Her eyes widened, the sincerity in my voice maybe reaching some part of her that remembered me. At least I hoped it was true, hoped there was something of me left in her heart.
Now that I had her attention, I stumbled on, trying to convince her of the truth. “Menelaus is, well, was, your husband. He is a demon king, and you are the fabled Helen of Troy. Troy was a powerful city, but only half filled with mortals. The other half, the ruling half, was the proud line of Priam—the reigning vampire clan of the Underworld. They sought to make a new life, away from the strife of the Bloodkeep, and free of the war that constantly raged between demon kind and vampires in the Underworld. The vampires founded Troy and built it into the jewel of earth, a shining beacon of trade and enlightenment.”
The lights that marked the outskirts of the city, now within reach, sparkled ahead. I knew where we needed to go to cross into the Underworld but had no time to prepare. We would have to go with what we had and hope it was enough.
She was silent, considering me. She didn’t actually say the word “bullshit,” but the set of her brow told me enough.
I wanted—no, I needed—her to believe me. But even I knew my words were a poor substitute for the knowledge of the life she’d lost.
I sped through the urban areas, racing toward the ramshackle row of Underworld shops in the heart of the city. They looked like run-down, crime-ridden areas to any mortal eye, and even to the immortal eye they could use some fresh paint. They were the only places in the city to get magical goods and one of the few places on the continent to cross over to the Underworld. The price was steep, as the magic necessary to maintain such a portal was intense. But I would pay any amount to keep Helen safe, to keep her out of Menelaus’s clutches.
“And I’m supposed to believe you are Paris, the Paris from the Trojan War, the one Helen was so in love with?” The incredulity in her tone rankled, but I would not let it put me off.
“Yes. The one you were so in love with. I was a mortal prince of Troy, adopted by the vampire king Priam.”
“You were mortal?”
“Yes.”
“Was I mortal?” she asked, the hint of ridicule still lacing her voice.
“You were, but you were no ordinary mortal. Your father was a god, Zeus by all accounts, though we never knew for sure. You had abilities that no mere mortal possessed. You could see a battle in your mind and plot each move ahead of time. You would always gain victory through your web of stratagems. And you had a magic so powerful that you became…” I trailed off, unsure of how to explain her past.
“I became what?” Her tone demanded an answer, and she had crossed her arms in disbelief.
“You became a commodity.” The term rolled off my tongue with an acidic inflection. I remembered every detail of how she described being ripped from her family, put on display, and sold to the highest bidder, Menelaus.
“I became a what?” She shrank back against the door of the car.
I didn’t want to continue telling her, but the words poured out of me. If I could only make her remember her past, then she would know the danger Menelaus presented, know that I was her only safe haven in this storm.
“Menelaus is your husband because he bought you at auction. He desired your powers and, above all, wanted your beauty for himself. So much so that he took you as his wife.”
The color was draining from her face at an alarming pace, as if my words struck home.
I continued punishing the engine, hurtling us toward salvation via a portal to the Underworld. “But then we met. He was away, and I was visiting the demon nobility of Greece in an effort to stem the violence that continued to rage in the Underworld. And then I saw you. You were so powerful, so beautiful, but there was something else, something that tore at my very heart.”
“What?” She still watched me intently, her green eyes stormy with thoughts. She was hanging on my every word.
“You were heartbroken. Something inside you had been torn asunder, but no one else seemed to care. They were all too caught up in your beauty and power to see the emptiness that haunted you. But I saw it, saw the pain you hid so bravely. And I didn’t want you to have to be brave anymore. I wanted you to live without fear, without remorse.” I meant every word. The memory of her strolling through a rose garden in the palace, her eyes watchful but not truly seeing, played through my mind. The moment I saw her, I knew I would sacrifice anything to love her, to see her eyes smile, to bring her whatever joy I could.