Ares narrowed his dark eyes as I stopped short in front of them.
“Yes, daughter?” he demanded. “What is it? Is something wrong?”
I stared at him. He knew there was nothing wrong. But I could see that he didn’t want me here. That was interesting, as well.
“Of course not, father,” I assured him. “I simply wished for you to teach me the art of archery.”
My father watched me silently for a moment before he burst into laughter.
“You? Archery?” he laughed again and I felt my flush returning. So I wasn’t the most athletically inclined. There was no need to be mean about it.
“Yes,” I answered firmly. “You spend hours shooting and hunting with Ortrera, but never with me. I simply thought to spend quality time with my father doing something that he loves to do.” I pasted the best innocent expression that I could muster onto my face.
Turning the tables on Ares and making him feel guilty for something he hadn’t even done was always effective, as much as I hated to do it. It was a trick that my mother liked to use, not me. But I felt an incredible need to meet this man, this prince of Phoenicia. There was something about him, something oh-so-appealing.
“Your sister enjoys the hunt,” my father answered uncertainly. “I had no idea that you had an interest in it. By all means, daughter. We can start your lessons in the morn.”
“Oh.” My shoulder slumped. “I thought we could start now,” I stuttered. “I mean, you have your shooting equipment out here now and I’m here now so it just seemed convenient.” I shrugged as nonchalantly as I could.
“They are called bows, daughter, and yes, we do have them,” my father began, before he quickly narrowed his eyes again. “And yes. It does seem convenient. Too convenient. Come here.”
I eyed him as I walked forward. I wasn’t sure I liked the gleam in his eye.
“Come, daughter,” he motioned impatiently to a spot directly in front of him. “If you would like to learn to hunt, I have the perfect opportunity.”
I followed his gaze and found a majestic peacock preening his colorful iridescent feathers in the sun some fifty yards from us. I gasped and spun to look at my father.
“Surely you don’t intend for me to shoot that beautiful bird!” I cried before I could stop myself. “He’s not hurting us.”
My father gazed at me quietly, knowingly. “Do you not wish to hunt?”
He was calling me on my bluff. He knew it and I knew it. Apollo knew it. But Cadmus did not know it, because he didn’t know me. Yet.
I swallowed hard and forced out the hateful words.
“Yes. I’d like to learn to hunt.”
This time it was my father’s mouth that twitched but I ignored it as I positioned myself in front of him and he handed me the bow. Leaning forward, he adjusted my hands and offered me instruction.
“Pull back slowly and fluidly,” he advised. “Keep both eyes open.”
I automatically squinted one eye as I examined the bird in front of me.
“Keep one eye open,” Ares reminded me, his voice close to my ear. “Still your breathing. Focus. Don’t. Even. Blink.”
The bird continued to peacefully preen its feathers and I gulped as I eyed him. He wasn’t afraid. He had no idea that his life was almost at an end. He was calm and quiet and was simply enjoying the morning sun.
I took aim, my fingers shaking.
I squinted one eye, then quickly remembered and opened it.
I stared at the bird and gulped.
Then gulped again.
“I don’t want to do this,” I told Ares quietly. When he didn’t respond, I whirled, the bow still in my hands. “I don’t want to do this. That poor bird has never done anything to me.”
But in my inexperience, I accidentally released the arrow from the bowstring. With a whistle, the arrow whizzed directly past my father and impaled itself in Cadmus’ strong thigh. He dropped to the ground like a stone, his hands gripping the bloody arrow embedded in his flesh.
To his credit, Cadmus didn’t yell and he didn’t curse. Instead, he looked at me with calm, dark eyes.
“And what, pray tell, did I do?”
Chapter Two
“I’m so sorry,” I told Cadmus for the five-hundredth time. “Truly, truly sorry. Deeply sorry.”
I knelt next to him as Apollo helped him pull the arrow from deep within his thigh. I cringed at the strange popping sound that his bone made when the arrow was dislodged and I could feel the tears forming in my eyes. I had done this to him. All because I wanted to meet him.
“Harmonia,” my father admonished me. “Get off your knees. I do not wish your mother to see you kneeling next to a slave. He’ll be fine. It’s but a flesh wound.”
I could feel Cadmus staring at my father before I could even see it.
“A flesh wound?” Cadmus asked incredulously. “Your daughter’s arrow was embedded in my bone. That’s hardly a flesh wound.” He turned to me. “But your father is right. I’m fine.”
Ares laughed. “Stop being an infant, slave. I’ve suffered worse wounds than this while shaving in the morning.”
Apollo and Ares laughed together and I crouched by Cadmus’ side, ignoring them.
“Truly, I’m sorry,” I said again, as I picked up his bloody hand. “Very, very sorry.”
Cadmus stared at me, his gaze the color of rich chocolate.
“I’m alright,” he repeated. “Truly. You do not need to keep apologizing. You meant no harm. You didn’t even wish to harm the bird. I know that you didn’t wish to harm me.”
I shook my head in agreement. “No, I did not. I simply wanted to meet you.”
His eyes widened in surprise at my honesty. “Meet me?”
I nodded without saying a word.
“I saw you from my balcony and I wanted to meet you.”
His cheek was smeared with his own blood, but it didn’t detract from his beauty as he smiled. “Well, here we are then. My name is Cadmus.”
“I’m Harmonia,” I murmured, mesmerized by his dark gaze. He had to be in so much pain, but he was effortlessly hiding it.
“Yes, she is Harmonia,” Ares muttered. “And she is my daughter. Don’t even think about it, slave.”
Cadmus barely glanced at Ares. Instead, he kept his gaze on me. It pierced me with its intensity.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Harmonia.”
“The pleasure is mine,” I answered softly.