The Princess of Sparta: Heroes of the Trojan War by Aria Cunningham Page B

sister finally released her arm and took her place beside her husband in the front row. Helen waited for the crowd’s murmuring to lessen, and then walked up the raised dais to joined her noble father. When she finally settled beside him, he began to speak.
    “Honored guests!” His strong voice rang out across the hall. “You have come here, to glorious Sparta, seeking the hand of my daughter, Helen, blessed of Zeus and Aphrodite. Over the past week, you have displayed your prowess in feats of strength. You have impressed this king with your courage and fortitude. But in the end, only one man can claim Helen as his bride.”
    The crowd shuffled, the nearness of the announcement stirring them like the winds of Aeolus. Helen bristled as the entire room laid eyes on her. It was unsettling to be the center of so much attention. She turned to her sister for support, locking eyes with the queen. That was when she noticed Agamemnon whispering discreetly into the ear of King Odysseus. They were the only people in the room not wholly focused on Tyndareus words.
    “Before I continue, if there be any item of concern, I would have my guests speak forthwith. Let each man be at peace before this decision is set.”
    Helen distrusted the cunning look on Agamemnon’s face. She turned to her father to see if he had noticed and was shocked to see the same hard look on Tyndareus’ face. She turned back to the crowd just as Odysseus stepped forward.
    “Humble Tyndareus,” Odysseus began with a bow. “It has been an honor to court your daughter, the beauty of our Age. And while I swell with pride to be considered alongside such noble and honorable men, I must respectfully withdraw my candidacy.”
    A shocked titter ran through the crowd. Odysseus waved down his fellow suitor’s questions. “I beg your forgiveness, dear Princess.” He turned to Helen. His insincerity oozed over her, freezing her in place. “In truth, I would be a poor choice for you compared to these great warriors.”
    Many men harrumphed their agreement. Ajax of Salamis, a giant of a man who towered a good head over Odysseus, quickly puffed up his chest and stepped in front of the Ithakian king, casting Helen an eager grin.
    “I appreciate your candor, young Odysseus.” Tyndareus acknowledge the request formally. “As consolation for your loss, I will speak with my brother Icarius. I know his daughter Penelope has loved you from afar. May fortune favor you in that match.”
    Helen turned to her father, puzzled. Penelope had never laid an eye on Odysseus. What was going on here?
    But she had no time to question. Tyndareus raised his hands, gathering the attention of the remaining crowd. “And now the time has come.” He paused, waiting for each man to hang on his words. “Last night, virtuous Artemis visited me in a dream. As patron Goddess of this city and of all chaste and innocent girls, she warned me of the repercussions of this day. Helen, sweet Helen, was soon to be lost to her. She would not let such a joyous event be soiled by jealousy and anger.”
    Tyndareus’ words chilled Helen. She had always known her father to be devout, a faithful servant to the Gods. Had he been visited the same as she? Or was this all the posturing of kings and kingdoms, as Nestra insisted? Somehow, her fate was woven into this maneuvering, and she was powerless to stop it.
    The men muttered in anticipation. This news, whatever Tyndareus was trying to say, sat no better with them than it did with Helen.
    “‘Goddess,’ I swore to Artemis, ‘the friends of Sparta would not dishonor you with such vile actions.’ But she was not assured. She then insisted that any man who thought himself worthy to be wed to such beauty abide by a sacred oath. Only then would she allow the matrimony to commence.”
    The double doors opened again, this time for a pair of stable hands towing a massive heifer. The poor beast bellowed in fear, sensing her imminent doom. Helen had never heard a