Ares doesn’t comment on my slip, but I see his jaw tighten, the muscles in his neck cording with tension. He knows what I’m referring to, even if I don’t say it explicitly.
“How much longer can we stay here?” I ask, changing the subject before the memories can take stronger hold.
Ares stirs the soup with more force than necessary, his movements jerky with restrained emotion. “Not much longer,” he says finally, his voice carefully neutral. “We’re burningthrough supplies faster than expected. Making a supply run carries risks, could lead someone right to us.”He pauses, seeming to weigh his next words. “When we leave, it needs to be for good. No coming back.”
The finality in his voice sends a chill through me. This safehouse, as sparse and temporary as it is, has become a strange sort of sanctuary. The thought of leaving it makes my heart race.
“So we don’t have a week,” I say quietly. “I have to make a decision now.”
“You do,” a new voice says from the doorway.
I turn to find Poe leaning against the frame, his dark eyes unreadable as always. How long has he been there? His ability to appear without warning still unnerves me, even after all this time.
“Logan’s base of support grows daily,” Poe continues, stepping into the kitchen. “And Nikolai has already found us safe harbor if we choose to join the resistance.”
Ares scoffs, turning from the stove to face Poe. “Safe harbor? With the king’s guards combing every inch of the city for us?”
“He swears it is.”
“And where is this mythical safe haven exactly?”
Poe grimaces. “We won’t know until we get there. He can’t risk the location being compromised.”
Ares groans. “Sounds like a great plan.”
“Better than running with our tails between our legs,” Poe counters, his voice deceptively calm. “Better than spending the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders, waiting for the king’s reach to find us.”
“And better to die quickly in a failed rebellion than slowly on the run?” Ares demands, his voice rising. “Because that’s what we’re talking about, Poe. A suicide mission.
“Enough,” I say, my voice cutting through their argument. “I haven’t decided yet, and this isn’t helping.”
They both turn to me, surprise evident in their expressions. It’s as if they’d forgotten I was there, or at least forgotten that I’m not just the subject of their debate but an active participant in it.
“Maya—“ Ares begins, but I hold up a hand, stopping him.
“I know the stakes,” I say, meeting his gaze steadily. “I know the risks of both options. I don’t need them repeated every time two of you are in a room together.”
Ares has the grace to look slightly abashed, but Poe’s expression remains unreadable, his dark eyes studying me with that unsettling intensity that always makes me feel like he’s seeing more than I want to reveal.
“When will you decide?” he asks, his voice neutral once more.
I take a deep breath, centering myself. “Tomorrow,” I say, the word feeling final as it leaves my lips. “I’ll give you my answer tomorrow.”
Something shifts in Poe’s expression—satisfaction, perhaps, or relief. It’s gone too quickly for me to be sure.
“Good,” he says simply.
With that, he turns and leaves, his footsteps silent as he disappears down the hallway. Ares watches him go, tension still evident in the set of his shoulders.
“He’s right about one thing,” Ares says after a moment, turning back to the stove. “We can’t stay in this limbo much longer. It’s tearing us apart.”
I nod, though he isn’t looking at me to see it. The weight of responsibility settles more heavily on my shoulders, a physical pressure that makes it hard to breathe. Whatever I decide today will change all our lives irrevocably. There’s no going back, no middle ground, no perfect solution that keeps everyone safe and satisfied.
“I know,” I say quietly.
Ares glances at me over his shoulder, his green eyes surprisingly gentle. “For what it’s worth, princess, I think you’ll make the right choice. Whatever that ends up being.”
“Let’s hope you still think that after I’ve made it,” I reply.
