Arthur focused on his self-control immediately, and forced himself to calm down. He forced himself to ignore her lips, her scent, her cool breath, the way her silky hair fell in cascading waves of gold-streaked onyx across her chest and down her back, and the way her posture—martial and straight—cast her curves into stark relief.

Then, and only then, did he respond.

“I’m prepared for the duel, Circe.” he said while taking a careful step away from her, and assuming a parade rest with his hands at the small of his back. “Are you?”

A look of confusion flickered across her face, and she opened her mouth to speak—only for it to snap closed when the elevator doors leading to the hangar opened, and her father, Atreus, Daphne, and Stephanos walked out with Endymion and Perseus in tow.

Arthur had not seen much of the two Kidemónes over the course of his Hellenic week with Circe, outside of their forays to the different parts of Pallikári. He gave both of the helmeted men a smile when they appeared, and received twinned nods in response. They understood the need for his focus on learning alongside Circe, inasmuch as they had simply busied themselves with seeing to the betterment of House Leos’ security in turn.

The improvements, from what he’d heard, had been only minimal.

The Lion Guard did their job well.

Arthur’s eyes moved to Menelaus while the platinum haired patrician approached, and waited until the older man had exchanged greetings with Circe before bowing cordially to the House Leos Patriarch. “Duke Menelaus.”

Menelaus smiled back warmly as was his wont and, after giving Circe a paternal squeeze on the shoulder, moved over to peer up at Arthur from a polite distance. “You are the very image of battle readiness, Ser Arthur.”

“The black and red are hard to wear badly.” Arthur responded with a smile.

“And yet many others manage it! You, however, look as if you were born to the colors. You’ll be positively inundated with marriage proposals if you choose to become our Hetairoi, at this rate.”

“Father!” Circe objected with a look of embarrassment, and what Arthur thought might have been a flicker of jealousy.

Menelaus glanced at her, and Arthur almost felt the gears working in the Patriarch’s mind.

When the head of House Leos turned back, however, there was no sign of suspicion.

Arthur knew better than to trust that, though.

“I have to apologize again for the Hoplite, Ser Arthur.” Menelaus continued as if nothing had happened. “It is, sadly, all we have on hand.”

“It will suffice for my needs, my lord.” Arthur responded respectfully. “A Spartan does not blame his sword for his failures, after all. It is the wielder’s onus to ensure it cuts true.”

Menelaus’ eyebrows rose, and Atreus—helmet discarded—appraised Arthur carefully from behind the Duke.

The Myrmidón nodded once in approval, and Arthur stood a little straighter.

“Circe! You have been teaching him well.” Menelaus said with a grin for his daughter. “And here I thought you’d just been taking him out to see the many shopping districts of Pallikári.”

“Your confidence in me is heart-warming, father.” Circe responded with a snort.

“I had every confidence in you, daughter. It’s the allure of Pallikári that had me concerned.” Menelaus said with a reassuring smile. “After all, you take after Cassandra, and I’ve yet to meet a woman more duty-oriented than your dear mother.”

“Mm.” Circe said while eyeing her father critically.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Menelaus laughed a little nervously, and then turned back to Arthur. “I suppose I may have put my foot in it, Ser Arthur. Perhaps you’ll tell me what you and Circe have occupied yourselves with before I dig any deeper on accident?”

Arthur smiled back at Menelaus wryly, and acceded with a nod.

“Lady Circe has been teaching me the politics, customs, and history of the Ascendancy. She’s been paying careful attention to Laconia and Hellas in particular, but I am also appraised of all non-classified and non-compromising information relating to House Leos’ holdings, operations, and publicly known critical infrastructure.” he looked toward Circe while he spoke, and she watched him in turn with jade eyes that were just a little too warm, a little too captivated.

He was glad Menelaus was paying attention to him.

Daphne and Stephanos, however, were looking between him and Circe with assessing eyes.

“We have also been practicing swordplay, language, and exchanging tales of our lives. I’ve been teaching Circe French, and she in turn has been tutoring me in Greek. Even with the translation device—” Arthur idly thumbed his right ear, on the back of which the cybernetic loop was non-surgically attached “—which I am still grateful to you for providing me, I find that learning the language is helpful regardless.”

“Well, that’s comprehensive.” Menelaus said approvingly, before continuing on in a voice that was just a touch too casual. “And what do you think, after so many hundreds of hours with my daughter?”

Arthur’s finely honed caution screamed at him, and he answered very carefully.

“Lady Circe is precisely as poised, disciplined, reserved, and proper as anyone might wish for their heir, my lord. It has been my privilege to be her student and punching bag this past week, and I look forward even more to being her shield—much as I look forward to being the sword wielded by your will.” his gaze moved to Circe, and he very determinedly viewed her in as cold and rational a light as he could. “When eventually she ascends to leadership of House Leos, and takes a worthy son of the Eupatridae for her husband, I look forward to continuing that service if she so allows.”

Circe’s expression tightened subtly at his words, and he saw the moment she registered his meaning. A flicker of rage entered her eyes, followed quickly by her breaking contact and looking instead toward the Pallas Athena in silence.

“Well said, Ser Arthur.” Menelaus murmured with an approving nod. “Well said indeed. I am glad to hear your time together was so instructional.”

“It was, your grace. My understanding of my position is clearer than ever.”

This time Menelaus smiled fully, and the squeeze he gave Arthur’s shoulder was both appreciative and, unless Arthur was mistaken, perhaps even somewhat consoling.

The older man might have been more aware than Arthur realized.

“Did Circe tell you, Ser Arthur, that when House Leos first settled on the island we—”

“Let us be about it, Menelaus.” Atreus cut in abruptly from the side. “We can discuss historical facts later. We came here for a duel, not a tête-à-tête with your future Hetairoi.”

All eyes turned to the grim black-armored Myrmidón, and then back to Menelaus, who sighed good-naturedly. “Very well, Atreus.” he said with only a slight hint of annoyance while turning to Arthur. “See to your preparations, Ser Arthur. We will retreat to the surface and await your duel’s commencement.”

“Of course, my lord.” Arthur said while nodding to Menelaus and the others, and glancing at Circe.

The Lion Maiden did not return his glance immediately however, and instead had her eyes focused once more on her father.

“Be safe,” Menelaus said simply while turning to meet his daughter’s gaze. The words, Arthur knew, had special meaning given Menelaus’ injuries. The two words carried a weight of intention that even Arthur felt himself react to, and Circe was by no means an exception.

“I will, father.” She responded seriously, before smiling when the man moved closer and placed a paternal kiss upon her brow.

“And make him work for it.” the Duke concluded with a grin toward Arthur.

“Always, father.” Circe confirmed with a smirk that was all Cassandra.

They both held a mischief to their expressions that would make any man wary.

“Good luck.” Perseus said with an approach and clap on his shoulder.

“Don’t die.” Endymion said simply before the two Kidemónes turned to retreat back to the elevator and await the rest of those in attendance.

“Prove my faith in you right, boy.” Atreus said simply, and left unspoken the lingering threat of what would happen if he didn’t.

“I intend to.” Arthur assured him with confidence.

The wordless grunt of response was enough and Atreus departed thereafter.

When all present had left, including Daphne and Stephanos who offered quiet words of encouragement to Circe and curt nods to Arthur; the elevator closed around them and Arthur found himself entirely alone with Circe within the expansive, kilometer-and-a-half wide interior of the subterranean hangar.

“Before we begin,” Circe said into the silence, “I have a request.”