I’ve underestimated Helen. Again. I stare at the fire in her amber eyes and have to shift every path into the future I had speculated on. Again. Our original plans didn’t last past meeting her, and now the pieces I’d slowly begun to put back together are blown out of the water. Again.
We need her.
Not because we enjoy sex with her. Not because she’s destined to be Ares’s wife, which means Achilles’s wife. Not because we both like her quite a bit in our own way.
We need her because she knows things that will make the learning curve of entering into the Thirteen smoother and allow Achilles to dodge potential pitfalls. No matter how smart I am, I don’t know what I don’t know.
I don’t know a single thing about what she just mentioned.
Oh, everyone knew that Aphrodite attempted to kill Psyche, but it had appeared to be driven by jealousy and a desire to keep the woman away from her son. I had no idea that Demeter was involved at all. Or that I should be concerned about Poseidon’s bedroom habits. Or that Hermes is more than just the creature of chaos she appears to be. Or any of the other shit.
“We’ll figure it out,” I finally say. My chest hurts, and I wish I could blame it on Hector’s fists, but the feeling goes much deeper than the surface-level pain of my injuries.
“Not before you get yourself into trouble.” Helen shakes her head slowly. “Learning the security stuff is a cakewalk compared to that viper’s nest. Can you say the same if it’s the other way around?”
No, we can’t.
Achilles is brilliant when it comes to conflict, to anticipating an opponent’s move and ensuring victory for him and his team. But this is a different kind of conflict that he’s never had to deal with. That neither of us have, for all that my mothers are both from families that have a history of scheming for the available titles among the Thirteen. I think they used to indulge in more ambitious games before we moved away from the city center, but my life has been startlingly normal. Nothing like Achilles, with his ambition a hunger so large, I’m not sure Olympus itself can hold him. Certainly not like Helen, who is a warrior in her own right.
We need her.
Are you sure you’re not just saying that?
I ignore the voice, just like I have been ignoring it since my talk with Helen the night of the nominations. It doesn’t matter what I feel, because logic and facts reign supreme, and right now they’re all pointing in one direction.
Fact: Achilles is going to win the tournament and become the next Ares.
Fact: Marrying Helen is an inevitable side effect to that conclusion.
Fact: Neither Achilles nor I have had to navigate the inner circles of the Thirteen before, aside from Athena, who is an outlier among the group in how she deals with her people.
Fact: Helen has navigated those circles and done it successfully since birth.
Conclusion: It’s not enough for Achilles to marry her once he becomes Ares. We need her on our side and willing to lend us her expertise. When laid out like that, it seems simple enough. It seems logical and not at all an impulsive decision made because I can’t stand the thought of this thing between the three of us ending within a few days. I can blame Achilles and his intense looks all I want, but my own feelings are no less complicated…or irrational. It’s comforting to fall back on the strategy, to have it support the end result I selfishly want, but it does support that conclusion.
None of this is new information. Nothing we’ve talked about as we circled each other for the last few days is new information. It doesn’t matter how much we argue, because it boils down to the facts, and they never change.
We can’t argue or reason our way out of this situation.
I…don’t know what the answer is.
“Patroclus.” Achilles taps my forehead, bringing me back to the present. They’re both staring at me, him with a bemused expression and Helen with a contemplative one. He lightly taps my forehead again. “I think that’s enough for now.”
Achilles always has a better head in situations where time is of the essence. He isn’t weighed down by running scenarios and examining facts before choosing a route. He shoots from the hip, so to speak. I want to argue that right now, that isn’t the approach we need, not when so much can go wrong, but Helen gives a small smile. “He’s right. We’ve had a long day. Let’s go to bed.”
How seamlessly they move to guide me to the door, Helen tucking herself under my arm and Achilles falling a few steps behind to watch our backs. All without saying a single word. I shake my head. This is wrong. We are supposed to be looking after Helen, not coddling me because I was fool enough to get into a fight with Hector in the second trial.
Funny, but somewhere in the last day or so, I forgot I was jealous of the future bearing down on us. I glance down at Helen, waiting for the feeling to come roaring back, but there’s just a strange sort of contentment twinning with my overall stress and the pain beating in time with my heart. I’m not sure how to process that.
Achilles barely waits for us to make it to the bedroom before he says, “Get naked.”
