I inhaled slowly, ignoring the crush of defeat as I moved to sit down.
“Ah, ah, ah, not there.” He patted his thighs. “Your seat is right here, sweetheart.”
My pride tasted horribly bitter as I swallowed it down and forced myself to sit in Eurymachus’s lap. He threw an arm around my waist, pulling me roughly against him. I felt his grin curl against my neck, his wine-stained breath hot in my ear.
“Good girl,” he purred. “Now let us enjoy the show.”
Eurymachus lifted a hand, signaling for the fight to begin. My insides hollowed out as I watched Melanthius and the cowherd advance on each other.
I did not even know if Melanthius knewhowto fight, other than the scraps he had gotten into as a boy. Philoetius looked like he could have been a boxer, his fists large, arms strong.
I knew it was futile to implore the gods for aid, yet I found myself uttering a foolish, desperate prayer anyway.
Melanthius made the first move, and I felt my stomach swoop with the motion of his fist as he flung out a wild jab. Philoetius dodged effortlessly, then swung a punch of his own, connecting with Melanthius’s stomach. My brother doubled over, gasping for breath.
“Seems I bet on the right horse,” Eurymachus chuckled against my skin.
I felt sick to my core as I watched Melanthius straighten and raise his fists. Philoetius muttered something too low to hear. Whatever hesaid had Melanthius lunging for him, but the cowherd was quick on his feet, sidestepping my brother’s attack with ease, using Melanthius’s momentum against him.
I muffled a cry as Melanthius stumbled sideways, catching himself on the edge of a table. Laughter rippled around the room, and I knew the sound of it wounded my brother more than any strike ever could.
He scanned his audience, that sea of cold, ruthless amusement, and I willed him to look at me, to hear my silent plea:Stop this. Yield.
Instead, my brother launched himself at his opponent with a mighty roar. This time, Philoetius landed a fist on Melanthius’s jaw, sending him crashing to the ground.
The suitors roared as Melanthius lay sprawled at their feet, blood gushing from his nose, pooling across the stone floor. He lay still for a long moment, burning in his humiliation. I tried to run to him, but Eurymachus’s arm was a vise around my waist.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Stop this,” I gasped. “Please.”
He gave a low hum against my neck. “And what will I get in return if I do?”
“What do you want?”
His fingers traced shamelessly over my thighs. “You know what I want.”
Sickness roiled in my gut. Could I really do it? Could I give that part of myself to Eurymachus? No, I would not,couldnot…but neither could I continue watching my brother’s body and soul being beaten down before my very eyes.
Before I could reply, Melanthius got to his feet again, swaying slightly. This time, Philoetius did not even give him the opportunity to attack. Instead, he barreled into Melanthius, knocking him to the ground once again. The crowd’s bloodthirsty cheers seemed to fuel the cowherd, and he threw himself on top of Melanthius. Pinned to the ground, my brother was helpless as Philoetius pummeled his face, fistafter fist, and I felt each brutal hit as if I were striking my own heart.
“Stop!” I screamed, the plea engulfed by the crowd.
“Say it,” Eurymachus hissed in my ear. “Say I can have you.”
Again and again, those fists pounded into Melanthius, turning his face into a bloodied, broken pulp.
“Say it.”
“Yes.” I choked on the word.
“Yeswhat?”
“You can have me.”
Eurymachus’s chuckle skittered down my spine as he raised a hand.
“Enough!” he called out, his voice cutting cleanly through the clamor.
