Paris shook his head."Do you think I would teach just anyone to fight me to the death? I want you to be my wife. My one and only wife.

But are you not fond of me?" Paris looked up, his eyes full of reproach."Fond of you? Myrina you are my queen. I want you more than I want life itself.

Why must a woman always surrender? I am not prey!""No I am. Your arrow struck me long ago." Paris took her hand and placed it on his chest."Right here. And every time I try to pull it out." He used her hand to demonstrate. "You force it back in.

Fear not! I would rather tear the heart from your bosom than take your bow, for I believe you would miss it less.

Yes you may come." Paris held up a hand to delay Myrina's raptures. "But this time you will not be wearing my crown. You will be my slave, and believe me I shall enjoy ordering you around.