“She’s living, isn’t she?”
Distantly, I’m aware that he’s letting me do this, that he’d have no problem fighting back and that we’d be damn near evenly matched if he did. “Don’t play with words, Theseus. You’re not good at it.”
He gives a grim smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “She’s shaken up, but she’ll be fine. You underestimate her.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I drop my arm and take a step back. “Are you staying or going?”
It’s only because I’m watching him closely that I see the indecision war across his rough features. He’s in over his head. He has been from the moment he entered Olympus, for all that he successfully murdered his way into being one of the Thirteen.
I knew that, of course. His visit to Hephaestus’s office and how he’s floundered on the public stage more than proved that he doesn’t have a handle on what it means to be a member of the Thirteen. Even when he held me close last night, I never doubted for a second that he was still an enemy.
Oh, my foolish heart wanted to believe otherwise, but no matter what my friends and family think, I know better than to believe the dream that the love of a good man is enough to change the people I care about. It didn’t work with Eris, and it certainly won’t work with Theseus.
But an enemy wouldn’t be worried about Eris the way Theseus is now. He can’t lie worth a damn, and he wouldn’t have called me, wouldn’t have sat with her, wouldn’t be hesitating now, if he didn’t care…at least a little.
“Do you want me to stay?” he asks softly, his voice almost uncertain.
I open my mouth to say I don’t care either way, but it’s a lie. I want him here. Gods, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’d like to think I’m not normally one to let my foolish heart lead me into inevitable pain, but my history with Eris more than speaks to the truth. “If you want to.”
He huffs out a breath and moves past me, wrapping the towel around his waist as he does. I watch him closely, ready to catch his elbow if he stumbles. He doesn’t, but I can tell his knee is bothering him by the stiff way he moves.
We find Eris exactly where I left her, which snaps my priorities back into place. Theseus can figure his shit out on his own tonight. She has to take precedence.
“This isn’t necessary.” She doesn’t lift her head. “I’m fine. Or I’ll be fine tomorrow.”
I don’t doubt it. Eris is a Kasios first, and after growing up seeing the things she did, she’s developed nerves of steel. It’s a token of how bad it was today that she’s this shaken up. I take her shoulders and wait for her to look at me. “Then be fine tomorrow, Eris. Tonight, you don’t have to be.”
Her lower lip quivers, just a little. “Why did you come here at all? Why are you being so nice to me? I know you’re too good a person to wish me dead, but I’ve prioritized the city over you again and again. I broke your fucking heart, Adonis. Don’t lie and say I didn’t.”
It’s true. But my pain is less important than hers right now. Tomorrow, we can go back to awkwardly staring at each other across the chasm of the hard decisions that brought us to this place.
I said I’m here for her tonight, and I meant it.
“Eris.” I love you. I don’t say it. Everyone in this room knows it for truth, but the tiny sliver of pride I have left won’t let me speak the words. Not again. “For once in your life, don’t argue with me.”
Her lips curve in a sad smile. “I guess that’s the least I can do.”
When I rushed over here, I wasn’t thinking about how much it would hurt to be in her presence. Theseus leaning on the bathroom counter just out of reach doesn’t make things feel less complicated. He hasn’t bothered to get dressed yet, and I will not think about the fact I licked my way down his thick chest last night.
Instead, I focus on Eris. Words aren’t going to make her feel better right now, and telling her everything is going to be okay feels too much like a lie.
We have enough lies between us.
Her skin is mostly dry by this point, but I grab a second towel and twist her hair up into it. I can feel Theseus watching us closely, but he’s not my problem right now. Eris is terrifyingly passive as I work lotion into her skin. It’s not something she often had the patience to let me do in the past, but it’s a small act I’ve always enjoyed.
At least until I get to her legs and start taking off the wet bandages. There are easily a dozen cuts on each leg, ranging from little more than a scratch to one on her left thigh that I’m a little worried might need stitches.