Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. These two men are opponents, and their motivations for joining the tournament don’t change that. Even if one of them somehow managed to win this and become Ares, that’s hardly the majority. They can’t touch the legacy titles, and they have no chance of getting either Aphrodite or Demeter, albeit for very different reasons. I pity the fool who tries to take Athena’s title. Ditto with Hermes.
There is the little-known rule about murder, but…
I shake my head. It’s a little-known rule for a reason. Even if murdering one of the Thirteen would technically be a shortcut to bypass the normal path to claiming the title, no one is foolish enough to try it. The others would turn on them with a ferocity that would ensure they didn’t survive their first day. It’s in everyone’s best interest to go about things the proper way.
Attempting a coup of Olympus is a fool’s errand.
I finish my meal and sit back, intending to nurse my coffee for a bit and enjoy the view through the big windows along the wall behind the table. Footsteps are the only warning I get before another group of champions comes into the room.
Atalanta makes a beeline for the coffee, ignoring everyone. Hector winces a little when he sees me and steps between me and Paris, obviously trying to guide his brother toward the food and give me a chance to escape. I sigh and push to my feet. The moment of peace was nice while it lasted.
The sight of Achilles and Patroclus stops me short. Patroclus, the adorable creature that he is, seems to be blushing and is very pointedly not looking in my direction. Achilles, on the other hand, has a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he holds my gaze. Well, that answers that. They definitely knew I could hear them.
They wanted me to hear them.
Surely you don’t think I’ll blush and stammer like a teenager, you fools. Three can play this game. I set my cleared plate in the sink and make my way in their direction, putting a little swing in my step. Patroclus looks almost like he’s trying to make a getaway, but Achilles throws an easy arm around his shoulders, holding him in place. Perfect.
I cup my coffee in two hands and smile sweetly at them. “Achilles?”
He gives me that easy grin that’s a complete lie. “Yeah?”
“Next time you want to mark your territory, why not whip out your cock and pee on his foot instead? It would allow the rest of us to actually get some sleep.” I ignore Patroclus’s sputtering and lean forward, giving him wide eyes and an innocence I certainly don’t feel. “Unless you meant that to be an invitation, in which case, use your words next time.” I speak low enough that the conversation won’t carry. This is just between us, after all.
His light-brown skin goes a little dusky. “I—”
“Have a nice day.” I easily step around them and walk out of the room. It’s only when I’ve rounded the corner that I permit a smile. There’s truly nothing as satisfying as a dramatic exit. He made it so easy, too.
The feeling of petty victory fades with each step. I’m allowing myself to be distracted by those two, and that’s unacceptable. It will be best if I keep away from the rest of the champions during this process. Something I should have remembered before I needled Patroclus and provoked Achilles.
The gym is exactly what I would expect from Athena. Filled with a solid mix of free weights and equipment that looks state of the art, all of it gleaming. I finish my coffee and consider my options. I want to work off some energy, but I don’t want to overly tire myself out. A three-mile run will barely take the edge off, but I’ll do a quick round of circuit training afterward and that should do the trick.
With that decided, I head back to my room to wash out the coffee cup and grab a bottle of water from the fridge. The gym is still blessedly empty when I get back there, and I waste no time putting in headphones and getting on the treadmill.
By the end of the first mile, my muscles unclench and I start to relax. Things haven’t gone as planned, but that’s okay. I’ve been adapting to the whims of others my entire life. Why should this be any different?
Sure, I didn’t think Perseus would follow so literally in our father’s footsteps. He told the truth when he said he’s made sacrifices, too, but he’s intentionally neglecting to remember that he chose his sacrifices. He didn’t give me the opportunity to do the same. Instead, he made the decision for me and expects me to dance to his tune, a puppet on strings he commands.
And Eris? She, of all people, should realize that I understand the inner workings of Olympian politics. If they’d asked this of me instead of ambushing me with the announcement… I shake my head, wishing I could shake the thoughts clear as easily. Eris knew I’d argue and she’d have to convince me, so she jumped right over that conversation and went around me. I don’t see her lining up to marry a stranger, but she was all too happy to throw me to those wolves.
Gods, my family really is the worst.
I turn up the pace on the treadmill. It’s only three miles. I can go a little faster, a little harder. Anything to avoid thinking too closely about the fact that my brother and sister sat down and decided, together, that they were willing to sacrifice me for the goodwill of the next Ares. I don’t care what reassurances Perseus mouthed; in that worst-case scenario, I would already be harmed. Vengeance isn’t for the victims. It’s to make the people around them feel better for not doing anything to stop it in the first place.
I am no victim.
Not anymore.
I was helpless in my father’s house. My mother tried to help, but all she got for her trouble was a broken neck while my father moved on to another woman, another Hera. People used to joke about his Heras being interchangeable, toys shattered by an angry man and replaced just as easily. He would have done it again if he hadn’t died. He already had his sights set on Persephone, a woman younger than me.
Perseus was the one to tell me the news of our father’s death. I sat there and waited to feel anything at all. Sorrow. Guilt. Joy. Something. Instead, it simply felt like someone had lifted a great weight from my shoulders. The monster with the charming mask couldn’t hurt or control me anymore.
I didn’t expect my brother to step into the role of Zeus so completely. I didn’t expect him to essentially put me on lockdown—for my safety, of course. To start dictating what was and wasn’t acceptable Kasios behavior, just like our father used to.
To designate me a pawn to be sacrificed, just like our father planned.
I turn up the speed on the treadmill. This isn’t helping. I’m still thinking too much. I can’t outrun the skeletons rattling around inside my brain, but I can exhaust myself until they slumber. I have to. I can’t fucking live like this. Not when I’m so close to freedom, not when distraction means failure.
A hand appears in my field of vision. I don’t have time to do more than flinch before Patroclus hits the stop button on the treadmill. The belt slows, and I yank my headphones out of my ears. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”