Wicked Beauty (Dark Olympus Book 3)

Achilles

“Told you so,” Patroclus murmurs.

I don’t have to look at him to know what he’s thinking. I always know what he’s thinking. Namely, too damn much. At least the fawning groupies that descended the moment we walked through the door earlier have dispersed now that the show is underway. It’s a relief; I can turn the charm on when it suits me, but this shit is exhausting.

The last Ares never worried about playing to the public. He was a right old bastard, and he didn’t care if everyone knew it. I don’t know if he started out that way when he took the title, but by the end, everyone hated him. Even his own people.

It’s not how Athena operates, and I learned everything of value I know from her. Better to use honey than vinegar, better to get someone to do what you want with a little manipulation than by bashing them over the head with whatever weapon is closest at hand. Ares could have used a few of her lessons, but he was the type of guy who put himself on a path and didn’t deviate.

Things are going to change when I’m in charge.

Zeus is still talking, spinning a whole lot of bullshit about tradition. Olympus is up to its tits in tradition. It’s their excuse for everything, a line of reasoning that conveniently takes the responsibility from the people actually doing the actions.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “You don’t need to say it, though. I was already hearing the I-told-you-so loud and clear.” Patroclus had been sure the title would come with a wife. It’s been a long time since this title passed over, so I had my doubts, but one of Patroclus’s many skills is gathering all the available information and running scenarios until he finds the most likely one. It makes him irritating as fuck to be around sometimes, but he’s brilliant.

I glance around the room. No one seems particularly surprised by the announcement, so either they did their research like Patroclus or they have excellent poker faces.

He moves closer, pressing his shoulder to mine. He’s frowning, that big brain of his working overtime. “I didn’t expect it to be Helen, though. I didn’t expect Aphrodite to choose her.”

“Yeah.” Even though I know better, my gaze tracks to the white woman standing in an empty circle, as if the people around her inched away to avoid being associated with what happens next. I can only see her profile, but it’s enough.

To call Helen beautiful is the understatement of the century. She’s flawless, the kind of perfect that only comes around once a generation. Her whole family is full of attractive bastards, but she’s on another level entirely. She’s also a reckless party girl whose exploits are constantly splashed across the gossip sites. She doesn’t follow the same rules as the rest of us. She’s never gone hungry or had to fight for anything.

The woman is a princess in a tower, and what’s a princess good for except bait?

She shifts, the subtlest squaring of her shoulders. When she turns to face the room, she looks happy…as long as one doesn’t stare into her amber eyes. They’re as cold as Zeus’s. She gives the room a little finger wave. “Lucky you.”

A scattering of laughs. Neither I nor Patroclus make a sound. I glance at him. He’s a few inches taller than me and built naturally leaner. Tonight, he’s wearing the glasses I like so much and a suit that I can’t help wanting to rumple. The man is always so fucking put together. Nothing fazes him, because before he takes action, he’s already run half a dozen scenarios. Surprising him is damn near impossible.

Still. “You sure about this?” I murmur. He may have expected a wife to be offered as part of the tradition, but Helen complicates things. Might as well get into bed with a snake and pray it doesn’t sink its fangs into you. It will bite. That’s what snakes do. The woman is loyal to her family and her family alone. Being married to her means every interaction, both in and outside our home, will be a battlefield. She’s a Kasios. She can’t be trusted.

“This is the only way.”

He’s right. I don’t know why I’m even questioning it. This is what I’ve wanted since I was old enough to realize the only thing people in Olympus respect is power. Getting a taste of it as I climbed the ranks beneath Athena? Yeah, I’m willing to sacrifice a whole lot to get that title. “Then we move forward with the plan.”

He glances at me, handsome face completely calm, and gives a subtle nod. Patroclus never wanted to lead, let alone claim a spot as one of the Thirteen, but he’s going to put his name forward so he can help me win it. This was the plan from the moment I decided on Ares. The first two trials are designed to whittle down the champions until only five remain for the final one. Alliances aren’t unheard of, but I’m not willing to wager my success on the unknown. Which is where Patroclus comes in. He’ll provide any assistance necessary to ensure I reach the final trial. I’m reasonably certain I could do it on my own, but he insisted.

Truth be told, I didn’t protest that hard. Patroclus has been at my side since we met at eighteen. We’ve hit every major milestone since then as a pair. It would feel wrong to compete and win the title of Ares without him watching my back.

Still. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. Stop trying to give me an out. I’m competing. End of story.” He turns back to study the crowd. “I have files on every single possible champion from Olympus. You’re the best. With me at your side, your win is all but guaranteed.”

