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.
I did not anticipate this.
Helen means to compete for the title of Ares? The very idea is ludicrous, though as I mentally flip through the histories I read on the subject, I don’t think there is any rule against it. It’s simply never been done before. There is no precedent.