Another shrug. “Maybe I have a thing against people being forced into marriages they didn’t choose. Maybe I want to live vicariously through you because I would have competed to be Ares if I weren’t already Hera. Maybe I want to stick it to my lovely husband in any way I can. My reasonings really don’t matter, do they?” Again, that predator’s smile. “You want to compete, Helen? Do it. All those fuckers who think you’re just a pretty prize to be won? Prove them wrong.”
It feels like she fired an arrow right into the very heart of me. I can’t trust this woman, sister-in-law or no. But…that doesn’t mean her idea is without merit. “You really hate my brother, don’t you?”
“I hate all of the Thirteen.”
“You are one of the Thirteen.” Even if Hera has become a weakened title since my father became Zeus. Over the course of his three wives—three Heras—he stripped the title of what influence it had until it became nothing more than an empty term for Zeus’s spouse.
“Yes. I am.”
The door opens and Perseus steps back into the room. His gaze jumps from me to his wife and back again. “There you are.”
Her smile is downright poisonous. “Just having some girl talk with Helen.”
He doesn’t comment on that, which is just as well. “It’s time to leave, Hera.”
“Of course, Zeus.” The words seem polite enough, but fury lurks in their edges. She turns to me. “Congratulations on your pending nuptials, Helen. I’m sure you’ll make a lovely piece of arm candy for the next Ares.”
I watch her stalk across the room toward my brother, and the small hairs at the back of my neck rise. This woman is more predator than most of the Thirteen, and I can’t shake the feeling that Perseus is going to greatly regret marrying her. For his part, he turns easily and places his hand at the small of her back. Always worried about appearances, my brother, even when no one else is here to witness the lie except me.
I follow them out of the office, and we take the elevator down to the parking garage. Only when we’ve walked well out of hearing range of the guard near the door does Perseus speak. “Do not, under any circumstances, take action to endanger this process. Promise me, Helen.”
Damn him for throwing this curveball at me and then demanding I promise good behavior. Damn his wife for using clever words to poke holes in my already shaky determination to do what my family asks of me. I shake my head slowly. “You know, you really do take after our father.”
He flinches, a barely perceptible movement that instantly has guilt surging through me. It was a low blow, and I did it intentionally to hurt him. I never mean to be a bitch, but sometimes the thorns inside me squeeze too tightly and horrible things burst from my lips. Words meant to strike to the very heart of a person.
Perseus nudges Callisto toward his SUV, and I wonder again that he touches her so easily, as if he’s not worried about losing a hand. Surely he sees the sharp look she sends in his direction every time he gets too close?
He waits for her to climb into the passenger seat before turning to me. “I deserved that, but it changes nothing. Promise me, Helen.”
“I promise,” I lie without hesitation. I don’t even feel guilty while doing it. It’s practically a love language in our family.
He searches my face, the cold thawing for the barest instant. “Whoever becomes Ares will treat you well. I’ll ensure it.”
I laugh bitterly. “How? Are you going to set up surveillance to ensure my spouse doesn’t abuse me? Please.”
“Yes.”
He’s…not joking. I stare. “And then what, Perseus? What will you do if you sentenced me to be married to a monster?”
“It won’t come to that. You’re too savvy, and most of the champions recognize that harming you would alienate a good portion of the Thirteen.”
Surely my ambitious, ruthless brother can’t be this naive. “Most, but not all.”
“The unknowns won’t win, Helen.”
No, they won’t. Because I’m going to. The resolution takes root in my chest, steadying me. I’m going to be Ares. Still, I can’t help pressing. I don’t know what I’m looking for. Reassurance. Comfort. Something. I’m a fool. “What if one of the unknowns wins? What if Paris wins?”
“They won’t harm you. If they do?” My brother turns for the SUV. “I’ll make you a widow.”
4
Patroclus
I leave Achilles asleep in our apartment and make my way to Athena’s headquarters on foot. She likes to keep a low profile, occupying an older building in the northeast part of the upper city, just south of the docks and near the coast. It’s far enough from Zeus’s glittering city center that the buildings have more character, deviating from the steel and glass and concrete look that the blocks surrounding Dodona Tower favor.
There’s not long until the deadline closes to put forth a name as champion. I expect most of the major players have already shown their faces, but I don’t like being surprised. Dawn is a few hours off, and if anyone is going to be a late addition, they’ll do it now, under the cover of darkness.
Historically, the three trials are more physical in nature, but the advantage of a surprise contender cannot be overstated. In order to ensure Achilles wins, I have to consider all variables and plan around them. Which is why I’m here instead of in the warm bed beside him.
Trees line this street at regular intervals, tall oaks that create a pleasant coolness in the early summer heat, even at this hour. I step into the shadows offered by one with a clear view of the entrance to Athena’s building and settle in to wait.
I hear the person before I see them. Heels clicking sharply against the sidewalk, quick and pointed enough to convey a deep anger. I slide deeper into the shadows and angle myself to look for the source.
Surprise flares when I recognize the golden dress, glimmering in the streetlights. I can’t see Helen’s face clearly from here, but the determination in the set of her shoulders speaks for itself. She’d do the same thing when we were kids on the playground, throw back her shoulders before charging into a confrontation.
The stakes were so much lower then.
I half convince myself it’s a coincidence that she’s on this street, moving in this direction, until she yanks open the door to Athena’s building and strides inside.
I’m good at strategy. I might even be the best in Olympus. I theorized Helen would be picked as the bride of the next Ares before it was announced because the data supported that outcome. I knew Paris and Hector would step forward for the same reason. I even projected that there would be a few non-Olympians in the bunch, though I haven’t had a chance to dig into the few who showed up.