There were many things that could be concealed beneath the skirt of a woman's dress. Just as the clouds helped to hide the moon at night, so too did cloth and smiles hide the truth. And while it was indeed true that no one would have suspected either of them of anything abnormal had they gone about things without making an effort to hide their activities, Atalanta preferred to be discreet.
At night, while Cotys slept and Tydeus took watch, she would slip away from camp and make her way to Ergenia's room. Hands and mouths would roam, seeking burning pleasure and swollen lips, and the muffled cries of a woman who had long been without a lover could be heard if only someone paid attention.
Ergenia had always found herself intrigued by the women she surrounded herself with. The way they smiled at their husbands, the manner in which they touched and caressed them; Ergenia often wondered what it would be like to receive that kind of affection. Then he arrived, with his four companions, and suddenly she stopped wondering.
She never asked if this was how things were done in Scythia, or anywhere else for that matter. Ergenia reveled in Atalantas's touch instead and forsook words for knowing glances. When she was done training Cotys' army each day, Ergenia would go to Atalanta in the courtyard and pick up a bow.
The feel of Atalanta's hands on her rump, on her thighs as she adjusted her position, even at the edges of her breasts while she moved to fix the level of her shoulders — Gods, the softness of those fingers sent shivers down Ergenia's spine on many an afternoon and night. That tongue of hers, however, had been dipped in honey and blessed by Artemis herself.
"Now, my lady, which of the gods will you praise tonight?"