Infinite 01 - Infinite Sacrifice

attached. He glares at me and continues to stack things.
    “He’s leaving! He’s leaving for Laconia!” Ophira cries hysterically. She looks at me like I can do something, then turns to yell at Theodon, “You can’t go out there by yourself. The fall is when they have krypteia! Spartan soldiers kill helots without repercussion! They always attack the strongest helots!”
    “Well, Demetrius seems to be much more preferred by Spartans, so I’m safely inferior,” Theodon directs at me.
    “Alcina! Tell him he can’t take your things! Tell him he can’t take your cart!” Ophira desperately pleads.
    Theodon pauses, testing me if I’ll assert this power for the first time in his life.
    “I won’t tell him not to take the cart, Ophira.” She covers her face in her hands as I continue, “But Theodon, don’t you think it would be better to go after the fall when the ceremony is over?”
    “Stop telling me what to do! I’m a grown man. I’m not your lapdog. I can take care of myself, and I’ll be fine. I will be more than fine!”
    I hold Ophira back and say, “If it’s your wish to go, then please take everything you need from the stock house.” Ophira continues to cry. “Make sure you bring the hunting knife and spears to protect yourself.”
    “As if you care.”
    He walks over to Ophira and takes away the hands covering her face.
    He wipes her tears with his sleeve and whispers, “Do not worry. I have everything I’ll need. I will be fine. I love you.”
    Ophira reaches to pull off her medallion, but Theodon shakes his head. “I don’t need it anymore, you keep it.”
    He kisses her forehead, and she finds her hands again to fill with tears. We lock eyes, and neither of us speaks. The words I have for so long kept from him are dancing on my tongue. He leans forward to kiss my cheek but changes direction at the last moment to leave a quick kiss on my lips. He turns and steps up on the cart and tells the horse to go.
    As he rolls out, he shouts back, “I will be back after I’m settled.”
    Ophira crumples to her knees.

Chapter 7
    A few days later, due to the sadness and emptiness in the house, I realize I must have another child. If Leander had been home years ago, I could’ve had another son by now, one who would’ve filled my time and made me proud. I send word through a helot to Demetrius to meet me at the top of the cliff that night. I ride Proauga out and watch the sun go down. Darkness falls all around me; I lie down on a wide, woolen blanket and wait.
    I hear gravel footsteps, and I realize he must not have ridden. By the time I stand, he’s right behind me. I freeze, and without a word, he begins to touch my hair. I’m relieved I won’t have to suffer through the beginning awkwardness. He starts touching the back of my neck with his hand, brushes aside my hair, and kisses my neck. He continues to explore carefully, then lays me down on the blanket. I’m in heaven under the stars.
    I tell Ophira all about the night as she’s weaving in the bright light of the morning sun. She says, “Maybe I should head down to Nereus’s farm and see what he has there for me!”
    I grin. “It just might be worth your while.”
    “When are you going to see him again?”
    “As soon as I possibly can.”
    Laughter rings again through our empty house.
    Over the next three weeks, I meet Demetrius every night. His last night, I fight back useless tears since I know he’s leaving and I will never see him again. Spartans are never supposed to have such silly attachments anyway.
    Lying next to me under the thick, woolen blanket under cool, fall stars, he reaches out to pluck one of the last hardy wildflowers left in the fading field. “These wildflowers are so beautiful and appear so fragile, but see how well they survive the frosts and keep coming up with the sunshine.” He tucks it into my hair with a steady, warm hand.
    I brush a weak tear away quickly as he pulls his coarse tunic over his head before turns back to me.
    In his most cheerful voice, he tries, “Look on the bright side—if you aren’t with child, you’ll get to hand-pick another fine helot.”
    I hit his arm, angry he would joke about such things.
    He stands up and brushes himself off. “It was the happiest three weeks I’ve ever had.” He kisses my forehead. “Either I’ll die happy or I’ll come back to claim you.”
    He removes the worn dog-skin hat and crowns my head with it, then, with a sad smile and glistening