“There,” she said. Her mouth eased into a smile of approval. “Behold yourself, Princess Polyxena of Troy! Be captivated by a beauty which rivals even Helen’s.”
“That’s your lot rather than mine,” I retorted, before I caught the gaze of the creature in the glass. Never had I seen such vibrant, greenish blue eyes, reflecting the sea and sky, unless they’d been Achille’s own. Her rose pink lips parted with innocent wonder, as twin roses bloomed in both cheeks, their natural flush accentuated by the paint.
No, this feminine beauty staring back at me couldn’t be me! Although that was the shape of my eyebrow, shooting up in disbelief at what it beheld.
“All this has always been yours, Troile,” Cressida said. Her own dark eyes gleamed, lustrous with unspoken emotion. “I’ve only enhanced what I’ve always seen in you.” There was no denying the admiration, no, desire, which smouldered within her gaze. It was a desire as hungry in its own way as Achille’s.