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He glances at me and grins. “Sorry, man, but she’s mine. She can’t say no if I become Ares and marry her.”
Hector steps forward on his brother’s other side and slaps him upside the back of his head with a familiarity that says he’s done it enough times for it to have become muscle memory. “Don’t be crude.” He nods at me. “Achilles.”
“Hector.” He used to head one of Ares’s squads, but after he got married and had a baby, he ended up transferring to work for another of the Thirteen, Apollo. I haven’t seen Hector much in the years since, but he was a formidable fighter when I knew him. “How’s the kid?”
“She takes after her mother.” He gives a small smile. “I thank the gods every day that she didn’t get my ugly mug.”
Hector is good-looking in a rugged sort of way with his sandy-blond hair and kind eyes, but he’s right; he won’t be winning any beauty contests anytime soon. I grin at him, completely ignoring Paris. “Surely you’re not going to fight? You already have a wife. I thought you were halfway to retired at this point.”
He shrugs. “Family.”
I nod as if I have any idea what he’s talking about. My only family is Patroclus and the squad we run together. My parents are mysteries. Apparently they didn’t want a kid, so they followed the old tradition of leaving the baby—me—on the temple steps. I grew up in one of the orphanages that’s run in Hera’s name, but I don’t think an actual Hera has set foot in them since before I was born. At eighteen, I got a choice of working for Ares, Poseidon, or Demeter. Really, it wasn’t much of a choice at all. I was a grunt for Ares for a few years before Athena plucked me out of obscurity and showed me what greatness can be.
I was always destined for this.
“Now, it’s time for those who would be Ares to step forward.”
Zeus steps back and motions to the tall Black woman at his side. She’s wearing a suit instead of a gown, the pale gray setting off her warm brown skin, her black hair cut short on the sides with the curls longer on the top. Athena.
She surveys the room as if measuring every person’s weaknesses. Knowing her, that’s exactly what she’s done. “Once you put your name forward, the only way out is elimination or resignation. While these trials aren’t meant to be to the death…accidents happen. Be willing to sacrifice it all.”
Paris ducks from under Hector’s hand and moves forward. “I’m Paris Chloros. I will sacrifice it all.”
I can’t help it. I glance at Helen to see her reaction. Her pale skin has gone a little green as she glares at her ex. Paris winks at her as if he can’t see the murder in her eyes. If he wins Ares, I don’t like his chances of surviving the wedding night.
It won’t be a problem, because Paris isn’t even a contender. The bigger worry is Hector, who steps forward and repeats the traditional phrase. Ajax—another of the former Ares commanders and someone I consider a friend—is next. Then a Black woman with locs pulled back from her scarred face. Her name is Atalanta, and she’s light enough on her feet that I already know she’ll be quick as fuck.
Person after person comes forward in an endless stream. I note the ones Patroclus expected and the ones he didn’t. None of them matter. There are a few actual contenders but mostly they’re people from the elite families that move in the extended circles of the Thirteen. They’ll attempt the tournament because they can’t afford to ignore a chance to take the title, but they aren’t true threats.
A wave of murmurs rises behind me, and I glance over my shoulder as two men stalk through the crowd, people practically scrambling over one another to get out of their way. They have similar coloring—medium-brown skin, dark-red hair, dark eyes—and are both even larger than I am. “Big bastards,” I murmur.
The taller of the two gives me a look that’s eerily empty as they pass by. The entire room has gone silent, probably sensing the same thing I do—these are true predators in our midst. Even more importantly, they’re strangers.
The shorter of the two steps forward first with a showy bow. “I’m Theseus Vitalis, and I’m willing to sacrifice it all.”
Athena raises a brow. “New in town?”
“It’s within the parameters of the competition.”
“I’m aware of the rules.” She glances at the taller one. “And you?”
“I’m the Minotaur.” His voice sounds like someone hacked open his vocal cords and then poured burning embers into the wound.
Athena gives him a sharp look. “That’s your name?”
“It serves its purpose.” He pauses barely long enough for her to nod before continuing. “I will sacrifice it all.”
