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Paris’s skin goes a mottled red but his tone is still full of that same infuriating charm when he speaks. “It’s cute how you’re sucking up to Helen like this.” He leans forward a little, cruelty alighting in his eyes. “You don’t have to work so hard. Just call her a dirty little slut and she’ll be on her back with her legs spread for you.”
Fury has me lurching forward, but Patroclus’s hand on my chest stops me. His voice is low but vicious. “Spoken like a man who had something priceless and fucked it up.”
I glance over at Helen, but she’s staring out the window. I would have thought she’d go for Paris’s throat for a comment like that. It’s not as if she’s subtle when she’s furious, and she slapped me for less. Instead, her shoulders are curled in on herself and her body language is tense and brittle.
This isn’t the first time he’s said shit like this to her.
I don’t really give a fuck what people think of me outside of a select few, but I’ve seen how Patroclus will sometimes let comments ping around inside his big brain until they muddle the truth and eat him up from the inside. It doesn’t happen as often now as it did in our teens and early twenties, but this has the feel of that.
Helen loved Paris. I don’t understand it, but I’m sure of it now. She loved him and let him in, and she might as well have cuddled up with a cobra, because he used that closeness against her.
I turn back to him. I’m no longer in danger of attacking him, but my anger is no less. I smile slowly. “I’m going to enjoy beating your face in during the next challenge. No Hector to protect you this time, Paris.”
He shrugs. “We’ll see, won’t we?”
“Yes. We will.”
The Minotaur snorts. “You four with your petty little squabbles. It exhausts me.”
“Then stop listening,” I snap. “No one was talking to you.”
The van slows to a stop. Paris barely waits for the door to open before he’s charging out of the vehicle. The Minotaur follows, but at a more reasonable pace. I half expect Helen to leave, too, but she turns to us. Her expression is locked down in a way I don’t like. “I’ll help you with Patroclus.”
Neither of us comment that I can carry him without much trouble. She obviously needs something to occupy her after Paris being such a shit, and if Patroclus is fine with it, so am I. We carefully ease him out of the van, and Helen tucks herself under his arm. She’s short enough that he doesn’t have to raise his arm overmuch, and she doesn’t so much as weave at his weight. She’s deceptively strong for her size, but that’s nothing new.
Bellerophon meets us there. They sweep a look over our trio. “The doctor will meet you in Patroclus’s rooms.”
“Perfect.” Helen starts for the door.
Bellerophon and I watch for a moment. They speak softly. “He would have seen a doctor even if you didn’t carry him out of the maze on your back. He probably would have seen one sooner.”
“I know.” I do. But I couldn’t leave him behind, even if it means he’s eliminated first in the next trial. I don’t have it in me.
Bellerophon claps me on the shoulder. “Well, congrats on making it to the third trial. You all but have it in the bag.”
I manage a slight smile, though I’m still tracking Helen and Patroclus as they reach the door. She’s limping a little, and I don’t think it’s because he’s leaning on her. Damn the woman. She should have said something if she was injured, too. I start for the front door. “Congratulate me when I’m named Ares.”
“I never get over how confident you are. I’ll do that.” They chuckle. “Next trial is in two days. Be ready.”
“I will,” I call over my shoulder. I catch up to my pair quickly and duck under Patroclus’s other arm. “I’ve got him.”
“We were doing just fine without you.” There’s no snap to her tone. Helen just sounds exhausted.
“What happened to your leg, Helen?”
She sputters. “I’m fine.”
“Bullshit. The doctor will look you over when we get to the room, too.” She seems otherwise okay, but if she’s anything like Patroclus, she wouldn’t tell me even if she was bleeding out. The thought sends ice skittering down my spine.
These two might be some of the smartest people I’ve ever encountered, but they don’t have the self-preservation the gods give children. If left to their own devices, they will ignore their bodies and end up seriously hurt.
That’s okay. If you won’t look out for yourself, then I’ll look out for you.
I spare a quick glance, taking in their profiles. Something soft and tender stirs in my chest. Both of you.
