Someone with a very heavy footfall approached her hesitantly. "Are you Bethany?"
"You are?"
"Galen. I'm the top strategos to Prince Styxx."
Why would the leader of the Didymosian army be here?
Unless ...
"Hector?" She stumbled from the pain of his death. Dynatos circled her, trying to calm her down.
"Shh, my lady." Ignoring her dog, Galen pulled her up against his hard, muscled body. "Your Hector lives, but he's very ill. He asked me to get word to you."
Closing her eyes, she breathed in relief, and patted his hand. "Thank you, Master Galen."
"You're trembling," he said as he released her.
"You scared me. I thought I'd lost my Hector."
"So you do love him?"
Her breathing ragged, she nodded. "More than my own life."
"Good, because he is completely devoted to you, my lady. In all our travels and battles, I saw him turn away countless women by saying he had a lady at home whose trust and heart he would never willingly break."
Those words brought a smile to her lips. "Really?"
"Aye. While other men, married and betrothed, wenched and drank, he kept himself sober and loyal. And I can see why. He spoke of your great beauty, but even his eloquent words failed to do you justice."
She smiled. "Again, thank you."
"He also wanted me to let you know that he'd come to you as soon as he was able."
Tears filled her eyes at Hector's consideration. Even sick, he thought of her. "Please send him my best and tell him that I won't breathe again until I see him...." She swallowed then used Hector's words he spoke whenever they were parted for very long. "That I will be counting down the beats of my heart until his return."
"I will do so. Before I go, do I need to get you someone or-"
"Now that I know he's all right, I'll be fine, Master Galen. Thank you."
He patted her hand. "Should you need anything in the meantime, please don't hesitate to come to me. I live in the palace barracks."
"I appreciate it, but I'll be fine."
"Very well. I bid you good day, my lady."
Bethany didn't move until he was gone. But as he rode away, she frowned. Why would such a high-ranking member of the prince's army run an errand for a lowly foot soldier?
October 31, 9529 BC
Still weak and in pain, Styxx paused in the doorway of Ryssa's room. His father and sister were downstairs with the priests and advisors making plans for her coming union with Apollo.
Except for Galen and the occasional servant who brought food and drink, Styxx had been left alone to recover. Though during the first days of his return to consciousness his men had formed a steady line of well-wishers through his room, finally, both he and Galen had convinced them to go home to their families. Their time was much better spent there than in the barracks.
Today was the first time he'd been strong enough to leave his bed unassisted. And he'd come straight to see his brother.
Ryssa had ordered Acheron brought to her rooms and placed in her bed so that she could personally oversee his care and tend him. While Styxx was grateful for her concern for his brother, a part of him was extremely jealous. She'd see him whipped and burned as dead before she ever cared for him like this. In fact, once it was determined Acheron was in danger and not Styxx, Styxx hadn't seen her since. She'd spent every waking second she could with Acheron, and not so much as a single inquiry had been made about Styxx's recovery.
Of course, she'd been like that when Styxx had come home from war, too. She hadn't once asked about his health or wounds. Not even when they'd openly bled in front of her.