“You were meant to be queen,” she went on, her voice thick now, shaking. “Helena, you didn’t win because of that pretty face or your walk or any of that nonsense people care so much about. You won because ofwhat’s in you. Because when it mattered most, you didn’t think of yourself. You thought of me.”
Her eyes spilled over and I watched as tears fell down her cheeks. “That kind of beauty? The kind that burns in the marrow of someone’s bones—that’s the beauty that makes a queen. That’s the kind thatsavespeople.”
She gave a teary little laugh. “And you saved me. You stupid, terrifying, wonderful woman. You drank death for me.”
She brushed her tears away with the back of her hand, embarrassed, then laughed through a sniffle. “Gods, don’t look at me like that. You’ve gone and made me sentimental. Ihatebeing sentimental.”
“You’re allowed in this instance.”
She nodded. “That was very queenlike of you. See, you’re already good at this.”
I let out a hiccupped laugh that almost sounded like a sob and swallowed thickly. “Butyouwanted this. I didn’t mean for this to happen when I drank from that cup. I was just trying to save you.”
Her gaze lingered on my face, her lips parted as though she were weighing the truth like a coin. Then she reached out and cupped my hand in both of hers. “If it can’t be me, I want it to be you,” she said, her words an echo of the conversation we’d had the other night. “Fervently. Fiercely. You can do what this place needs. What our people need. You showed them you’d rather die than become queen through cruelty. That’s the kind of woman I’d kneel for.”
There was an ache behind my eyes that burned.
She leaned in, resting her forehead briefly against mine. “I’ll serve you in any way I can. And when they crown you, Helena ofSparta, I’ll be right beside you. Not because you took it—but because you earned it.”
Tears were spilling down my cheeks now as well.
Anysa sniffed and tilted her head, her smile lifting again with quiet mischief. “And of course, there’s the other thing.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “What other thing?”
She leaned back and fanned herself with one hand. “The captain, darling. Achilles himself. He’s been hovering like a storm cloud with legs. Checking in. Asking the healers for updates. Pacing outside your door.”
I blinked. “He has?”
Anysa grinned, all too pleased. “Oh yes. Several times. It’s been very intense. Now, tell me, my nearly queen friend—why do you think the most battle-hardened, stone-faced rumored-demigod in the palace would be so very interested in your recovery?”
“I have no idea,” I muttered, but my cheeks betrayed me, burning hotter than the sun streaming in from the windows.
Roz suddenly scampered out of sight right as a knock came. Anysa clicked her tongue in frustration but didn’t get the chance to say anything else because the door creaked open, and Achilles stepped inside as if her words had summoned him.
He didn’t look like a hero fresh from glory. He looked like a man who was … broken.
His tunic hung wrinkled and askew, loose where it once clung with Spartan pride. The sun-warm glow of his skin had dulled to a sickly pallor, and bruised shadows pooled beneath his eyes. Unwashed strands of hair clung in disarray at his temples, a testament to nights without sleep. Stubble roughened the strong line of his jaw—not the kind grown in pride, but in neglect, as if he’d forgotten himself entirely. Or no longer cared to remember.
But when his gaze landed on me, when he saw I was awake … a light flickered in his eyes. I watched his shoulders drop, like he’d been carrying the weight of a world only he could see.
“You’re awake,” he said hoarsely, like he hadn’t used his voice in too long.
“Yes,” I answered, keeping my voice level, though my heart beat like it wanted out of my chest.
Anysa rose, and he turned abruptly, before immediately reining himself in. “Stay,” he said. A little too quickly. “Don’t let me interrupt.”
His gaze locked onto mine. “I just—” His fingers flexed helplessly at his sides, Achilles the unshakable suddenly stripped of certainty. “I needed to see for myself.”
“I’m alive,” I said softly.
His jaw worked for a moment. “You gave us quite a scare.”
A flicker of something passed through his expression—pain, maybe. Or an echo of fear.
It hit me then, sank into my insides like the poison I’d drunk.
There would be no us. Not in this life. Not in any that demanded crowns and trials and poison-laced chalices. Whatever thread had once tied our hearts together, soft and golden and secret, it had been severed the moment I lifted that cup.