Helen arches a perfect brow at him. “Someone’s presumptuous.”
He reaches overhead and lightly grips the doorframe, perfectly at ease, as if he’s not putting on a show for an audience of two. “I’m all for tucking you two in and keeping watch if you can honestly tell me that you won’t lie there in the dark and stare at the ceiling and stress yourself the fuck out.” He transfers his attention to me. “Are you up for it, or were you lying to the good doctor?”
“I wasn’t lying.” Nothing’s broken. I’m sure of it. I ache like a motherfucker and I’m going to be black and blue for a while, but I’m okay. I’ve had worse injuries in the past, even if I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck at the moment.
Helen crosses her arms over her chest and eyes Achilles. “There’s nothing wrong with using our brains. You should try it sometime.”
He grins. “Nah, I’ll leave that to you two. I’ll be here to help you check out when you start spiraling.”
“You might have a point.” A smile pulls at the edges of her lips but Helen shakes her head. “But we’re on the opposite sides. Continuing to have sex at this point is—”
“A really great fucking idea. Pun intended.” He sighs and drops his arms. “We were on opposite sides last night and again during the trial today. Nothing’s changed. Are you going to treat me any differently in the final trial just because you’ve been bouncing on my cock?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Good. I won’t either. With that out of the way…” He leans down and lowers his voice, a rumble creeping into his words. “Take off your clothes, princess. I’m jealous as fuck that Patroclus got a taste of that pretty pussy. My turn.”
She blinks. “Um.”
“Achilles,” I try again. “You’re being pushy.”
“Tell me you’re too hurt to want her.” He pins me with look. “Or, fuck, tell me you don’t want her.”
This is already complicated enough without tangling myself further up emotionally. Which is exactly what will happen. I’ve barely dealt with the implications of what comes next, of how it’s shifted now that we’ve met Helen…slept with Helen. How am I supposed to make my peace with Achilles moving on without me if he keeps insisting on including me in this shit? “I’m not too injured, but I’m also not ruled by my wants.”
“You should try it sometime. It’s fun.”
“How can you think of fun at a time like this?” Except he’s told us what he’s doing, hasn’t he? This isn’t Achilles being reckless; this is him taking care of us in that particular way of his. He’s a man of action, and he’s right that I’ll spend the next few hours overthinking everything, going back over the events of the day and wondering what I could have done different, looking to the future and worrying about what comes next.
He’s always used sex to help me stop spiraling mentally. It’s always worked.
Now he’s extending that to Helen as well.
As much as he was bothered by the idea of me and her before, he’s totally set that aside now that he’s involved in the picture, too. Now that he’s got some future painted in his head with the three of us. If I were braver, I’d ask him what he intends, but I’m not sure I’m prepared for whatever the answer is.
Achilles shrugs. “Both of you need sleep. A few orgasms will help that along. I’m all too happy to provide them.”
This whole situation would be aggravating if it wasn’t so Achilles. He’s more than capable of nuance, but he prefers to see the world in black and white. What serves his goals and can be acted on in this moment versus literally everything else. And he doesn’t give a shit about the latter.
To him, there’s nothing we can do until the next trial. We have Helen with us, so it’s a given that we’ll keep her safe until then. He’ll fuck us to sleep and then take watch, probably until morning if I don’t miss my guess. I sigh. “You competed today, too. You have to be exhausted.”
“You know better. I have excellent stamina.” He nods at Helen. “You’re still dressed.”
“It’s really that easy for you, isn’t it?” She sounds almost in awe. “I thought I compartmentalized well, but this is a whole different level.”
“Aww, princess, are you falling for me?”
Her face goes a little red, but she shakes her head. “Absolutely not. I don’t even like you.”
“Liar. You like me a whole lot.” Achilles strips quickly. I’ve been with this man for nearly half my life and yet my breath still catches at the sight of all that light-brown skin, of the promise that strong body holds. He’s a study in perfection, has been as long as I can remember. At eighteen, I was awkward and unsure in my body. Achilles never seemed to have that problem. He’s always known who he is and where he’s headed.
The top.