My win. Becoming Ares. Marrying Helen. Patroclus and I have an unconventional relationship, at least according to some, but I keep waiting for the idea of me being married to someone else to bother him. It sure as fuck would bother me if he married someone else. But he’s as unruffled as always. It drives me up the wall. “Marrying Helen Kasios is going to be a giant pain in the ass.”

He gives me another of those censoring looks. “Ares.”

As if he needs to remind me. I’d marry a literal fucking harpy if it meant becoming one of the Thirteen. Unfortunately, Helen Kasios isn’t far off from that. She’s a spoiled brat who’s always gotten her way, and even through her lying smile, I can see she’s furious about this development. She’ll make whoever wins this thing regret it, probably for the rest of their lives. That’s not even getting into the fact that any information she gleans from me will be fed right back to Zeus.

It’s a smart play on his part. Worthy of a plan Patroclus would put together. Ultimately, though, it doesn’t matter. I will become Ares. I’ll deal with all the other shit once the title is mine.

Movement on my other side makes me glance over. Paris. He’s a lean white dude who obviously spends a shit ton of money on his appearance. It’s there in the smoothness of his skin, in how perfectly styled his blond hair is. Too bad money can’t buy a good personality; Paris is a fucking asshole. All the good-person genes in his family went to his older brother, Hector.

Hector, I like and respect.

Paris is looking at Helen like she’s a piece of meat he can’t wait to consume. I don’t make a habit of paying too much attention to the gossip sites, but Paris and Helen’s breakup was nasty enough to make headlines for weeks. Now the little shit is practically rubbing his hands together with glee.

He glances at me and grins. “Sorry, man, but she’s mine. She can’t say no if I become Ares and marry her.”

Hector steps forward on his brother’s other side and slaps him upside the back of his head with a familiarity that says he’s done it enough times for it to have become muscle memory. “Don’t be crude.” He nods at me. “Achilles.”

“Hector.” He used to head one of Ares’s squads, but after he got married and had a baby, he ended up transferring to work for another of the Thirteen, Apollo. I haven’t seen Hector much in the years since, but he was a formidable fighter when I knew him. “How’s the kid?”

“She takes after her mother.” He gives a small smile. “I thank the gods every day that she didn’t get my ugly mug.”

Hector is good-looking in a rugged sort of way with his sandy-blond hair and kind eyes, but he’s right; he won’t be winning any beauty contests anytime soon. I grin at him, completely ignoring Paris. “Surely you’re not going to fight? You already have a wife. I thought you were halfway to retired at this point.”

He shrugs. “Family.”

I nod as if I have any idea what he’s talking about. My only family is Patroclus and the squad we run together. My parents are mysteries. Apparently they didn’t want a kid, so they followed the old tradition of leaving the baby—me—on the temple steps. I grew up in one of the orphanages that’s run in Hera’s name, but I don’t think an actual Hera has set foot in them since before I was born. At eighteen, I got a choice of working for Ares, Poseidon, or Demeter. Really, it wasn’t much of a choice at all. I was a grunt for Ares for a few years before Athena plucked me out of obscurity and showed me what greatness can be.

I was always destined for this.

“Now, it’s time for those who would be Ares to step forward.”

Zeus steps back and motions to the tall Black woman at his side. She’s wearing a suit instead of a gown, the pale gray setting off her warm brown skin, her black hair cut short on the sides with the curls longer on the top. Athena.

She surveys the room as if measuring every person’s weaknesses. Knowing her, that’s exactly what she’s done. “Once you put your name forward, the only way out is elimination or resignation. While these trials aren’t meant to be to the death…accidents happen. Be willing to sacrifice it all.”

Paris ducks from under Hector’s hand and moves forward. “I’m Paris Chloros. I will sacrifice it all.”

I can’t help it. I glance at Helen to see her reaction. Her pale skin has gone a little green as she glares at her ex. Paris winks at her as if he can’t see the murder in her eyes. If he wins Ares, I don’t like his chances of surviving the wedding night.

It won’t be a problem, because Paris isn’t even a contender. The bigger worry is Hector, who steps forward and repeats the traditional phrase. Ajax—another of the former Ares commanders and someone I consider a friend—is next. Then a Black woman with locs pulled back from her scarred face. Her name is Atalanta, and she’s light enough on her feet that I already know she’ll be quick as fuck.

Person after person comes forward in an endless stream. I note the ones Patroclus expected and the ones he didn’t. None of them matter. There are a few actual contenders but mostly they’re people from the elite families that move in the extended circles of the Thirteen. They’ll attempt the tournament because they can’t afford to ignore a chance to take the title, but they aren’t true threats.

