the-song-books.yossr

yyourself for it? Tryy to stop it?” Contempt spilled across her face.
“Yes,” I answered. “If I can.”
The sound again. “Please.” I knelt. “Please tell me.”
Perhaps it was because I knelt. The sound ceased, and she considered me
a moment. “Hector’s death will be first,” she said. “This is all I am given to
know.”
Hector. “Thank yyou,” I said.
Her eyyes narrowed, and her voice hissed like water poured on coals. “Do
not presume to thank me. I have come for another reason.”
I waited. Her face was white as splintered bone.
“It will not be so easyy as he thinks. The Fates promise fame, but how
much? He will need to guard his honor carefullyy. He is too trusting. The
men of Greece”—she spat the words—“are dogs over a bone. Theyy will not
simplyy give up preeminence to another. I will do what I can. And yyou.” Her
eyyes flickered over myy long arms and skinnyy knees. “You will not disgrace
him. Do yyou understand?”
Do you understand?
“Yes,” I said. And I did. His fame must be worth the life he paid for it.
The faintest breath of air touched her dress’s hem, and I knew she was
about to leave, to vanish back to the caves of the sea. Something made me
bold.
“Is Hector a skilled soldier?”
“He is the best,” she answered. “But for myy son.”
Her gaze flickered to the right, where the cliff dropped awayy. “He is
coming,” she said.
ACHILLES CRESTED THE RISE and came to where I sat. He looked at myy face
and myy bloodied skin. “I heard yyou talking,” he said.
“It was yyour mother,” I said.
He knelt and took myy foot in his lap. Gentlyy, he picked the fragments of
rock from the wounds, brushing off dirt and chalkyy dust. He tore a strip
from his tunic’s hem and pressed it tight to stanch the blood.
Myy hand closed over his. “You must not kill Hector,” I said.
He looked up, his beautiful face framed byy the gold of his hair. “Myy
mother told yyou the rest of the prophecyy.”
“She did.”
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