The loss of Astara hit him like nothing else had before.

Praxis was barely able to sleep the rest of the night after the fight with her father, when he’d absconded with his daughter back to their house. The fight had been short and ugly, and Praxis had certainly taken a beating for their transgressions. He had several bruises and even a nasty cut on the side of his face where her father drew blood after one quick jab.

Despite the beatings, he never should have hit back. It was instinct alone that prevented him from taking blows without offering a strike of his own, but it was that hit on her father’s face that changed everything.

Not to mention, Astara wouldn’t even look at him as she was spirited away. Their relationship seemed to be irreparably damaged.

The next morning, a sore and tired Praxis dragged himself out of bed and left the inn in search for breakfast. He stayed clear of the market, not wanting to chance a sight of Astara or her family. He ended up getting bread from one of the stalls near the outskirts of town, always a risky proposition since all the best bakers were near the market.

Predictably, the bread tasted just like he imagined it would. Praxis ended up throwing half of it away.

After breakfast, he returned to the inn due to the chance that Astara might return. Long after the time she usually showed up, he finally gave up and realized that she wasn’t coming.

And there was a chance she might never come again.

It was that admission that hurt more than most.

Instead of dwelling in his pity, Praxis left the inn and walked to the other side of the city, where he could see the waters of the isthmus. He sat down on the edge of the cliff overlooking the waters, watching as several small ships made their way to the harbor. He never felt more alone than at that moment.

Astara was gone, and he was in a city where he practically had no one.

Even back in Argos, he didn’t have many people he could count on. There was his mother, of course, but apart from her he had Theron, who was like a brother to him. His mind turned to Lysandra, and he wondered how she was doing right now. He hated to say that he’d rarely thought about her when things were good with Astara, and part of him questioned whether he was only thinking about the fiery redhead now that Astara was gone.

“There you are. I’ve been looking over half the blessed city for you.”

Praxis jumped at the sound of the sudden voice, finding Agemon strolling in his direction. The big Corinthian looked extremely happy today as he moved to sit down next to him.

“You’ll never believe what I did this morning,” said Agemon, jamming his thumb back into his chest. “Guess who talked to Cora!”

Praxis turned his head suddenly. “Who?”

“Cora! Remember? The girl I talked to you about yesterday? The one from the market?”

Praxis gave him a knowing look once his memory was jogged. “Oh, that Cora. You talked to her? Really?”

That seemed like a big surprise. Agemon looked like he’d rather crawl through his own shit than speak to the girl that had so captured his attention.

The big warrior grinned with pride. “I did! I saw her this morning, moving through the market as I was looking for you, I might add. And I don’t know what it was. Something just struck me but I talked to her. I really did it!”

Praxis broke into a smile. “What did you say? Did you get to know her?”

“I’ll tell you exactly what I said,” replied Agemon, using his hands in dramatic fashion. “I waltzed right up to her and I said . . .” The big warrior took a breath. “Hi. I said hi.”

Praxis started to chuckle. “And? What came next?”

Agemon blinked. “Well, she said hello back.”

There was a silence that developed right after that, which only made things more humorous.

“And did you two say anything more than just hello?” asked an amused Praxis.

Some color filled Agemon’s face. “Well, at that moment, no. She was moving too quickly, you see. The moment ended before I could get another word out. But I said hello! And she said it back. I think that’s a considerable amount of progress, don’t you?”

Praxis could barely keep a straight face. “You don’t have a lot of skill with women, do you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Oh, yes. But I’m happy for you. At least somewhere out there, Cora now knows that Agemon exists,” joked Praxis. “And that he once said hello to her in the market.”

Agemon grinned. “Next time, I will ask for her name just like you told me yesterday. I will be making slow and steady progress!”

“Horn of Hades, I wish you luck,” replied Praxis. “I only wish I shared your optimism for the opposite sex right now. It seems while your fortunes have prospered, mine have been left in the dirt.”

“Have a fight with your woman last night? Say something she didn’t like?”

“To say the least,” grumbled Praxis. “And now I fear our fling is over.”

“What did you say?”

“It’s not so much what I said but rather who found out about us together. In our case, it was her father finding out.”

“Ouch,” said Agemon, wincing at the statement. “I’m guessing the father doesn’t like you?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“I have an idea,” said Agemon, thinking it over for a moment. “I will find out if Cora has a sister that we can set you up with. What do you think about that? That would make us as close as brothers!” Agemon elbowed Praxis in the side several times, the grin never leaving his face.

Praxis couldn’t help but laugh. “You are a good friend, do you know that? I never would have thought after our first encounter that you and I would be sitting here like this. But then again, stranger things have happened.”

“And you’re not bad either,” replied Agemon. “Especially for an Argive!”

