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She’s right, but I hate that I’m being so transparent. I usually have a better poker face than this. I lift my chin. “I’m more than capable of defending myself.”
Atalanta gives a careless smile. “Maybe, but I’m going to marry you when I become Ares. I’d be a poor wife if I didn’t defend you against scum like this.”
“No one needs to defend Helen from me.” Paris leans in, crowding me. All I can smell is his cologne and my stomach lurches in response.
Atalanta’s smile goes sharp. “Touch her without her consent and that’s assault. Assault will get you eliminated.”
Paris sits back with a muttered curse, but I can’t appreciate the new space. My stomach drops out. I don’t know how I didn’t consider this in all my scrambling to put this plan into action. By entering as a champion, I’ve inserted myself into a group of people who fully intend to marry me. I’m the chum to their sharks, tossed into the water to drive them into a frenzy with my proximity.
Shit.
7
Achilles
I suspect they’re transferring the champions out of the city proper, just like Patroclus predicted, and we’re proven correct when the doors open to reveal several large buildings surrounded by trees. In the distance, I can hear the soft sound of the ocean, confirming that we’re on the coast just north of the agriculture district. If we kept moving west, we’d hit the farmland Demeter oversees.
Ajax huffs out a breath as he hauls his big body out of the van. He hasn’t stopped talking since we sat down, which is pure Ajax. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to gag him to get some peace and quiet. He whistles under his breath as he takes in the area. “Tall walls.”
I follow his gaze. Sure enough, I can just see walls that have to be ten feet tall cutting through the trees. They’ll encompass the entire property, serving to provide both safety and privacy to the champions. There will be interviews and shit at some point, likely after the second challenge when the weaker champions have been eliminated and there are only a few left. The thought makes my shoulders tense. I can fake it, and fake it well, when I need to, but there’s a reason Athena doesn’t put me on missions where I have to tiptoe around sensitive personalities.
I’m a human wrecking ball. Patroclus is the political one. He always knows the right step to take, the right thing to say.
Patroclus…and the person walking toward us right now. Bellerophon is tall with warm brown skin and a head of thick black curls. They rank higher than me in the shooting range but lower than me in hand-to-hand combat. I can pin them nine times out of ten, but they’re squirrelly despite their long limbs.
They’re also a friend, not that that matters right now.
Bellerophon stops in front of our ragtag group. “Ground rules.” Their voice is smooth and deep. “You will be assigned individual rooms in the three available dorms. Fraternize if you want, but do not try to harm any of your fellow champions. Doing so results in an instant disqualification. Trying to leave this property without prior authorization will result in an instant disqualification.” They meet each of our gazes in turn. “Do we have an understanding?”
There are various grunts and muttered assents in response, which seem to satisfy Bellerophon. “Each room has a schedule for mealtimes and open gym times, as well as a map of the common area. If you need something for your training that we don’t have on hand, we’ll see about getting it. First trial is the day after tomorrow, so you’ll be expected to keep yourself entertained in the meantime without becoming a pain in my ass.” They turn and head for the front door. “Let’s get you to your assigned rooms.” They point at the two people at their back. “You, take the right third. You, the middle. Everyone on the left, come with me.” They sweep their hand to encompass me, Patroclus, Helen, and another six people.
It’s highly absurd to have a bunch of large warriors following Bellerophon like little ducklings. Well. A bunch of warriors…and Helen Kasios.
Even being warned ahead of time by Patroclus, it was still a shock to see her show up like that. I thought for sure she’d get cold feet and back out. What’s a pampered princess going to be able to do against these competitors? She’s not like Atalanta. Atalanta is one of Artemis’s people. The woman is a scrapper and she’s fiercely competitive. She’s not one to underestimate.
Helen?
That’s a different story altogether.
“Stop glaring,” Patroclus murmurs.
I turn my glare at him instead. We’re not exclusive by any means; we never have been. What we have works for us and I’m not exactly eager to change it… But I can’t help my mixed feelings about how close he came to saying yes to Helen last night. He’s not one to be ruled by his emotions and baser lusts, and he almost threw caution to the wind and acted against both our best interests to get a chance to take her to bed. That makes her dangerous in a way that has nothing to do with combat.
