I lost sight of my goal.
Helen didn’t.
“Mmm.” Athena moves to the single window in the room and stares out. “He’s still in surgery. It will be a while before we know for sure, but it’s looking like Helen did permanent damage to his shoulder. He won’t ever draw a bow again.”
“Considering how often people use bows, I doubt that will slow him up any.” Which is a damn shame. That asshole better crawl back into whatever glittering hole he left when he entered the tournament, because if I see him on the street, I’m not certain I’ll be able to control the impulse to beat his handsome face in.
“All the same.” She shrugs. “Either way, we don’t deal with things as we wish they were; we deal with them as reality deals us the cards. Helen Kasios just became Ares in a moment when we need someone with military experience. It’s not ideal.”
She’s not wrong, but it still pricks at me to hear her talk about Helen that way. “She might not have the combat experience, but she’s got politics down to a science. She’s not a bad fit. Like I said, I think she’ll surprise you.”
“Maybe.” Athena studies me for a long moment. “Bellerophon says you and Patroclus got rather…close…with her.”
“Bellerophon should know better than to gossip like a teenager,” I snap.
“You know better.” She’s being careful, but Athena doesn’t have much patience for dancing around a topic. “You’re the best damn second-in-command I’ve ever had, and I’m going to need your skill set in the coming confrontation.” She hesitates. “But I will respect whatever decision you make in regard to the future.”
“Athena.” I wait for her to look at me. “If I resign and end up changing my mind…”
Her smile is bittersweet. “You’re smarter than that, Achilles. That decision is one that will stick. For better or worse, the fact is appearances matter in this city. I can’t have my position undermined by welcoming back Ares’s cast-offs.” She moves to the door. “Whatever your decision ends up being, be sure it’s what you want, because you’ll have to live with it.” Then she’s gone, closing the door softly behind her.
Everyone’s making a dramatic exit today.
It’s another hour before a nurse comes and collects me, herding me down the hall and up an elevator and through another series of halls to the room where Patroclus lies in a hospital bed. He looks too pale, too thin. It has the fear from before rushing back, amplifying. “He’s going to be okay?”
“The doctor will explain everything.” The nurse hesitates, but she must read the panic on my face because she leans closer and lowers her voice. “He’ll make a full recovery. There might be some hiccups along the way, but he’ll be fine.”
I don’t know if I believe her. I have to believe her. “Thanks.”
“He’ll wake up when he’s ready. Please be patient.” With one last significant look at me, she slips out of the room.
He looks…small. Patroclus lies on the bed, hooked up to several machines, his skin even paler than normal. Guilt pricks me, digging deep. The only reason he was in the tournament in the first place was to watch my back. I should have let him be eliminated in the second trial like he wanted, should have listened to him every time he warned me of the danger of pushing forward stubbornly. I bullied him into entering, and then I bullied him into continuing even when he was injured. I wanted him with me, and that selfish desire is the reason he’s in this bed now, still and drained.
I might not have wielded the sword that cut him, but this is my fault.
There’s not as much space here as there was downstairs, and I’m afraid if I start pacing again, I’ll knock into his bed and cause him pain on accident or something. So I don’t. I force my restless energy down deep and drop into the chair next to his bed.
It’s like the bastard was waiting for me to stop moving, because he opens his eyes almost immediately. “Achilles?” Even his voice is fucked up, raspy and too quiet.
I drag the chair forward and take his hand. “I’m here.” Touching him calms me a little, though it does nothing to remove the guilt plaguing me. My chest goes tight and awful. He’s okay. That’s the only thing that matters. He’s okay.
“I fucked up.”
“I think it’s more than safe to say the only one who really fucked up is me.” The horrible feeling in my chest shows up in my voice, making the words thick. “I got you into this mess because I couldn’t bear the thought of not having you at my side. You got hurt—twice—because I didn’t give a fuck about anything but my needs. I’m sorry. I know that’s not enough, but I’m fucking sorry, Patroclus.”
“Achilles…” Patroclus grips my hand hard. It’s much weaker than he’s normally capable of, but he gets his point across. “Did Paris win Ares?”
“No.”
He exhales and goes limp. “Thank the gods. If after everything, Helen was married to that bastard… We promised her that it wouldn’t happen.” His eyes fly open. “Wait, that means Helen is Ares.”
“Yes.” The bitterness is back in my tone, but even I don’t know if I’m bitter at Helen or the entire situation. I shake my head slowly. “You should have seen her. She dodged three arrows and threw one of her knives at him.”
“Risky,” he murmurs.
“She pulled it off.” I find myself smiling despite everything. “Hit him right in the shoulder joint and knocked his ass to the ground.”
Patroclus squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry.”
“What do you have to be sorry for?” I’m speaking too harshly, but there’s only one person in this room that fucked up spectacularly, and it’s me.
He smiles faintly. “I know you wanted Ares. I’m sorry you didn’t get to live out your dream.”
I hesitate, but Patroclus is in this with me, too, and I can’t hold back information from him, no matter how Athena’s words still churn away in the back of my mind. “Athena came by the hospital.” He doesn’t speak, so I force myself to continue. “She says she wants me to stay on as her second-in-command. I guess Bellerophon reported about how close we got with Helen, and she wanted to let me know that in order to pursue things with the new Ares, it means resigning with Athena. Do that, and there’s no going back.”
“Ah.”
I wait, but Patroclus doesn’t offer any brilliant insight. “Well?”
“Well, what?” He leans back and gives my hand another squeeze. “I can’t tell you what the right call is, Achilles. It’s a big decision, and you’re the only one who can make it.”