Wicked Beauty (Dark Olympus Book 3)

Things go south the moment Bellerophon enters the room. They take up an at-ease stance, their dark gaze pinned just above the top of my head. That’s not good. I’ve known Bellerophon for years, and the only time they get overly formal is when conveying bad news. They only confirm my suspicions when they say, “The attacker is no longer with us.”

Beside me, Helen startles. “They’re dead?”

“No.” Bellerophon shakes their head. “They were picked up this morning and removed from our facility. It went up the chain of command, and there was nothing I could do about it. Unfortunately, my team wasn’t able to get answers before that time. I’m sorry.”

Patroclus leans forward and braces his arms on the table. I can already see his big brain kicking into gear. “Picked up by who?”

Their gaze flicks to Helen, and Bellerophon hesitates for so long, even I already guess the answer before they speak and confirm it. “By Zeus himself. You have to understand, there’s nothing I could do about it. Not even Athena could step in at that point.”

“Well, that’s…something.” Helen goes a bit green. “They were being held…”

“Here.” Bellerophon resumes staring over my head. “There are several cells on the property in the event that we need to intervene with a confrontation between champions. We decided it would be prudent to keep the attacker there until Athena was able to retrieve them. Zeus came instead.”

It’s a token of our history that they give the information so freely. I doubt they’d do the same if anyone else was asking the questions. “That makes logistical sense to keep them here. Why are you asking, Helen?”

“No reason.” She’s got that look on her face, the one that says she’s seeing things outside this room and thinking dark thoughts. For once, I don’t need Patroclus to step in and make his strategic jumps to understand why she’s upset. If the attacker was being held here, then that means her brother was on the property this morning and didn’t bother to come check on her before he whisked the attacker away…ensuring no one would get any answers.

Sometimes, when I hang out with Patroclus’s moms, I get a sick feeling in my stomach wondering about what my life would have been like if I had two loving parents instead of being dropped on the temple steps to be donated like a toy that no longer served its purpose. Polymele and Sthenele treated me as an honorary son from the moment they met me as an angry little fuck at eighteen.

If Patroclus had been the one attacked, his moms would have all but beaten down the door, would have challenged both Athena and Zeus to ensure he was okay. They wouldn’t care who they pissed off or what the long-term consequences were, not until they reassured themselves with their own eyes that their son was healthy and whole.

Zeus would have gotten a report about Helen’s health; Bellerophon is a rule follower and would have written it up as soon as the attacker was secured. Even knowing she wasn’t physically harmed… What kind of brother doesn’t even bother to stop by and see her? Especially since he’s able to come and go from this place without consequences.

It’s far more likely my parents—if they’re still alive—have more in common with Helen’s fucked-up family than with Patroclus’s moms. Every time I get a reminder of it, the flicker of gratitude is something I hold close. It still feels shitty to be reminded of it while Helen is being hurt by her family’s carelessness. “I’m sure he had a reason,” I finally say. The words feel flat and wrong.

Helen doesn’t smile, doesn’t so much as look at me. She’s holding herself so tightly, as if worried she’ll shatter. I don’t like that shit. I don’t like it at all. “He always does.” She sounds tired. No, beyond tired. She sounds the kind of exhausted that comes from fighting an uphill battle on a timeline numbered in years.

I have the strangest impulse to tell her that I’ll take up both sword and shield for a little while, give her time to rest. I won’t say it, though. Who the fuck am I to offer her that? She wouldn’t trust it; she’s too smart to, even if there are no strings attached.

Patroclus frowns. “But that doesn’t make any sense. Why would he interfere with Athena’s ability to get answers from the prisoner when his little sister is the one who was attacked? We need to know who the attacker was working for and how they got into the building. Even if a different champion was the target, it will make both Zeus and Athena look weak if this gets out.”

“It won’t get out. Not from me or my people.” Bellerophon shifts from foot to foot, obviously uncomfortable with this conversation. They tend to prefer working behind the scenes where they don’t have to interact with victims of any sort. Helen isn’t a victim, but this is still a shitty piece of news to have to convey. They finally clear their throat. “Helen, I can put a pair of guards on you to ensure your safety.”

“That won’t be necessary.” I push slowly to my feet. “With all due respect, Bellerophon—”

They roll their eyes, relaxing for the first time since they stepped into the room. “I don’t know why you start like that when you’re about to say something disrespectful.”

I ignore the statement because they’re right. “The hole in your people’s security is how this person got into Helen’s room in the first place. We’ll take it from here.”

“We’re Athena’s people, too.”

“I know. I’m not saying any of your team is disloyal, but until we have more information, we assume worst-case scenario.” I shrug. “Besides, your people are good, but we’re still better.”

Patroclus makes a choked sound. “He doesn’t mean it like that.”

“We both know he means it exactly like that.” Bellerophon shakes their head. “If Helen agrees, that’s fine. We’re not in the business of policing what the champions do in between trials as long as no one’s being threatened or made to be uncomfortable.”

