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My friends were equally tired. Even Achilles, who I had known to go days, or weeks, with minimal sleep looked like he got hit by the train.
“Ready?” my brother asked.
I glanced at him. He hadn’t rushed me, nor had he forced me to join him when he read me the message he’d received from Pollux.
But given that my decisions had gotten us here, it only seemed fair. I took responsibility for my actions now. Even if it was much too late to make any good come from them.
Rather than answer, I walked to the pub door and waited for Hector to join me. “What are we going to say?” I asked as he came in behind me.
His lips barely moved as he answered, “It depends on what she asks.”
Turning from him, I faced the table. All three men stared at us, but it was the woman’s gaze that held me in place.
Her face had flushed, like she was embarrassed at being caught staring, but only two bright spots of color were on her cheeks. The rest of her face was that ghost-white.Exhausted.She wasn’t merely fatigued, she was keel-over tired. But she attempted to sit up straight as Hector nudged me forward.
Flicking her gaze from me, to my brother, she tightened her lips and faced Pollux, who happened to be sitting next to her. Whatever he saw in her eyes made his shoulders sag a little, almost like she’d scolded him.
“Hello,” Hector greeted her, and she began to stand. He gestured for her to sit. “Please. I know you’ve been traveling for hours.”
“Hello,” she answered, andgods, help me, her voice was the most honest thing I ever heard. Clear, pure tones. I knew in that second, I’d be able to hear any lie she would try to tell. I’d hear whatever emotion she was feeling.
This was a voice that hid nothing.
She glanced at me, as if waiting for me to speak, but I couldn’t. Too many thoughts were swirling around in my head, not the least of which was,how am I going to kill her?
Because Achilles hadn’t done it, and it had to be done. Didn’t it?
Why wasn’t it done? How was it she was sitting here, with my brother and best friends, and not rotting by the tracks near some field in Yorkshire?
She was like a flame, this woman. Bright hair, orange like a candle flame, or a driftwood fire, expressive eyes of indeterminate color, and skin that wasn’t clear but marred with freckles.
I wasn’t sure of her height, or her shape. Next to us, anyone seemed small, and her clothes gave nothing away. They were baggy, and clearly chosen for warmth, not fashion.
Once upon a time, I’d cared about those things.
For the millionth time in my day, my thoughts went to another woman—a very different woman. One who used every color, every angle, and metal, and cloth, to her advantage. The woman who had been the very height of everything beautiful and pure.
I compared that woman—the one who inspired music and poetry—to this one.
They were both—in their own way—the most striking women I’d ever laid eyes on.
Hector cleared his throat, but I ignored his unspoken request. It was better if I never said a word. Let the others talk.
At the end of this night, I’d have a decision to make. Pulling the chair from a nearby table, I settled it across from Achilles. I met his gaze, lifted my eyebrows to ask,What happened?And was answered with only the slight shake of his head.
If that meantnot now—then fine. If it meant,do not act—then I was the only one left to do this.
Unless Hector did, but I wouldn’t burden him with being responsible for my mistakes. He’d lost everything he cared about because of me already.
“Leonora Ophidia, these are our friends,” Pollux introduced us. In the dim pub light, his face seemed to flush. “Paris and Hector.”
Her posture changed in a flash. She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and shook her head. “This isn’t funny.”
“I agree,” Achilles replied. Was that half a smile on his face? “But nonetheless, those are their names.”
She moved fast for someone who seconds ago seemed ready to fall asleep. Grabbing her bag, she struggled to wrestle it off the back of her chair. “This is bullshit. And I’m an idiot. I should have—what was I thinking?” The strap was stuck, but rather than slow down and disentangle it, she just kept jerking it. With a flick of his fingers, Achilles released it. “Thank you.” Then corrected herself. “Fuck you.”
Her hair billowed around her face, and she blew away a strand that fell into her eyes. “And you can tell Diana, fuck off as well. This isn’t funny. Not at all.” Her voice cracked. “Goddammit.”
