Free The Sea King's Daughter by Miranda Simon Page B

shouldn't be out here," he said. "You're not strong enough yet."
    "I'm all right. I want to go along. I want to see Lysander box, and make sure he isn't hurt."
    Phidias gave me a look. "I'm sure he appreciates your concern, but you've no cause to make yourself ill again. I'll take you home to the villa, if you wish."
    I shook my head. "I won't go. Please, won't you help me to the top?"
    Phidias sighed, but he led me along and supported my weight until we crested the hill. My legs shook and wobbled with every step. At last, just when I thought Phidias might need to carry me, we arrived at the ruin.
    From this vantage point, I could see the entire island of Theros. The village sprawled out below and to the north. The south side of the island lay empty except for a few scattered flocks of sheep and the occasional goat. Scrub brush clung to the sides of the low mountains, rare patches of green against the bare brown earth. Olive trees clustered in leafy groves behind the village.
    "This is the old temple of Athena," Phidias explained as we all gathered near the ragged foundations and tumble-down columns. The sun had bleached the stone white and burnt the grass to pale brown stubble. Phidias pointed out the new temple, on a low hill above the sea to the east.
    The makeshift arena stood inside the outer walls, where the altar would have been. I collapsed onto a boulder warmed by the sun. The crowd of young men gathered round as Lysander and another youth -- Hieron, I guessed -- stripped off their tunics. When it came to sport, they seemed to take no shame in nakedness. Phidias produced a small jar of oil. Lysander and Hieron rubbed the oil into their skin until they gleamed.
    I watched as Lysander wrapped leather straps around his fists and crouched down to face his opponent. The audience hollered and hooted. They circled the contenders, calling out jeers and insults and encouragement. Sunset cast a soft glow over the scene. It burnished Lysander's skin until he looked a bronze sculpture.
    The merfolk had athletics too, but we favored games and races. I'd never seen a fight before. I remembered the boxing scene on the amphora in the sea-witch's cave. When Phidias called for the boxers to begin, I held my breath.
    For a long moment, nothing happened. Lysander and his opponent faced each other squarely. Neither moved. Blood pounded in my ears.
    Hieron threw the first punch. I sprang to my feet, unable, in my excitement, to keep seated. I didn't even feel the pain in my legs.
    Lysander ducked, still grinning. The two young men circled each other. Lysander's first jab caught Hieron on the shoulder. His second hit Hieron' chin and rocked him back on his heels.
    I jumped up and down, screaming with the others as they cheered the fighters on. The contestants were well matched. Lysander was taller, Hieron more muscular. Lysander moved with an easy grace, but Hieron swung harder. When he landed his first blow, Lysander staggered back. Blood tricked from one nostril.
    I let out a strangled cry and launched myself forward, as if to throw myself between the fighters. Phidias caught my arm and held me back. Wincing in sympathy, I watched as Hieron hit Lysander again. I could hardly bear it. The sound of leather smacking skin -- Lysander's skin -- drove chills down my spine.
    Hieron swung again, hard, and Lysander danced away. He came back with a mighty punch that snapped Hieron's head around and sent beads of sweat arching through the air. Blood welled from a cut in Hieron's cheek. Lysander's opponent dropped like an anchor cast into the sea. At last, he raised one finger to signal his defeat.
    I screamed and rushed to throw my arms around Lysander's waist. He smiled down at me and mussed my hair with dusty fingers. His friends closed in to slap him on the back.
    "Still the champion," a boy named Cleomenes hollered. "Who will crown the victor? Here, girl, will you do the honors?" He handed me a wreath made of olive leaves and slender