Her eyes searched his face, and then widened with understanding. "Good God, that's why you are upset. You blame yourself for what happened. But that's ridiculous. You couldn't have known--"
"Yes, I should have. Had I not been so distracted, I would have."
"So I'm to blame?"
"Of course not."
"You aren't perfect, Arthur. You're human; you make mistakes."
He didn't respond, his jaw clenching so tightly his teeth hurt.
"Is that what you think?" she asked softly. "Have your senses never failed you before?"
Once. He pushed aside the memory. "We should get back."
He started to turn away, but she grabbed his arm to stop him. "Won't you tell me?"
"There's nothing to tell."
"Does it have something to do with your father?"
He glanced at her sharply. How in Hades had she figured that out?
She read his surprise. "When you spoke of his death before, I sensed there was something you were leaving out."
There was a hell of a lot he'd left out. Namely her father's part in the foul deed.
She was waiting for him to respond. He wasn't much for discussing the past, but if the look on her face was any indication, it meant a lot to her. "There isn't much to tell. It was my first battle. My father had brought me alone to prove myself. I was so worried about impressing him that I missed the signs of the attack." But that wasn't the worst part. "I watched him die."
Her face filled with sympathy. "God, I'm so sorry. That must have been horrible. But you were only a lad; you couldn't have done anything to help him."
"I should have warned him." Had he not been so upset, so scared, he would have seen the signs. Then, just as last night, emotion had gotten in the way. "I was distracted."
Her frown barely had time to form before her eyes lit with sudden comprehension. "You loved him."
He shrugged, the subject making him uneasy. "It didn't do him any good."
"Even Achilles had a weak spot, Arthur."
His brows gathered together in a frown. What was she talking about?
"It's hard to remain detached and observant with people you care about." She gave him an understanding smile. "You can't blame yourself for caring."
But he did. What use were his vaunted skills if he couldn't protect the people he cared about?
"Thank you for telling me," she said.
Why again did he feel as if she'd seen too much? "I didn't want you to worry about another surprise attack."
"I'm not," she said. "I trust you."
Arthur's chest tightened to a burn. He wanted to warn her not to--that he didn't deserve it, that he would only hurt her, that she gave her heart too easily, too blindly--but instead he nodded, and they started back toward camp.
He led her up the path from the burn. When they reached the edge of camp, she gave him a sidelong look out of the corner of her eye. "My uncle looked as if he recognized you."
The observation caught him completely off guard. Something for which she seemed to have a particular talent. His step faltered. Not much, but he feared she'd noticed.
"Are you sure it was your uncle? It was dark. I couldn't see him clearly behind the nasal helm, and he was much closer to me."
