Across the room a clipboard clattered, and the Nemean jaguar rose to its feet.
The doctors plastered themselves against the wall, as far from the raging beast (Patro) as they could get.Relatable—take me with you.
The jaguar slunk lazily toward them, its long tail swishing back and forth. Every few seconds it hissed in my direction. The doctors stared at the animal with wide, panicked eyes, and their birds flapped their wings.
Patro gritted his teeth. “How thefuckdid you qualify for the crucible?” he asked slowly.
I sighed, and my lungs rattled audibly.
“I’m good at enduring,” I whispered. It was half-true, after all, and I wasn’t about to tell them about Nyx and put her in danger.
For some reason, even among overpowered Spartans, I was the only one who could hear her.
“Check-fucking-mate. Stupid, conniving, weak Olympians,” Patro said as he looked down at me with disgust. “You win this round, Zeus.”
What is he talking about?
Heaving, he loosened his tie and made eye contact with Achilles.
They stared at each other for long moments, and the silence between them was electric.
“We’re fucked,” Achilles signed with long fluid hand motions.
“Should we kill the doctors?” Patro signed back. “They know how weak she is. If the other Houses find out, it will be used against her.”
My heart leaped in my chest. It took every ounce of control I hadto keep my expression blank and not show that I understood sign language. It was perturbing how casually they talked about cutting people into little pieces.
I held my breath and waited for his response.
“Yes,” Achilles signed. “We’ll kill them later.”
I swallowed a scream.
Evil.
Chthonic.
Monsters.
I would definitelynotbe asking if I could borrow his muzzle.
My mentors turned toward the cowering doctors at the same time.
“Wrap her breaks,” Patro said coldly. “Now.”
The doctors nodded and bowed their heads, then they hurried to my bedside. The jaguar chuffed at them as they passed.
A cool paste was rubbed across my skin, and a strangely flexible but firm white cloth was wrapped around my arm.
The woman looked over at Patro and said, “The good news is not all of the arrows were fresh breaks. About a quarter of them were older fractures.”
I didn’t react.
The foster parents had been cruel, but the Montana winters had been crueler. Snow and ice made your bones brittle.
“How,” Patro said slowly, “is the fact that she has ahistoryof being weak supposed to make me feel better?” His words dripped with venom.
The doctor opened and shut her mouth.
