Reaching the entrance of the tent, I paused for a moment, listening for any sounds inside. I could hear the faint murmur of movement, but nothing that hinted at an immediate attack. Still, I wasn't about to let my guard down.
With one swift motion, I parted the cloth flaps and stepped inside.
As I stepped inside, I was greeted by an unexpectedly warm interior, completely at odds with the cold hostility I'd prepared for. The tent, much larger than I had anticipated, was bathed in a soft golden glow, courtesy of the countless candles placed carefully around the space. Their flickering flames cast dancing shadows across the canvas walls, filling the air with a faint, yet noticeable scent. Incense? Perhaps. It was subtle but foreign—strange for a war camp, almost out of place. The entire setup felt surreal.
Yet, the most peculiar thing was the silence.
There seemed to be no one inside. My senses, heightened and ever sharp, detected nothing immediately threatening. Was this a trap? Had Achilles grown desperate enough to ambush me in his own tent? Foolish. He'd have to do better than that if he thought I'd fall for such a simple trick.
My eyes, honed to see through darkness and deceit, scanned the tent with precision. I circled the room, the tension building as I neared a small, low table. That's when I saw her—a woman crouching awkwardly behind it, her presence hidden until now. Her posture was meek, almost trembling, though something in her demeanor didn't scream fear, but discomfort.
This wasn't Achilles.
Her appearance was striking—curly black hair framing her face, falling messily over her shoulders, and blue eyes that flickered with uncertainty. There was no mistaking it; this was Briseis, the supposed prize Achilles had won in battle. A beauty, no doubt, but I had expected her to be more... shattered, given what she'd likely endured in this brutal camp. Yet, she wasn't quite the broken captive I imagined.
Briseis met my gaze for a moment, though she quickly looked away, her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. There was something more to her than the rumors suggested, but I didn't have time to ponder it further.
"Where is Achilles?" I asked, my voice steady but demanding.
"I..." Her voice was fragile, trembling on the edge of words she couldn't quite find. Fear? Hesitation? I couldn't tell, but she seemed lost.
I moved closer, my patience thinning. "Where is he? Why did he summon me?"
Before Briseis could answer, another voice cut through the still air, one that caught me completely off guard. It came from the very heart of the tent, smooth and laced with an unsettling confidence.
"Achilles isn't here, stranger."
But instead of responding with irritation, Khillea smiled—a slow, seductive curl of her lips. She stepped closer, her movement fluid, and before I knew it, she was standing right in front of me. Her hand reached out, grasping mine, and she guided it—slowly, deliberately—until it rested against her chest. The fabric of her white dress was impossibly thin, and through it, I could feel the warmth of her skin, her heartbeat steady beneath my palm.
Her eyes gleamed as she tilted her head, watching my reaction. "What are you going to do now?" she asked again, her voice a hushed whisper, the words hanging heavily between us.
I wasn't going to lose control, not like this. I had faced far greater temptations than this, and now wasn't the time to let my desires take over. "I'm going to wait for Achilles," I said evenly, my hand falling away from her body.
Khillea's eyes sparkled with amusement. "You're different from the other Spartans," she mused, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Any of your peers would have jumped at the opportunity, taken me right here and now, and fucked me all night long."
Her words caught me off guard, but oddly enough, they also reassured me. If she thought I was one of the Spartans, that meant she didn't suspect who I truly was. Achilles had no idea I was an intruder. If he did, he certainly wouldn't have left me alone with his women like this.
"There's nothing special about controlling oneself," I replied.
"Hmmm." Khillea's gaze never left mine as she leaned in closer, her breath warm against my ear. "Maybe not," she whispered, her lips brushing lightly against my skin, "but right now, I want you to lose control."
Her breath, hot and teasing, sent a surge of heat through my body. There was something dangerously alluring about her—something far beyond the ordinary. I could feel my pulse quickening, my mind battling against the primal urges she stirred within me. No, this woman was not ordinary. There was something about her that felt... powerful.
"I'm sure Achilles will kill you if he catches you seducing another man," I warned, trying to keep my voice level. The last thing I wanted was to provoke Achilles by doing something reckless with his women.
But Khillea only laughed softly, the sound rich and filled with confidence. "I don't think so," she said, her voice dripping with amusement. "It was Achilles himself who asked us to entertain you before he arrives."
That revelation stopped me cold. I blinked, staring at her in disbelief. Achilles... wanted me entertained? Why? What in the world was going on?
I couldn't help but feel a wave of confusion. Why was I being treated like some sort of esteemed guest? Did I do something to earn Achilles's favor? Had I caught his attention somehow without even realizing it?
Khillea's smirk deepened as she watched my reaction, her eyes filled with a knowing glimmer.
"Now, let me entertain you, Nathan."