Looking back on it, Praxis should have realized he wasn’t going to get out of this situation so easily. The question shouldn’t have come as such a surprise but he still found himself with his jaw open moments after Lysandra asked it.

“You can close your mouth now and answer the question,” she teased, still using her finger to trace around his nipple.

Praxis did just that but the words were still struggling to form. At this point, he knew there was no point in lying.

Somehow, Lysandra knew about Astara and she had him cornered.

“How did you know?” he asked finally, his voice nothing but a low whisper.

Lysandra struggled. “It’s not that hard to see. You were both looking at each other a great deal today, and none of those looks were happy ones. At several times, you were even staring at her. You never looked more distressed than when someone brought up your brother’s wedding tomorrow, and eventually I just put two and two together.”

Praxis brought a hand to his forehead. “Well, you have the gist of it. There’s not much more to say than that.”

Lysandra wasn’t done yet. “So was she the woman in Corinth? The one that got away?”

Praxis nodded silently.

“Hmm,” replied Lysandra as her fingers finally settled on his chest. “You’re in quite the predicament, aren’t you? Your brother is marrying someone you love. And I remember from the fight that one night before your exile just how you feel about your brother.”

“Rub it in even more, will you?” joked Praxis sourly. “I don’t even want to think about the situation, let alone Xanthos. It makes a bad situation ten times worse.”

“Not to mention, it puts into question what we’re doing,” said Lysandra, giving him the fateful words.

Praxis closed his eyes tightly, knowing this had to be coming. This was the part where Lysandra left his bed for the last time, where she would get dressed in a hurry and walk out of his life forever. She might even be saving up to unload on him, showing a fiery temper that would match the color of her hair.

And yet, it never came. Lysandra didn’t move, and when he opened his eyes again, he found her staring back at him.

“I just want to ask you one thing,” she whispered. “When you’re with me here, in bed, are you imagining that I’m her? Do you see her whenever I’m here?”

There was a shocking amount of vulnerability to her words that Praxis didn’t expect. It took a level of bravery to ask that question, and Praxis found that he was impressed by her candor and her guts in asking it.

And since the theme of the night was honesty, he decided to give a genuine answer.

“No, I don’t,” he replied, staring back at her. “When I’m with you, I’m really with you. I picture you when we have sex. Though she does trouble me greatly, it’s not hard to push it away when I’m with you, or whenever you show me that gorgeous body you have.”

It was the total truth, and Lysandra was happier for it. A coy smile began to form on her perfectly pink lips, and once more, her hand began to trace circles around his chest.

“You’re just saying that,” she playfully accused.

Praxis held up his hand. “By the gods, I swear it. Horn of Hades, I only picture you when we’re in bed.”

She poked him. “I’m just teasing you but thank you. It’s an insecurity of mine, the thought that . . . well, never mind. That’s a story for another day.”

For the briefest of moments, Lysandra looked actually troubled. More troubled to even find out about Astara. There was a history of darkness in her words, one that wasn’t going to be easily uncovered. Praxis took that information and filed it away, waiting for another time to open it.

Lysandra took a deep breath. “As long as you’re present when you’re with me, this news about Astara doesn’t bother me. In fact, I think it’s rather endearing.”

Now that was certainly a surprise. Praxis’ eyes went wide.

“Endearing?” he repeated. “That’s not what I expected you to say.”

Lysandra started to laugh. “What did you expect me to say?”

“Honestly? I half expected you to tell me we wouldn’t sleep together again. Or that you was pissed at me.”

Lysandra shrugged. “I’m not pissed at you. After all, I’ve seen Astara before. She’s beautiful. Probably the most gorgeous woman in the entire city. Yes, I could choose to be jealous but I think you’d have a harder time finding a man in the city who didn’t think she was beautiful.”

“Yeah, but I slept with her,” said Praxis, not knowing when to stop. “And I did it since we’ve been together.”

“But we’re not together,” stressed Lysandra, gesturing between them. “Yes, we have sex and yes, I think we’re becoming good friends, but it’s not like I’m your woman, right? We are not at that point in our relationship.”

Praxis hadn’t expected that, although it was true what she was saying. Neither of them had defined exactly what they were besides the occasional bedmate. Perhaps that’s why he was getting off so lightly.

“The biggest thing for me was knowing whether or not she had you completely,” continued Lysandra. “You have feelings for her, but if they were overwhelming, we’d not be in bed together. That to me represents that whatever it is we’re doing together, it has a chance. I don’t know what it’ll become and you probably don’t either, but it tells me that this is still worth investing my time in. Does that make sense?”

