Thief of Olympus (Greek Myth Series Book 3) (4 page)

“What are you going to do with me?” Her eyes conveyed the true question in her mind, as she looked once again toward the baby. She feared not for her own life, but for that of her son. A discovery that both surprised and pleased him. Mayhap what she’d said about not wanting to sacrifice the child was true.

He occupied the idea of keeping her at first, but then pushed the thought from his mind. She would be nothing but trouble. Her capture would lead to the Amazons coming to his door. He didn’t want that. And he did not want a wife. He didn’t need her now that he had his son. It pained him to answer her so coldly, but he was not about to let her know she had his insides quivering and his logic turning to nonsense at one slight touch of her lips against his own.

“I have what I came for, so I don’t need you anymore, Princess.”

He tucked the baby under his arm, mounted his horse, and headed for the castle. He could almost hear her nasty thoughts behind him, not to mention the scraping of her sword and the sound of her feet beating the ground as she ran after him. Without looking back, and with just a nod of his head, he instructed two of his guards to apprehend her. The sound of a struggle made him turn to watch. She fought them off, as well as the next four he’d sent in their place. It took six men simultaneously to retrieve her sword and hold her down. The woman wasn’t called an Amazon for nothing.

He jostled his son, trying to stop the crying, but the baby just wailed louder. Zarek knew nothing at all about babies, and his lack of experience showed.

“Not bad,” he told her with a raised brow, amused and amazed by her talents.

“I wish I could say the same for you.”

Her meaning was clear. He was an awful father, and everyone there could see it. Frustrated and impatient, he shifted the crying baby from one arm to the other, and then back again. The baby only continued to cry louder, which he didn’t think possible.

“I could stop him from crying instantly, if you would just let me hold him,” she said.

He almost fell for her antics until he saw the slight grin cross her face.

“I tire of this game,” he told her, not in the mood to lose his son again.

“What did you want us to do with her?” asked Zarek’s steward, Endre.

What to do, indeed. He knew naught what to do with an Amazon warrior, determined to retrieve the child he’d begot. If he left her outside the gate, she would only find a way in. With the baby crying and rattling his brain, he couldn’t think straight to make a sound decision.

“Should they bring her to the castle?” asked Daedalus.

Zarek couldn’t help but notice the look of hope upon Lysandra’s face. He had no other choice. She would be trouble anywhere he left her. At least if he knew where she was, he could keep her under control. And when the Amazons came to his door looking for her, he would hold her hostage to not only keep his son, but gain any riches they may have amongst them. This could work in his thieving favor after all.

“Aye,” he said with a nod of his head. “Bring her to the castle. But lock her in the dungeon and throw away the key.”

Five

Zarek paced the floor of his chamber with the crying baby thrown over his shoulder. He had tried everything to get his son to stop bawling, but to no avail. The baby would not take the goat’s milk he tried to give him from the gourd. He’d even changed the baby’s wet wrappings, getting sprayed in the process, but the crying continued.

Daedalus tinkered with something on the other side of the room, not at all bothered by the wailing which was so loud Zarek swore the sentries on the barbican must have heard it.

“Isn’t there something you can do about this infernal noise?” Zarek spoke loudly in order to be heard.

Daedalus looked up from whatever it was he was working on. “Babies cry,” he told him matter-of-factly. “’Tis something a parent just gets accustomed to after awhile.”

Zarek just shook his head. “Get accustomed to this?” he asked in astonishment. “Are you trying to tell me this isn’t going to stop any time soon?”

Daedalus picked up something off the table and walked over to join them. “Icarus used to like this when he was a baby.”

He held forward an odd-looking contraption with a long pole through the center. Sticking out from around it were smaller poles in all directions. Hanging from each end was an object such as a feather, a jester’s bell or a ribbon.

“What is this?” asked Zarek, shifting the child to his other arm, inspecting the man’s latest device.

“’Tis a mobile. It blows in the breeze and keeps the baby occupied by watching and grabbing for the objects. Try it.”

“There is no breeze in here,” Zarek grumbled. “And there is no way to hold it when I’m holding on to the baby.”

“Then take him for a walk out in the courtyard. I’ll make a head harness so you can wear the mobile and still hold on to the baby at the same time.”

Zarek had a hard time picturing himself, king of Thrace, walking through the courtyard with a contraption on his head and a wailing baby in his arms. He’d be the laughing stock of all Greece if he didn’t do something about this soon.

“Surely you can think of something more…suitable for a king? He held the baby in front of him, looking the crying child in the eye. “Mayhap I can take his mind off crying in a different manner.”

