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I don’t call his name again. I stand there and watch him walk away, taking a chunk of my heart with him. When did that happen? I’ve said from the beginning that we didn’t have a future. Not me and him. Not me and Patroclus. Certainly not the three of us. It doesn’t matter how well we meshed during the trials or the way they seemed to see me or…
A sob catches in my chest, but I refuse to release it. This is what I wanted, what I’ve fought so hard to accomplish. I’m realizing my dreams and ensuring all of Olympus is forced to take me seriously.
Achilles is right. I should be celebrating and doing a victory lap. I shouldn’t be standing here and trying not to cry.
Bellerophon appears at my side as if by magic, their expression carefully blank. “I need you to come with me, Ares.”
Ares.
I did it. I fucking won. No one can look at me and believe I’m just a pretty face, a pawn to be moved about the chessboard at the whim of those more powerful than I am. I should be elated and celebrating and riding a high unlike any other.
Instead, I just want to make sure Patroclus is okay, to talk to Achilles properly and have him reassure me that everything he said yesterday wasn’t just bullshit. That he really meant it now that we’re staring the future right in the face.
“Ares.”
I take a breath and try to calm my racing heart, to think. My actions have consequences: both entering the tournament and winning it. As much as I want to chase after Achilles and Patroclus until this awful gaping wound in my chest is healed, becoming Ares means I have responsibilities beyond my own personal needs.
My men will have to wait. Hopefully they’ll still be there for me after everything that’s happened.
I’ve barely let myself consider that they might actually be mine, and now it may very well be over. I close my eyes, take another breath, and when I open them, I have my game face on. I am Ares and I will not be underestimated.
I smile up at Bellerophon. “Lead the way.”
They don’t speak until we’ve entered one of the arches—a different one than we’ve been entering and exiting for the trials—and head up a flight of stairs. “There will be a formal event introducing you as Ares tonight, but the title was officially yours the moment you won the third trial.”
I can’t read anything in their tone about their thoughts on my winning. That’s just as well. Plenty of people will be pissed about it, and I need to get used to it. That doesn’t mean I can’t be gracious in this moment. “Thank you for hosting the champions. I know it wasn’t an easy duty.”
Bellerophon doesn’t comment on that. We take another set of stairs up. My adrenaline is still going strong, but I can already sense the crash coming. Too much, too quickly. This is exactly what I wanted, so I should be happy, right? I don’t understand this strange sense of loss that feels like someone wrapped me in a lead blanket and tossed me off a pier.
They open the door at the top of this flight of stairs and step back. “They’re waiting.”
I don’t know why I’m surprised to see my brother standing next to Athena. He might not have been visible in the box seat when she made the announcements, but he’s not the type to let something this important pass without witnessing it.
Perseus has on a charcoal-gray suit with a cream shirt underneath it. The only sign that he’s less than perfectly put together are the faint creases in his slacks that almost look like he was gripping the fabric in his fists like he used to when he was a child and trying not to react. But that’s ridiculous. Perseus hasn’t shown that kind of loss of control since our mother died. Longer, even.
Athena waits for the door to shut behind me to sigh. “Well, you fucked that right up, didn’t you?”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s too late to worry about it now. You’re Ares, for better or worse.” She checks her phone. “I need to go check on my men.”
“Wait.” The word is out before I can call it back. “Is Patroclus going to be okay?”
Athena’s dark eyes flash, the only outward sign that she’s furious right now. “He’s on his way to the hospital now. The damage was too much for the medics to handle, so it’ll be up to the surgeon. They had damn well better save him.”
Save him. Because he might die.
“No.” Panic flares, strong enough to rock me back on my heels. I turn for the door. “I’m coming too.”
“Plant your feet, Ares,” she snaps. She waits for me to look at her again to continue. “You’re new to the Thirteen, so I’ll let that insult slide despite the fact that you should know better, being a Kasios. You are Ares now.” She speaks slowly, but it’s not patronizing. “I am Athena. Those men, Achilles and Patroclus? They’re my people, which means they’re my responsibility. Do not spend your first day as Ares stepping on my toes, or I’ll make you regret it.”