Helen finally stirs. “I’m fine staying here.” She’s still got her arms wrapped around herself too tightly, and I don’t like the look in her eyes. She seems…cornered. Again, that ridiculous fucking impulse rises to tell her she has nothing to worry about, that we’ll protect her. We already offered to play bodyguard, but not even a bodyguard can protect the precious princess from her own family.

I want to, though. I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do with that.

“Let me know if that changes. The second trial begins tomorrow. Try to stay out of trouble until then.” Bellerophon turns and leaves the room at a pace just shy of running.

I turn and catch Patroclus’s eye. He still looks confused, but I shake my head slightly to indicate that it’s time to drop the topic. Helen’s still bracing like she’s going to be bashed over the head, and I highly doubt trying to figure out why her brother is being a dick is going to help her feel better.

I want her to feel better.

She’s mine, after all.

I know better than to say as much, but sometimes in life, I come across a thing or goal and I know it’s meant for me. It doesn’t usually happen with people. In fact, it’s only ever happened once. Patroclus. After our first week in Ares’s boot camp, I knew he was meant for me and I was meant for him, that we’d be part of each other’s lives in a permanent kind of way.

The feeling about Helen isn’t identical, but it’s similar. I didn’t really understand until it was the three of us together, but she fits us in a way no one else has before. With her in the mix, it feels like it could make our pair even better, something I didn’t think possible before this tournament.

I can be patient when the goal is worth it, and right now it’s worth it. If I tell Helen she’s meant for me, she’ll take it as me talking about Ares and marrying her again, and it’ll just piss her off.

Actually… That’s a great fucking idea. Our princess works better when she’s angry rather than sad. I just need to paint her a convenient target to aim all those messy emotions she’s trying to bottle down at. She’ll feel better once she exorcizes them.

“You know what Bellerophon was too cowardly to say? What your brother and Athena are thinking?” I give her my laziest, most arrogant grin. “You should quit.”

Helen tenses right on cue. All the brittle, fragile bits of her disappear between one blink and the next, and the scared princess vanishes, replaced by the furious harpy. She narrows pretty amber eyes. “Excuse me?”

“Your brother is a dick, and there’s only one reason he wouldn’t come check on you.” I cross my arms over my chest. “He thinks if you get scared enough, you’ll quit.”

“I won’t.”

“I know that. Patroclus knows that. You know that, too.”

She glares. “You obviously have a brilliant point you’re attempting to get to. Feel free to enlighten us.”

I like her when she’s prickly. It’s loads better than when she appeared so fragile and out of sorts. Patroclus is looking between us like we’ve gone mad. When there’s a problem to be solved, he’s my man, but he lets logic get in the way of his instincts. Right now, Helen’s too emotional to sit still long enough for him to strategize our way out of this mess. She won’t hear a damn thing he says, and she’ll just keep sitting there, looking small and lost and sad the entire time. Once she snaps out of it, she’ll feel better. Then she and Patroclus can bounce their brilliance off each other.

I can’t say that, though. He won’t understand. He drags his hands over his face. “We need to—”

“No, Patroclus. Achilles has something to say. Let him say it.” Helen starts for me, lasers practically shooting from her eyes. She’s beyond sexy when she’s furious. No shit. I don’t think it’s possible for her to be anything less than gorgeous, no matter the circumstances. More importantly, though, is that the lost look on her face is gone.

She’s not thinking about the attack or her messed-up family right now. The only thing Helen is focused on at the moment is cutting me down to size. I might not be a borderline genius like Patroclus, but I know how to maneuver around battlefields, and my interactions with Helen are exactly that.

I give a lazy smile designed to infuriate her further. “You’re playing right into their hands, princess. This is just another kind of warfare. The second trial is tomorrow. Are you really going to spend the next twelve hours or so obsessing over your asshole brother?”

She opens her mouth and pauses. I can practically see her brain kicking into gear. It looks different on her than it does on Patroclus, but the vibe is very similar. Finally, Helen drags in a rough breath and slumps back into her chair. “You think this is all a mind game.”

“I don’t know what this is, but there’s not a damn thing you can do about it until the tournament is over and we get out of this house.” I hold her gaze. “You’re smart. You know the trials are as much mental as they are physical. They can’t make you quit, but they can undermine you until you fail.”

She shakes her head slowly, almost wonderingly. “The gods really gave with both hands when they created you, didn’t they?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, princess.” Some of the tension bleeds out of me. She hasn’t lost that haunted look in her eyes, but it seems the worst has passed. Damn woman bounces back fast, doesn’t she? Or at least gives the appearance of it. Helen seems the type to stew—one way we differ—so she’s not going to pour out her heart to us. Things would be simpler if it didn’t feel like she was mine, which means I want her to fling open the doors barring us from her inner thoughts.