A wave of murmurs rises behind me, and I glance over my shoulder as two men stalk through the crowd, people practically scrambling over one another to get out of their way. They have similar coloring—medium-brown skin, dark-red hair, dark eyes—and are both even larger than I am. “Big bastards,” I murmur.

The taller of the two gives me a look that’s eerily empty as they pass by. The entire room has gone silent, probably sensing the same thing I do—these are true predators in our midst. Even more importantly, they’re strangers.

The shorter of the two steps forward first with a showy bow. “I’m Theseus Vitalis, and I’m willing to sacrifice it all.”

Athena raises a brow. “New in town?”

“It’s within the parameters of the competition.”

“I’m aware of the rules.” She glances at the taller one. “And you?”

“I’m the Minotaur.” His voice sounds like someone hacked open his vocal cords and then poured burning embers into the wound.

Athena gives him a sharp look. “That’s your name?”

“It serves its purpose.” He pauses barely long enough for her to nod before continuing. “I will sacrifice it all.”

“Dangerous,” Patroclus murmurs.

“Yeah.” I wait for them to move to the side before Patroclus and I step forward. I can’t help looking at Helen again as Patroclus speaks the words to become a champion. She’s doing a shit job of masking her expression, and I hate the sympathy that I feel in response. She obviously didn’t choose this. Fuck, she obviously didn’t know about it before Zeus made his announcement. This woman is nothing to me, but when I win the title Ares—and I will win—I’ll ensure she’s not mistreated. After the wedding, I don’t care what she does or who she fucks around with as long as she stays away from me and Patroclus. It’s a better deal than she’ll get from anyone else.

Then it’s my turn to speak, and I shove all thoughts of Helen effortlessly away. “I’m Achilles Kallis, and I’m willing to sacrifice it all.”

Athena doesn’t smile, but approval warms her dark eyes. It’s about as effusive as she gets, and it makes me feel a little strange in response. I’m not someone who needs outside approval for validation, but I respect the fuck out of Athena, and her opinion matters to me.

She waits several long moments, but no one else steps forward. She lifts her voice to be heard in every corner of the room. “The deadline for putting your name forward is dawn. Best of luck.”

The lights brighten slowly, signaling the end of the pageantry. The party will go on for hours, but our reason to be here is over. I turn to Patroclus. “Let’s go.”

For a second, it seems like he might argue, but finally he nods and turns with me for the door. People get out of our way. I’ve been to these kinds of parties a handful of times in the years since I was promoted to Athena’s second-in-command, but she prefers to keep her people out of the viper’s nest. Her words, not mine. I don’t see the big deal, but then I’m not one to be swayed by a pretty face or prettier words. I know my fate.

I hold the door open for Patroclus, and we exit into the long hallway leading to the elevator down. He’s got that look on his face, and I inwardly roll my eyes. “Tell me you’re not worried about that golden princess.”

“I feel bad for her.” He shrugs, completely unashamed of his bleeding heart. “It can’t be that comfortable being so close to so many members of the Thirteen. Her life was never her own, not even from birth.”

This time, I can’t stop myself from rolling my eyes. “Right. Poor little princess, born into the richest family in the city, having everything she could ever dream of at the tips of her fingers. She’s never had to fight for a single thing in her life. Not like me. Not like you.”

“That’s not entirely true, at least for me. If things had fallen out differently, I’d be Aphrodite’s son.”

“It’s different.”

“If you say so.” Another shrug. “I don’t have the same ambition you do, Achilles. Working for Athena is just a job for me. It always has been.”

I love the man, but sometimes I really don’t understand him. If you’re not fighting for something, you’re going to get used as a stepping-stone for the people who are. Patroclus is one of the most brilliant people I know, but he’s too soft. Without me to watch his back, he would have been fucked over dozens of times since we met each other as teenagers.

Then again, without me in his life, I don’t think he’d be in Athena’s special forces. With his love of knowledge and research, he might have gravitated to Apollo’s businesses the same way Hector did.

Something like guilt slaps me in the face, but I shove it away. When I’m Ares, Patroclus will be free to do whatever he damn well pleases. With that much power at my disposal, that many resources, he won’t have to work at all if he doesn’t want to.

I sling an arm around his shoulders and press a quick kiss to his temple. “Don’t worry so much. When I’m Ares, I’ll take care of both of us.” I grin. “Fuck, I’ll take care of Helen, too, if that will make you feel better.” Even if she is a spoiled brat.