As it turned out, Astara wasn’t one to be denied what she wanted.

For the next several days, they were rarely separated. She would usually start her morning by sneaking down to the inn where he was staying, and they would trade orgasms before she had to slip off to rejoin her mother’s side.

She would always return though, coming back around late afternoon to get one more round in before meeting up with her father for dinner.

That meant that most days, they were having sex two or sometimes three times. Funnily enough, they never really got the chance to spend the nights together. Her father kept a close watch over the family during the night hours, and they deemed it too risky to attempt a meeting. Even still, the pace they’d set already was one that was hard to keep up with. After the fifth day, Praxis looked at his member, finding it nearly raw after frequent couplings with Astara.

And yet, he still had a smile on his face. There was no more beautiful sight in the world than watching her dip her head, her dark hair mashing against the bed while her mouth opened wide, surrendering to orgasm. Nor was there anything more captivating than watching the red flush that developed across her upper chest as they fucked, or the way she gripped the bed when she was approaching orgasm.

Despite the risk, Praxis was incredible content and satisfied, and by all accounts, so was she.

“So I’ve been thinking,” she said one afternoon, a few minutes after his last orgasm. Praxis was at the moment using his thumb and finger to gently pinch her nipple, enjoying the way it stiffened at his touch.

“Now that is dangerous,” he joked. “What have you been thinking about?”

“About when you get to go back to Argos,” she replied. “I know that your two weeks is almost up, and I know my father won’t be staying much longer here either. I was thinking about how we can keep up our pretenses.”

“Ah, I see,” said Praxis, knowing that “keeping up pretenses” was code for keeping their relationship secret. “And what did you come up with?”

“I have a friend of mine that has a house not far from the Temple of Demeter, near the base of Aspida Hill,” she said. “In any event, it’s just her and her father, and he’s often away for business. He’s a trader that frequently goes to Ionia to trade. I was thinking that we might be able to keep up our pretenses at her house, far away from the prying eyes of both of our families.”

“How good of a friend is she?” asked Praxis, raising an eyebrow. “Will she mind that we are coupling under her roof?”

Astara giggled. “She’s usually doing the same thing whenever her father is out of the city. I don’t see any reason why she wouldn’t make one of the rooms available for us.”

Praxis chuckled. “You’ve given this a lot of thought I see.”

She leaned over to kiss his neck. “I don’t intend for this to stop anytime soon. And I know as soon as we leave Corinth, I’m going to be going through withdrawal when it comes to your affections. I had no other choice but to find a place where we could continue our illicit union.”

It was those last two words that brought a frown to Praxis’ face, for Astara was being entirely correct about the nature of the relationship. It was illicit, forbidden even, and she was making plans for a future that in all likelihood, didn’t exist.

It was a troubling thought, one that he was quick to strike from his mind lest it spoil the mood.

“You don’t like my idea?”

Praxis turned his attention back to her, where she was now studying his face for answers. Judging by her expression, she wasn’t liking what she was seeing.

“It’s just going to be harder to maintain the fiction of what we’re doing,” he said finally. “Especially once we’re back in Argos. It’s hard enough here sometimes even with just your brother knowing.”

“Nico hasn’t said a word about it though.”

“I know, I know,” he interrupted. “We just need to be careful.”

Astara nodded her head like she understood, even though it didn’t seem like she was too happy with his answer.

She didn’t stick around for much longer, as it was now nearing the time for dinner. She dressed quickly, hiding her stunning body behind the folds of her chiton before fixing her hair. With one last, lingering kiss, she slipped back out onto the street, leaving him alone.

Praxis let out a long stretch once he had the bed to himself. The Astara question was one that was constantly on his mind, but there was never an answer to it that he deemed practical, short of running away with her. Even that was something he would find hard to stomach, not wanting to leave his home city.

Shaking all thoughts from his head, Praxis pushed off the bed and dressed quickly, hoping to purchase some bread for a meager dinner before it got too late and all the street vendors closed up shop. He also hoped to grab something to drink at a local watering hole that he was becoming quite fond of, finding that if he couldn’t spend his nights with Astara, it was a satisfactory replacement.

He found a shop that had slim pickings and picked out some bread that had been passed over many times. It was as he was eating it while leaving the shop that he felt the blade against his back.

“Do I even need to ask who would put a sword to my back while I’m eating?” asked Praxis, still not turning around.

“Someone who you ought to fear, that’s who,” came the menacing reply.

Praxis turned around to see the eyes of Agemon, the same man who’d picked a fight with him on his first day in Corinth. The man looked stiff and serious, but the way he was holding the blade suggested that fighting wasn’t the first thing on his mind.

“Trying to get a rematch?” challenged Praxis. “Don’t think I won’t whoop you again?”

“You didn’t whoop me at all,” growled Agemon. “But I’m not here for a rematch. I’m here on official business. Even though part of me would love to cast it aside and teach you some manners.”

“You might try,” taunted Praxis before curiosity got the better of him. “What kind of official business?”

“You don’t need to know yet,” replied Agemon, lowering his sword. “Come on, let’s get out of the middle of the city. It’s not time yet and the last thing we need is to be busted by another prefect.”

“Why should I listen to you?” asked Praxis. “I’m still not sure this isn’t a trick. You haven’t proven yourself trustworthy yet.”

