Free Fall of Kings by David; Stella Gemmell

Green in winter was hazardous enough without the added perils of
pirates and enemy ships.
    Stepping forward, Helikaon embraced him. Hektor kissed his cheek and then
pulled away, turning back to his father. But Priam was not looking in his
direction. Instead he was gazing hungrily at Andromache. Without a farewell to
his wife or his father, Hektor left the room.
    He paused outside and leaned against the wall, feeling the cool of the stone
against his brow. The turmoil in his mind was like a fever, and his heart was
sick.
    During the campaign in Thraki, all he could think of was returning home to
Troy and to the woman he adored. He knew that Andromache loved another and that
Astyanax was Helikaon’s son. Yet when he was with his wife and the boy, he could
put those hurtful facts out of his mind. He had never considered what it would
be like when Helikaon was in Troy as well, knowing Andromache’s heart belonged
to the Golden One and not to him, knowing the child who called him “Papa” was
really another man’s son.
    Hektor had spent all his young life trying not to be like his father,
treating other men with honor and respect and women with gentleness and
courtesy. When Andromache had told him she was pregnant with Helikaon’s child,
he had accepted it, knowing he could not give her sons himself. But then he had
not known her; they had scarcely met. Over the years he had grown to love her
deeply, while she still thought of him as a brother, a good friend. He never had
shown her how much that had hurt him until today, when she had spoken so
blithely of bringing Helikaon’s boy, Dex, to the palace. And now she was to set
sail with her lover on a long journey by sea, where they would be together all
the time.
    Never in his life had he wanted so much to throw himself back into the war,
to fight and, yes, to kill. At this moment war and perhaps death seemed
wonderfully simple. It was life that was so hard.
    He looked up. Coming toward him along the corridor he saw his brothers Dios
and Paris. They were speaking together in hushed tones. Dios saw him, and his
expression brightened. Then Paris saw him, too. Despite the sadness in his
heart, Hektor could not help smiling as he saw that Paris was wearing a
breastplate and carrying a bronze helm under his arm. No one, he thought, could
look more ludicrous in armor. Paris always had lacked coordination, his
movements clumsy. To see him masquerading as a warrior was almost comical. Dios
was wearing no armor, merely a white tunic and a leaf-green cloak.
    “Well, what did you decide without us, Brother?” Dios asked, his smile
fading.
    “Nothing that need concern you, Dios. We talked only of Helikaon’s planned
voyage to the west.”
    Paris pushed forward and stared up into his brother’s eyes, his expression
angry. “You will not send Helen back to Sparta,” he said.
    “Why would we?” Hektor responded, surprised.
    “You think me an idiot? That is what Agamemnon demanded. That is what caused
this stupid war.”
    Hektor sighed. “I do not think you an idiot, Paris. But you are not using
your mind now. The demand for Helen was merely an excuse. Agamemnon does not
want her and knew when he made the demand that Father would have to refuse.”
    “I know this!” Paris snapped. “It does not alter the fact that Agamemnon has
used the refusal to gather allies. Therefore, to accede to his demand would
weaken the Mykene alliance. Not so?”
    Hektor shook his head. “Not anymore, Paris,” he said. “Had we agreed at the
start, then yes, perhaps our enemies would not have been so numerous. Not now,
Brother. A king is already dead, and a queen has been murdered. This war will be
to the death. No drawing back. Either Mykene will fall or the Golden City will.”
    “They will come here, then?” Dios asked. “We cannot stop them?”
    “They will come from the north, from the south, from the sea. Agamemnon,
Menelaus, Achilles, Odysseus…” His voice