She thought that she had power to drive a wedge between us, but she had nothing.

I listened and did not speak. Achilles' eyes were bright in the firelight, his face drawn sharply by the flickering shadows. I would know it in dark or disguise, I told myself. I would know it even in madness.

His trust was a part of him, as much as his hands or his miraculous feet. And despite my hurt, I would not wish to see it gone, to see him as uneasy and fearful as the rest of us, for any price.

You make the rarest canvas, love

The beginning of hope. We have given each other wounds, but they are not mortal.

Patroclus,' he said. He was always better with words than I.

For who can be ashamed to lose to such beauty?

Both of us were imprisoned. But I pressed his face into my mind, as seals are pressed in wax, so I could carry it with me.

Above us, the constellations spun and the moon paced her weary course. We lay stricken and sleepless as the hours passed.