“You’ve wanted this for a long time.” His reasons for striving to claim the Ares title are just as valid as Helen’s, just as rooted in past pain and uncertainty. He’s no longer the powerless child who grew up in one of Hera’s orphanages and was palmed off to be a soldier for Ares. It’s completely understandable that he’s seeking to cement his place of power and ambition. Failing to claim it probably won’t break him, either, but Achilles has never suffered a true setback once he’s decided on an outcome. I don’t know how losing would affect him. “I don’t know what the answer is.”
“That’s a first.” He gives a tired smile and pushes to his feet. Achilles claps me on the shoulder. “Let’s clean this up, toss a snack for Helen into the mini fridge in case she gets hungry later, and do some restorative yoga. You’re doing a shitty job of covering up how stiff you are, and it will probably help.” He gives a tight smile. “Whatever comes, we’ll figure it out.”
“No matter what?” It’s a child’s plea, with no basis in logic, but I can’t help making it all the same. I want them both happy. I want this not to be the end. Foolish. So fucking foolish.
“Yeah, Patroclus. No matter what.”
We put together some leftovers to store in the mini fridge and snag one of Bellerophon’s people to dispose of the rest. Achilles locks the door, and I take one last pass around the suite. With the interviews canceled, we don’t have anywhere we have to be today, but there’s still the chance of another assassination attempt on Helen. Whoever was pissed she passed the first trial has to be furious that she’s moving on to the final.
The only light fighting back the darkness of the bedroom is from a crack between the curtains. Helen’s huddled in the middle of the bed, the covers pulled up around her head. She looks smaller like this, and my chest gives another uncomfortable lurch. No, not my chest. My fucking heart. Achilles is always going on about how soft I am, but it’s not the truth. I can be plenty cold when the situation requires it. Except this one. Helen’s planted her roots in my center over the course of a few days. It shouldn’t be possible for it to happen this quickly, but my mom always talks about how she looked across the room, saw my other mom, and just knew.
I knew when I saw Achilles. Maybe not that I’d be in love with him within a week and we’d spend the next twelve years together, but I knew he’d be important to me. That he already was important to me.
It didn’t hit like a lightning bolt with Helen. Not when we were kids, and certainly not when we collided again as adults. It was more like the tide coming in, each interaction with her a wave that brought me closer to her until this moment. I’m drowning but I don’t even miss the taste of air. I want this new reality. I want to be as sure as Achilles that it’s possible even if I can’t see how in this moment.
I return to find Achilles has pushed the couch back to create room. He watches me closely as I ease onto the ground, eyes narrowed. “We were too rough with you last night?”
“If you were too rough with me, I would have said something.” Last night, the pleasure had overcome my aches and bruises, but Achilles was right when he said my body had stiffened up overnight. I hold his gaze. “Just bruises and achy muscles. I’ll bitch and moan about it, but I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” He grabs a pillow and helps me get into the first position. Restorative yoga is basically just holding a single position that’s fully supported for several long minutes. It’s about all I’m capable of right now, which irks me.
I’ll recover. I know that. But in time for the third trial?
“I know you’re worried about shit. We’ll figure it out.” Achilles props his elbows on his knees and leans against the couch. “Trust me.”
“I do.” It’s even the truth. If anyone can see us through out of sheer stubbornness, it’s this man. We fall into a comfortable silence as I move into the next position. By the time I finish up, I’m still sore as fuck, but my mind feels calmer. I allow Achilles to pull me to my feet and hook the back of his neck to pull him down into a quick kiss. “I love you. Always.”
“I love you, too.” He smacks my ass. “Now let’s go cuddle our princess. She needs the grounding.”
“Okay.” He’s been right about so much, sensing what Helen needs before I can reason through it. They’re similar enough in a lot of ways, so that might play into it. I’m not sure. I’m hardly going to complain about the three of us sharing a bed. “I’ll take first watch.”
“In the bedroom.”
I hesitate, but I don’t want to argue. Fighting this because I should is silly. “Sure.”
“Let’s go.” I follow him into the bedroom, pausing only long enough to shut off the hallway light. He slides beneath the blankets on one side of the bed, and I crawl up to sit against the headboard on her other side. Helen tenses. “Did I invite you?”
“Aw, princess.” Achilles drops an arm over her waist and drags her back against him. “You won’t make us take naps on the couch, will you? Especially since you’re one-third responsible for all the lost sleep last night. You already said how uncomfortable the couch is.”
She sighs. “You’re trying to provoke me.”
“Nah, I just want to cuddle you while Patroclus keeps watch.” He brushes a kiss against her temple. “Close your eyes. We’ll keep you safe.”
She shifts and I nearly startle when her fingers brush my elbow. She follows my arm down to my hand and laces her fingers through mine. My heart twists and surges, and I don’t know what the fuck is happening, but I think I might be falling in love with Helen Kasios.
28
Achilles
The moment we walk through the tunnel and into the arena, it’s like entering a different world. I think it’s the sheer noise the people in the stands make. It reverberates through my body right down to my bones. The maze is gone as if it’d never been here to begin with. Instead, the oval is sand like it was during the opening ceremony. They’re really leaning into the gladiator shit, which is about what I expected since the final trial is combat.
Last person standing becomes the next Ares.
I glance at Patroclus. He’s got his game face on, every expression locked down and nothing slipping through. He’s wearing his normal gym clothes, and he’s limping a bit, but he’s moving better than he was yesterday. That’s fine. He doesn’t have to be in top form for this trial. He’s here to watch my back, which means there’s no reason for him to be sticking his neck out.
I’ll make sure he doesn’t feel like he has to, even if I have to eliminate him myself.