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

to finally relax and enjoy a moment of peace with Priam. The expectations of the temple hung heavily on the king’s head. It was only behind the privacy of closed doors that they could converse as father and son.
    “Is it so bad that he says what he means? Or that he will not back down no matter how mighty his foe?” As a young prince, Hector terrified the other noble sons. Paris lost count how many times Hector’s righteous wrath scattered Hecuba’s minions who sought to do him harm.
    “A king must pick his battles wisely. And your brother cannot right all the wrongs of the world with his sword arm. The sooner he realizes that, the safer the realm will be.”
    Paris could not help but agree. Troy was on the brink of war. Cooler heads needed to prevail in their conflicts, both foreign and domestic. Which was usually the case when Priam asked to speak with him privately.
    “What is troubling you, Father?”
    The king grimaced, a shadow of remorse on his aged face. “The Hatti have choked off our trade from the east and now some fledgling king in the west seeks to cheat me. I have need of you, Paris.”
    Paris pushed aside his disappointment. Every visit home was short-lived, but this was exceptionally short. Usually, he’d have at least a fortnight in the golden city before the next mission was set. “What would you have me do?”
    “My merchants return from the Greek isles with payment half the value of the wares that they took. This High King of Mycenae thinks himself, and his spoils, far grander than they be.” Priam scowled at the title. “He refuses the sea tariff that keeps the channel free of pirates, enjoying the free trade my campaigns deliver but believing himself too important to pay for it. He is a pig who wallows in mud but claims it ambrosia. I want you to go and educate him otherwise.”
    Paris stiffened. Never before had Priam sent him to deliver a threat. He was always the negotiator, the one who broke bread with wary kings and created bonds of fellowship. Priam didn’t settle trade disputes by sending an ambassador. Why now? Why him?
    “Surely the Trades Master—“
    “This is too important to leave to the merchants.” Priam interjected. “If it was only a matter of coin, I would not call on you. But the Hatti campaigns have cost us dearly. With every success in battle they weaken my hold over our satraps. I cannot let this barbarian king also defy me with impunity. My vassals will slip through my fingers if they think me so weak. And if I cannot tame the wildlings in my own backyard, I do not deserve their respect.”
    Paris gazed up into his father’s eyes, the mighty monarch an awesome sight enshrined on his golden throne. Few kings deserved the privileged position they inherited, but Priam possessed an aura of authority that could not be denied. He commanded respect from kingdoms from the river lands to the Egyptian delta. He was a giant amongst lesser men. This Mycenaean king was meddling with powers he could not possibly understand. The West would suffer for this insolence.
    “And you think I’m best suited to deliver this message?” He had to ask. He would walk into fire for his father, but this quest was an altogether different matter than what he had been trained to do. Surely Hector would have been a better choice.
    Priam watched him with an astute eye. He raised his right hand and tapped Paris over his heart. “The man who must threaten force is not one to be feared. It is what is left unsaid that strikes a dagger in the hearts of lesser men.”
    Paris blinked back his surprise, unsure if he understood his father correctly. “You want me to remind these Mycenaeans of the glory of Troy?” he asked, trying to decipher Priam’s request. “Of the respect we carry throughout the world and the power we represent?”
    Priam nodded. “And how unwise it would be to invoke my wrath. You are my fist in the silk glove. Quell this rebellious king before the sword becomes