Demi-god Twin.-Chapter 9 - : The Green Haired Woman Part 2/2.

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-Iphicles' P.O.V-

The food at The Princes' Sty is unexpectedly good. After we finish eating, the three of us—Chiron, Anissa, and I—retreat to our rooms to store our belongings before heading into the city.

It's now night, and the path is lit with lanterns that I would not expect in this day and age. It's clear that Argos is more developed than Tyrnis.

The bustling square at the heart of the city hums with life.

Merchants hawk their goods, street performers entertain passing crowds, and the distant clanging of blacksmiths' hammers punctuates the air.

Anissa looks eager to explore, her sharp eyes darting across the stalls.

"Be careful," I tell her as we split up at the market square.

"I will." She waves us off, disappearing into the throng of people.

Chiron and I turn toward the blacksmith district. Our chariot, while a symbol of my former royal status, is impractical for long travels.

Made of valuable metal, it was crafted to showcase Tyrnis's wealth. The plan is to sell it for a good price, buy another horse, and replenish our dwindling funds.

---

The blacksmith Chiron has in mind is a burly man with soot-covered hands and a sharp eye for value.

"Prince's chariot, eh?" he says, circling the vehicle with a critical gaze. "Not bad craftsmanship. Looks like it's been through a scrape or two, though."

"Will it fetch a fair price?" Chiron asks, his tone light but firm.

The smith scratches his chin, then nods. "Aye. I'll take it off your hands for a tidy sum."

After a round of haggling, we walk away with a fat pouch of coins. It's enough to buy leather armor for me, restock my quiver, and still leave us with some funds for supplies.

As we make our way back to the tavern, Chiron and I fall into easy banter.

"I still can't get over the shape-shifting," I say, glancing at him. "A centaur one moment, a man the next. Is there anything you 'can't' do?"

He chuckles, taking a swig from his ever-present wineskin. "Plenty, my boy. Though I must admit, walking on two legs does have its perks. Easier to fit through doors, for one."

"But you still won't tell me how you do it."

I eye him and find a mischievous smirk on my teacher's weathered face,

"I told you, It's magic."

"Right."

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I roll my eyes, then lower my voice as we near a narrow alleyway. "We've been followed since we left the tavern."

Chiron remains calm, only lowering the wineskin. "An assassin, you think?"

"Likely," I murmur as we enter the alley, our only source of light being the half moon above us. "Probably sent by Mycenae. Or someone else who knows my true identity."

In a city full of Mercenaries, it's not too shocking someone could come after me.

Chiron sighs, muttering, "If it's an assassin, they're doing a poor job of staying subtle."

An arrow zips through the air, striking his wineskin and pinning it to the wall. Wine gushes out, splattering onto the cobblestones.

Chiron blinks at the ruined skin. "I take that back. Maybe they don't suck as much as I thought."

At the end of the alley, a figure drops down from a rooftop with feline grace.

The green-haired woman I saw at the gate now stands before us, her face obscured by a falcon-shaped mask. She holds a long green bow, her quiver resting at her hip.

Even at a distance, I feel the danger radiating from her.

I grip my own bow, pulling it free. "Who are you? Why are you following us?"

She doesn't answer. Her hand moves in a blur, drawing and releasing an arrow in one smooth motion.

My instincts take over. I snatch the arrow from the air inches before it can pierce Chiron's forehead.

Chiron raises a brow. "What did I do to deserve this? Crimes against senior citizens deserve harsh punishment."

"She doesn't seem like the type to care," I say dryly, watching as she nocks another arrow. "Step back."

Chiron obeys, muttering under his breath.

I draw my own arrow, holding it steady. For a few tense moments, we stare at each other, neither aiming but both ready. Then, almost simultaneously, we fire.

The arrows collide mid-air, their heads shattering upon impact.

She doesn't stop. Neither do I.

We move closer with each shot, a relentless exchange of arrows filling the alley with the sharp 'thunk' of wood and the clash of metal tips.

"She's good." Chiron observes from my back.

Splinters rain down around us as each of our shots meets the other's, perfectly timed, precisely aimed.

I quickly realize I'm outmatched. Her speed and precision are a step above mine, and I find myself retreating.

"You've only got two arrows left, while my quiver holds more." I call out, trying to mask my frustration.

She tilts her head and fires, knocking said quiver from my shoulder. Too fast to see. Had she aimed for a vital point...I would be dead.

"And now you've got one," she says, her voice cool and unshaken. It's the first time she's spoken, and her calm demeanor irritates me more than her skill.

"That's enough!" Chiron's voice thunders, breaking the tension. "Both of you, calm your egos down!"

Reluctantly, I lower my bow, glancing at Chiron. "You know her, don't you?"

The woman tilts her head, a faint smirk visible beneath her mask. "Sharp one, aren't you?"

"It wasn't hard to figure out," I say, watching her carefully. "Your archery bears... similarities to what Chiron taught me."

Chiron sighs, stepping between us. "My second-best archery student, meet my very best. Atalanta."

Atalanta removes her mask, revealing striking features framed by her emerald hair.

Her beauty is undeniable, though not quite on par with Helen, my former fiancée. Still, it's enough to momentarily stop the retort I'm preparing.

Chiron continues, gesturing toward her. "Yes, that Atalanta. Famed for wounding the Caledonian Boar and blessed by the goddess of the hunt, Artemis herself. And Atalanta, this is Iphicles. Banished prince, slayer of a Stymphalian Bird..."

Atalanta's smirk widens. "Impressive. A good start for an aspiring hero. Not to brag, but I've slain dozens of those birds."

Her tone drips with sarcasm, but I let it roll off me. Using the decorum instilled in me as a prince, I give a small bow. "It's a pleasure to meet a fellow student."

"Prince, huh?" she says, raising a brow. "Well, don't expect your charms and smooth swagger to make me swoon."

She's purposely trying to provoke me. I am not so easily riled. Chiron's taught me better.

I grin, straightening. "I had no intention to court you, but hearing your true feelings has sparked my interest in the chase."

Her laugh is light and slightly surprised. "You're a little too young—and too weak—to handle someone like me."

I tilt my head, matching her tone. "Both problems can be solved with time."

Chiron groans. "Alright, that's enough! Stop flirting when I'm standing between you."

Atalanta chuckles but shifts her gaze to Chiron. "We need to speak somewhere private."

Chiron turns to me. "You okay with that arrangement?"

I hesitate, my instincts wary, but reluctantly nod. "If she meant to harm us, she would've filled us with arrows from a distance. I'll chose to trust her."

To myself, I add: 'For now.'