I blinked at him, caught off guard.
“Not every battle is won with blades,” he said. “But you still need to know your weapons.”
My breath caught. “And if my weapons are failing me?”
His eyes darkened. “Helena.” My name was a hush, a thunderclap. “You are already a weapon. You just don’t know how to aim.”
Something tightened in my chest. He said it like he believed it, like he meant every word.
He turned then, staring out into the courtyard again, the tension in his body more obvious now. “This place,” he murmured, “will crush you if you let it. It doesn’t care if you’re noble or clever or kind. It only cares if you bend.”
“And you?” I asked, stepping closer. “Did you bend?”
His smile was a bitter thing. “No. But I was already broken before I got here.”
I frowned, not sure what he meant by that.
The wind stirred and the moon slid behind a cloud, casting us into brief shadow before peeking through again. He looked down at me then, something unreadable in his expression. “It’s a shift change right now, but another guard will be at your door soon. You should go.”
“I know,” I said. But I didn’t move.
Neither did he.
The silence stretched again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable anymore. It buzzed.
And then, just before I forced myself to turn away, he said softly, “I think you’ll win.”
I froze, then frowned.
His words didn’t seem like a compliment. There was no warmth in them. Just something tight, reluctant, like the truth had been pulled from his mouth againstits will. His jaw flexed, eyes narrowing slightly, as if the thought tasted bitter even as he gave it voice.
I wasn’t sure what to think about that.
“Goodnight, Helena.”
I nodded once. “Goodnight.” And then I turned, the ache in my chest strangely soothed, and slipped back into the shadows.
But I could feel him watching me.
And gods help me, I wanted him to.
The tunnel seemed endless as I retraced my steps, pulse quick with the knowledge that a guard might appear at any corner. By the time I reached my door, relief hit so hard I almost sagged against the frame … no one stood there yet. I pushed inside quickly, closing it behind me with a quietclick.
Roz was still on my pillow, tail flicking. It squeaked once, pointedly, like it was trying to scold me.
“I know,” I muttered, peeling back the veil from my face. “That was reckless.”
Roz tilted its head, gaze unblinking. Judging.
“You don’t have to look at me like that,” I whispered, sinking onto the bed. “I made it back, didn’t I?”
Another squeak.
“I know what you’re thinking, but running into him wasn’t part of the plan. I didn’t even have a plan.” I had no idea why I was telling it this; it’s not like it knew I’d run into Achilles.
I was probably trying to reassure myself.
Roz blinked at me and then padded forward, settling on my lap like it had decided I’d suffered enough. I curled around it, trying not to think about the letter, and how desperate I was to win.