I drag my hand over my face. This shit is stressing me out. I preferred life simpler, when the most complicated thing I had to worry about was the next mission Athena sent us on and when Patroclus would be too distracted to remember to eat. I know him, so I never have to wonder what he’s thinking or feeling. All the signs are right there, learned over more than a decade together. Things might have changed recently, but they haven’t changed that much.

Like right now. He’s thinking he doesn’t understand what the fuck just happened. He glances between us and speaks slowly, cautiously. “Achilles…isn’t wrong.”

Helen smiles a little. “Why do you sound so shocked?”

“He’s not usually subtle,” Patroclus murmurs. He shakes his head. “How can we help, Helen?”

She picks up her coffee mug and stares down at it as if she can find answers in its depths. Patroclus and I share a look of perfect understanding. No matter how messy this situation is, we’re going to give Helen what she needs. We can’t control what the trial brings in the morning, but at least we can offer her a reprieve until then. It feels good to be on the same page with him after all the fighting and messy emotions. Things aren’t resolved; they won’t be resolved until the tournament is over and we’ve navigated the inevitable fallout.

In the meantime…

“Why?”

I look up to find Helen staring at me as if I’m a puzzle she can’t quite figure out the shape of. It’s tempting to offer her a charming smile or a bullshit answer, but if I want her to take this seriously—to take me seriously—the least I can do is explain myself. At least in this. “I don’t like that lost look on your face.”

She blinks those big eyes at me. “I… No, Achilles, I mean why try to make me feel better? Don’t you want me to quit?”

A complicated question. I shrug. “I’m going to win this thing and become Ares.” Her lips thin, but I keep going. She asked. I’m going to answer honestly. “But I don’t like that shady bullshit. They’re underestimating you, and it pisses me off.”

“But… Why? Why does it piss you off? I don’t understand why you’re being so nice to me right now when it goes against your interests. It doesn’t make any sense. You hate me.”

“Helen.” I wait for her to look at me fully. “I don’t hate you. I like your contrary, difficult ass. You’re strong and smart and ambitious as fuck. If I wasn’t in this tournament, you could take Ares.”

Patroclus snorts. “You just had to throw that in there, didn’t you?” He turns to Helen. “What he means is—”

But she’s not looking at Patroclus. For once, her attention is focused entirely on me. “You think I’m strong.”

Her soft words aren’t exactly a question, but I don’t like how wonderingly she says it. Like no one has ever pointed it out before. “You know you’re strong. You don’t need me to confirm it.”

Helen stares at me for a long moment and finally gives a faint smile. “Yeah. I guess I do.” She stands slowly. “Let’s go back to bed.”

Patroclus looks like he wants to argue, but he just says, “Food first. Coffee isn’t enough nutrition, not with the second trial tomorrow.”

“I’ll get it.” I stand and stretch. “Any requests?”

She shrugs. “Whatever they have available.”

Patroclus stands too. “I’ll walk you out.” He barely waits until we’re out into the hall to turn on me. “What the fuck was that?”

“What the fuck was what?”

He gives me the look that question deserves. “You know what I’m talking about. She was reeling and you came at her like an opponent.”

“Patroclus.” I am suddenly tired. So fucking tired of him thinking the worst of me. I won’t pretend that I don’t deserve it, especially after the last couple days, but while I might be careless at times, I’m never cruel. Not intentionally, at least. “She was going to start spiraling and thinking too hard about what a dick her brother is.” I have my own thoughts on Zeus, and that fucker will be lucky if I don’t punch him in his perfect face the first chance I get.

My anger doesn’t have a place in this fight, though. Helen might feel like mine, but she isn’t mine. Her honor isn’t mine to defend.

Good thing she’s more than capable of defending herself when she gets out of her own way and forgets to think too much.

I hold Patroclus’s gaze. “She’s not fragile. She’s not fucking breakable. Yeah, she’s been knocked down more than a few times in the last week, but she just needed the right prodding to get back up and start swinging again.”

“The right prodding.” Patroclus narrows his eyes and gives a dry laugh. “Gods, you’re a scary motherfucker sometimes. You know that, right?”

I shrug. “Keep her distracted while I get food. Then we’ll fuck her until none of us have the energy to worry about shit outside our control.” We need plenty of sleep, but the day is young and we’re all in the best shape of our lives. No reason not to expel some pent-up energy in the most pleasurable way possible.

“Achilles.”

I stop in the middle of turning away. “Yeah?”

“Sorry for thinking the worst.” Patroclus runs his hand over his short dark hair. “This situation has my head all fucked up.”

There’s not much I can say to that. It stings that he thought the worst of me, but he’s not entirely unjustified on making that jump. It’s a fucked-up situation and it’s not going to get less fucked up as time goes on. The only option is to keep pushing forward and then deal with the fallout after the tournament. “It’s fine. Now, go take care of our princess while I get some breakfast.”