He threw the baby up in the air and caught it, trying to sound chipper and happy with gibberish words as he did so. The baby went up, and when it came back down into his hands, it spit up all over the front of his tunic.

Daedalus muffled his laugh with a forced cough, and turned away to get a rag with water from a nearby washbasin.

“I know not what you find so humorous, old man. There’s something wrong with the child, and I do not know how to fix it.”

“He’s probably hungry.” Daedalus held the wet rag up to the baby’s mouth. The infant suckled the rag, then in frustration balled up his tiny fists and started to scream again.

“Are you sure you cannot find a wet-nurse anywhere in the castle?” asked Zarek.

“I’ve tried, my lord. The wet nurse is visiting a neighboring village and won’t return until next week.”

“Well, why in Zeus’s name was she allowed to leave? Why didn’t I know anything about this?”

“Your steward gave her leave. There were no infants to suckle in the castle. If she didn’t find one to feed, she would have dried up.”

“Then find another. If this baby doesn’t stop crying soon - ”

“There are no others, King Zarek. The fact is already determined. We will have to think of something else. Perhaps if you tried the mobile?”

Zarek shoved the crying baby into Daedalus’s hands and used the rag to quickly wipe off his soiled tunic.

“You may try the mobile if you want,” he said. “I’ve got a better idea.” He made it to the door in three steps and pulled it open.

“But what do you plan on doing?” Daedalus asked, shaking the mobile in front of the baby, but only infuriating the child more.

“I’m doing what any desperate man on the brink of insanity would do.”

“And what is that?”

Zarek stormed out of the chamber as he spoke. “I’m going to get the baby’s mother.”

*  *  *

Lysandra chipped away at the cell wall with the back of the spoon she’d managed to hide from the guard who had collected up her dirty dishes from supper. Her Amazon survival instincts told her if she could just make a big enough hole in the wall, mayhap she could crawl through and escape. The wall was made of rotting wood, and piece by piece it crumbled in her fingers. There seemed to be a dirt barrier behind it which she tried desperately to claw her way through. Her hands were raw from digging, and her head ached from the assaulting smell of the dungeon. Rats occasionally nibbled at her toes, and had she her dagger, she would have skewed one of them for supper. ’Twould have been a fetching meal compared to what they’d served her. A continual dripping of what she hoped was water came from the ceiling above, hitting her on the head and sliding down her long strands of hair.

She managed to remove a piece of the wall big enough for her hand to fit through, and was just reaching through it when a voice startled her from outside the barred door.

“If you are trying to escape, don’t bother.”

She jumped up, dropping the spoon in the process. It fell from her hand against the bench with a clang. She turned to see Zarek, tired and wet, standing outside her cell door.

“Why?” she asked, brushing her dirtied hands on her skirt. “Don’t you think I can do it?”

“I think you’re capable of doing anything you put your mind to. However, there is no need to escape through the wall when I intend on taking you out through the door.”

He motioned with his head, and a guard unlocked the cell door. Lysandra stepped back as he entered. His tall form filled the entranceway, making her feel as if she had no air. Or mayhap it was because she was holding her breath. When she did breathe, she’d wished she hadn’t. A putrid smell, beyond the dungeon stench filled the air.

“What is that smell?” she asked, shifting and pulling her head back. “And why is your tunic all wet?”

“What you smell is the content of my son’s stomach. And my tunic is wet because he thought to grace me with not only one end, but also the other.”

She couldn’t help but smile. So the all-powerful King Zarek had been defeated by a mere baby. She could see the distress in his eyes. She could also see the frustration knitting his brow. He would not have come to her unless he was desperate. She had him in a situation where she held all the power.

“So, are you saying you need my help with the baby?”

“I am saying it would be wise to follow me to my chamber.”

He turned to leave, only stopping to look back when he discovered she hadn’t moved.

“I want a hot bath and a decent meal - not the wretched tasting slop you sent for me that you call food.”

“Fine. You’ll get your bath and meal.”

“I also want wine. The finest wine in the castle. And a change of clothes and - ”

“You will get whatever you need, now follow me.”

Nodding her head in approval, she followed him up the steps and down the hall to his chamber. She could hear her baby crying loudly from within. Her breasts swelled at the sound and she felt a wetness under her bodice as her body longed to feed her infant.

Zarek barged into the room, taking a direct route toward an old man who had the baby in his arms and a strange contraption upon his head. The man was singing gibberish severely out of tune, doing nothing to calm the baby. Zarek took the baby from him, holding him out to her. She retrieved him, and snuggled his small body to her chest. The baby’s mouth started sucking motions and she knew she had to feed him, but hesitated to do it with two men present. Zarek must have sensed her uneasiness, as he brought the man forward.

