Instead of answering, she fires back, “Do you ever get tired of standing in Achilles’s shadow?”
“No,” I answer instantly. “He’s too brash, too impulsive. He needs someone to anchor him.” Without me at his back, gods know where he would have ended up. Achilles is brilliant in his own way, but his priorities can be extremely skewed to the point where he doesn’t see—or care about—the full picture. He takes in what he feels is enough information to act and then acts. His drive and momentum are both terrifying and aggravating by equal measures.
“What about what you need?”
Logically, I know she’s not talking about me, not really. Still, I answer honestly. “I have everything I need.” It’s almost the truth. I truly am happy with what I have with Achilles. It’s not a traditional relationship by any means; we don’t bother to put labels on things and we’re not exclusive, though I don’t partake in others’ charms as often as Achilles does. I love him. He loves me. We’re both getting our needs met, at least for now. If I harbor a secret fear that someday I won’t be enough for him? Well, that’s no one’s business but my own.
I’m not about to confess as much to Helen, shared history or no.
“Lucky you,” she murmurs. For someone who’s been moving through the upper circles of Olympian politics, she’s got a terrible poker face. Or maybe the shadows are tricking me into seeing vulnerability where there is none.
“You seem to have everything you need.” I know better than to make assumptions. Achilles thinks he has Helen and her ilk figured out, but even if my mothers withdrew from the petty politics when I was in grade school, I still recognize that very few in the upper city are entirely honest about what they need and what they want. Doing so with the wrong people hands them a weapon perfectly designed to hurt you.
“Do I?” Helen pats my chest and takes a careful step back. “Well, I guess it’s true, then, since you say so.”
“Helen.” I don’t mean to say her name like that, low and stern.
She smiles, the expression more of sadness than joy. “Not everyone is as lucky as you are, Patroclus. Loving mothers who sacrificed their ambitions to give you a safe space to grow up in. A boyfriend who’s Athena’s second-in-command. A promising career within her special forces.”
“You seem to know a lot about me.”
She glances away and then back at me. “I might have checked up on you occasionally over the years. I guess you didn’t do the same.”
I don’t like the sad look on her face. I’m not the one who should be trying to lift it, though. Really, the thing I should be doing is getting out of this conversation as quickly as possible. Helen is too savvy to give me ammunition to use against her, and I can’t say the same about myself. Not when I’m reacting so strangely to her. “I didn’t have to check up on you. You’re in the headlines all the time.”
“I am, aren’t I?” She laughs a little, a tiny sound of amusement that’s gone far too soon. “I’m really going to give them something to talk about this time.”
“You won’t win.” I don’t say it to be cruel, but she flinches all the same. Still, I press on. “You might even die. It’s not too late. If you ask Athena to strike your name from the list, she will. No one has to know you entered in the first place.”
Helen gives me a bittersweet smile that makes my chest ache in response. “Some things are worth even the risk of death. Good luck, Patroclus. You have your hands full with that golden jackass.” She turns and strides back the way she came.
I don’t mean to move. I have a plan, after all, and that plan involves holding this position until dawn to ensure I know the identities of any champions who want to keep their identities secret until the opening ceremony. Or at least going back to Achilles and reporting this new development. But my body makes the decision for me, one step turning into two, turning into a jog that brings me even with Helen. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“That’s not necessary.”
Despite my longer legs, I have to concentrate to keep up with her quick pace. “The streets are safe enough in this neighborhood, but you’re Helen Kasios. Surely you realize you’re in more danger being out alone without a security detail than the average person.”
She gives me a strange look. “Isn’t it in your best interest to let a champion be eliminated before the tournament even starts?”
“No.” The word comes out too forcefully, but there’s no walking it back now. I make an effort to shrug the tightness out of my shoulders. “I don’t know what it’s like moving in the circles you do, but I don’t believe in acceptable losses. Not if they’re avoidable.”
“How precious of you.” She’s still watching me like I’m a strange new creature she’s never seen before. When she speaks again, her voice is almost gentle. “Patroclus, it’s really okay. If anyone is silly enough to jump me, I can take care of myself.” She holds up a tiny fist. “Once upon a time, I took care of you, too.”
I smile despite myself. “You were a terror on the playground.”
“Like I said.” She drops her fist. “I don’t need you to watch out for me.”
Maybe she doesn’t. She must be able to if she’s confident enough to enter the tournament. I can’t make myself leave her side, though. Not until she’s safe. “All the same. Consider it paying you back for punching Menalaus’s nose after he broke my glasses.”
She sighs. “I should have expected that being irritatingly stubborn is the one thing that hasn’t changed. You’d have to be to share Achilles’s bed. Very well. Tag along if it will make you feel better.”
It strikes me that this Helen is a bit different from the one plastered across the gossip sites. The changes are subtle, but I make a habit of filing away every interaction with powerful people who move among the Thirteen. They’re dangerous in their own ways, and it pays to never be caught flat-footed.
The version she plays in public is bubbly in an almost aggressive way. She lights up every room she walks into, stands too close, and laughs too loudly for polite company. It’s as if she forces her mark into every space she occupies, dares people to ignore her.
This Helen still stands too close, but she’s more subdued. She’s sad. Almost vulnerable. It makes me feel strange to notice that she’s more complicated than I first expected. “You didn’t know about the marriage, did you?”
Instead of answering, she goes on the offensive. “Are you and Achilles in a relationship? Or are you just friends who sometimes fuck?”
I miss a step. “That’s none of your business.”