Legacy of Blood Read Online Free PDF Page B

not wish for anything.’ He strode away, but then guilt plunged through him. None of this was Kassandra’s fault.
    He turned to look at his cousin; the only other person who could know how he was feeling. Her face had turned pale, and for a moment he thought she would cry. But then she held out a hand.
    â€˜Come with me,’ she said. ‘I need to show you something.’
    Lysander followed her under the colonnade and into the room where he’d watched his mother die that summer. Now the bed had been pushed up against the far wall, and beneath the open shutters of the window, a tripod was set up. In its centre burned a shallow bowl of scented oil, releasing the smell of jasmine. Around the outside of the tripod, candles and various objects had been arranged by a caring hand.
    â€˜This was Grandfather’s favourite room,’ said Kassandra. ‘I’ve gathered some of his possessions together, things that meant a great deal to him.’
    Lysander went towards the shrine, and inspected the objects more closely. There was a soft woollen garmentthat might have been a cloak.
    â€˜That’s the gown our fathers were swaddled in as babies,’ said Kassandra. ‘It’s made from Phoenician fleece. And that’s his favourite drinking cup, and some of his vellum scrolls.’
    Lysander ran his fingers over the smooth cured skin. Since his old tutor Anu had moved on to another barracks, Lysander hadn’t had the chance to learn more reading and writing.
One day I’ll read these things too
, he promised himself.
    Kassandra crouched beside him and picked up a roll of leather held by a square gold ring. She spoke softly.
    â€˜Open it.’
    Lysander slid the ring over the leather.
    â€˜What is it?’
    â€˜Hold out your hand.’
    Lysander did as she asked, and Kassandra took the leather and unrolled it. A lock of brown hair, paler than his own, fell out into his palm.
    â€˜It belonged to Thorakis,’ she said. ‘Your father. I think Sarpedon would have wanted you to have it. I have one from my father, Demokrates.’
    Lysander ran the hair through his fingers. He couldn’t believe it belonged to the father he’d never met. Even after all this time, the shafts of hair were thick and strong, and caught the light like gold thread. Lysander looked forward to the day when he reached adulthood, and would be permitted to wear his hair long once again. Carefully, he rolled it back up insidethe leather and replaced the ring.
    â€˜Thank you,’ he said.
    â€˜I thought that you could leave the Fire of Ares here too,’ said Kassandra. ‘Just for the period of mourning. They say the dead in Hades can feel our kindnesses like sunshine on their faces.’
    Lysander’s hand went to his chest, then froze as memory pulsed through him. He’d given the family heirloom to Demaratos.
    â€˜What is it?’ asked Kassandra.
    â€˜I don’t have it,’ Lysander admitted. Kassandra’s eyes searched his face, confused. ‘I gave it to Demaratos.’
    â€˜You did what?’ Kassandra gasped, scrambling to her feet and staring down at him.
    Lysander struggled to find the right words. How could he ever make her understand how he was feeling; his sense of dislocation and loss? Until he felt worthy again, how could he wear the jewel passed down his family, from one brave warrior to the next? Lysander didn’t know if he was a brave warrior – he still didn’t know
who
he was.
    â€˜Demaratos saved my life,’ he said after a pause. ‘It seemed the right thing to do. He’ll look after it until –’
    â€˜It’s an heirloom,’ interrupted Kassandra, gathering her skirts around her and stepping away from him. ‘It’s been in the family for generations – how could you?’
    She sat on the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed.Lysander put his