“No way,” Orion said. He took her hand up playfully and shook it, making the bells on her new bracelet ring for a moment. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Good,” Cassandra said, sighing the word with relief. She noticed Helen watching her carefully and squared her shoulders. “Hector said w-we should all stick together. I-I think he’s right.”
For the life of her, Helen couldn’t remember Cassandra ever stammering before, and she wondered if Cassandra had foreseen something about her and Orion going out. Maybe it was too dangerous for them to leave the Delos compound at all? Then Helen remembered that Cassandra hadn’t made a single prophecy in days. Since Halloween, Helen thought.
Before Helen could ask her if this was normal, Cassandra spun around and glided down the hallway.
“Speaking of Hector,” Orion said, completely unfazed by Cassandra’s odd behavior. “I should probably go get him. He can’t be wandering around right now when he’s supposed to be lying low, no matter how lovesick he is.”
“Yeah,” Helen mumbled, still thinking about Cassandra. If Orion could see hearts, how could he not see how different she was around him? Helen decided that she had to be imagining it.
“Are you okay?” Orion asked, touching her arm gently. His concern for her only proved her point. If Orion didn’t notice it, then there couldn’t be anything going on inside Cassandra—she was just a strange girl, and Helen must have misinterpreted what she saw.
“Yeah. I guess,” she waved her hand, dismissing her thoughts and smiling at him. “Go get Hector. Drag that numbskull back if you have to.”
“He’s probably in the ocean. He likes to swim when he’s upset. Shouldn’t take me long,” he said, and then studied her closely. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
“Yeah. Don’t worry about me.”
The corners of Orion’s mouth turned up in the faintest of smiles. “Easier said than done.” He leaned across the few inches separating them and brushed his lips across hers. “I’ll be back soon,” he whispered, and turned to leave before Helen even had a chance to kiss him back.
Matt could feel his warriors getting closer. They were tied to each other by blood oaths and could sense one another, as if they were all different limbs of the same body.
Sometime over the next few days his troops would arrive on this beach in ships, echoing the journey they had made thousands of years before to claim Helen of Troy. Matt looked for their approaching mast from the beach. The remnants of this once-great army had begun their journey the moment the dagger had fallen into the chosen hand, but scattered as they were to all parts of the globe, it would take time for them to reach this shore.
Finally, after so many millennia, they were to be reunited with their newly reborn master. And with the dagger on which they had all pledged their lives.
It was because of the dagger, the magical gift of silver-footed Thetis to her only son, that they were all fated to live until they died in battle for his honor and glory.
They had been unlucky.
Their nearly indestructible master had died before they had had the chance to die for him, but their oaths still bound them. They could not die of old age, or of sickness, or of broken hearts, no matter how horribly the world treated them. They could only die in battle, and most of them had. None but the strongest were left—those most committed to their master and their master’s pledge to kill the Tyrant.
Just thirty-three in all.
But Matt knew that thirty-three 3,300-year-old Myrmidons were enough to set the world on fire.
FIVE
Helen stood over her father and watched him breathe. Every rise and fall of his chest was long and labored. The twins assured her that he had no injuries left for them to heal—but for some reason Jerry just wasn’t able to stay conscious. It was as if he were very tired. It might be that he only needed to rest, they said, but if that were the case, it didn’t make sense to Helen that her father wasn’t physically able to stay awake for more than a few moments at a time.
Helen tried to pin down what she was feeling, but when she asked herself how she felt about the fact that her father was still in such bad shape, and that no one knew what to do about it, her mind started to wander.
Distracting thoughts kept popping up—like how Luis and his kids were doing after being hurt by Automedon, how the store had held up since the riot, and whether or not anyone had checked on her father’s house to make sure it wasn’t vandalized. All of these thoughts were logical enough, but they were not the things she should be thinking when her father was barely clinging to life.
She sat down in the armchair that was pulled up to the side of her father’s bed and wondered what was wrong with her. How could she be so distracted at a time like this? She noticed her leg was bouncing up and down and put a hand on her knee to keep it still, but it didn’t work. About to jump out of her skin, Helen stood up and started pacing.
“A few more steps and you’ll wear a hole in the floor,” Lucas said softly from the doorway. Helen spun and faced him, clenching her fists. She wasn’t in the mood for an emotional encounter, and for once Helen wished Lucas would just go away.
Leaning against the frame, Lucas’s eyes skipped over her. He gave her a half smile, gesturing over his shoulder with his head.
“Come on,” he said, his voice clipped.
“Where?” Helen challenged. She crossed her arms and glared at him.
“Down to the cage,” he fired back, not at all intimidated by the look she gave him. Lucas pushed himself off the door frame and crossed to Helen slowly. When he got to her, he took her wrists, unwound her tight arms, and parted them. He stepped closer, until he was nearly up against her. “You need to hit something.”
Helen opened her mouth to argue and immediately shut it again. Lucas was right. Seeing her father so ill made her feel helpless and useless. She had gotten accustomed to being the one who had to fight all the tough fights, but she wasn’t the one caught up in this battle. Her father was, and there was nothing she could do to help him.