“The lady seems to have captured herself a lost princeling, while wandering on this island,” Patrocles said. It was hard not to flinch, at the way his narrow eyes examined me. Their hungry jade shifted to a poisonous brightness.
“He calls himself ‘Polyxena’,” Deidamia said, as she jerked her head in my direction.
This provoked a roar of bawdy laughter from the big brute. Patrocles smiled, but there was no humor in the curl of his lips. The bearded pedlar did not laugh. He simply stared at me, as if I were a riddle he was trying to comprehend.
“You’re Trojan, aren’t you?” the bearded man asked, frowning. “From your bearing and manner, I’d say a high born Trojan at that.”
I tensed at this, really wishing I had my sword. Whoever this pedlar was, he was the truly dangerous one in the room.
“What if he is?” Aissa asked. She raised her head, almost challengingly at the beared man. “Scyros has no quarrel with Troy, even if all of Helen’s former suitors do.”
“I see you’ve heard of the suitors’ promise,” Patrocles said, as his eyes roamed over Aissa. I found myself taking a step forward, in front of Aissa, reaching for a sword, which wasn’t there. Again.