No one lets me lift anything anymore, but I don’t argue about that. Straps, however, I can handle, but Kato’s broad back is blocking my attempt to help, and there’s not a Satyr’s chance in Tartarus he’ll move out of the way. He finishes, tugs the stirrups into place, and then jiggles everything to make sure it’s secure.
I pat Panotii’s shoulder, and his enormous ears twitch in my direction. His chestnut coat is shiny and smooth, even though I haven’t had much energy to brush him. By the time I think about heading to the stables, I’m usually ready for a nap. Maybe Griffin groomed him for me.
Kato turns to me. The rain-charged wind lifts his blond hair from his shoulders, sending it swirling around his head. Storm clouds rush across the sky, darkening his blue eyes and throwing the courtyard into shadow. I shiver.
“Are you cold?” he asks, a slight frown creasing his brow.
I shake my head but keep rubbing my arms anyway. “Little Bean is like a bonfire inside me. It’s… I don’t know. Something in the air.” Or right here in the somber courtyard. It’s the ache of leaving Jocasta and Kaia behind in an onlymostlystable situation, and the dread of separating them from their brothers and from the men they love. Despite my apparently confidence-inducing presence, anything can happen. An infinite number of things can go wrong, and I might not be able to stop them. What if they never see each other again?
“We can wait out the storm,” Kato says.
I’m not entirely certain he’s referring to the weather, but I shake my head again and then force a smile. “It’s blowing east. We’re going west. We’ll be fine.”
Across the courtyard, Bellanca detaches herself from a teary Lystra and then goes to her already saddled horse. Actually, it’s Piers’s horse. Bellanca decided the gelding was better suited to the long journey ahead than her aging mare and simply appropriated him. The horse’s roan coat clashes magnificently with her fiery hair. As usual, the red locks still spark here and there. Even in the damp wind and coiled into tight braids on the top of her head, she can’t seem to put them out. I don’t know how she sleeps at night without catching her bed on fire. Sitting up? Maybe she takes her own advice and doesn’t sleep at all.
Recalling the scene in the kitchen this morning makes me think of Flynn’s pressure-heavy words again.
“Do you think I’m some kind of invincible warrior?” I blurt out, feeling pretty vincible at the moment. Half the time, I just want to curl up around Little Bean and protect her. And I keep staring off into space.
“What do you mean, invincible warrior?” Kato asks.
Before I can answer, his cloak billows open on the breeze, and I see that his leather armor is new. There’s a golden phoenix etched into the tough boar’s hide. The artistry is outstanding, and I can almost see the bird in motion, raising its proud head as it spreads its burning wings. It’s an indomitable creature, one that will always rise from the ashes, renewed by fire.
My pulse speeds up. I think I have my answer in the message Kato chose to write across his chest.
“I’m not sure exactly,” I say, my gaze still locked on the phoenix. “Do you feel like when I’m there, we’ll always win? Like no one will get hurt?”
Kato’s big hands settle on my shoulders, squeezing lightly. “We all get hurt, and you’re no exception.”
I glance down, worrying my bottom lip. The Agon Games weren’t kind to Kato, Griffin, or me. They were even harder on Carver, who nearly lost his life.
“But what about the outcome?” I ask, looking back up. “The end result?”
His hands drop away after another encouraging squeeze. “I don’t know if we’re always going to win. I don’t think even the Gods know that. But I know you, and I know the lengths you’ll go to. I’ve seen what your body can endure. And how you’ll go one step farther when you’ve already got nothing left to give. And then another. And then more. I gave up hope when we got separated in the ice caves, and I thought you’d died. I gave up hope again when you got destroyed by the Hydra and stopped breathing before our eyes.”
He looks up and over my head, and I know the memory still pains him. Sometimes it still pains me—popping skin, breaking bones, tumbling sky. Fear.
“But you came back every time,” Kato says. “Stronger. Less reckless. More powerful. Wiser than before.”
“Wiser? Well, that wouldn’t be hard.”
“And do you know what I learned?” he asks, ignoring my self-mocking tone.
I shake my head, already maybe knowing, and kind of dreading his next words.
“To never give up hope.”
The air suddenly feels too thick for my lungs. Or maybe it’s just me who can’t breathe. “Hope?”
Kato’s cloak snaps behind him on the growing wind, leaving the phoenix exposed to me. “You told us about Elpis before the Games, before we named our team after her.”
I swallow with difficulty. “Her? Elpis is an idea.”
He shakes his head. “It’s more than that. It’s an idea with a woman’s form. It’s something to latch on to.”
“It’s all ancient history most people don’t even know anymore.”
“But you brought the idea back,” Kato insists. “Broughtherback—into hearts and minds. Back to Thalyria. And now everyone’s speaking it at once. Calling it in the streets. Using it as a greeting. Chanting it at our gates.” His eyes meet mine. Striking. Blue. Devoted. “Now… I don’t know. You’re Elpis to me.”
