Warrior Rising (Goddess Summoning #6)(78)

Briseis stepped out of the shadows. “Agamemnon wishes more wine. Fill this for me,” she said coldly and held out the jug.

The short man took it and said, “I’ll fill it for you.” His lingering gaze said that he would love to fill her as he did the jug, but Briseis knew that as long as she was Agamemnon’s war prize none of the men would speak openly of their lust. Agamemnon could do anything he wished to her, his men could not.

He handed her back the jug, eyes staring at her erect nipples plainly visible through her transparent robes. “What is your name?” she asked him.

He smiled, showing rotting teeth. “Aentoclus, my lady.”

“Aentoclus, if you ever so much as look my way again, I will tell Agamemnon that you tried to rape me, and I will ask my lover, your king, to bring me your testicles in retribution.” While the warrior blanched a sickly pale color, Briseis smiled and walked away, holding the jug carefully so that it didn’t splash wine on her clothing.

She quickly went back to Agamemnon’s side, this time ignoring the appreciative looks of the generals. She refilled his goblet and leaned into the king’s side, whispering to him, “I have news of Achilles.”

Agamemnon’s shrewd gaze darted briefly to meet hers and what he saw there made him clap his hands together and command, “More music and dancing!” The music flared as pubescent girls clothed only in gold chains undulated through the tent, pulling the attention of the men from their king.

“What have you heard?” he asked quietly.

“Achilles and the Myrmidons are leading the charge tomorrow,” she whispered, nuzzling his ear.

She felt the jolt of shock that went through his body. “You are quite sure about this?”

“Odysseus himself is passing the news.”

“If this is true…” His arm tightened around her. “You are a jewel of rare price, my dear.”

“I am your jewel, my lord. Always your jewel.” Briseis smiled smugly and snuggled into his side, sneaking one soft hand down to stroke the inside of his thigh. No, he would not tire of her. It didn’t matter what she had to do, she would remain Agamemnon’s war prize, even when they returned to Greece.

“Kalchas!” Agamemnon lifted his voice over the sensuous beat of drums.

“Here, my lord.” The old prophet seemed to materialize out of the air itself.

Just like a poisonous mist, Briseis thought, although she always kept her disgust for the revolting old man carefully hidden. He was a favorite of Agamemnon’s and Briseis was far too cunning to make an enemy of him.

“Fetch Ajax to me.”

“Ajax, my lord?”

Briseis noted the generals overhearing Agamemnon’s command looked similarly confused, as they should. Ajax was brilliant on the field of battle. Off the field of battle he could hardly put together a complete thought. The man was literally as big and strong and stupid as an ox.

“Yes, Ajax. I had a dream last night that he was key to a great victory tomorrow. I wish to tell him of the dream and of the reward I plan to gift him with for his heroic actions.”

“Yes, my lord.” Kalchas bowed and scuttled from the tent.

The generals who had overheard smiled and nodded at their king. Dreams were sent by the gods, and seeing their king acting on one of his was something of which they all approved.

Of course Briseis knew Agamemnon was lying. The only thing he’d dreamed of the night before had been her open thighs. He’d told her so that morning as, upon waking, he’d put his face between them.

She nuzzled his ear again and whispered, “What are you up to, my lord?”

In one swift motion Agamemnon pulled her onto his lap so that she straddled him and his erection pushed intimately between her spread legs. She leaned into him and, veiled by her hair, he spoke, “If tomorrow Achilles fights the Trojans, it will be his last battle, as well as the day we are finally victorious. I have waited almost ten summers for the damned prophesy of his death to come true, and I will wait no more.”

“But I hear from my sources in the Myrmidon camp that they believe Polyxena is thwarting the prophesy. Perhaps that is true—you know even Poseidon’s minions could not kill her.”

Agamemnon bit her neck and whispered, “All Achilles need do is to kill Hector and his death will follow. Zeus has proclaimed it. Not even an oracle protected by a goddess can change that. Polyxena has been keeping him from the battlefield, and thus away from Hector. Perhaps Achilles’ arrogance has led him to believe his little oracle can somehow protect him on the battlefield. I’m simply going to be sure Hector’s path to Achilles is clear and then let fate take over.”

Briseis laughed huskily. “My lord, you are brilliant!” Then she moaned and rocked against his hardness, closing her eyes and pretending she straddled the strong young body of a warrior.

"The spell couldn’t be that simple,” Achilles said.

“I keep telling you—it isn’t a spell, it’s self-hypnotism, and it is that simple. And that complex. The mind is amazing. It alone can make a person believe he’s sick, or better yet, believe he is perfectly well when he should be sick. I’ve seen some miraculous things in the ten-plus years I’ve been in practice.”

“And this self-hypnotism, which is not a spell but seems very much like a spell, can actually help me keep the berserker at bay,” he said, taking a thick strand of Kat’s hair, wrapping it around his finger, and then bringing it to his lips. “It’s like a sable’s pelt. I’ll never tire of touching it.”