Details about age of Queens by Janell Rhiannon
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| Rage of Queens by Janell Rhiannon |
Rage of Queens by Janell Rhiannon – Priam stood in the gray light of early morning, staring with red-rimmed and swollen eyes at his youngest son’s lifeless form on the funeral pyre in the central court of his palace. The physicians had sewn Troilus’ head and body parts back onto his beaten and bruised body. “My son. My precious son,” he whispered to the gentle breeze sweeping along the stone. His raw grief dusted his eyes, squeezing his chest of breath. “Why have you allowed Achilles to defile my son? Innocent as he was of this war?” He tilted his head back, scanning the gloomy skies for a sign, but the gods gave no answer to the king. Troy is now doomed.
He closed his eyes, willing the sharp pain tearing his heart from his chest to stop. But, instead of relief, the past haunted him with images and sounds long forgotten. Hecuba’s wretched sobbing when he ripped the newborn babe from her arms. The child’s wrinkled, purpled face screaming up at him. Agelaus’ wide-eyed disbelief upon hearing the royal command to expose the child. And worst of all, the seer’s menacing and angry scowl that the babe wasn’t being discarded quickly enough. The gods curse me. Task me with killing one son, to save another. Where is the true choice in that? Priam sighed heavily, his fists balled at his side, while a sliver of anger at the gods slipped to clench his jaw.