It’s so tempting to take my anger and fear out on her. It’s also not fair. I know how these things work better than most. People at the top make the decisions and tip the dominoes over.
It’s everyone else who pays the price.
Ten minutes later, we’re screeching into the hospital parking lot. Pandora has to keep me from sprinting wildly into the hospital, though we move at a quick walk that’s almost a run. She laces her fingers with mine and provides a steadying presence even though her lips are tight and her eyes worried.
We barely make it two steps inside before we’re stopped by two people dressed in black with a patch on their right shoulders of helmet and a sword crossed with a spear. “No civilians. We’re having an emergency.”
“Let them through,” says a tired voice behind them. “They’re with us.”
Ares’s soldiers part to reveal the woman herself. Achilles and Patroclus flank her, both looking just as worried as I feel. She eyes me. “You got here fast.”
“We were motivated.” I step forward. “Any news?”
“No, not yet. We have our team in there, though. The best doctors on the Thirteen’s payroll. They’ll see her through.” Ares speaks in the quiet tone of someone barely hanging on.
“The clause—”
“They are our people,” she repeats. Her eyes are colder than I’ve ever seen them. “And they know I’ll personally put a bullet between their eyes if they try something.”
It’s not a guarantee, but it’s all we have. I’m not a doctor. I can’t perform surgery. I take a shaky breath. “Okay.”
Pandora is squeezing my hand so hard, I’ve lost feeling in my fingers, but her voice is relatively even. “We’ll wait with you until we know she’s safe.” She glances at me, a silent message there that I’m in total agreement with. Neither of us will be sent on our way once Eris wakes up. I don’t care if I have to fight Ares, Achilles, Patroclus, or even Zeus himself. I am getting into that room to see Eris with my own eyes and make sure she knows she’s safe now.
But she’s not the only one I’m worried about.
I allow Pandora to lead me to one of the uncomfortable seats in the waiting room. We sink down and exchange another look. “Will Theseus be okay?”
“I don’t know.” A line appears between her brows. “Minos has been very careful to use disappointment and praise in turn to keep Theseus in line, but that was when Theseus worshipped the ground he walks on. If he confronts Minos directly, that won’t hold. I don’t know what Minos will do.”
Despite my best efforts, I think back to the final Ares trial. The Minotaur fought Achilles, Patroclus, and Helen at the same time. He almost killed Patroclus, and when Helen eliminated him, he kept fighting and might have killed Achilles, too. I’ve never seen anything like it. The whole time he enacted such violence, he didn’t have any expression on his face.
“If Minos sets the Minotaur after Theseus, what will happen?”
She flinches. “Blood and tears, Adonis. Blood and tears.”
36
HEPHAESTUS
Pure rage carries me all the way to Minos’s home. I can’t stop replaying the attack. I should have been stronger. Faster. Fucking something. The attacker got the drop on us, but Eris should have stayed down. What was the fool woman doing, rushing at the fucking assassin?
Trying to protect me.
I can’t pretend the cloying feeling in my chest is anything but guilt. It’s sticky and sharp and every breath seems to drive it deeper into my lungs. She was trying to protect me, her enemy, the man she only married to keep this fucking city safe.
The city doesn’t deserve her. The Thirteen sure as shit don’t.
I shove open the door hard enough that it bangs into the wall behind it and tries to rebound. I catch it easily. “Minos! Where the fuck are you?”
It takes seconds to reach his office and find it empty. I charge into his bedroom with the same results. Those are the only two places in this apartment he spends any time, which means he’s not here.
Footsteps sound, but I know before Ariadne rounds the corner that it’s not the person I’m seeking. She skids to a stop, her eyes wide. “Theseus. Oh gods, is that blood?”
“Yes.” I start past her. “Where is he?”
“Shouldn’t you, um, maybe wash your hands? Take a breath?”
I don’t grab Ariadne and shake her, but the temptation is there. “Where is he?” I repeat. I keep my words so low, they’re almost incomprehensible. I don’t care. If I start bellowing, I’m going to annihilate this apartment. I want to rip into the walls, to smash and break whatever I can get my hands on and howl to the fucking moon.