I stare up at him, temporarily dumbfounded. Does he think that’s comforting? While I can admit that Achilles is the best candidate of the bunch, his winning means I’ve failed. It means I’ll spend the rest of my life regulated to the supportive wife, the one always outside the inner circle, the prize.
I sink into the chair across from him, suddenly exhausted. I can’t afford to forget that these men aren’t my allies. Not really. They might be guarding my body and giving me more pleasure than I could have dreamed and… But it doesn’t matter. We’re at odds.
Gods, that shouldn’t hurt so much. “That’s not nearly as comforting as you’d like it to be.”
“Achilles has his own way of doing things.” Patroclus shrugs. “To be fair, he’s the best option to win.”
I bristle. It doesn’t even occur to me to cover up my reaction. Not with these two. “I am the best option to win.”
Achilles gives that arrogant grin like he’s humoring me. “Really, princess? Have you dealt with a lot of soldiers and security efforts up in that gilded palace of a penthouse you live in?” The question might be barbed, but I can tell he’s not trying to be cruel.
He’s even right, at least in this. I don’t have experience with soldiers. Not even a little bit. I’ve had security all my life, but they tend to either blend into the background or keep enough distance—at my insistence—that I forget they’re there. I came into this tournament prepared to have to learn from the ground up when it comes to Ares’s actual duties, but I’m smart, ambitious, and not afraid to play dirty. I can figure out the rest on my way down.
I lift my chin. “I’m a fast learner.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He grins. “Look, Helen, you’re a certified badass. No one is saying otherwise. You’ve kicked ass in both the challenges, and if I wasn’t here, you’d have a better than decent chance of taking Ares. But the fact remains that you’re not qualified for the title.”
I am so fucking tired of being underestimated. Yes, I know only the basics of security from the client perspective, but that doesn’t mean I’m ill-prepared for the title. These two men are both smart and ambitious and they actually take me seriously, but they still don’t understand. There’s absolutely no reason to feel stung by that. No one else sees the real me, understands what I’m actually capable of. Why would Achilles and Patroclus be the exception?
Honestly, it’s an asset. No matter how it chafes, being underestimated has only benefited me. Right now is where I keep my mouth shut and let them believe they know something I don’t.
I can’t quite manage it, though. “Wrong. I’m not the one in over my head if I become Ares.” I lean forward and tap Achilles on the chest with a single finger. “You are.”
“You think so?” If anything, his grin widens. “Enlighten me.”
You’re showing your hand. I ignore the little voice inside me and answer him in kind. “I might not be out there playing soldier, but one thing I do know is politics. Can you say the same?”
“I’m a fast learner.” He tosses my words back at me and jerks a thumb in Patroclus’s direction. “And he’s a fucking genius. We’re fine.”
“Cute.” Even Patroclus looks convinced, though. How can he underestimate Olympus politics? Yes, he’s never dabbled in them, but from what I understand, his mothers used to be particularly cutthroat in their twenties. Rumor has it that Sthenele was a top contender for the title of Aphrodite, but when Patroclus and I were eight, she and Polymele all but disappeared from Olympus politics, taking him with them. It’s not a huge leap to assume they made that call to protect their family.
What must it be like to be loved that much?
I shove the thought away. “You can’t just learn politics like you can with other skills. That’s not how it works.”
“If you say so.”
Something like worry takes root inside me. I’m going to win. I have to believe I’m going to win. But if I don’t? If Achilles does manage to secure Ares and steps into the viper’s nest I grew up in… He’s going to get hurt. He might get dead. “Because of the barrier, we haven’t had to deal with an outside incursion in our lifetime.”
“What’s your point?”
“My point is that no one is qualified to defend the city properly, at least if we’re talking about experience. The title of Ares is a glorified babysitter to ensure the petty squabbles between the rest of the Thirteen and their inner circles don’t get out of hand. The responsibilities of the title matter less than the allies and enemies that you have to navigate.”
Achilles shrugs. “I’m still more qualified than you are.”
I raise my brows, trying not to let the strange worry inside me flourish. How can he be so determined not to see the pitfall right in front of him? Or, if not Achilles, how can Patroclus ignore the danger? I have to make them see, in the event that the worst comes to pass. I can’t stand the thought of something happening to them. “Is that so? Then I’m sure you can tell me why the last Aphrodite took a hit out on Demeter’s daughter.”
Patroclus raises his brows. “Everyone knows she tried to kill Psyche. It was televised, Helen.”
“Everyone knows it happened. Do you know why?”
“Because Psyche was fucking Eros, and Aphrodite doesn’t share her toys,” Achilles says lazily. “Next question.”
“Wrong. She did it because Demeter had Psyche lined up to be the next Hera, and she went around Aphrodite to do it.” Psyche would have been a good fit for the title, too, but I know better than to say as much to either my brother or Eros. I plant my hands on my hips. “Do you know who among the Thirteen Poseidon is sleeping with and how that influences where his alliances lie?”
“I didn’t—”
I keep going. “How about what Hermes’s endgame is—or are you naive enough to think she’s merely stirring the pot to entertain herself? Can you trace all of Demeter’s contacts across the rest of the Thirteen? Will you fall in with her or try to stand apart? Both decisions have consequences. Are you prepared to pay them?”
Achilles shrugs, but Patroclus is looking at me like he’s never seen me before. Finally, he begins to understand. “All our strategy has been focused on the martial side of things,” he says slowly.
“Exactly.” A small voice whispers that the three of us as a team would be unstoppable, but I ignore it. Achilles has his sights set on Ares. So do I. That puts us on opposite sides, regardless of how he’s taken care of me in that particular Achilles fashion, or how sweet Patroclus is, or how much I enjoy fucking them both. At the end of this tournament, it doesn’t matter what he feels for me. He won’t hold back in the final trial. The only thing that matters is his end goal. That’s something of a compliment, I suppose. It makes my chest ache to think about facing him down in two days.