He steps around us and walks into the shower to turn the water on. It takes only a few seconds before steam curls in our direction. I turn away. I have to because watching Achilles shower is one of my favorite vices. If I don’t get control of myself right now, I’ll be naked and with him beneath the water. Now is not the time for that. I have to remember that. I have to…
Helen presses her hands carefully to my upper chest. She looks a little fragile around the eyes but otherwise unbothered by Achilles being…Achilles. “He’s always like this, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
Her lips curve. “Your blood pressure must be through the roof. You’re so logical and he’s so…himself.”
“You don’t have to say yes,” I blurt out. “With any of it. He’s pushy, but he respects ‘no.’” It’s one of the many things I love about Achilles. In life, he might be willing to go through every obstacle in his path instead of finding a way around, but in the bedroom, he’s very intent on making sure everyone involved is having a good time. The second they aren’t, everything stops.
“I know.” She smiles sweetly and goes up onto her toes to press an equally sweet kiss to my lips. “Like you said, he’s taking care of both of us in his own way, though, isn’t he?”
Achilles and Helen are so different from me. I don’t see how fighting and fucking are more of a comfort than finding a solution. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy sparring with Achilles, especially when it gets him going and results in an especially rough fucking. And I can’t deny that sex will always stop my mental spiraling in its tracks. Sex won’t fix things or make them less complicated, though. It’s only a stopgap, a bandage, a temporary detour.
Coming up with a solution, though? That will bring long-term relief.
Maybe there’s room for both, for us each meeting a different need because of how different we are. Helen’s already looking steadier on her feet and more like herself. I nod slowly. “Yeah, he’s taking care of us in his own way.” He’s doing it right now.
Helen tugs on my shirt. “Come play with us, Patroclus. We’ll be gentle. After we tire ourselves out, you can talk us through what’s going on in your head.”
I’m so tempted, but no matter what they both say, sex changes things. Has already changed things. I want to believe that we’ll all land on our feet after this. I want to believe it so desperately, I’m tempted to ignore all the evidence pointing to the contrary. “This results in heartbreak. Either he ends up Ares, ruining your dreams, or you do, and it ruins his dreams. Or someone else entirely wins and that smashes both of you to bits.” Doubly so because at least with Achilles or Helen winning, there’s a small chance to fix things and reach the future I suddenly want more than anything. The three of us together.
That won’t happen if Helen is married to another.
“Patroclus…” She leans up and kisses me again, lingering this time. “We can go round and round and round worrying about the future until we’re ready to wring each other’s necks. It won’t change what happens in the next trial, and it won’t change what happens after. Or…we can follow Achilles’s lead and enjoy the time we have left together.”
“But—”
“We can argue more about it later if you want.” She speaks against my lips. “When life is just a series of bad scenarios, you learn to take your pleasure and joy where you can. I am tired and shaky and more than a little heartsore. I might be wrong, but I think you’re feeling a bit of the same, if for different reasons.”
I startle. “Why would you say that?”
“Call it an educated guess.” She leans back and looks up at me. “I don’t know what’s going on with you and him, though if it has to do with me, I’m sorry.” Helen worries her bottom lip. “Also, I realize that I’m being just as pushy as he is. So it’s okay if you don’t want to.”
If I don’t want to?
The thought almost makes me laugh. Of course I want to. It’s not as simple as seeing something I desire and reaching out to acquire it. Except… Maybe it is? Maybe this once, I can throw the consequences to the wind and ride it out for a little while?
If we’re all but destined to crash and burn, why not do as they suggest and take what little pleasure and joy I can where I can find it?
“Helen.”
“Yes?”
“After this…” Why is it so hard to get the words out? I clear my throat and try again. “After this, I’ll talk through what has me so tangled up, but only if you promise to do the same.”
I half expect her to laugh it off or maybe agree easily with the intention never to follow through on it. We’ve known each other long enough that I understand Helen doesn’t let people in. She’s so different from the child I remember, different from the public persona she adapts with other people. Even so, I’m not naive enough to think she’s giving us everything. She’s too smart, and much too savvy, to expose herself like that.
Helen gives me a small smile that feels like a punch in the gut. “I’m not sure you really want that. I’m a mess.”
“I like your mess.” It’s the truth. Too stark. Too honest.
She hesitates but finally nods. “If you show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”
“Deal.” I offer her a smile of my own. “Now take off your clothes.”
