Kat and Jacky were munching cheese and olives and some kind of fried swine, and as a side dish arguing about the ethics of hypnotism, when Aetnia, the maid who had recognized her the night before as princess, went rushing by, and then paused when she saw Kat.

“What is it, Aetnia? Where’s everyone going?” Kat asked.

“The men are drilling by the beach, Princess. I’m—I’m sure Achilles would wish for you to come, too.” Then she scampered away.

“Last night he certainly seemed like he wished for me to come, too,” Kat said smugly.

“Really? You mean when he was conscious or afterward?”

“Both,” Kat lied.

“Well, then, let’s go check him out. Unless you’re scared to face him whilst he’s actually walking and talking.” Jacky jumped up and started quickly after the disappearing maidservant.

“He was talking last night,” Kat muttered and pulled a face, but followed Jacky anyway.

“I mean, I for one would love to see if he’s still under your diabolical spell.”

Three women who were headed in the same direction as them gave Kat fearful looks and began whispering amongst themselves as they overheard Jacky’s words.

“There is no spell, you dork,” Kat said loud enough for the huddling women to overhear. Then she lowered her voice for Jacky only. “The hypnosis ended when he woke up this morning—refreshed, and hopefully, good as new.”

“And just exactly what is he going to remember about last night?”

Kat grinned. “Only as much as he wants to.”

“Okay, that’s diabolical,” Jacky said.

“No that’s ingenious,” Kat countered.

Jacky gave her a dubious look, but they were both too busy climbing over dunes to bicker with any enthusiasm. Then the sandy, grassy mini-hills gave way to a smooth, wide beach that was filled with—

“Seminaked men!” Jacky trilled.

“With swords,” Kat purred. “It is a romance novel!”

“Hey, there’s your boy.”

Jacky’s pointing finger called Kat’s attention to the largest group of men. In the center of the group was Achilles, stripped to the waist and circled by four men. They were in full armor, even though Achilles was practically naked, holding only his shield and a weird-looking short sword.

“Damn, he has muscles on his muscles,” Jacky said. “And I don’t know how the hell he survived those wounds. No wonder they say he’s immortal.”

“Is that what they say?” Kat whispered as they joined the other women who were sitting on driftwood watching the men.

Jacky shrugged. “I overheard some stuff last night. The Myrmidons talk about him like he’s a god.”

“He’s not. He’s just a man,” Kat said firmly, and then tried not to wince as two of the four men lunged at Achilles. She needn’t have worried about him. His reactions were so fast he seemed to belie her words. He dodged aside, spun and smacked both men smartly on their asses with the flat part of his sword. The watching Myrmidons broke into loud guffaws, complete with crude comments. Achilles’ answering grin was surprisingly good-humored and he gestured for the other two warriors to come on. They lunged. Achilles moved to the side and easily parried with his eagle-crested shield. The warriors backed off and Kat realized why his sword looked weird—it was wooden.

“He’s not even using a real sword!” Kat told Jacky.

As if he heard her, Achilles’ startlingly blue eyes looked up from the circling warriors directly to her. Kat saw the surprise that widened his eyes, and then felt the electric snap of attraction that sizzled between them. At that moment one of the warriors struck and Achilles was late in his reaction. The warrior’s sword blade skimmed lightly down Achilles’ chest, leaving a thin ribbon of scarlet, before he slapped it aside with the nonlethal wooden sword. With a growl, Achilles dropped into a crouch. Kat noticed the change in the surrounding warriors at once. The circle backed off and the men who were sparring with Achilles seemed to hold their breath. She watched Achilles take deep gulps of air as he obviously fought against the onrush of the berserker.

Then there was a flash of silver-blond and a tall figure detached himself from the retreating circle. Completely unarmed, Patroklos walked purposefully up to Achilles, making a surreptitious motion to the other two warriors to back off. His smile was clearly reflected in his voice and he spoke nonchalantly, as if he had no idea Achilles was struggling with becoming a monster.

“They say, cousin, that none can beat you in a wrestling match. I say that’s because they do not have the inside knowledge of a kinsman.”

Slowly Achilles’ body straightened out of the feral crouch. Kat saw his lips twitch up slightly. “And what inside knowledge would that be, kinsman?”

“That you are like a great snapping turtle. Dangerous and unpredictable, but helpless when you’ve been pushed on your back.”

As Achilles laughed, Patroklos launched himself at the older man and, just like that, the shadow of the berserker was gone and the men were cheering again as the cousins grappled in the sand.

“If that damn stupid white boy rips open my stitches I’m gonna strangle him.” Jacky stood up, obviously preparing to march into the group of men and pull Achilles and Patroklos apart.

Kat snagged her wrist and pulled her back down beside her. “You are so not going down there to yell at Patroklos in the middle of all of that testosterone and me-Tarzan, you-Jane mentality.”

Jacky stayed seated but grumbled, “I’m gonna be pissed if he messes up those stitches.”

“Oh, relax. Achilles will make sure he doesn’t hurt himself,” Kat said automatically, and then as she continued to watch she realized how right she’d been. They were putting on a good show. The two men were tossing each other around and being highly entertaining, but Kat could tell that Achilles was definitely avoiding Patroklos’s injured shoulder.

“Okay, I’ll just admit it,” Jacky said. “There is something completely sexy about all this warrior machoness. I mean, look at them. They’re all bare chested and muscular and sweaty and oh, so ‘I’m gonna bang my chest and kill the dragon for you’ that it makes me want to let him ravish me.”

“Him?” Kat asked with a waggle of her brows. “Who him?”

“Patroklos, of course. Don’t get fresh.”

