Chapter 15

The next day, Xerxes addressed his generals, outlining his plan of attack. "Tomorrow, we shall march towards the narrow pass of Salamis. Our superior numbers and firepower will ensure victory over those insignificant Greeks," he declared confidently. "Let us show them true Persian might!"

Artemisia stood beside him, seething inwardly but maintaining composure. "Your Majesty, I urge you to reconsider," she spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Greeks have a plan, a trap set for us. Their smaller, faster ships will outmaneuver ours in the narrow channel. We risk being surrounded and slaughtered like fish in a net."

Xerxes looked at her coldly. "And what do you propose, Artemisia? To retreat and abandon our glory? To let these cowards escape unscathed?"

"No, my lord," she replied quickly. "I pray for victory, but I urge caution. Let us lure them into the open sea, where our superior fleet can crush them easily."

The generals murmured in disagreement, some supporting Xerxes's plan, while others sided with Artemisia's cautious approach. Xerxes considered their words for a moment, then raised his hand for silence. "Hear me now, my generals! We march tomorrow as planned!"

With a final glare at Artemisia, he dismissed the council, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She knew this was futile, but she had to try. She prayed to the gods above, hoping they would intervene on behalf of Greece.

The following day, Xerxes summoned Artemisia once more. "It seems our little game has had unexpected consequences," he said, a sinister smile creeping onto his lips. "Themistocles has written me a letter, claiming to have slept with you and to hold information that could jeopardize our plans. He offers to betray the Greeks and join us if we alter our course."

Her heart skipped a beat, and she fought to keep her composure. "This is a lie, Your Majesty," she asserted, her voice trembling slightly. "Themistocles is a deceitful fool who seeks only to save his own skin."

"Perhaps," Xerxes mused, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "But it does not hurt to consider his offer. After all, one traitor among the enemy ranks is better than none."

"Your Majesty, please reconsider!" Artemisia begged, her voice shaking with disbelief and fear. "This is a trap! Themistocles is playing us like pawns on a chessboard!"

She lunged towards Xerxes, but two guards restrained her before she could reach him. "He lied to you, he tricked us both!"

Xerxes raised an eyebrow in amusement. "And what is your plan, Artemisia? To lead us into ambush? To betray me? Do you truly believe I would tolerate such treachery?"

She struggled in vain against the guards. "Please, my king, I beg you! Trust me! We must retreat to the open sea where our superiority in battle will prevail! Don't fall into the trap set by those cowards!"

Xerxes shook his head, his expression unreadable. "No, Artemisia. Today, we march forward, and you shall follow my orders, or suffer the consequences."

With that, he dismissed her, and she was dragged away, cursing Themistocles and vowing revenge.

As the Persian fleet sailed towards Salamis, Artemisia seethed with rage and humiliation. Her predictions had come true, and she knew she was responsible for this disaster. Despite her pleas, Xerxes had chosen ignorance over wisdom, and now they were trapped like fish in a net.

She watched helplessly as the Greek ships took their positions, forming a tight formation that made maneuvering nearly impossible. Themistocles, his face painted in a smug grin, stood on the deck of his ship, his arm raised in triumph. "You were right, Artemisia," he called out, his voice carrying across the water. "Thanks to you, we can finally rid ourselves of these foreign invaders!"

She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, fighting the urge to leap overboard and drown herself. Instead, she steeled herself for the coming battle, preparing for the worst.

The battle commenced, and the Persian navy charged forward, their superior numbers and firepower overwhelming the smaller Greek vessels. However, Themistocles had anticipated their tactics and quickly countered with his own. His ships darted in and out of the gaps created by the Persian formation, raining arrows and javelins upon their vulnerable hulls.

Artemisia, watching helplessly from her position on the Persian flagship, tried to rally her men, but they were being picked off one by one. The Greek ships were like birds of prey, swooping in and out of the chaos, leaving blood and destruction in their wake.

"Retreat!" she screamed, her voice hoarse from fear and frustration. "Regroup and launch another assault!"

But the Persian navy was in disarray, and many of their ships were already adrift or burning, their crews dead or wounded. Themistocles, his face painted in triumph, raised his fist in victory, and the crowd on the shore erupted in cheers.

Artemisia's eyes narrowed in rage, and she gritted her teeth, determined not to succumb to defeat. "Prepare for another assault, my men!" she ordered, her voice cracking with determination.

Themistocles, accompanied by a small contingent of elite soldiers, boarded the Persian flagship, his eyes locked on Artemisia's position. "Well, well, my dear Artemisia," he taunted, his voice dripping with malice. "It seems your plan failed miserably."

She stood defiantly, her sword drawn, ready to fight to the death. "That's what you think!" she growled, lunging at him with all her strength.

But Themistocles easily dodged her attack, his superior training and experience evident. In a fluid motion, he grabbed her arm, twisting it behind her back, pinning her against the wall. "Should I just kill you immediately?" he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "Or do you prefer a slower, more... intimate end?"

His hand trailed down her exposed stomach, brushing against her bare belly, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. His touch ignited a familiar fire within her, and she struggled futilely against his hold. "Let me go, you... filthy dog!" she spat, trying to mask her growing arousal.

"Oh, I plan to," he purred, moving closer still. "But first, I want to thank you properly," he said, his lips brushing against her neck, leaving a trail of wet, hot kisses along her neck and shoulder.