I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, tasting more iron as I fought the urge to tear at my skin right there on the marble. Gods, I wanted it gone. I wantedhimgone.
Theron’s voice turned smoother. “It’s not about a payment. That’s not what I’m asking. A favor like this that is freely given … is sealed in blood. That’s the tradition where I come from.”
He stepped closer, and he didn’t touch me, but the heat of him brushed my skin like firelight. “Think of it as a transaction. One drop. For nights of peace. For silence instead of pain.”
I stared at him. At the honed, beautiful angles of his face. At the strange mix of cruelty and grace that made it impossible to look away. I hated thathewas the one offering this.
I hated that I was desperate enough to want to accept.
My heart beat so loudly I thought he could hear it as every instinct screamed not to trust him.
But that word was also beating inside me.
Choice.
Whatchoicedid I have?
I couldn’t bear another night of pain. Another night pinned beneath Menelaus, forced open, gutted of dignity until there was nothing left but the sound of my own ragged sobs in the dark. And what about when the creature inside of Menelaus next appeared? Would I survive it?
My nails dug crescents into my palms, grounding me in the sting of flesh, in the only pain I could control. I finally lifted my gaze. Theron hadn’t moved. He only watched patiently as though he’d already seen the shape of my surrender long before I spoke.
The words scraped up my throat, trembling and fragile, and I hated him for hearing them. “Fine,” I whispered. “One drop.”
Theron inclined his head once, solemn, as if we’d struck something far more consecrated than a bargain, and reached into the folds of his tunic. He pulled out a small silver pin and gently took my hand.
I flinched at the contact. My instincts screamed to pull away, to snatch back what little of myself I still owned. But his grip was cool and certain, his thumb brushing once across my palm as if to calm me.
Thump.
Thump.
My chest jolted. It was the same pounding sensation I’d felt in the hidden tunnel beneath the palace. It was back now, stronger, surging beneath my skin as if his touch had summoned it.
His gaze locked on mine, knowing and unblinking … like he could hear it too, like he could feel the rhythm hammering through me.
My lips parted to protest, but the silver pin flashed and I felt a quick sting. He’d pricked me on my finger before I could change my mind.
A bead of blood welled and Theron caught it on the tip of the pin and held it there, his expression unreadable, tempered in something I couldn’t name.
A quiver shivered through me, so slight it might have been imagined, except it sank deeper. My pulse faltered and my breath caught mid-draw. Cold seeped outward, stretching beneath my skin. The air changed, and with it came the sense that I’d crossed a line I couldn’t see.
When I lifted my eyes, his were already on me.
“It’s done,” he murmured.
The words landed like a closing door, final and quiet. And I stood there, trembling, unsure if I had bought myself a reprieve—
Or delivered something of myself into far more dangerous hands.
Chapter53
The bronze doors swung wide, and Achilles strode into the hall. He had been gone a week on the king’s orders, and I soaked him in … the dust on his sandals, the rigid set of his jaw, the weary strength in his shoulders. The sight of him washed through me like water after thirst, a relief so intense it bordered on pain.
My chest loosened, a shaky breath slipping free, and for one foolish heartbeat, all I wanted was to reach for him, to close the space and let my hands prove he was real, that he’d come back to me.
Achilles dropped to one knee and pressed his fist against the gleaming marble floor as his head bowed. “My king. Our spymaster returned to camp this morning.”
Menelaus shifted on his throne and pursed his lips. To his left, standing in a place of trust with the ease of a man who belonged, stood Theron.
