. Upon the floor, placed reverently at the feet, lay the only thing in the temple not of gold. It was an offering. A ripe pomegranate, the fruit of fertility. Kyra knew well who had placed such an offering.

The sudden haste at her side proved her right. “Come, we must make haste before the moon changes it course and this place is shrouded in darkness.” She yanked Kyra unceremoniously away from the sight of the offering upon the floor.

Kyra guarded her tongue and followed. The older woman stopped suddenly and faced the wall. Kyra studied it. The surface was smooth, shimmering, glossy marble, engraved in gold. There were numerous etchings and designs upon it, glorious nymphs and nubile maidens, Acanthus leaves and olive branches. Each figure had been painstakingly carved with great detail into the marble surface and intricately filled with molten gold. She tried to read the markings but could not decipher anything.

Vasiliki Akantha ran her hands reverently over the embossing and pointed to a specific drawing. “
Here.
This is the one that pertains to you specifically.”

Kyra leaned forward to study the engraving closely. Her eyes widened suddenly before squeezing tightly shut. She did not wish to look upon this.

The queen prodded her from the side. “
What is this?
Come now, Kyra. Knowledge is not sought with sealed eyes, closed ears, and clenched lips. Open your eyes and see the truth. Listen to the tale and ask for clarity so you may bring wisdom to your mind.”

Kyra kept her eyes adamantly closed. The queen tittered mockingly. “I had thought you daring and strong. It is not often that I am wrong, but alas, the occasion does arise when I am just that—
wrong.
”

Kyra’s eyes sprung open. “I am neither a coward nor a weakling.” She turned her gaze to the drawing upon the wall.

She stared at the drawing. The snake lay entwined around a woman, in close-binding folds. The tail was wrapped around her slender ankles, securing her firmly. The thick body twisted around and around her, scaly and cold in appearance. The neck stretched far above her while the head was angled down toward her. The jaws were open, gaping and menacingly wide, above her, displaying magnificent fangs. The eyes held her mesmerized. While all the other features of the snake were lethal, possessive, and brutally terrifying—
cold
—the eyes gazed down tenderly, protectively and warm—
lovingly.
While great attention had been given to each scale, smooth and glossy, more detail was poured by the artist into the eyes. The snake’s eyes stared down, full of life, longing, and love.