Spiridion nodded. “Younger?”
Ariston nodded, still smiling. “In truth, they are, all of them, good people. My father is young and hearty, a man of intelligence and patience. My mother, Lady Sarra, is fond of laughter, and she has a glorious laugh.”
“What is your father’s name?”
“Antonis.”
“Does he look like you?” Spridion’s gaze was traveling over him, inspecting him.
“I’ve been told I have my mother’s eyes… and her mouth. The rest is my father.”
Spiridion nodded.
“My uncle is-”
“Themosticles,” Spiridion nodded, smiling once more. “She spoke of you often.”
His heart swelled. “Her sisters were less pleased by this, I’m sure.”
Spiridion shrugged. “It was hard to tell. Even when a Gorgon is smiling, they appear to scowl.”
&n
bsp; The boy’s jest was so surprising that Ariston laughed.
Spiridion did as well, his face alight with boyish charm and beauty.
Ariston draped his arm around the boys’ shoulders. “You shall go to Rhodes soon, but not too soon. Let us wait until Kore is steady on her legs or we’d worry over her falling into the sea.”
Spiridion nodded. “That is wise.”
Chapter Four
Ariston watched the others, finding little in their words or actions of interest. He knew Xenia’s plans, she was far too obvious. The last few months, her banquets brought Athens’ finest to her door—many having eligible daughters and nieces. If she sought some to distract him, to bind him here, she would fail. No matter how gently or firmly he assured her he would not marry, she refused to hear him.
“My father says you’ve brought sense to the Council,” the young woman Xenia had left hanging upon his arm spoke again.
“Your father is generous,” Ariston answered, his tone cordial but hardly encouraging.
“No, sir,” the girl leaned forward as she murmured. “He is sparing and harsh… Which makes his praise of note.”
He looked at the girl—a young woman he supposed. She had lively dark eyes, her long black curls were artfully arranged to fall about her long neck and shoulders. She stared at him, waiting, curious.
“You’re the hero of Salamis?” Her gaze traveled, boldly, over his face.
“Many fought, many died.” He’d not meant to sound harsh, but there was no denying the edge in his voice. “Many died… heroes.”
Her eyes went round. “I’d not meant to offend you-”
“You did not.” He barely repressed a sigh, his agitation growing. “If you’ll excuse me-”
“Do I bore you, Ariston of Rhodes?” the lady asked, her brows high. “I was sent to woo you, you see. My father is quite determined that I gain your affection. Hero of Greece, nephew of Themistocles… You would honor my family.”
Ariston stared at the woman. “You speak your mind.”
She smiled. “I do.” Her cheeks colored. “I find you handsome… Most handsome. A man in form and deed.” Her gaze wandered down his neck, across his shoulders. “He has tried before, to find me a husband. But, I admit, it would please me, beyond the scheming of my father, to wed you. The others have all been… lacking.”
He blew out a slow breath. “I am married, lady.” His hand clasped the wooden owl pendant, relishing the knowledge that she’d done the same... He savored the slight weight of it against his skin.