Her reluctance to preen and pose for the cameras has created a cultlike following among Olympus residents. There are entire message boards devoted to people who want her to step on them or who write fanfic about all the Thirteen, but her in particular. She prefers to pretend they don’t exist, but the side effect is that her popularity is among the highest of the Thirteen.
She flicks out a hand, her expression even. Immediately, the crowd’s cheering cuts off as if something hit a dial. Impressive. She might not do the public thing often, but she’s certainly got the presence and command for it. Athena sweeps a look across the arena. “Shall we begin? Good. Our first champion is Paris Chloros.”
I flinch, my stomach twisting as I watch my ex walk out of the entrance opposite me and wave to the crowd as he heads for the short podium on the far right. Overhead, the screen flashes clips of him from various gossip sites, and I feel a little sick when I notice how many of them feature me as well. The pit in my stomach only gets worse at how happy I look in those videos. Some of it was a lie—dealing with the paparazzi means learning to project the image you want them to run with—but I really was happy with Paris…until I realized that my nice-guy boyfriend was an even bigger liar than I was.
Paris provided this video; I know because I was asked to provide the same thing for my entrance. What the fuck is he trying to prove? Surely this isn’t all a bid to get me back? I shake my head. No, with Paris, this is more likely some kind of pissing contest, reminding everyone that I was his before I was the next Ares’s wife. I shudder. There’s a reason I broke things off with him, and I’ll commit truly outstanding acts of violence before I let him near me again.
Out of everyone in Olympus, he’s the one person I thought I could trust. The one I confessed my doubts and fears to. Instead of providing a soft place to land, he sharpened those same doubts and fears and shot them right into the heart of me, all with a smile on his handsome face.
By the time I ended things with him and managed to make the breakup stick, he’d brutalized my instincts and ruined most of my close friendships. I hadn’t even realized he was isolating me until the relationship ended and I was left standing alone.
“Our second champion is Hector Chloros.”
I smile despite myself as Hector moves easily across the sand to the second platform. All the good genes in that family went to the elder brother, a fact proven by his video. Ninety percent of it is of him and his wife, Andromache, and their daughter. It would be a strange choice if he were actually here to win, but this video feels like a declaration of a different sort. He’s obviously acting as support to Paris.
That’s going to be a problem.
It stands to reason that alliances are a possibility, but I’d been so focused on getting around my family to accomplish this that I hadn’t thought much farther than getting into the tournament and competing in the trials. Now that I’m thinking about it, though… I have three sets of allies to worry about who are significantly more dangerous than the rest of the champions. Hector and Paris. The two strangers who arrived together. And Achilles and Patroclus. Ajax will likely fall in with either Hector or Achilles, based on his history with them. Possibly even Atalanta, which would make a fourth pair to deal with. Each of those champions is a challenge on their own. Together? Things just got significantly more complicated.
“Fuck,” I murmur. Maybe I can approach Atalanta before Ajax or the others get a chance and see if she’d be willing to work together to get past the first two trials. I won’t have much time to work my charm, and I don’t really know her at all, but surely the bond of sisterhood is enough to work in my favor.
I grimace. Not likely.
While I was waffling, Athena has run through a good number of the champions. They file in, one after another. Some slump alone with their shoulders bowed, obviously not here because they want to be. Others strut and wave at the crowd. I know most of them on sight, but it’s clear that after Paris and Hector, Athena is saving the true contenders for last.
Sure enough, Ajax and Atalanta were announced next. Then comes the Minotaur—seriously, what kind of name is that—and Theseus. They look even bigger when lined up with the others. Hector and Ajax are no joke, but these two have several inches and quite a few pounds of muscle on both. Which means they positively tower over everyone else. Hopefully that means they’ll be slow and we can knock them out in the first trial.
“Patroclus Fotos.”
My attention drags back to the entrance as Patroclus walks through. The others have all dressed to impress, but he’s wearing jeans and a white T-shirt. He looks like he wants to be anywhere but here, which is somehow endearing. I can’t help comparing him to the boy I knew once upon a time, sweet and quiet and positively nerdy. He doesn’t look the same, but he’s familiar despite that. Not to mention the man is hot now. No one is going to look at him and decide he’s an easy mark, not with those broad shoulders and big hands. And he’s so damn smart, too. I could practically see his impressive brain whirling and spinning out from being so close to me. My personal taste these days leans more toward pretty and vapid, but I can’t deny that I loved ruffling his feathers.
I want to do it again.
I want to ruffle them a whole lot.
“Achilles Kallis.”
Despite myself, my breath catches at the sight of Achilles in a deep-blue suit. He’s so damn attractive and he knows it, stalking across the sand with an intent that feels almost violent. Why is that so sexy? He’s exactly the kind of person I would have gone for in the past, the exact kind of person who would have seen my proximity to Zeus as a tool to be used to their benefit. Paris certainly did. I can practically feel Achilles’s intent and ambition. The others are dangerous, but he wants this more than anyone.
Except me.
Once the cheers die down, a small smile pulls at Athena’s mouth. “And our final champion. Helen Kasios.”
Chaos breaks loose as I smooth my hand over my short golden dress and stride down the walkway to the arena floor. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter what the greater Olympus population thinks of any of the individual champions, because the victor is the one who becomes Ares. With all that said, only a fool wouldn’t start to curry favor from the very beginning. Achilles obviously has considered this, but he doesn’t have the kind of practice I do with manipulating public opinion.
I wink and blow a kiss at the camera pointed in my direction that’s feeding video to the large screens overhead. The chaos morphs into cheers. Perfect. I wave and head across the sand to my podium. Walking gracefully across sand in heels is harder than it looks, but I practically live in six-inch stilettos; I make it look easy.
Achilles moves before I reach the podium, jumping down and closing the distance between us. I tense but manage to keep my smile in place. Is he really going to try to stop me?
The asshole grins and offers his hand. “Fancy seeing you here, princess.”