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“Without a doubt.” She shakes her head slowly. “I’m going to be frank with you.”

I stop short. Athena doesn’t usually couch her criticism by easing people into it. She’s frank and to the point, and that’s one of the many reasons we are so loyal to her. “When are you anything but blunt with me?”

She smiles a little, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “We’re in trouble. Olympus. I don’t know all the details yet, but Minos brought in information when he brought his people. There’s a threat on the horizon, and I don’t know that the barrier will protect us from it.” She hesitates but finally says, “We needed you as Ares.”

Bitterness claws up my throat at the reminder of my failure. Athena never mentioned that there might be the potential for an attempted invasion, but it just reinforces that with me as Ares, there would be no unknowns. Even though I’m conflicted as fuck right now, I still find myself saying, “Helen will surprise you.”

“Maybe. I still would rather it have been you.”

I shrug, but I’m unable to keep the tension out of my voice. “Take that up with Paris.” Easier to blame him than to admit I fucked up. The moment Helen and Patroclus were in danger, I forgot about eliminating Paris and ran for them. I kept fighting the Minotaur even after he was eliminated because I wanted to remove him as a threat—and that had nothing to do with the tournament.

Helen was the one who eliminated the Minotaur and didn’t stick around to beat him to a pulp. She immediately went for Paris. That’s why she won and I didn’t. If I’d been paying attention, I could have dodged Paris’s arrows, too.

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.

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