For better or worse, we’re headed for a single destination. There are no exits, no diverging paths, no way to change what will come. Within a few days, the title for Ares will be awarded to the winner of this tournament. Reality will invade this safe space we’ve created. There’s no avoiding it.
But not yet.
“I’m surprised you convinced Bellerophon to have breakfast delivered.” The layout isn’t fancy—eggs, hash browns, fruit, and pancakes—but it’s more than I expected.
Achilles pulls out a chair for Helen, ignoring her suspicious look, and grins. “Bellerophon is being overly cautious leading up to the third trial. Add in the assassination attempt, and they’d rather keep us as separate as possible for the next twenty-four hours.”
“I don’t need special treatment,” Helen says. She examines the food available and finally adds a bit of each to her plate. “I don’t like the idea of hiding in the room. It looks like I’m scared.”
“No one will see it. It’s not like they televise what goes on in this house.” Achilles pauses, expression going thoughtful. “Though Bellerophon did say they are canceling the interviews that were supposed to happen today. It’s a security risk, though they’re spinning it as something else for the public.”
“Gods forbid we provide a less than perfect image for the public,” I murmur. I sink into the empty chair and start filling a plate. I’m starving. Spending the night exerting the kind of energy we did wasn’t wise, but I don’t regret it. I’m not prepared to say that sometimes plans should be thrown out, but I can’t deny that I didn’t plan on Helen. It doesn’t matter. I’m still 100 percent with Achilles on finding a way to make this work.
She’s still right, though. There isn’t a single scenario that is perfect. The odds aren’t in our favor, but—
“Patroclus.” From the patient way Helen says my name, it’s not the first time. She’s got that little indulgent smile on her face, and my whole body goes warm in response. Gods, this woman does something to me. I don’t fully understand it, but I’m beyond questioning it.
“Yeah?”
“Your mom Sthenele. She was almost Aphrodite, right? It was when we were kids, but my dad used to talk about her a lot before you moved away.” Helen glances away, a shadow flickering over her face before she seems to put it away. “Why did she withdraw her name?”
It’s an old story, but I don’t mind retelling it. I give the untouched plate in front of her a pointed look. “Eat while I tell you.”
“Bossy.”
“You need the calories.”
She gives me a stubborn look, but her amber eyes dance. “You aren’t telling Achilles to eat.”
I tilt my head in his direction. He’s created a mounding plate of food and is already halfway through devouring it. When he catches us looking, he shrugs. “I’m hungry.”
Helen shakes her head. “Okay, you have a point.” She holds my gaze and takes a dainty bite of the omelet.
Satisfied she’ll continue eating, I pour three mugs of coffee and start at the beginning. “My moms—Sthenele and Polymele—have been together since they were teenagers.”
“Like someone else we know,” Achilles mutters.
I ignore him. He’s heard this story a thousand times, and as a result, I can predict his interruptions the same way he can predict how it unfolds. “They’re both from families that have had members in the Thirteen in past generations, and with several of the titles primed to switch over, they had a good chance at claiming one for themselves. Sthenele worked under the last Aphrodite, and she was a top contender for the position.” The last Aphrodite liked her quite a bit, I think, and since the current holder of that title is the one who names their heir, it made my mother a front-runner.
“What happened?”
I wait until she takes another bite to look away. “They wanted more kids. Polymele was pregnant.” The details are a little hazy for me after all this time, but the thing I do remember is how excited I was at the thought of a sibling…and how quickly joy turned to fear. “There was an, ah, attack.”
“What he means is that the bitch Peitho orchestrated an attack on Polymele as a way to put pressure on Sthenele.” Achilles raises his brows when I sigh. “What? It’s the truth. She did it, even if they never proved it. And she is a bitch. The years haven’t changed that, or she wouldn’t be exiled right now.”
“Peitho…” Helen’s eyes go wide. “That’s Eros’s mom’s name. I kind of forgot she had one before becoming Aphrodite.”
“Yeah, well, she’s not Aphrodite anymore, is she?” Achilles takes a massive bite of sandwich.
“I guess she’s not,” Helen says faintly.
I lean back in my chair. “Polymele miscarried.” My moms still get kind of sad when that subject comes up. It wasn’t the only miscarriage she suffered in the years after that. They used to call me their miracle baby with a smile, but I know the fact I’m an only child is a bittersweet thing for both of them. “Sthenele made the decision to resign her position and put as much distance between our family and Olympian politics as possible.”
Helen studies the plate in front of her. “Why didn’t they strike back? Removing Peitho would have removed the threat.”
