Goddess (Starcrossed)

of furniture in the house,” Matt said. He carried Ariadne over and laid her down gently next to Helen.
    Strong boy, Daphne thought, staring at Helen’s friend.
    “It’ll be easier to watch over them together, anyway,” Daphne said, still surveying Matt.
    He’d shaped up and put on a lot of muscle since last she saw him, but even still. Ariadne was a buxom girl, not a willowy thing like Helen, and Matt wasn’t even breathing hard after carrying her down the long hallway.
    Ariadne mumbled something unintelligible to Matt before he pulled away, her face crinkled in protest at his departure. He stopped to smooth her hair. Daphne could nearly smell the love wafting off of him and filling the room, like something sweet and delicious baking in an oven.
    “I’ll be back soon,” he whispered. Ariadne’s eyes fluttered and then stilled as she fell into a deep sleep. He ran his lips across her cheek, stealing the smallest of kisses. He turned to Daphne and looked down at Helen. “You need anything?”
    “I can handle it. Go. Do what you need to do.” He gave her a grateful look, and she watched him stride out of the room—back straight and shoulders squared in the new light of morning.
    Like a warrior.
     
    Helen saw herself running down a beach toward the biggest lighthouse she’d ever seen.
    It was strange at first. How in the world could she be watching herself like she was watching a movie? It didn’t feel like a dream. No dream had ever felt so real or been so logical. Still not understanding what was going on, she quickly got wrapped up in the drama and just went with it.
    Dream Helen was wearing a long, diaphanous white dress, held together by a richly embroidered girdle. Her sheer veil had come loose from the pins in her hair, and streamed behind her as she ran. She looked frightened. As the giant lighthouse loomed closer, Helen saw her dream-self recognize a figure standing at one of the points of the octagonal base. She saw a flash of bronze as the figure undid the buckles at his neck and waist, and allowed his breastplate to fall into the sand. She saw herself cry out with happiness and pick up speed.
    After shedding half his armor, the tall, dark young man turned at the sound of her voice and ran toward her, meeting her halfway. The two lovers crashed together. He caught her up against his chest and kissed her. Helen watched herself throw her arms around his neck and kiss him back, then pull away so she could kiss his face over and over in a dozen different places—as if she wanted to cover every bit of him. Helen’s mind drifted closer to the entwined pair, already knowing who the other Helen was kissing.
    Lucas. He was strangely dressed and wearing a sword around his waist. He had sandals on his feet, and his hands were wrapped with worn leather straps and covered with bronze gauntlets, but it was really him. Even the laugh he gave as the other Helen smothered him with kisses was the same.
    “I’ve missed you!” the other Helen cried.
    “A week is far too long,” he agreed softly.
    The words were not English, but Helen understood them just the same. The meaning echoed in her head, just as the relief of being reunited with her love echoed through her—as if it was her body that was pressed against his. Suddenly, Helen knew that it was her body, or had been, once. She had spoken this language, and she had felt this kiss before. This wasn’t a dream. It felt more like a memory.
    “So you’re coming with me?” he said urgently, catching her face in his hands and forcing her to look at him. His eyes glowed with hope. “You’ll do it?”
    The other Helen’s face fell. “Why, always, do you talk of tomorrow? Can’t we just enjoy right now?”
    “My ship leaves tomorrow.” He let her go and pulled away, hurt.
    “Paris . . .”
    “You are my wife!” he shouted, pacing in a circle and tugging his hand through his hair exactly like Lucas did when he was frustrated. “I gave Aphrodite the golden apple. I chose love—I chose you over everything that was offered to me. And you said you wanted me, too.”
    “I did. I still do. But my sister has no head for politics. Aphrodite didn’t think it was important to mention that while you may have been tending sheep that day, you were not a shepherd boy as I believed, but a prince of Troy.” The other Helen spared an exasperated sigh for her sister and then shook her head, giving up. “Golden apples and stolen afternoons don’t matter.