“And did you say ravish? Since when could anyone ravish you?”

“Since I turned white.”

Kat was laughing when Aetnia and two other servants approached her. All of them gave a little curtsey/bow.

“Excuse me, Princess.” Aetnia spoke in a low, whispery voice while throwing furtive looks over her shoulder at the group of men. “You should know that we are willing to do your bidding at any time. Simply say the word and we will aid you in escaping.”

“Escaping?” Jacky frowned at them. “We’re not escapin’.”

The women looked at Jacky as if she had sprouted wings. One of them began to rub something that looked like a penis amulet that hung from a braided hemp rope around her neck as she quickly backed a couple steps away.

“That’s really nice of you, but like I said last night, I’m fine,” Kat said. Before Jacky’s feathers could ruffle she amended, “We’re fine. Honestly. I’ll let you know if we need anything.”

“Princess, I—” Aetnia began.

“You’re being all annoyin’? Is that what you were gettin’ ready to say?” Jacky interrupted with a saccharine smile. “’Cause you definitely are.”

The woman who was still clutching the penis amulet suddenly said, “Melia, you were not a healer in the palace. You were only the princess’s servant.”

“I’ve changed,” Jacky said in her take-no-prisoners voice.

“Melia has always had many talents,” Kat said, elbowing Jacky. A stirring in the group of men caught the edge of Kat’s vision. “Speaking of, it looks like the wrestling match is over and Melia had better check out Patroklos’s stitches. So I’ll see you later, ladies.” She grabbed Jacky’s arm and hauled her away from the women. “Jacky, those women know you,” Kat whispered to her.

“Those women do not know me.”

“They know you.” Kat fluttered her hand at Jacky’s new body.

“Oh. I forgot. So?”

“So we don’t need the drama trauma of a bunch of war prizes freaking over the fact that you and I aren’t who or what we appear to be.”

“What difference does it make? Like you said, we’re not gonna be here very long. Plus, you’re a princess. They’re servants. They can’t do shit to you.”

“That doesn’t—”

“Little Melia! My savior! Just in time to wipe up my blood!”

Patroklos grabbed Jacky, lifted her in his arms and kissed her soundly. Kat stared, mouth flopping, as Jacky giggled, pushed half-heartedly against him and blushed a gorgeous shade of pink. “Put me down before you mess up my stitches. And where the hell are you bleeding now?”

“It isn’t me this time. It’s him.” Patroklos jerked his chin at Achilles. “But I still want you to mop the blood from me, my beautiful little war bride.” He put Jacky down, but not before kissing her again.

Jacky took a shaky step away from Patroklos, and still blushing, turned to Achilles. “Let me look at that sword wound.”

“It is nothing.” Achilles made an abrupt gesture with his hand, cutting off Jacky’s advance. “Worry about his stitches. I’ll mind my own wound.”

Jacky shrugged. “Whatever.” She glanced at Kat as she turned back to examine the smiling Patroklos’s stitches. “You should probably make sure it’s clean.”

“I do not—” Achilles began.

Kat squared her shoulders and finally looked at him. “It needs to be cleaned out.” Their eyes met. Kat wished like hell that his face was easier to read. At the moment all she saw was the guarded mask he liked to show the public.

“I thought you did not like the sight of blood,” Achilles said.

“All the more reason to clean it off,” Kat said, trying not to be too glad he remembered she didn’t like blood.

“Very well,” Achilles said.

“It doesn’t look deep,” Jacky said, peering around Patroklos’s shoulder. “Saltwater should work fine.”

“There’s an ocean of that right there. Perhaps, cousin, you should take another swim?” Patroklos put his arm around Jacky as he grinned at Kat.

Kat looked from Patroklos to Achilles and wondered just exactly what he’d told his cousin about last night.

Jacky, who had neatly sidestepped Patroklos’s grasping arm said, “Do not start with me. You’re covered with sweat and sand and his blood. You need a swim, too.”

“Then we all go!” Patroklos took Jacky’s hand and started off down the beach. Kat looked at Achilles. He raised a brow at her.

“You’re covered with sweat and sand and your blood,” she said.

“Very well,” Achilles repeated. “We go with them.”

They followed Patroklos and Jacky. At first neither of them said anything. Kat glanced at him. “Sorry about that cut,” she said.

He looked surprised. “Why do you apologize for something that isn’t your fault?”

“It was my fault. You were looking at me and not paying attention to the guy coming at you with the sword.”

He gave a little snort of laughter. “The fault isn’t yours. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to be distracted.”

“Do you always make sure you’re in perfect control?” She asked the question automatically, and almost instantly regretted it. The night before he had definitely not been in control—not on the beach, and not later alone with her in his tent.

His blue eyes seemed to darken as they met hers. Instead of answering her he said, “I slept last night.”

“I’m glad,” she said, and then cursed softly as she tripped on the edge of her robe. Abruptly he put out his arm for her to take. She wrapped her hand around his thick bicep, not minding at all that it was slick with sweat. “Thanks,” Kat said.

“You have trouble walking on your own in the sand,” he said.

“Only because I’m trying to keep up with you,” Kat said defensively.

“I wasn’t complaining,” Achilles said softly.

“Oh.” She smiled up at him. “That’s nice.”

“Is it?” He asked, looking honestly perplexed by her.

“Yes, it is.” Kat cleared her throat. “Uh, about last night…”

Achilles’ full lips tilted up. “Do you mean about the relaxation spell you placed on me?”

This time Kat could read the teasing glimmer in his eyes. “Just exactly how much of the, uh, spell do you remember?”

The tilt of his lips lifted and became a full, heart-stopping smile. “Enough.”