“How did you know it was here?” he asked as he rolled to a stop, waiting for traffic to clear.
“I just knew.” It seemed the most truthful answer. Yes, the piece of jet made me wonder about it all. The story the curator in the museum told me had me researching a little deeper, but it had come down to my gut. Just like in Turkey.
Just like the Lighthouse.
“And did you see…” He trailed off then cleared his throat. “Everything? Did you see what I saw?”
“Yes.”
From my spot behind the passenger’s seat, I could see him nod and swallow hard. He pushed his wet hair out of his face and nodded again.
“And you’re friends now?” I asked. “You and Achilles. You don’t hold it against each other for…you know.”
Achilles snorted. “Killing me? No. I had it coming. After what I did.”
Kill Hector.Achilles had killed Hector in battle, but his treatment of the prince, during and after Hector’s death, was the stuff of epic poems.My rage, my fury would drive me now to hack your flesh away and eat you raw – such agonies you have caused me.
Iliadquotes flooded my brain, but putting a question together in some semblance of English was proving to be difficult. My thoughts lingered on Achilles’ answer.After what I did…and again, I was overwhelmed with the knowledge that this was Achilles.
TheAchilles. AndtheParis.
I could be faced with a dozen celebrities and I would elbow them in the boobs to get to these two. Who really, truly existed.
Paris didn’t stop in Whitby. He drove through the town, headed southwest. Back to the cottage on the moors and Hector, Pollux, and Orestes?
A sliver of unease replaced my wonder. They would know I lied to them.
I hadn’t gone back to Oxford. I’d tricked them.
“Do they know?” I asked.
“What?” Achilles asked. “That you lied about going to Oxford? Or that you lied about not looking for the seal? Or that you lied about—”
“You’re one to talk. Do you remember when you tried to throw me off a train yesterday? That was fun. That breeds confidence.”
“I was the one to do it, though. Not the others. And it was them you lied to.” His counter argument was quick and right to the point. He spun in his seat to look at me, and lifted an eyebrow.
The seal was on his lap, and my gaze was drawn to it. “What are you going to do with it?” I asked.
Ignoring me, he faced forward again.
Hours passed that way and with each mile traveled, my guilt grew. How was I going to look Pollux and Orestes in the face? I had lied to them.
Flicking my bangs out of my face, I sighed.
They’d never given me any reason not to trust them… except for the whole, not telling me who they really were. But if they had, I wouldn’t have believed them.
They never told me the truth, but that was a lie of omission, and again—I’d never have believed them. For a while, I didn’t even believe those were their real names.
The sun was low in the sky when my stomach gave out a rumble that filled the car. I slapped my hands over it, like that would help.
“We’re almost home,” Paris informed me.
He hadn’t spoken since he’d asked if I’d seen what the seal showed me. It was his past, wasn’t it? Helen and King Priam. Astyanax.
Flipping my palms over, I stared at my hands, then squeezed them shut. I could still feel his hand in mine. But it wasn’t my hand. It had been Paris’.
Helen was just as beautiful as the poems said, and he’d loved her, just as much as the stories claimed.