“I am, aren’t I?” She laughs a little, a tiny sound of amusement that’s gone far too soon. “I’m really going to give them something to talk about this time.”
“You won’t win.” I don’t say it to be cruel, but she flinches all the same. Still, I press on. “You might even die. It’s not too late. If you ask Athena to strike your name from the list, she will. No one has to know you entered in the first place.”
Helen gives me a bittersweet smile that makes my chest ache in response. “Some things are worth even the risk of death. Good luck, Patroclus. You have your hands full with that golden jackass.” She turns and strides back the way she came.
I don’t mean to move. I have a plan, after all, and that plan involves holding this position until dawn to ensure I know the identities of any champions who want to keep their identities secret until the opening ceremony. Or at least going back to Achilles and reporting this new development. But my body makes the decision for me, one step turning into two, turning into a jog that brings me even with Helen. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“That’s not necessary.”
Despite my longer legs, I have to concentrate to keep up with her quick pace. “The streets are safe enough in this neighborhood, but you’re Helen Kasios. Surely you realize you’re in more danger being out alone without a security detail than the average person.”
She gives me a strange look. “Isn’t it in your best interest to let a champion be eliminated before the tournament even starts?”
“No.” The word comes out too forcefully, but there’s no walking it back now. I make an effort to shrug the tightness out of my shoulders. “I don’t know what it’s like moving in the circles you do, but I don’t believe in acceptable losses. Not if they’re avoidable.”
“How precious of you.” She’s still watching me like I’m a strange new creature she’s never seen before. When she speaks again, her voice is almost gentle. “Patroclus, it’s really okay. If anyone is silly enough to jump me, I can take care of myself.” She holds up a tiny fist. “Once upon a time, I took care of you, too.”
I smile despite myself. “You were a terror on the playground.”
“Like I said.” She drops her fist. “I don’t need you to watch out for me.”
Maybe she doesn’t. She must be able to if she’s confident enough to enter the tournament. I can’t make myself leave her side, though. Not until she’s safe. “All the same. Consider it paying you back for punching Menalaus’s nose after he broke my glasses.”
She sighs. “I should have expected that being irritatingly stubborn is the one thing that hasn’t changed. You’d have to be to share Achilles’s bed. Very well. Tag along if it will make you feel better.”
It strikes me that this Helen is a bit different from the one plastered across the gossip sites. The changes are subtle, but I make a habit of filing away every interaction with powerful people who move among the Thirteen. They’re dangerous in their own ways, and it pays to never be caught flat-footed.
The version she plays in public is bubbly in an almost aggressive way. She lights up every room she walks into, stands too close, and laughs too loudly for polite company. It’s as if she forces her mark into every space she occupies, dares people to ignore her.
This Helen still stands too close, but she’s more subdued. She’s sad. Almost vulnerable. It makes me feel strange to notice that she’s more complicated than I first expected. “You didn’t know about the marriage, did you?”
Instead of answering, she goes on the offensive. “Are you and Achilles in a relationship? Or are you just friends who sometimes fuck?”
I miss a step. “That’s none of your business.”
“Neither is whether or not I knew about the marriage beforehand.” We stop at the corner, and she pulls out a phone in a glittering case. Everything about Helen seems to glitter. It’s unnerving, reminding me of the various animals whose bright coloring signals their poisonous defenses. She flips it around to show me the screen. “My ride will arrive in a few minutes. You’ve done your duty. You can go now.”
I plant my feet. “I’ll stay until they get here.”
“Fine.” Helen plants her hands on her hips, which makes it impossible not to notice how well the dress fits her body. It’s a piece of art, the cut seeming to defy physics in a way I don’t completely understand. Surely there is some tape or contraption involved to keep her breasts from escaping?
Her low laugh has me jerking my gaze back to her face. Gods, I was staring at her chest. My skin heats, and I’m grateful for the shadows. Hopefully they’re hiding my blush. “Sorry.”