Nothing matters anyway. I’m already dead.
“Daughter,” Hades said, “you don’t have to.”
“No way in fucking Kronos will you make ourbetrothed have tofight Titans and compete in that savage tournament,” Augustus spat with disgust. “She’d be the first young heiress in decades—it’s preposterous and dishonorable. I willneverallow this.”
Kharon nodded beside him. They looked apoplectic.
If one more man spoke for me, I was going to lose it.
“Technically,” Zeus frowned. “Under Article Three of the Great War Reparations Act, she does have?—”
“I’ll do it!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, chest heaving as my vision blurred. “I said I’ll fucking do it.” I waved mangled hands.
Sparta fell silent.
No one spoke.
I staggered over to where the initiates had stood before for the graduation ceremony.
I wanted to fight.
To kill.
To die on a battlefield.
Chop me into little pieces. Put me into a coma. I dare you. PLEASE DO IT YOU FILTHY LIARS.
Zeus and Hades shouted at everyone to get back into positions.
Time warped.
I was standing beside Drex and the other initiates in the middle of the arena. Snow fell quietly all around.
Titus looked down the line at me. His expression was horrified, like he felt bad for me.
I stared back blankly.
Dead.
Numb.
A murderer.
Poisonous blood dripped from my ruined hands, the hands of a killer.
When the other initiates’ names were read, General Cleandro announced they had graduated and were citizens of Sparta.
But when he read mine, he paused.
“Alexis... I mean—Hercules,” he said reluctantly. “Do youaccept a life of servitude in the Assembly of Death, fighting Titans and... defending Sparta?”
He waited, his expression grim.
I smiled coldly. “I do. Gladly.”
He grimaced and looked away—like he couldn’t stomach the darkness in my eyes. I scoffed and staggered back into line.
I was what they’d made me into.