Praxis snorted. “It’s funny to me. You’re one of the only people who will call me an Argive. Even my own people call me foreigner, often to my face. It’s ironic that I find the acceptance that I’m looking for amongst a different people.”

“So you did not grow up in Argos? Where are you from then?”

Praxis shrugged. “My father wasn’t from Argos. I grew up in the city with my mother but I do not know what became of my father. I’m not sure if he’s alive or dead, and my mother refuses to talk about him. He left so long ago that most people in Argos never knew him and those that did refuse to speak of him because of my mother. I’m trapped between a rock and a hard place.”

“Perhaps you will find him someday,” said Agemon. “Maybe he is still living. That would certainly be interesting, no? I’d imagine you’d have many things to ask him.”

“Many things indeed,” grumbled Praxis, as the questions started to form inside his mind.

Why did you abandon your family?

Where did you go?

Why were we not enough for you?

He sighed after pushing them from his thoughts. Agemon noticed and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Come, the hot part of the day is approaching. We should get some rest and then prepare to take our positions later this afternoon to take down the Spartan.”

Praxis nodded and let himself be walked back toward the city. He parted ways with Agemon and saw that the big man was nearly skipping back to his house after the excitement of this morning. Praxis could only hope that he could feel that way about a woman again.

He skirted the edge of the market again just to play it safe and then he started moving down a side street with little activity. It was as he was turning a corner that he nearly bumped into a woman with dark hair, and he had to do a triple-take once he saw who it was.

It was Astara.

Her eyes got big once she saw it was him, and she seemed to be almost paralyzed standing in front of him. Like her, Praxis didn’t know what to do or to say. Memories of the previous night assaulted him at that moment, and he found himself tongue-tied and confused.

In his hesitation, Astara’s gaze hardened and she moved to slip past him without a word. It was only once Praxis grabbed her wrist that she stopped, but the look she hit him with next was more like a glare.

“Let me go, Praxis,” she said firmly, her words seeming to mean two things at once.

“Wait, can’t we just talk?” he asked but it was too late. She’d already wiggled out of his grasp.

“We have nothing to say to each other,” she said quickly. “My father could see us at any moment!”

“We have plenty to say to each other,” he replied. “I’m sorry about last night. I don’t know how he found us or how it had to devolve to that point.”

Astara crossed her arms in front of her chest. She opened her mouth several times to say something before she finally yanked him to a more concealed alley so they could talk privately.

“You broke my father’s nose,” she said finally. “You hit him hard enough to break the bone.”

“It wasn’t my intention, I promise you. He wouldn’t stop hitting me and I had to end it. I didn’t mean to—”

“Maybe you didn’t,” she interrupted. “But what is done is done. You hit him in the face. Don’t you remember what I told you about Xanthos? What did he do that so upset me? Can you remember?”

Praxis’ heart sank as he remembered that conversation. “He struck your father too,” he muttered.

Astara nodded. “And now you’re no better than him.”

“Wait just a moment,” said Praxis, now getting angry. “I had to do something in self-defense. You don’t think I’m just going to keep letting him hit me, do you? What I did, and what Xanthos did, are two completely different things!”

Astara shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, Praxis. I’m never going to be able to get that image out of my head. And maybe you have a point but the only point that matters is this—you were right. We shouldn’t have done what we did. We shouldn’t have been seeing each other or carrying on a relationship in secret. It was wrong of us. We were irresponsible and naïve.”

“Those words sound like they first came out of your father’s mouth,” said Praxis, which only served to harden her glare.

“Maybe he has a point! Maybe we should’ve listened! I’m not naive enough to put the blame on you. I take the blame for what I did. But it cannot be. This cannot be,” she said, gesturing between them. “It was nice while it lasted but it was just a dream. And now we have to wake up and get back on with our lives.”

“Just like that?” he asked, his anger still boiling below the surface. “When I told you that it was dangerous, it didn’t matter, but when your father does, now all of a sudden we can’t see each other? Despite the way we feel about each other?”

“I don’t feel any sort of way for you, Praxis,” she whispered.

The words nearly broke his heart. To hear Astara saying that she had no feelings for him was one of the biggest shocks of his life.

How many times did she talk about keeping their affair secret when they got back to Argos? Was it not she that devised a way they could see each other in the city once they got back, courtesy of her friend’s house?

Was it also not Astara who whispered loving things in his ear during and after coupling?

Who was this emotionless woman in front of him?

“You don’t mean that,” he whispered in return.

“I do mean it,” she replied, her force more firm. “I don’t want to see you anymore.”

Praxis whipped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. Their lips mashed together for the briefest of moments before her arms pushed him away.

“No!” she yelled, putting distance between them. “We’re over! No more, Praxis! I don’t want to see you anymore!”

Before he could respond, she stormed away, leaving him in the dust.

Just like that, his whirlwind relationship with Astara was over.