Goddess (Starcrossed 3)

The crowd murmured their assent, except for one.

“Helen, don’t!” Ariadne yelled. Her father prevented her from running to Daphne’s side. “He’s too good.”

“No other talents and no tricks?” Tantalus asked Daphne uncertainly. He didn’t want to face her unless he was certain he could win.

“None,” Daphne said without pause, knowing she had already paid for this lie with her whole heart.

“Let Hecate decide,” Tantalus said, warming up to the idea of being the big hero by winning the war in one duel. “Offering!”

Pallas stepped forward and threw a handful of saffron into the air between Tantalus and Daphne. Orange fire erupted out of the sand to form an oval. Tantalus and Daphne stepped into the arena unhindered. Tantalus unsheathed his sword slowly and smiled at her.

“Pallas tells me you’re a terrible swordswoman,” he whispered with a cold smile.

Daphne let her own face show through for just a moment so Tantalus knew whom he was facing. When she saw recognition paralyze his expression, she quickly shifted back to Helen’s youthful version of the Face and smiled back at him.

“I think you’ll find me much improved,” she said.

The gods converged on the duel eagerly, each of them taking a prized position at the edge of the sealed arena. Tantalus turned around, about to protest that it was Daphne and not Helen he was fighting, but was met with a wall of orange fire. Seeing that it was impossible to back out now, Tantalus smiled sadly to himself and nodded at the sand.

“Every evil thing I ever did, I did because I love you,” Tantalus said just loud enough for Daphne to hear. “You, of all people, should understand that by now.”

r /> “I do,” she replied quietly. “And I hate you for teaching it to me.”

He stood at one end of the oval, and Daphne at the other. By putting as much distance as possible between them, they had opted for a one-strike duel. This was not going to be a long fight, filled with fancy footwork and genteel fencing. Like medieval jousters or Wild West gunslingers, they were both going for the single, killing blow.

They broke into a run at the same time and charged each other. It was over in a moment.

Daphne ignored the hot sting that traced across her neck, and cut off Tantalus’s head with one strike. Just as he had done to Ajax. She saw Tantalus’s head roll past her and hit the barrier of orange fire, his dead eyes staring back at her.

It was finally finished. Daphne fell to her knees as she listened to his headless body fall to the ground in stages behind her. Silence followed—then a ringing in her ears. Daphne felt a familiar, seeping cold. Looking down, she saw blood pooling in the sand around her. She tried to inhale, and sucked in salty liquid instead of air, like breathing tears. Her body collapsed, and she toppled into the sand as her almost completely severed neck bled out in an instant.

One line from “the Scottish Play” ran through her head: The sleeping and the dead are but as pictures.

Ajax used to love to draw her while she slept. He was such an amazing artist. . . .

Orion threw Helen down next to Jason, who was sleeping—or passed out—on the floor next to Claire. He was so angry Helen didn’t know if she should even try to get him to calm down. She decided to hazard an apology.

“Orion, I’m sor—” she began.

“Shush!” Orion said, holding up a hand to silence her. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself before starting again. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“That this is my fight, not yours. Not Lucas’s. Not Hector’s. Mine,” Helen said, standing up and facing Orion. “I was trying to fight for myself.”

“You realize that’s not how these things are done, don’t you? We choose champions for a reason—because if you die, we lose. I thought you understood that.”

“Yes, I do. Helen of Troy had no choice but to sit back and let other people fight for her, and we all know how well that worked out for Troy,” she said pointedly. Orion shut his mouth and turned to the armory.

“You’re really pissing me off, Helen,” he said, undoing his belt and yanking off his clothes, stripping down so he could get into his armor. Helen moved quickly to help him.

“I know I am,” she replied, pulling down Orion’s white breastplate. “Because I’m too chicken to do what I really have to do.”

“And what’s that?” he asked, holding out his arms for Helen to tie his breastplate at the sides. Cassandra appeared at Helen’s elbow, the bracelet Orion made her tinkling prettily. “Kitty, what are you still doing here?” Orion asked her impatiently as if he’d just noticed her presence.

“I—” she started.

“Go home to Noel and Kate. This place is too dangerous for you,” he scolded. Cassandra wavered, about to put down the gauntlets she carried, but Helen grabbed her hand and stopped her.

“Cassandra is here to be close to you so she doesn’t prophesy,” Helen reminded him. She fumbled with the ties on Orion’s armor for a moment and quickly threw up her hands. “And she’s here to dress you. I have no idea how these dratted things are put on.”