It was all Praxis could do not to stare at Astara as she took her place at the family table. Xanthos continued to speak about . . . something. Praxis could see his mouth moving but couldn’t decipher the words that were coming out.

Even Astara looked upset. She wouldn’t even meet his gaze but even just in a larger sense, she didn’t seem pleased to be at their table at all.

“And with the union of our great families, we’ll provide the leadership stock for Argos for many years to come,” finished Xanthos before leaning down to kiss his new wife.

Astara looked disgusted as their lips touched. So too did Melitta at seeing her husband kiss another woman. At least there was one other person at the table who understood how Praxis felt.

For the next forty-five minutes, just about everyone at the table took their turn at welcoming Astara to the family. Praxis was noticeably silent, still trying to digest this momentous change to his life.

He’d known that Xanthos was courting Astara but he hadn’t figured anything would come of it, not when she was so disgusted by him that she couldn’t even stand to be near him. And then there was the business with her father—the same business that had tanked Astara’s relationship with Praxis.

Just what was going on? How did she have such a sudden change of heart? Or was there something else to blame?

Praxis didn’t get the chance to confront her until after dinner. He waited until she was alone and then grabbed her by the wrist, leading her to an empty room. Once the door was shut, he could only stare at her while Astara could only look guilty.

Praxis ran his fingers through his hair. “Horn of Hades, Astara, I don’t even know where to begin with you. I don’t even know what question to ask. What? How? Why? They’re all relevant to the situation!”

Instead of getting angry as he expected, Astara actually looked embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, Praxis,” she said, lowering her eyes. “I didn’t know how to tell you without hurting you. I know this isn’t what you wanted—”

“Hera’s fiery ass, it’s not what either of us wanted,” he interrupted. “Don’t you remember what you told me? You’d never marry him! But that’s gone out the window!”

“I didn’t have a choice!” she insisted. “My father is the one who went through with the final arrangements. He did it after he discovered us!”

“What?” asked Praxis, astounded. “He said he wasn’t going to retaliate if we stopped seeing each other and we have.”

Astara chewed on her lower lip. “Yeah, well, he does what he wants. He’s always been like that. The next morning, the only thing he would tell me is that he intended to marry me off to Xanthos as soon as we arrived back in Argos. There was to be no debate about it. It was a done deal.”

“But that’s madness, Astara. You don’t love him. You don’t even want to be in the same room with him.”

“What I want has nothing to do with this,” she said softly. “My father is determined that I’m punished for what we’ve done and this is the result. In a way, I guess it’s not terribly bad. I had a feeling I was going to be assigned to marry him anyway. This only sped up the time frame a little.”

“So you’re not going to fight this?” he asked incredulously. “You’re just going to let this happen?”

Astara gave him an almost pitiful look. “That’s not how things work and you know it. Either way, I’m going to be Xanthos’ wife. It’s just another reason why we can’t be together. Once I get married, that’s it. I’ll be his wife for the rest of our lives.”

“And you’ll be miserable for the rest of your life,” corrected Praxis. “You have another option.”

“No, I really don’t, Praxis,” she said as she stepped back toward the door. “We can’t meet like this anymore, Praxis. It would look bad if anyone in either of our families found us like this. Like I told you earlier today at the market, just let me go.”

With those last words, she slipped out of the room and made her exit, leaving him feeling awkward and empty. Of all the futures he envisioned that contained Astara, none of them were as wrong as her being married to Xanthos. Somewhere above him, the gods were having a great laugh at his plight, but none more so than Apollo, his family’s chief god.

The god of unhappy love affairs had struck again, and this one hurt more than all the previous ones combined.

*****

For the next hour, Praxis moped around the palace with nothing to occupy his thoughts. He didn’t know what to do about Astara that would move his case forward without imploding both families as a result. Even as he had wild notions of challenging Xanthos to a fight to the death regarding her, he knew that there were parts of his body that still had Lysandra’s scent and juices upon it.

He felt like a hypocrite and a fool at the same time.

Even his mother had noticed something was up. Though Praxis wouldn’t tell her about his Corinthian sojourn with Astara, her motherly intuition seemed to pick up on the fact that something was wrong.

“Don’t worry, my son,” she said, hugging him to her chest. “Everything will work out like it’s supposed to. Just trust the gods.”

It was the last thing he wanted to hear at that moment but then again, he knew there would be nothing in the way of good news regarding Astara anytime soon.

However, his mother did remind him of one thing. Damian had set aside a brief window of time to meet privately with him after the dinner, and if he didn’t hurry, he was going to miss his chance. Praxis put aside all his feelings at that moment and arrived at his stepfather’s study prepared to discuss the nature of an alliance with Corinth.

Like usual, his stepfather greeted his arrival with his usual warmth.

