“I’m trying to protect you,” he said after a moment, each word uneasy, like he wasn’t sure of them.
“By standing beside the man who did this?” I gestured faintly to my cheek, where the pain still burned beneath my skin.
He growled. “There’s more at play here than you realize, Helena. There’s so much that I cannot tell you. You think if I’d attacked him today that either of us would have walked out of that hall alive?”
“You wouldn’t have died,” I said bitterly. “You are the great Achilles. You could have defeated every soldier in there, and Menelaus knows that!”
He ran a hand through his hair. “And then what? Leave you with him even angrier, even crueler. He wouldn’t have trusted anything else I said. There would be no one left between you and his wrath!”
I stared at him. “I don’t need you to be between us. I need you tobe better than him.”
That seemed to sink in.
Achilles took another step forward, hands at his sides, open, as if he didn’t trust himself to reach for me. “Helena, I swear to you, it kills me. Every time. Watching him lay hands on you—gods, I wanted to cut him down in front of everyone. But I couldn’t. Not yet.”
“Not yet?” I asked, my voice rising. “So there’s a schedule now? When are you going to let me in on that?”
His eyes burned. “I have tosurvivehim before I can end him. Menelaus commands the armies of Sparta—every sword, every shield, every grain of sand on the shore. If I move too soon, it’s not just me he’ll crush. It’s you. It’s everyone. Menelaus is more powerful than you know.”
The truth hit hard. Menelaus’s power ran deeper than the crown on his brow, deeper than his armies, deeper than any story whispered behind palace doors. I could feel it. I’d seen glimpses of it. And gods, how I loathed that I didn’t understand it yet. You can’t gut a monster until you know where its heart hides.
My gaze flicked to the wall and the bones that lay beyond it. I didn’t know why I hadn’t mentioned them to Achilles, it was just that every time I tried … it was like Icouldn’t.
Achilles stepped closer, shadows catching the furrow in his brow, guilt etched into every line of his face. “I haven’t stopped thinking about this morning. About what I could’ve done.Should’vedone.”
I turned my attention back to him. “Maybe you should stop coming to me at night. Stop pretending this”—I slashed my hand through the space between us, that impossible chasm that suddenly gaped too large—“means anything if it vanishes with the dawn.”
The moment the words left me, I knew I didn’t mean them. But anger burned hotter than truth, and I wanted him to feel even a fraction of the torment splintering me apart.
Achilles stumbled back as if I’d lunged at him. Silence pressed in until it felt like we’d both drown in it. Then his voice broke through, quiet but fierce. “It means everything.Youmean everything.”
The words should have steadied me. But tonight, they fell flat, thin as smoke, slipping through my fingers before I could hold them. I was too tired to reach for them. Too tired to keep carrying what he could not.
He reached for me instead, hesitantly, as though he feared I might pull away. But I didn’t.
Achilles’s fingers brushed along my jaw before settling at my cheek, his thumb ghosting the bruise with a touch so careful it hurt more than the blow. He touched me with reverence, with regret. And still, the ache inside of me stayed.
“I would trade every oath I’ve ever sworn to take this from you,” he whispered. “Every victory, every accolade, every shred of honor they think I have.” His voice faltered. “When I close my eyes, I see you like this, struck down by the man I swore to serve. And I can’t—” His throat worked, the words breaking apart. “I can’t breathe, knowing what you endure just to stand beside him.”
I turned to him fully, the firelight catching the shine in his eyes. The shine wasn’t from tears, but something hotter, fiercer. A vow pressing at the edge of his mouth.
“I swear to you, Helena,” he said, the words trembling but true. “It will not always be like this. I will bring him down. I will destroy him. Not for vengeance, but for you. For the life you deserve.”
My body stayed frozen, my voice locked somewhere deep, strangled by everything I wanted and everything I feared. His hands held me steady, framing me as though I were something important, something untouchable … when I felt anything but.
“One day,” he said, his voice a rough promise, “you will sit on a throne not beside a monster, but beside a man who worships you. Who fights for you. Who burns down kingdoms to keep you safe.”
His vow hit its mark, landing in every fragile place I’d hoped no one could see. And for some reason, it echoed, something in his promise brushing against the memory of another voice, another warning wrapped in flame.
Once again … I ached to surrender to that vision, to believe it could be mine.
“And when that day comes,” he said, his forehead lowering to mine, “I will not visit you in shadows. I will walk through the light beside you. Proud. Unafraid. Yours.”
My eyes fluttered shut. Just for a heartbeat, I let myself believe him. Let myself feel what it would be like if the world he promised could exist.
His lips brushed mine, tentative at first, then deeper, more certain, like a man trying to imprint something eternal on fragile skin. He kissed the corner of my mouth, my bruised cheek, my temple, his breath a trembling vow against every hurt he couldn’t erase.
His hands moved with worship as he undid the ties of my chiton, each motion unhurried, like he was asking permission with every brush of his fingers. Thefabric slid from my shoulders, pooling silently at my feet. He kissed the hollow of my throat, the curve of my collarbone, a healing bruise along my ribs. Each press of his mouth whispered,I’m sorry. I’m here. I see you.
