“Stop hiding from Sevro—”
“I’m not—”
“Shut up. My turn. Stop hiding from Sevro. This is your ship. If you let him walk all over you, he will. You killed his father. Eleven years ago, maybe twelve by now. You’re trying to make up for it. It’s on him to get over that. Not you. And he won’t if he doesn’t respect you.” I take the bottle of whiskey he hides under his seat. “So no more of this for your coffee. No more cowering. You’re Cassius Bellona.”
“Ow.”
“Not in the Republic.”
“No, notau. Ow. Harsh critique.”
“Oh.”
“Right. My turn.”
“I didn’t agree to a game,” I say.
“After seeing that ‘duel,’ you have a problem. One, you’ve used your body like a mallet for a decade and a half. It’s twenty years older than it should be. Two. Diomedes and young Rim bucks will be coming for you. Trust me when I say, he’d eat the Minotaur alive.”
I turn on him. “Really?”
“Really. Three. People are wise to the Willow Way, and personally I don’t think it maximizes your potential. Four. You need your killing confidence back. You need a top-tier razormaster. You need me. After all, steel sharpens steel.” I lean back. “Don’t give me that face.”
“What face?”
“That constipated wargod face. Minotaur messed you up. But I think we can make you even better than you were at your prime. If you let us.” He puts his hand over my mouth. “You say one word about the gala, I will turn this ship around.” He takes his hand back, wary. I cross my arms, tight with pride. I wince from two cuts Apollonius gave me.
“If you wish to be repaired, you must first be broken,”I mutter.
“What?”
“The eleventh understanding.”
He rolls his eyes. “When did everyone turn into a gorydamn philosopher?”
“When we started losing.”
“Then that’s a yes.”
“That’s a yes.”
“Good. We start tomorrow.”
I look down at my bandages and wince.
PART II
RAMPART
The alarm was soon carried to the city, and when they heard the war cry, the people came out at daybreak till the plain was filled with horsemen and foot soldiers and with the gleam of armor.
—Homer
12
LYRIA
Truffle Pig
