Thief of Olympus (Greek Myth Series Book 3) (11 page)

“You know you can’t win,” he whispered, as two guards shut the doors behind them.

“I can and I will,” she said. “And I’ll do it on my own. I, unlike some of us, do not have an inventor at my ready to help me cheat.”

“I don’t cheat,” he said from the side of his mouth.

“Oh, no?” she commented. “Then how did you play that lyre so beautifully? I don’t remember you saying you had such talent.”

“I don’t,” he said, pulling forth a small metal contraption invented by Daedalus. “But with this to pluck the notes of the lyre, no one will be the wiser.”

“I’m going to spoil your plan. I will tell the Graces you are a fake.”

“Darling, I don’t think you’d do that,” he said, running his hand over her hair lightly.

“What do you mean?” she asked, liking the way his fingers felt as he fingered the circlet upon her head.

Then one of his hands cradled the back of her head, while the other rubbed against her cheek. She felt that same tingling sensation within, and only wished they were back in his chamber instead of standing in Apollo’s.

“I don’t think you’d do that,” he repeated, “especially when you’ll be weaponless to fight them off when I tell them why you’re really here.”

“That’s nonsense, and you know it,” she said to correct him. “I have my sword as well as my - ” she stopped short when she saw her dagger slipped up his sleeve, the handle half-hidden in his palm. Her hand flew to her hair, and now she knew he hadn’t caressed her out of attraction. She felt so foolish, so used. He’d foiled her once again.

“You bastard,” she whispered, and patted her thigh, looking for her sword.

“You’ll find it in the corridor in the large potted plant where I kissed you,” he said with a smile and turned away.

“You will regret this,” she hissed through her teeth as one of the Graces guided him toward the golden lyre which she now realized was chained to Apollo’s throne. How would she ever be able to steal it now? She had no weapon to defend herself, nor to use to pick the lock. Zarek would have no trouble unchaining the lyre, nor hiding it in that bag he had thrown over his shoulder. The louse! She’d worked so hard to get here and now because of his sneakiness she would lose the challenge.

“Come forward!” The loud low voice echoed in the chamber and when she looked up, she saw the god Apollo lounging back on a huge bed. The man was everything Tessa had told her he was, and then more.

His magnificent physique drew her in, his face more handsome than Adonis, his muscles competing strongly with those of Hercules himself. His skin was tanned and smooth, and his hair golden, like the sun he put into the sky at the start of each new day. He smiled, and his white teeth shined brightly. He wore only a small gold shimmering cloth covering his loins, and was surrounded by nine very beautiful women she’d never seen before.

“Who are they?” she found herself asking aloud.

The three Graces answered her in unison. “They are the Nine Muses. They accompany Apollo wherever he goes. They sing to him, recite poems and show him the wonders of the stars. They act for him, and read prose, all to suffice his creative urges.”

“Oh. How enchanting,” she said, watching them rubbing his temples and perfuming his feet. With so many beautiful women surrounding him already, she wondered why he had need for more.

“Come forward,” Apollo called. “Bring the commoners who will dance for me.”

The Muses moved off the bed and the three Graces guided the chosen women forward.

“You will take turns dancing to the lyrist’s music,” the Graces explained. “Whoever can entice and please Apollo the best will win the prize.”

“Prize?” Lysandra had not known there would be a prize. Perhaps it would be gold or jewelry. Or better yet, his golden lyre. She dismissed that thought immediately knowing the lyre was much too grand and important an item to be giving it away to mere commoners. She didn’t care any longer about the prize. She was here to steal the instrument and she needed to remain focused on her task.

“You will dance in the order you were chosen,” explained the Graces, and with a nod of their heads, the dark-haired woman moved forward.

“Lyrist, play!” instructed Apollo in a very commanding tone.

Lysandra looked over to see Zarek, not playing, but fidgeting with the chain on the lyre. He looked up sharply at the words of the god, and whisked the device from Daedalus out from under his robe. He put it to the lyre, but nothing happened.

“I said play,” Apollo shouted impatiently, and Lysandra felt frightened for Zarek, until she finally heard the melodious music spilling from the lyre. Soft, full notes caressed the air and floated through the room on the warm breeze from the open window. With each pluck of a string, the music vibrated against her heart, making her feel so good, she wondered no more why the lyre was so cherished by Apollo, and so valuable that it needed to be chained. She had never heard such glorious music as this in her entire life. No wonder Artemis wanted the golden harp-like instrument for herself.

The woman danced, and everyone’s eyes were fastened upon her. Lysandra used this opportunity to slip away unnoticed. She wandered over to Zarek, mesmerized as the strings of the lyre moved by themselves as he pretended to pluck it.

“I see you’ve yet to manage unchaining the instrument. What kind of thief are you to take so long?”

“I will have this pilfered before you even have the chance to dance,” he boasted, and Lysandra didn’t doubt for a minute that he could do it.

“The second lady, please,” said Apollo, and though the music never stopped, Lysandra saw the next chosen dancing toward Apollo. She couldn’t help but notice Zarek’s attention focused on the girl.

“What are you staring at?” she asked.

“She’s very comely,” he said nonchalantly, “but the first girl was much more tempting with the way she shook her hips and jiggled her breasts. I am sure she will win.”

Lysandra wanted to stop him from looking at another woman besides herself. This shouldn’t bother her, but yet it did. He more or less was saying she had no skills in the bedchamber. She longed to prove him wrong, but then decided this wasn’t the place or time.

Still, she couldn’t help but think of what Tessa had told her of all the women who had warmed Zarek’s bed. She wondered if Zarek commanded them to dance like this. She wondered if he had them feed him grapes, rub his temples and caress his feet with perfumed oils.

“You should be concentrating on your mission, not the girls,” she told him.

