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What happens if she dies in one of the trials? Champions get killed from time to time, though it’s the exception rather than the rule. Zeus is hardly going to be able to switch out spouses as prizes on a whim. Even if he could and the Thirteen, the public, and the champions would stand for it… The very idea is laughable. Who can compare to Helen Kasios when it comes to connections and beauty? No one.
It will be a disaster no matter which way I look at it.
I’m so busy thinking that I don’t hear her exit. I don’t even notice Helen until she’s standing right in front of me, an arch in her perfect eyebrow. “You never used to be sneaky.”
“The last time you saw me, I was eight. People change.” Except, now that I’m thinking of it, Helen always was the first to act against type back then. A cute little girl in a spotless sundress…who had no problem bloodying bullies’ noses and making them cry.
“Some people change.” She shrugged. “Either way, spying is beneath you, Patroclus.”
We might have been friends as kids, at least until my mothers moved our family out of the city center when I was in third grade, but I haven’t seen much of Helen since then. In hindsight, she was a cute kid, but she’s always been a goddess to me. She’s the one who befriended my awkward younger self and stopped the other kids from teasing me about my glasses. I missed her after I moved away, but those memories faded as time went on.
As an adult, I feel her beauty like an assault. In the night, with only the streetlights kissing her high cheekbones and full lips, she looks downright otherworldly. I might have considered her a goddess back then, but she truly looks it now.
“I’m not spying,” I manage. My words come out a little hoarse, but fuck, she surprised me. I glance at her feet and frown. “Where are your shoes?”
“I saw you lurking out here and wanted a word.” She holds up heels that are high enough to make my feet hurt in sympathy. “I figured you would bolt if you heard me coming.”
“I’m one of Athena’s people. I would not bolt to avoid talking to you.”
Her lips curve. “Guess people do change, after all.”
My skin heats. “I’m surprised you remember me.” I don’t know why I say it. I honestly don’t. She’s Helen Kasios. She might have been kind to me when we were eight, but that was a long time ago.
Her smile disappears. “We were friends, Patroclus. Of course I didn’t forget about you. I missed you after you were gone.”
I can’t read her tone. She sounds almost stung, but I must be imagining it. “What are you doing here?” I know the answer, but I want to hear her admit it.
“I thought you and I could have a little conversation.”
“We have nothing to talk about.” Especially if we’re about to both be competitors for Ares. I have no intention of winning. It was never the goal when I put my name forward. But by watching Achilles’s back, I can ensure he makes it to the final round and wins. The best-case scenario, of course, is that we’re the two last standing and then I’ll step down, but in looking at the competitors, I’m not certain I’ll last that long. My strength is in strategy, but I lack a fundamental trait that Achilles and several of the other competitors have—a drive that propels them beyond what normal people can accomplish.
Frankly, I don’t like Helen’s odds, either. But being taken under Athena’s wing and learning from her brilliant mind means I know better than to take anything in Olympus at face value. Helen seems like a party girl who flits from event to event, a beautiful bird in a gilded cage. I can’t afford to assume that’s the truth.
I bet she still has a wicked right hook.
“Patroclus.” She says my name slowly, almost as if she’s tasting it. “You’re the only one who knows I’ve put my name in as a contender—aside from Athena, of course. I’d say we have more than a few things to talk about.”
Easy enough to catch her meaning. “You want me to keep it to myself.”
“Yes. At least until it’s announced in the opening ceremony tomorrow.”
I’m already shaking my head. “No. We might have been friends once, but that was a long time ago. I don’t wish you ill, but you’re not my priority in this tournament. Achilles is.”
She tilts her head to the side, and once again, her sheer beauty steals my breath. I love Achilles—I have since I was a teenager—but there’s something about Helen that hits me in a place logic can’t touch. She’s like some old-world queen who could inspire entire countries to go to war on her behalf.