In a way, it did.

“So you want to keep doing this?” he asked, gesturing between them.

Lysandra giggled and nodded. “I do. Do you?”

“I do,” he answered, meaning every word. “This might have been one of the weirdest conversations I’ve ever had, but I’d be a complete fraud if I said I didn’t enjoy my time with you.”

She leaned in closer to kiss him. “Likewise. Just promise me one thing—if you ever find yourself picturing another woman while we do it, tell me so that we can end it quickly. But as long as you’re still in this, we’ll keep going to see how far this journey will take us. Deal?”

“Deal,” replied Praxis, finding the terms easy. Perhaps even easier than he expected. “What should we do to seal our arrangement?”

Lysandra grinned wickedly as she threw her leg across his lower half. “I know just the thing!”

*****

The next morning, Praxis made his way to the center of the city early as the feast entered its second day. Today, he was carrying trays of food at the direction of his mother, making several trips from the palace in order to feed all the Argives.

He wasn’t alone either. Lysandra was nearly in his shadow as well, and every time he looked at her, she had a knowing smile—a smile that said she was now comfortable with their arrangement.

Surprisingly enough, he was comfortable with it as well. It made a lot of the guilt go away knowing that she was fully aware of the Astara situation and she still wanted to be with him. It even made seeing Astara easier than it otherwise would have been.

The double life he felt he was living had been thoroughly smashed through.

Even if he wanted to focus on Lysandra or Astara, the day was too busy to spare a thought for them. Most of the preparations for that afternoon concerned the wedding, which was going to be an event the entire city was going to witness. Thankfully, Praxis managed to get out of doing much for the wedding itself, choosing to focus on the other aspects of the feast, but it was Theron who brought up a sensitive topic as crunch time neared.

“You have a way of waiting until the last second to make your move,” said Theron as they moved through the city.

Praxis gave him an odd look. “What do you mean?”

He gestured to the base of the Aspida Hill, where a small altar could be found for the wedding. “You told me you were going to marry that girl one day, remember? About Astara? And she’s only an hour away from marrying your stepbrother. The way I see it, you only have an hour to save face or she’s going to be lost to you.”

Praxis took a deep breath and nodded his head. “It’s a lot more complicated than that. There’s nothing I can do about Astara today.”

Theron let out a low whistle. “That’s a shame to lose a woman like that. Especially to someone like Xanthos. Not only do I feel bad for you, but I feel bad for her too.”

Theron had a point. Xanthos wasn’t known for having the kindest heart, something that Astara had already learned from when he struck her father.

Just like I did. I hit her father too.

The thought wasn’t pleasant but neither was the thought of her being tethered to Xanthos forever. But what exactly could he do about it?

“I ought to dash in there, toss her over my shoulder, and then marry her before he can,” said Praxis boldly. “That would be my own shot.”

Theron started to chuckle. “A short-lived shot that would be too. Because you and I both know that your stepfather would kill you for it. You’d never be allowed to stay in Argos if you did that.”

Praxis sighed. “You’re right, of course. But the idea looked a lot better in my mind.”

“They often do. They often do, Praxis.”

The two men continued to watch as a small team led by Eulalia arrived at the altar to prepare for the last-minute arrangements. The wedding kicked off in earnest a short while later, where Xanthos and Astara were united in the eyes of the gods.

Praxis stared more at the ground than he did at the ceremony, not wanting to see his woman being given to another man. At least Astara didn’t look happy at the wedding either.

In fact, she looked positively miserable at the idea of being married to Xanthos.

It was only this small victory that gave Praxis any kind of hope.

Later on, the city was still celebrating the feast when a runner arrived with important news. Praxis could tell it was important by the way people hushed when the runner walked through the crowds, and low murmurs were already beginning to be heard about the nature of the news.

“What’s this about?” asked Theron, watching the man assume the head of the city square.

They all found out moments later when the runner bellowed out the news.

“Corinth has left the alliance she had with Sparta! Corinth is no longer in the Peloponnesian League!”

The city nearly exploded with chatter as the news disseminated throughout the crowd.

“Corinth will bring down the fury of the Spartans!”

“What are they thinking? They can’t stand on their own?”

“What does it mean for us? Maybe the Spartans won’t attack Argos after all?”

“Are you kidding? They’ll attack both of us!”

Even Theron looked at Praxis for his interpretation of the news. “What do you think this means?”

Praxis locked eyes with his friend. “It means war is coming.”