“This is Daedalus,” he introduced him. “He is my good friend and to be trusted.”

She did not answer.

“He has raised a son of his own,” Zarek told her, as if it would make a difference.

“I need some privacy to feed my baby.”

Zarek hesitated at first, but then nodded toward Daedalus.

“I understand,” said the man. “I am leaving.” He took the mobile from his head and placed it on the table before heading out the door. Zarek followed, but instead of leaving the room, he closed himself into the room with Lysandra.

“Why aren’t you leaving?” she asked.

“I see no need.” He walked over and poked at the fire on the hearth. “This is my chamber, and I will stay if I so choose.”

“Could it be you just don’t trust me? Afraid I may escape with my baby?”

He jabbed at the fire with a long pole, causing a log to fall and a loud pop to echo in the room. “My baby,” he corrected her. “And now that you mention it,” he put the poker down and turned to face her, “no I don’t trust you in the least.”

Lysandra ran a hand over her baby’s head, protecting him from the man who was his father. She didn’t trust him either, and he well knew it. She shouldn’t have been surprised he would not leave the room. But she would be surprised if he didn’t, after what she was about to do.

“Then stay if you must.” She slowly pulled one strap off her shoulder, exposing a bare breast. His eyes fastened upon it, just like she knew he’d do. His body stiffened, and she saw him swallow as he watched her. He wanted her, and the wanting in his eyes only made her wonder if she had done the right thing. She felt it too. Deep inside. She had the longing to be close to him. To be wrapped in his arms. His eyes on her body had her own eyes closing, her throat dry, her legs quivering under his perusal. She tried to remove his image from her mind, but couldn’t. If her Amazon sisters knew she was attracted to a man, a man she was supposed to hate, she would be brought before their queen and severely reprimanded.

Why was she feeling this way about King Zarek? She could not help but think of their coupling together. Neither could she help but want to do it again. Ever since that night, her dreams had been filled with a man she thought she despised. But the harder she fought her feelings, the stronger they became. This frightened her, and nothing ever frightened an Amazon warrior.

The baby whimpered, his little mouth moving in a rhythm that said he needed her. She put him to her breast and walked over to the bed, sitting down with her back toward Zarek.

He cleared his throat, and then she heard the iron pole he’d used for the fire fall to the floor as he fumbled with it once again. His soft curse under his breath led her to believe he’d been affected just as much as she.

“You will return to the dungeon after you’ve fed my son.”

A chill ran the length of her body at the coldness of his words. She didn’t turn to look at him. She did not want him to see the disappointment in her eyes. If he did, he would know he’d won this time around.

“You promised me a hot bath, good food and some wine.” She looked down at her baby as she spoke.

“And you’ll get all that. Just as soon as the baby is sleeping.”

“Then call for the pages to bring the tub, and the kitchen serf to bring the food and wine.” She pulled her clothing back into place and stood to face Zarek. “He is asleep.”

Zarek couldn’t believe his ears. Not only Lysandra’s proclamation that his son was already sleeping, but also the void of crying within his chamber. She was magic. She had managed to not only feed the baby, but also silence him and put him into a deep slumber in a matter of minutes. He had second thoughts about sending her back to the dungeon now. He had hoped she’d have the baby sleeping before the bath and food he’d ordered arrived, but he had no idea she would be so fast. Impressive to say the least. He had called for her needs to be met, and he knew the tub wouldn’t arrive for another half hour. The food, though, should be delivered at any moment.

“You are skilled with my son,” he said.

“My son,” she corrected, laying the sleeping baby on the bed, ignoring his compliment altogether. “And you will not refer to him as the baby, or your son, again. I have decided to name him.”

“Name him?” Her boldness never ceased to amaze him. Naming his child as if she had the right to. “He is my heir, and if anyone shall name him, ’twill be me.”

She crossed her arms, meeting his stare with her own. “I am his mother, and therefore I have already chosen his name. He will be named after me.”

“After you?” Zarek’s voice disturbed the baby and it started to stir. He looked over to the bed, holding his breath, knowing any moment the crying could be back. When the baby stopped stirring and lay still, he released his breath, silently reminding himself to be quiet. “How could you think I’d allow my son to have the name of a girl? Lysandra will not be his name.”

She smiled at that. A little, smirky, self-centered smile. Then she walked over to him and stood just before him as if to challenge his decision.

“Yes, but Lysander is a boy’s name. That is what he shall be called.”

“I am his father and I will name him. My son will someday take my place on the throne, therefore I am going to call him Zarek II.”

“One Zarek is enough. We don’t need another. Lysander would be a better name.”