“Paris knocked her out,” Helen murmurs. She watches the screen with worried eyes. “If she gets hit in the head again…”
Nothing good.
On the screens, Atalanta perches on the Minotaur’s broad chest and hammers him with elbow strikes. I wince. That shit has to hurt, but he’s got his arms over his head and he seems to be waiting her out. His opportunity comes when she shifts to reach for the key.
The Minotaur slams his elbow into her side. The force of the blow knocks her off him and she lands against the far wall and clutches her stomach. He broke a rib there. Maybe more than one.
I tense as he climbs to his feet. If he goes after her now, there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. For a long, pregnant pause, I can almost see him considering hurting her seriously. Then he turns and lumbers to the exit.
Seconds later, he throws open the door and stalks out. One of his eyes is almost entirely swollen shut from where Atalanta punched him, but he seems otherwise fine. I suppose it was too much to ask for him to have some more injuries to fuck him up for the next trial.
The crowd goes quiet as the spotlight aims at Athena. “The second trial is over.” She gives a slow smile. “Congratulations to our champions who are moving on to the third and final trial. Achilles, Patroclus, the Minotaur, Helen, and Paris.”
The arena goes wild. I can feel the cheering though the soles of my shoes, vibrating right down to my bones. Even though I want nothing more than to get the fuck out of here and get a doctor to look at Patroclus, I grin and wave. On the other side of him, Helen is doing the same.
I hate myself a little bit in that moment.
Why the fuck am I playing the game when one of the people I care most about in the world is so injured, he can’t sit up entirely on his own? It says something about me and my goals, and it’s a pretty shitty statement.
But with how far we’ve come, how hard we’ve fought to be here…
I can’t give it up. It’s not in my nature. I will fight to the bitter end, and the only thing I can do is hope that the cost isn’t higher than I can pay. It never occurred to me that that was even an option before this point. Now? Now I’m not so sure.
Things move quickly after that.
Bellerophon and their people usher us out of the arena. There are few enough champions that we all fit in one van. I keep Patroclus between me and Helen. I don’t like the way the other two men keep looking at him—at us.
Paris leans back against his seat and smirks. “Cute little thing you three have going. Don’t you get tired, Achilles?” I stare stonily at him, but apparently he doesn’t need a response. “You know, from carrying both Helen and Patroclus on your back?”
I sense Helen going tense, but I don’t look over as I respond. “It must be exhausting for you, Paris.”
He narrows his eyes. “What must be?”
“The mental gymnastics you go through to pretend like you’re better than everyone.” I shake my head. “You’re a sneaky little shit and that’s the only reason you made it through this trial. Don’t think I didn’t see the way you attacked Atalanta from behind. It’s the only chance you had to beat her, because you sure as fuck wouldn’t have done it in a fair fight. Anyone in this van could take you, including Patroclus with his current injuries. So shut the fuck up.”
Paris’s skin goes a mottled red but his tone is still full of that same infuriating charm when he speaks. “It’s cute how you’re sucking up to Helen like this.” He leans forward a little, cruelty alighting in his eyes. “You don’t have to work so hard. Just call her a dirty little slut and she’ll be on her back with her legs spread for you.”
Fury has me lurching forward, but Patroclus’s hand on my chest stops me. His voice is low but vicious. “Spoken like a man who had something priceless and fucked it up.”
I glance over at Helen, but she’s staring out the window. I would have thought she’d go for Paris’s throat for a comment like that. It’s not as if she’s subtle when she’s furious, and she slapped me for less. Instead, her shoulders are curled in on herself and her body language is tense and brittle.
This isn’t the first time he’s said shit like this to her.
I don’t really give a fuck what people think of me outside of a select few, but I’ve seen how Patroclus will sometimes let comments ping around inside his big brain until they muddle the truth and eat him up from the inside. It doesn’t happen as often now as it did in our teens and early twenties, but this has the feel of that.
Helen loved Paris. I don’t understand it, but I’m sure of it now. She loved him and let him in, and she might as well have cuddled up with a cobra, because he used that closeness against her.
I turn back to him. I’m no longer in danger of attacking him, but my anger is no less. I smile slowly. “I’m going to enjoy beating your face in during the next challenge. No Hector to protect you this time, Paris.”
He shrugs. “We’ll see, won’t we?”
“Yes. We will.”
The Minotaur snorts. “You four with your petty little squabbles. It exhausts me.”
“Then stop listening,” I snap. “No one was talking to you.”
The van slows to a stop. Paris barely waits for the door to open before he’s charging out of the vehicle. The Minotaur follows, but at a more reasonable pace. I half expect Helen to leave, too, but she turns to us. Her expression is locked down in a way I don’t like. “I’ll help you with Patroclus.”
Neither of us comment that I can carry him without much trouble. She obviously needs something to occupy her after Paris being such a shit, and if Patroclus is fine with it, so am I. We carefully ease him out of the van, and Helen tucks herself under his arm. She’s short enough that he doesn’t have to raise his arm overmuch, and she doesn’t so much as weave at his weight. She’s deceptively strong for her size, but that’s nothing new.
Bellerophon meets us there. They sweep a look over our trio. “The doctor will meet you in Patroclus’s rooms.”
“Perfect.” Helen starts for the door.
Bellerophon and I watch for a moment. They speak softly. “He would have seen a doctor even if you didn’t carry him out of the maze on your back. He probably would have seen one sooner.”
“I know.” I do. But I couldn’t leave him behind, even if it means he’s eliminated first in the next trial. I don’t have it in me.
Bellerophon claps me on the shoulder. “Well, congrats on making it to the third trial. You all but have it in the bag.”
I manage a slight smile, though I’m still tracking Helen and Patroclus as they reach the door. She’s limping a little, and I don’t think it’s because he’s leaning on her. Damn the woman. She should have said something if she was injured, too. I start for the front door. “Congratulate me when I’m named Ares.”