“You know better.” Even existing mostly on the outskirts of the Thirteen, I understand how things work. There’s always another threat, another enemy. The people who stay and thrive in that atmosphere are willing to pay the price—or allow those closest to them to pay the price. My moms decided the cost was too high.
She sighs. “Yeah. I guess I do know better.” Helen picks up her fork and puts it down again. “That’s all very romantic. Do they regret it?”
I shrug. “They wanted our family to be safe more than they wanted power. They seem happy enough with the results.” I grew up in a household filled with love and safety. I don’t know that the latter would be true if my moms had chased their ambition. I still remember the tension and fights they had when I was small. So much is indistinct, but that isn’t. They relaxed once we moved, fought less.
She nods slowly. “And what do they think of you being in the tournament?”
“They know the score.” Achilles snorts. “Patroclus and I have been on this path a long time. They knew we were headed for glory and everything that entails.”
Despite myself, I smile. Achilles often exasperates my moms, but they love him nearly as much as I do. “Yeah, you’ve had your eye on the top for a long time. It’s one of the first things you ever said to me in boot camp. You looked around and said, ‘Someday, everyone in Olympus is going to know my name.’”
Achilles doesn’t bother to blush. “I know what I want.”
Helen’s shoulders go tense, a sure sign we’re about to reenter our argument about Ares and what it means and what the future will hold. We’ll end up going in circles again and again, because there’s no solution. We only have theories right now.
I cut in before we can go off the rails. “I’ve shown you mine. Now show me yours.”
Her smile is half-hearted at best. “You had a happy childhood, didn’t you? Even before you moved?”
“Yeah.” It’s the truth. I never went without. I knew my moms loved me. There was the normal kid shit, especially being a person who needs a lot of time to think, but nothing worth commenting on.
“I didn’t.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder. “All my physical needs were taken care of. I know, I know, Achilles, poor little rich girl, but…”
He looks a little guilty. “But Zeus.”
“Yeah, but Zeus.” She sighs and pushes her plate away. She’s eaten half the omelet and a few bites of fruit, which isn’t enough, but I don’t want to press her right now, not when she’s lowering her walls just a few inches, letting us see part of her she’s kept back until now. “He killed my mom. I know that’s the rumor and everyone kind of takes it as something like an urban legend, but it’s the truth. They were fighting and he shoved her down the stairs. She snapped her neck.”
Achilles tenses and looks to me. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that. Saying “I’m sorry” sounds like the biggest bullshit. I’m still waffling over responses when Helen continues.
“I don’t say that so you’ll feel sorry for me. It’s just one of the many sins to lay at my father’s feet. He was a monster, and he raised me, which makes me at least a little bit monstrous.” She finally lifts her gaze, and the determination shining from her face is staggering. “So, yeah, I am a spoiled princess, but that’s not all I am. I survived him. I’ll survive whatever my siblings are planning, too. Maybe there was a time when I might have gone along with their plans, at least in part, in order to keep the peace, but that’s not who I am anymore. I deserve to be more than a prize.”
My chest twinges with a strength I’m not prepared for. “Helen…”
“I need a little space. I’m going to try to take a nap.” She pushes up from the table and walks down the hall to the bedroom. The door closing sounds unnaturally loud in the suite.
I turn to Achilles and sigh. “This is a mess.”
“She’ll get over her disappointment once this all shakes out.” He’s frowning, though, and he pushes his plate away without finishing the food he’d been working his way through. “It might take time to earn her forgiveness, but we will.” He doesn’t sound as confident as normal. “She has to forgive us.”
I don’t think Helen has to do a single thing, up to and including forgive us. Not for this. It makes me a little sick to my stomach. Obviously, everyone who knew Zeus’s reputation knew that he wasn’t a good guy. Three dead wives, more than a handful of whispered allegations of assault, and a son he ran out of town when he wouldn’t fall in line. It all adds up to an unsavory picture. I don’t know how I didn’t consider what it would be like growing up in that household. If I remember correctly, Helen’s mother died when she was a teenager. Her stepmom didn’t last more than a handful of years after Zeus remarried.
My skin prickles. “What if this breaks her?”
“Breaks her?” Achilles shakes his head. “Have you met the woman? She’s too strong, too fucking stubborn. She might doubt herself sometimes, but like she said, she’s a survivor. It will take more than a little disappointment to break her.”
I want to believe that. I do. But people are more than just a problem to be solved. Emotions often have nothing to do with logic. If they did, we wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with. “I hope so.”
Achilles flinches, the tiniest reaction. He slumps back in his chair. “I don’t want to break her, but I…”
“You’ve wanted this for a long time.” His reasons for striving to claim the Ares title are just as valid as Helen’s, just as rooted in past pain and uncertainty. He’s no longer the powerless child who grew up in one of Hera’s orphanages and was palmed off to be a soldier for Ares. It’s completely understandable that he’s seeking to cement his place of power and ambition. Failing to claim it probably won’t break him, either, but Achilles has never suffered a true setback once he’s decided on an outcome. I don’t know how losing would affect him. “I don’t know what the answer is.”