“I expected you right after dinner,” said Damian, not looking up from his desk. “For someone who was so desperate to talk to me, you haven’t made good use of your time.”

“I got hung up after dinner,” said Praxis, being totally honest but intentionally vague. “In any event, do you still have time for me?”

“I suppose,” replied Damian as he leaned back in his chair and centered his gaze on Praxis. “So what is it that you needed to tell me so bad? What news do you bring from Corinth? I take it this is about Corinth, right?”

Praxis nodded. “It’s about Cypselus of Corinth more specifically. I met with him shortly after I arrived in the city.”

Damian made a face that told Praxis this wasn’t going to go well right from the start. “And what did that creature have to say? That’s the man that overthrew Telestes, don’t you know? He’s hardly good company.”

Praxis chose to ignore that statement, not wanting to start a fight before he’d even made the request.

“Cypselus asked me to give you a message in confidence,” replied Praxis. “And seeing what happened here with the Spartans, he thought it might fall upon friendly ears.”

Now Damian’s curiosity was showing. “What do you mean? Does he have a way to get me into the Spartan alliance?”

Praxis shook his head. “Quite the opposite actually. He wanted to know if Argos was interested in joining Corinth in an anti-Spartan alliance. One that would provide an alternative to Spartan domination of the Peloponnese.”

Damian’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m very serious, Stepfather. Cypselus is looking for new allies. He’s found the Spartan alliance to be too restrictive and troublesome for his city. He ejected the garrison as the first phase of his plan.”

“He ejected the garrison?” repeated Damian. “What madness is this? The Spartans will invade Corinth now! He just signed a death sentence for his entire city.”

“Potentially not, if they were to find a receptive ally,” continued Praxis. “Argos is one option while another option is Messenia.”

Damian now snorted as he started to laugh. “Messenia? Blessed Demeter, boy, you have no head for politics.”

Damian pushed out of his seat and approached the front of his desk. “Everyone knows that King Nicomedes of Messenia doesn’t enter alliances. If Cypselus is placing all his hope in Messenia, he’ll be disappointed. It’s a fool’s wish.”

“What about us then?” countered Praxis, feeling the heat rise to his face. “We are hardly in a good position either. You turned the Spartans down and they will see that as a threat against them. It only makes sense for us to look for another potential ally.”

Damian sneered at him. “And we would find it with Corinth? They are the weakest of the great cities of the Peloponnese. My best advice to them is to roll over on their backs like docile puppies once the Spartans arrive. It’s the only way they’ll prevent any bloodshed.”

“Would you have us do the same thing?” shot Praxis. “Would you have all of us live a slave’s life instead of a free one? Would you leave us constantly at the mercy of the Spartans?”

“Watch your tone, boy,” growled Damian. “You’re dealing with matters you know nothing about. I can only hope you gave no assurances to Cypselus while you were there.”

“I told him nothing except that I would talk to you.”

“At least you still have some sense in you.”

Damian crossed around to sit in his chair once more. “The answer is no. I will enter no alliances against Sparta. I’m already walking a fine line right now. I don’t need any rumors or agitations about an anti-Spartan alliance to reach their ears. They’ll invade us for sure.”

Praxis wasn’t done yet. “But what about—”

“No, I’ve given you my answer,” snapped Damian. “And I don’t want to hear any more of this foolishness. You can tell Cypselus good luck—he’s going to need it. Otherwise, there will be no alliance, I repeat, no alliance with Corinth.”

Praxis felt like bashing his head against the wall. After a day like today, when nothing had seemingly gone to plan, this was fitting news to match.

There was no wisdom in challenging Damian’s ruling. The man had already made up his mind, and continuing the argument now would only see severe consequences for Praxis. He turned his shoulders and made for the door.

“One more thing,” called out Damian, forcing Praxis to turn again.

Damian gave him a glare full of contempt. “I have my spies and my contacts everywhere in the city, Praxis. There’s not much that occurs here without me knowing it. To that end, I want to make sure we are very clear that you are to keep the peace with Xanthos now that you’re back in the city. I want no repeats of what happened a couple weeks ago. Do you understand?”

Praxis didn’t say a word. Instead, he only nodded his acknowledgment.

Damian wasn’t done yet.

“And that extends to his lovely new wife,” said Damian, his knowing eyes locked on Praxis. “You will not go near that girl. If I hear one word that you spoke to her without Xanthos around, I will exile you from the city for good. Are we clear?”

At that moment, Praxis was confused. How did Damian know about Astara? How much did he know? And did Xanthos know?

Praxis was tongue-tied in his response. “Wha—how do—I mean why do you say that?”

Damian shook his head. “Don’t worry about that. You stay away from Astara though. I will cast you out of Argos for good if I catch you around her. Now get out of my study.”

Praxis barely felt the door close behind him.

How could one day have screwed up his life so badly? And how could he even attempt to fix it now?