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“Just call it anticlimactic. I didn’t see anyone until Hector.” My stomach twists at the memory. I’m not one to linger on things, but I won’t get the image of that last hit out of my head anytime soon. Even though I knew it would take more than a nasty uppercut to take Patroclus out in any permanent way, seeing him fall to the ground was the stuff of nightmares. I swallow hard. “I’m…I’m good.”
I guide Patroclus to the spot next to her, and my chest warms at the way she immediately takes his hand. Patroclus shakes his head. “Stop staring at me like that. I’m fine.”
“Yeah, well, you look like shit.” She says it almost fondly, though her expression is worried.
I sink onto the bench on the other side of Patroclus and he leans on me. Worry eats away at me. We can’t get Patroclus looked at until the trial is over. The last minutes seem to take decades.
With five minutes to spare, the Minotaur comes around the corner toward the exit. The last key is on its lanyard around his thick neck, and he’s got his head down as he charges forward. It’s the only reason he doesn’t see Atalanta until she’s on top of him.
I hold my breath as I watch her sweep his legs out from beneath him. She’s good, really good, but she’s not quite steady on her feet despite her obvious training. That has to be why she’s not able to dance back fast enough when the Minotaur lashes out and yanks her off her feet.
“Paris knocked her out,” Helen murmurs. She watches the screen with worried eyes. “If she gets hit in the head again…”
Nothing good.
On the screens, Atalanta perches on the Minotaur’s broad chest and hammers him with elbow strikes. I wince. That shit has to hurt, but he’s got his arms over his head and he seems to be waiting her out. His opportunity comes when she shifts to reach for the key.
The Minotaur slams his elbow into her side. The force of the blow knocks her off him and she lands against the far wall and clutches her stomach. He broke a rib there. Maybe more than one.
I tense as he climbs to his feet. If he goes after her now, there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. For a long, pregnant pause, I can almost see him considering hurting her seriously. Then he turns and lumbers to the exit.
Seconds later, he throws open the door and stalks out. One of his eyes is almost entirely swollen shut from where Atalanta punched him, but he seems otherwise fine. I suppose it was too much to ask for him to have some more injuries to fuck him up for the next trial.
The crowd goes quiet as the spotlight aims at Athena. “The second trial is over.” She gives a slow smile. “Congratulations to our champions who are moving on to the third and final trial. Achilles, Patroclus, the Minotaur, Helen, and Paris.”
The arena goes wild. I can feel the cheering though the soles of my shoes, vibrating right down to my bones. Even though I want nothing more than to get the fuck out of here and get a doctor to look at Patroclus, I grin and wave. On the other side of him, Helen is doing the same.
I hate myself a little bit in that moment.
Why the fuck am I playing the game when one of the people I care most about in the world is so injured, he can’t sit up entirely on his own? It says something about me and my goals, and it’s a pretty shitty statement.
But with how far we’ve come, how hard we’ve fought to be here…
I can’t give it up. It’s not in my nature. I will fight to the bitter end, and the only thing I can do is hope that the cost isn’t higher than I can pay. It never occurred to me that that was even an option before this point. Now? Now I’m not so sure.
Things move quickly after that.
Bellerophon and their people usher us out of the arena. There are few enough champions that we all fit in one van. I keep Patroclus between me and Helen. I don’t like the way the other two men keep looking at him—at us.
Paris leans back against his seat and smirks. “Cute little thing you three have going. Don’t you get tired, Achilles?” I stare stonily at him, but apparently he doesn’t need a response. “You know, from carrying both Helen and Patroclus on your back?”
I sense Helen going tense, but I don’t look over as I respond. “It must be exhausting for you, Paris.”
He narrows his eyes. “What must be?”
“The mental gymnastics you go through to pretend like you’re better than everyone.” I shake my head. “You’re a sneaky little shit and that’s the only reason you made it through this trial. Don’t think I didn’t see the way you attacked Atalanta from behind. It’s the only chance you had to beat her, because you sure as fuck wouldn’t have done it in a fair fight. Anyone in this van could take you, including Patroclus with his current injuries. So shut the fuck up.”
