Her eyes suddenly widened and she sat up straighter in her seat. “Gods, I think he’s coming our way!” she hissed.
My back locked, though I kept my fingers loose around the rim of my cup, watching him approach beneath lowered lashes. Anysa blinked fast, glancing behind her as if to make sure there wasn’t someone else in his path.
There wasn’t.
Achilles stopped just before our bench. “Anysa, any security concerns to report?” he asked, his voice low and rough, like it had been wrenched over gravel.
His gaze pressed against my skin, and I had to force myself not to look up, not to rise to meet it.
Anysa sat a little straighter, caught off guard. “Uh—no. Not that I know of,” she said quickly, cheeks blooming pink. “Should there be?” She tucked a curl behind her ear, but his gaze hadn’t flicked to her once. It remained steady. Hot. Fixed on me.
The silence that followed stretched thin.
Achilles didn’t answer. He gave a nod and turned as if satisfied. But his eyes flicked back once more, the briefest glance.
Our eyes met, and something unspoken passed between us.Again.
Fire and challenge and something hotter than either of us had a right to touch.
Then he was gone.
Anysa let out a quiet whistle as he strode out of the room. “Strange,” she murmured, fanning herself with one hand. “It didn’t feel like he was actually interested inmysecurity concerns.”
I glanced over at her, trying to keep my tone neutral. “What do you mean?”
Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “I mean he couldn’t take his eyes offyou, Helena.”
I scoffed, reaching for my cup. “You’re imagining things.”
“Oh, am I?” she sang, leaning in. “Because from where I was sitting, the mighty Achilles just made a full report … of your face.”
I rolled my eyes. “He looked at me for all of two seconds.”
“Hmmm,” she said triumphantly. “And that’s why you’re so rattled.”
“I’m not rattled,” I said, too quickly.
Anysa just grinned wider, folding her arms. “You keep telling yourself that,Queen of Our Ruin.”
My cup was halfway to my lips when I paused, narrowed my eyes at her, and said flatly, “Don’t call me that.”
“Too late,” she said cheerfully, already testing out how it sounded again. “Queen of Our Ruin. Has a nice ring to it.”
I groaned and muttered something unladylike into my wine.
But the wordruinstuck.
It clung like tar on the back of my throat.
And for some reason, when I thought of it now, I thought of Achilles. All bronze and danger and watching eyes.
If ruin had a shape, maybe it looked like him.
I was still watching the hall when a voice cut through the chatter, smooth and dripping with malice. “Your eyes are wandering, Helena.”
Chloé stood at the end of the table, one hip cocked, her smile all false sweetness. The light caught on her bracelets, flashing like small weapons.
I arched a brow, matching her tone with a pleasant smile of my own. “Do you need something, Chloé?”
