By Helen's Hand (Helen of Sparta Series) by Amalia Carosella

Author:Amalia Carosella [Carosella, Amalia]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
ISBN: 9781503933484
Published: 2016-05-09T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

PARIS

He stumbled back, shaking his head. Hermes chuckled, the god’s firm hand falling hard upon his shoulder to hold him when he might have preferred to flee. “Steady, young Paris. Do not let your courage fail you now.”

These goddesses sought to bribe him, and Paris found himself sorely tested by their gifts, but they had chosen him for his judgment, and if he made his decision this way, based only upon what they offered, he would know he had failed.

Helen of Sparta.

To know her name after so many years dreaming only of her face—did Aphrodite realize how she tempted him? Did she know how many nights he had lain awake, thinking of her soft, chaste kiss?

“What of her hero?” he asked, in spite of himself. “What of the man who guarded her, who sought to keep her hidden? The Athenian.”

Aphrodite gave a little flick of her shoulder, her hair darkening once more to auburn and her still-naked body returning to its natural form. Gods above, she was beautiful. Her breasts two ripe apples, a perfect handful each, and the quirk of her lips, full and red, begging to be kissed. But not as beautiful as Helen. And now that he had seen her face again, her body bared, he could not forget, could not force her from his thoughts.

“Theseus,” Athena said, her eyes suddenly hard, cutting to Aphrodite as sharply as any blade. “Helen was taken from his care. My sister betrayed him, and though he may yet return from the house of Hades, it will be some time before he recovers his strength, if at all. Beware, young Paris, or you will find your own future turned to ruin at my sister’s hand.”

He closed his eyes, struggling to keep his thoughts in order. Helen was no longer safe, no longer protected. The man she had loved could no longer care for her, and she was no longer Helen of Athens, as she ought to have been known; she was Helen of Sparta now.

Helen of Sparta, and his if he desired her. Promised by the goddess of love herself. And with such a promise, he need not fear that she would not want him. Surely the goddess would not be so cruel as that—to give him her body, but not her heart?

No.

He lifted his gaze to the goddesses, all three watching him too closely. Did they read his thoughts? He did not know, could not think of that now. He could not think of the prizes they had offered him at all, though it was impossible to give up the vision of Helen completely, and perhaps it was not so wrong to hold her in his thoughts, for with her beauty bright and blinding in his mind, surely he would be more able to judge.

“Choose, Paris,” Hermes said. “Zeus, king of gods, lord of Olympus, demands it.”

Paris straightened, focusing on Athena, with her words of warning, and Hera beside her, all pride and splendor, queen of all women.

“My ladies,

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