He looked up and smiled, and she noticed his lip paint was smeared from their kiss.

“Why should you care?” he asked. “I thought you hated me.”

“That’s beside the point. You are the father of my child, and I refuse to let you philander as if you have no morals. I do not want to see you do it again.”

“Next,” called Apollo, and to Lysandra’s horror, she realized he talked to her.

“Go on,” Zarek motioned with his hand, while the lyre kept playing. “Go philander with another man.”

“I have no intention of dancing for him, and you know it. I will just explain to the Graces that I am feeling ill.”

The music stopped as Lysandra made her way across the room and over to the Graces to make her excuses.

“I appreciate the chance to dance for Apollo, but I really am not feeling well today and to my dismay, I must decline.”

“Of course,” said the Graces, with concern upon their faces. “We will tell Apollo, but we do not think he’ll be pleased.”

As they drifted over to the god, Lysandra stood her ground with a smile. Her excuses were working, and she need not worry about having to dance for the god after all. She managed to get inside the chamber, and that was all that mattered. She would show Zarek she was not a philanderer, as was he. She turned smugly to see his expression, but he was not looking at her. To her horror, he already had the lyre unchained and was shoving it into his bag.

The cur! While she did her best to prove her loyalty, he was stealing the lyre from under her nose. He would not get away with it. The lyre would be hers to help save her tribe from demise. She needed her weapons, but unfortunately Zarek had unarmed her. Now, she had nothing with which to fight.

She saw him sneaking away, and knew it was all over. Unless…unless… She ran to Apollo and threw herself at the foot of the bed.

“Oh, dear god Apollo. Forgive me for my intolerable behavior. I want nothing more than to please you. I will dance for you, but I need the music of the lyre.”

A smile crossed the god’s face and the Graces stepped away from the bed. He clapped his hands loudly and shouted out, “Play the lyre.”

She saw Zarek from her side vision. He stopped in his tracks and looked her way. She smiled slyly, and he scowled and quickly headed back for the throne. He ripped the lyre out of the bag and held it to the throne so no one would notice it was no longer chained. Then he patted his clothing, looking for his device, a worried look upon his brow.

“I am sorry, but I cannot dance without music,” she said, getting to her feet. They would find out at any moment now that Zarek knew not how to play the lyre. And once they discovered he was really a man in disguise, there would be such a commotion, he would not be able to steal it. She felt victorious at having foiled his plan.

She glanced once again over to Zarek to see him in his ridiculous disguise, patting his fake breasts and reaching inside his robe. She almost laughed aloud when Apollo shouted again for him to play and he jumped, almost losing the fake crop of hair on his head.

“As you can see,” she said to Apollo, “things are not always what they seem. Your lyre player isn’t -” she stopped midsentence as the lyre started playing again beautifully. She glared at him, and he, with his smeared red lips, smiled and nodded his head.

“Dance,” commanded Apollo, and she felt her heart sink down to her stomach. Things weren’t at all going as planned. She had meant to beat Zarek at his own game, but once again he gained control.

“I can’t, my lord godness, you see I…I…”

“I said dance!” he bellowed, and Lysandra instantly wiggled her hips and did a few turns, feeling like the court fool. She couldn’t help but notice Zarek, smiling from ear to ear, then subtly nodding toward the buxom brunette. His meaning was clear. He had chosen that woman as the winner, and in just a nod he’d said Lysandra was no competition. Willing to prove him wrong, she glared once more in his direction, then pulled two grapes from her headpiece, holding them high for him to see, then raising her eyebrows and nodding slightly toward the god Apollo.

“May I have the pleasure of feeding these to you?” she asked Apollo in a husky voice. He nodded his approval, and like she’d done with the guards, she held the grapes between two fingers, and held them at her breasts, right over her nipples. But this time she leaned forward and seductively, right where they were, popped them into the handsome god’s mouth.

He clapped his approval, and when she twirled around, she noticed the scowl darkening Zarek’s face.

She ripped off the headpiece and flung it on the bed, shaking and twirling and trying to remember what it was Zarek liked about the way the brunette danced. Then she remembered, he said she shook her hips as well as her breasts. But Lysandra knew she hadn’t half the curves of that woman, and even if she repeated the actions verbatim, her antics would not have the same affect. She needed to go beyond what this commoner had done. She needed to tempt him and tease him, just as the guards had mentioned. So, to make it more alluring, she unbelted her tunic dress and seductively let it slip from her shoulders to the floor.

There she stood in nothing but the colored scarves she’d borrowed from the whore, to hide her nakedness. Apollo sat up in the bed, inching forward, and when she looked back at Zarek, his hands were on his hips instead of on the still-playing lyre.

“Excellent, my dear. Excellent!” Apollo encouraged her, clapping, and motioning for the Muses and the Graces to do the same. Then he nodded to the Graces and leaned forward to silently say something to them. They smiled as one, and all but floated over the floor as they came to Lysandra’s side.

“Apollo has chosen you as the winner,” they proclaimed excitedly.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling over to Zarek in smug success.

“He is ready now to award you your prize. Please step over to the bed.”

She did as told, all the while the music still played. If she hadn’t been looking at Zarek, and instead at Apollo, she would have noticed he’d removed his cloth and now sat there totally naked.

Her eyes widened when she saw the god in all his full glory and she grasped the bedpost when she suddenly went weak in the knees.

“What exactly is my prize?” she asked meekly, though she had the feeling she already knew.

“You have won the privilege of coupling with me, my dear. Now remove your scarves and join me on the bed.”

“What?” she choked out the word. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” he asked, and she didn’t know what to say.

“Because, because…”she looked over to Zarek for help. He looked like a caged animal, pacing back and forth. The lyre no longer played. “Because I am not a philanderer,” she announced, squeezing her eyes closed and waiting for the god’s answer.