“You’re nothing but a pathetic mutt. Stop crying. You won’t survive Sparta,” my Gorgon tutor snarled.
Hands flashed in front of my face, drawing me back to the present.
“I’m here—theycan’thurt you,” Achilles signed.
I nodded, feeling faint.
“Stop following me around,” Medusa said haughtily, but for some reason I couldn’t make myself release her.
“I can’t,” I whispered, still feeling out of sorts from the memories. “Since we’re your new bodyguards.” I forced my lips up into a cruel smile, even though I wanted to fall to my knees and scream. “You’re the reason we were tortured.”
She was found innocent, and it’s a good thing the Olympians never got to her, because she wouldn’t be able to withstand torture.
Medusa kicked my shin.
I looked down incredulously.
If I hadn’t seen her move, I wouldn’t have known she’d just tried to attack.
Someone really needs to teach her self-defense.
She wasn’t my problem.
She kind of is.
I shook my head at the ridiculous thought, taking a jerky step back, dragging her with me.
The back of my right leg tweaked at the movement because my severed tendon still hadn’t healed fully. The Olympians hadpoured a strange poison on the open wound so many times that I was worried it might never heal.
I didn’t care.
Therealproblem was, Achilles thought it was allhisfault, and he was coddling me endlessly these days, acting like I was made of glass.
Medusa narrowed her eyes. “Release me!”
I twisted her wrist, making sure not to actually cause harm.
There was something immensely satisfying about toying with her.
Achilles shifted closer. “Don’t hurt her,” he signed, mirroring my thoughts.
“Obviously,” I drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Achilles glanced down at where I was touching her, then back to my face, a question in his eyes.
He didn’t understand why I was acting this way.
Neither do I.
“Get over yourself,” Medusa said. “It’s not me you’re angry at—it’s the Olympians. You’re just another prideful narcissist from the House of Aphrodite—I can see through your self-absorbed despondent act. You’llneverbe anything … but the man who lived in Achilles’s shadow.”
I dropped her arm.
My fingersburnedwhere they’d touched her—they felt cold when someone lied, and warmed at the truth—vision blurring, I gasped for air.
“You’re nothing but a weak mutt.”
Tortured screams from my past rang in my ears.
