Cassandra was enjoying what remained of her sense of smell.

  Fat rendered between her teeth, herbs flooding her palate with green heat. This was why mortals fought, for this moment when dead meat became reason to live another day.

  "Is it good?" Priam leaned forward.

  Cassandra nodded, mouth too full for words. Juice escaped down her chin.

  "She remembers!" Queen Hecuba clutched her husband's arm. "Our daughter remembers her favorite dish!"

  Across the table, Menelaus hadn't touched his plate. His focus stayed fixed on Helen, tracking each breath. She cut food, lifted cup, existed beautifully while her knuckles went white around her knife.

  "Tomorrow," Priam continued, "we'll visit the market. You loved the spice merchant. Do you remember? He had that monkey."

  Cassandra swallowed. "Monkey?"

  "It died. Ate poisonous figs."

  Behind Democritus, Athena appeared in the doorway. She carried a wooden bucket in her mouth, handle clenched between her teeth. Water sloshed.

  "Athena! We discussed this. Prophecy is observation, not intervention!"

  The donkey set the bucket by the wall. She studied the oil lamps, the ancient tapestries, then ambled toward the lamb platter.

  "More wine?" Paris's voice pitched high as Menelaus's stare intensified.

  "No." Menelaus watched Helen's sleeve pull back as she reached for bread. Bruises. Fresh. Finger-shaped.

  "Perhaps," Anaktoria noted guard positions, "we could discuss leaving arrangements. Dawn was mentioned?"

  "Oh, the gates." Priam waved dismissively. "Very complex. Counterweights and water clocks. Can't risk opening them at night... last time someone tried, three people died."

  "Sounds unnecessary." Damon said.

  "But dawn! The mechanisms reset themselves."

  Cassandra took another bite.

  "No one's leaving."

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  Helen's voice cut through the diplomacy.

  Everyone turned. She set down her wine.

  "Seven years." She looked at Menelaus. "You never asked. Not once." Her gaze shifted to Paris. "And you. Did you ask? Or just take?"

  "Helen..." Paris started.

  "Shut up. Both of you."

  Menelaus stood slowly. "You're my wife."

  "I was your trophy."

  Silence. Even Cassandra stopped chewing.

  "Stand up," Menelaus said.

  "The gates—" Priam tried.

  "Open them."

  "I explained, the mechanisms—"

  "Then break them."

  Guards stepped forward. Damon shifted closer to Cassandra. Anaktoria palmed a serving knife.

  "Wait." Cassandra still had lamb in her mouth. Everyone turned. She swallowed. "I see..."

  Why had she spoken? Their faces turned to her... but something was there, in the ceiling decorations, her memories of the past week.

  "Dawn. Those stars. The twin brothers. They rise at dawn."

  "The Dioscuri!" Democritus clapped.

  "You see?" Priam seized the words. "My daughter speaks! The gods say wait for dawn!"

  "I don't care what the gods say." Menelaus moved around the table.

  Guards shifted. Hands found hilts.

  Menelaus reached Helen's cushion. Extended his hand. Waited.

  She looked at the hand. At his face. She slowly stood.

  The slap echoed off stone.

  "That's for choosing me like a horse."

  Menelaus's head snapped sideways. He turned back slowly, cheek reddening.

  Helen's hand was already moving, her eyes beginning to glisten. "And this is for—"

  He stepped backward. One calm step.

  Helen's palm met the lamp stand.

  The lamp toppled, oil arcing across the ancient victory tapestry.

  "No..." Helen started.

  Flame found oil.

  "Quick! The bucket!" Democritus shouted.

  One bucket. Fire already climbing.

  "THE VICTORIES!" Priam lunged for the burning textile.

  Too late. Fire reached the ceiling beams.

  "Move." Damon had Cassandra's elbow.

  "But the lamb—"

  "Leave it."

  She grabbed the entire platter.

  They moved together through the chaos. Smoke built fast. Guards ran for water. Nobles fled. Helen vanished into the haze.

  "Helen!" Paris called.

  "HELEN!" Menelaus roared. He began his search.

  Dawn found the palace wearing smoke. In the courtyard, two hundred coughing aristocrats shared the morning air.

  "You burned my palace!"

  "Where is she?" Menelaus turned circles. "Where's Helen?"

  Everyone looked. No Helen.

  "You lost her?" Paris stepped forward. "You started a fire and lost her?"

  "She was right there!"

  "She's fled," Damon observed. "From both of you."

  That's when they heard the horns.

  Bronze rang across the harbor.

  A guard stumbled through smoke. "My lord! Greeks! Greeks everywhere!"

  "Yes." Priam gestured at Menelaus.

  "No! Other Greeks! Ships! Soldiers!"

  Through the smoke, dawn revealed the harbor bristling with vessels. Black shapes moved across the hills.

  "Your brother's attacking us!"

  "He's protective." Menelaus watched ships deploying. "I said I'd handle diplomacy."

  "This is handling it?"

  "He has trust issues."

  "WITH YOU?"

  "With Troy. Also with me." Menelaus shrugged. "He started positioning ships the moment we entered your harbor."

  A herald approached under white banner:

  "King Priam! Release our diplomatic party!"

  Priam looked at the burning palace, the trapped Greeks, his beautiful daughter still clutching lamb.

  "They burned down my palace!"

  "Release them anyway!"

  "No!"

  "Then Troy is under siege!"

  "We accept!" Priam turned to Menelaus. "This is your fault."

  "You wouldn't open the gates!"

  "You set fire to my victories!"

  Cassandra was finally done eating.

  "Brothers united at dawn," she said.

  Everyone turned.

  "The stars. Brothers. Dawn." She gestured with the bone.

  Democritus beamed. "Perfectly accurate!"