Achilles didn’t budge.
Hot resentment mounted. “Fuck you,” I signed, before I could stop myself.
He jerked, eyes flashing, then he raised his hand—I just barely stopped myself from flinching back.
The temperature in the hall increased as Achilles leaned toward me. “Youshouldhave told me you knew sign language.” His fingers moved, deliberate and accusatory.
It smelled like something was burning.
“Andyou,” I signed back slowly, “shouldn’t haveleftme to die.”
Achilles flinched. His hands bunched into fists, knuckles cracking.
He still didn’t apologize.
“Get the fuck away from me,” I signed jerkily. “Now.”
Leather cracked as his muzzle stretched, and Achilles finally stepped to the side, revealing Patro.
Candlelight danced over the sculpted planes of his perfect face; his emerald eyes were startlingly bright in the shadowy hall.
“What the h-hell are you doing?” I whispered, deeply unsettled by my standoff with Achilles.
Patro arched his eyebrow, dress pants and shirt impeccablypressed, hair perfectly coiffed. He was a superiority complex in the flesh.
“We’ve been trying to get you alone,” Patro said slowly. “But it’s been impossible lately—especially with Kharon at night.”
What about Karen?
I shook my head and focused on the problem at hand—Patro.
“Whatdo you want?” I asked.
Patro’s lip curled as he looked me up and down.
The infamous courting gift—aka Kharon’s oversized skeleton sweatshirt, which I refused to give back or feel sorry about wearing because it was so cozy—hung to my knees, and the marble floor was chilly beneath my bare feet.
“Nice hat,” Patro snickered.
Poco hissed from where he sat, heavy, fluffy, and warm on the top of my head.
Patro muttered something about me being “ridiculous and hard to take seriously.”
I turned to go back inside—Achilles blocked me,again.
Poco pulled at my scalp nervously, and my spine prickled with warning.
“Wait.” Patro grabbed my arm and turned me to face him. “Please—we want to apologize … for Rome.” He looked at me pleadingly.
With a deep steadying breath, I met his gaze. “Achilles was always going to choose you.”
It was the truth.
Patro dragged his hands over his face. “No,” he said. “It’s not like … that.”LIARwas written across his knuckles. He couldn’t meet my eyes.
“It’s done,” I said. “I don’t want to talk about it.”There’s nothing more to say.
Patro dropped his hands.