Agemon sheathed his sword. “Happy now? I’m not a threat to you, at least at this moment. Now my patron has requested that I bring you to meet with him, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. You can either follow me or I can drag you along behind me. One way or another, you’re coming with me to see him.”

Praxis judged his offer for a few moments before answering. The look of rage that so characterized Agemon last week wasn’t there, only to be replaced by something that looked like pragmatic determination. Though his guard was still up, he decided to follow the man for now.

“I’ll come with you,” said Praxis. “But only because I have nothing better to do. And as long as you don’t disturb the rest of my dinner.” He took a giant bite of his bread as if to punctuate the point.

Agemon rolled his eyes. “Eat to your heart’s content. You won’t bother me in the slightest.”

Agemon started a path to the outskirts of town, close to where the water lapped at the shore. It was near the place where Praxis had promised to meet Astara one evening, but where he’d ultimately ditched her.

At least she didn’t hold the grudge against him.

“So who is this patron that you’re taking me to see?” asked Praxis, just a step behind Agemon as they moved through rows of houses. It was easy to see that many of the people that lived here respected Agemon, for they moved out of his way whenever they saw him coming.

“Again, you don’t need to know that right now,” replied Agemon, his feet splashing through a puddle that had been made by spilled water. “My patron asked that I bring you to him but that I not answer your questions just yet.”

“If I was a betting man, I’d say that sounds like an ambush to me,” said Praxis. “You sure you’re not planning to make good on your humiliation from a few days ago? I can see a man like you wanting to get even, especially seeing as how the people respect you around here.”

Agemon looked back at him, his eyes narrowing. “I lost no respect whatsoever. If the prefect hadn’t interrupted the fight, you would have been a dead man!”

“And yet here I stand,” said Praxis, a smile growing on his face. “If you want to keep fighting, we can see to it that a prefect doesn’t interfere this time.”

“Tempting, very tempting,” replied Agemon. “But the wish of my patron is more important than my desire for a rematch. So I will do what needs to be done. He wishes to meet with you at sundown.”

“At sundown?” asked Praxis, looking at the night sky. “But that’s probably not for another hour. What are we to do until then?”

“Agemon, is that you?”

Both men were interrupted once they arrived at a very small house right on the edge of town. Outside was an older woman, one who had lost most of the color in her hair so that now it was only a pearly white. She was tiny in stature, and Praxis wagered that all of his battle armor probably weighed more than she did.

It wasn’t very long before he understood exactly who she was to Agemon.

“Grandmother, it is good to see you,” said the large Corinthian warrior as he scooped up the older woman in his arms.

She patted his stomach once the hug broke. “You’re getting too soft in your midsection, Agemon. Soon enough, you won’t inspire much fear in your enemies when they see how fat you’ve gotten.”

A smile broke out on Agemon’s face. “I will work on it, Grandmother. Too much bread will do that to a man.”

“It certainly will,” she said, nodding her head. “Just look at your father after all. Way too much bread and now he’s as doughy as the baker himself. Not a great way to live your life.”

It was at that point that she noticed Praxis there with him. “Who is this young man, Agemon? A friend of yours?”

Praxis leaned closer to Agemon. “I take it that she’s not your patron?”

“Not even close,” whispered Agemon before turning to look at her once more. “This is my friend from Argos, Praxis. We are going out drinking tonight.”

The older woman looked over Praxis twice before patting his stomach as well.

“Ah, nice and firm,” she said before looking back at her grandson. “You can learn a thing or two by looking at this man. His midsection is as hard as a shield.”

Agemon rolled his eyes, and Praxis could barely contain his laughter.

“I like you already,” he said to the older woman.

They spent nearly twenty minutes talking to her before saying goodbye, with Agemon the one in the most hurry to leave. That was understandable, as her way of showing love to him was to point out his flaws and how he could fix them. Agemon didn’t seem to take it too personally though, but it was the repeated comparisons to Praxis that seemed to have done the trick.

“I think I would marry that woman if she was about four decades younger,” said Praxis as they walked away. “She’s good for my ego.”

“And she’s terrible for mine,” replied Agemon as he patted his stomach. “I don’t look too soft, do I?”

Praxis winced. “I think she had a point about eating too much. You do look a little . . . doughy.”

Agemon grunted. “Doughy,” he muttered under his breath. “Horn of Hades!”

“You know, I still haven’t figured out why we’re sharing company tonight,” said Praxis as they started walking in the opposite direction. “And since your grandmother isn’t your patron, I’m thoroughly confused on where this is going.”

“We had time to kill and I don’t see her enough,” answered Agemon. “That was my way of killing two birds with one stone. Now that it’s late enough, it’s time to take you to my real patron.”

“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me who it is until we get there?” asked Praxis.

Agemon gave him a look that could only mean no.

“Very well,” said Praxis with a sigh. “But this better not take too long.”

Agemon led him to another house on the outskirts of town, where they entered through a backdoor, finding themselves in a kitchen. They kept moving, being the only two beings seemingly in the house until Agemon led him into the center courtyard, where someone was leaning up against one the columns.

That someone shocked the life out of Praxis when he finally greeted.

“So we meet at last, Praxis of Argos.”