“That’s a first.” He gives a tired smile and pushes to his feet. Achilles claps me on the shoulder. “Let’s clean this up, toss a snack for Helen into the mini fridge in case she gets hungry later, and do some restorative yoga. You’re doing a shitty job of covering up how stiff you are, and it will probably help.” He gives a tight smile. “Whatever comes, we’ll figure it out.”
“No matter what?” It’s a child’s plea, with no basis in logic, but I can’t help making it all the same. I want them both happy. I want this not to be the end. Foolish. So fucking foolish.
“Yeah, Patroclus. No matter what.”
We put together some leftovers to store in the mini fridge and snag one of Bellerophon’s people to dispose of the rest. Achilles locks the door, and I take one last pass around the suite. With the interviews canceled, we don’t have anywhere we have to be today, but there’s still the chance of another assassination attempt on Helen. Whoever was pissed she passed the first trial has to be furious that she’s moving on to the final.
The only light fighting back the darkness of the bedroom is from a crack between the curtains. Helen’s huddled in the middle of the bed, the covers pulled up around her head. She looks smaller like this, and my chest gives another uncomfortable lurch. No, not my chest. My fucking heart. Achilles is always going on about how soft I am, but it’s not the truth. I can be plenty cold when the situation requires it. Except this one. Helen’s planted her roots in my center over the course of a few days. It shouldn’t be possible for it to happen this quickly, but my mom always talks about how she looked across the room, saw my other mom, and just knew.
I knew when I saw Achilles. Maybe not that I’d be in love with him within a week and we’d spend the next twelve years together, but I knew he’d be important to me. That he already was important to me.
It didn’t hit like a lightning bolt with Helen. Not when we were kids, and certainly not when we collided again as adults. It was more like the tide coming in, each interaction with her a wave that brought me closer to her until this moment. I’m drowning but I don’t even miss the taste of air. I want this new reality. I want to be as sure as Achilles that it’s possible even if I can’t see how in this moment.
I return to find Achilles has pushed the couch back to create room. He watches me closely as I ease onto the ground, eyes narrowed. “We were too rough with you last night?”
“If you were too rough with me, I would have said something.” Last night, the pleasure had overcome my aches and bruises, but Achilles was right when he said my body had stiffened up overnight. I hold his gaze. “Just bruises and achy muscles. I’ll bitch and moan about it, but I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” He grabs a pillow and helps me get into the first position. Restorative yoga is basically just holding a single position that’s fully supported for several long minutes. It’s about all I’m capable of right now, which irks me.
I’ll recover. I know that. But in time for the third trial?
“I know you’re worried about shit. We’ll figure it out.” Achilles props his elbows on his knees and leans against the couch. “Trust me.”
“I do.” It’s even the truth. If anyone can see us through out of sheer stubbornness, it’s this man. We fall into a comfortable silence as I move into the next position. By the time I finish up, I’m still sore as fuck, but my mind feels calmer. I allow Achilles to pull me to my feet and hook the back of his neck to pull him down into a quick kiss. “I love you. Always.”
“I love you, too.” He smacks my ass. “Now let’s go cuddle our princess. She needs the grounding.”
“Okay.” He’s been right about so much, sensing what Helen needs before I can reason through it. They’re similar enough in a lot of ways, so that might play into it. I’m not sure. I’m hardly going to complain about the three of us sharing a bed. “I’ll take first watch.”
“In the bedroom.”
I hesitate, but I don’t want to argue. Fighting this because I should is silly. “Sure.”
“Let’s go.” I follow him into the bedroom, pausing only long enough to shut off the hallway light. He slides beneath the blankets on one side of the bed, and I crawl up to sit against the headboard on her other side. Helen tenses. “Did I invite you?”
“Aw, princess.” Achilles drops an arm over her waist and drags her back against him. “You won’t make us take naps on the couch, will you? Especially since you’re one-third responsible for all the lost sleep last night. You already said how uncomfortable the couch is.”
She sighs. “You’re trying to provoke me.”
“Nah, I just want to cuddle you while Patroclus keeps watch.” He brushes a kiss against her temple. “Close your eyes. We’ll keep you safe.”
She shifts and I nearly startle when her fingers brush my elbow. She follows my arm down to my hand and laces her fingers through mine. My heart twists and surges, and I don’t know what the fuck is happening, but I think I might be falling in love with Helen Kasios.
