Paris was the fire that spurred her dead soul. He saved her from the gray doom of her fate. Yet, she was not his. Her heart had always belonged to the one whom she could not have. The gods would never allow it, and his virtue and integrity would never allow him. She was trapped inside the walls that had saved her, and her heart would not let her escape.

"What is your name?" He stated calmly as he carelessly disrobed. I watched him through the small tear in the leather. Breathless. His sword hit the furs with a soft thud and I felt the priestess catch her breath.