“But why? We’re separate from the rest of the world. What could he possibly offer that makes it worth the risk of allowing him to stay within the city limits?”
He looks out over the arena and then back to me. “The barrier is failing.”
I go still. “You’re shitting me.” I shake my head, stunned. “How? Why?”
“If I knew that, I could fix it. Or at least try.” He gives a ghost of a smile, but it fades quickly. “It’s easier to slip in and out than it was a generation ago, even a decade ago. We’ve worked hard to keep it quiet, so only the Thirteen and a few of Poseidon’s people know, but that won’t last for long. We can no longer guarantee that we’re protected from outside assault.”
True fear slices through me. This is big. Really big. If we have to go to war, a huge portion of the responsibility for soldiers and combat will rest on my shoulders, and as Achilles was quick to point out before, I have a steep learning curve ahead of me before I’m ready for something like that. “Perseus, surely there’s information in the archives about the barrier.” I’ve looked myself, but there are sections that only Apollo has access to, and he’s not the sharing type. He’d answer Zeus’s questions, though. He wouldn’t have a choice. “There’s—”
“We’ve been looking.” My brother shakes his head. “The records were destroyed at some point, and if there are backups, we can’t find them. It’s the first thing I tasked Apollo with when I took over.” His mouth twists. “Our father didn’t feel it was a high enough priority to investigate.”
“I had no idea,” I say faintly.
“We aren’t exactly advertising it.” He runs his hands through his hair. “I don’t know how long the barrier will last or if it will survive a full-on assault. No matter how distasteful the transaction, we can’t afford to refuse any potential information Minos has.” He meets my gaze. “Not even if I suspect him of being responsible for the attack on you.”
I want to be mad about that, but I can’t. I might not like being left in the dark, but I can’t deny that my brother is doing his best for Olympus. I swallow hard. “I see.”
“Like I said, we’ll discuss options in full in a few days when the entire Thirteen meets.”
It strikes me then, why this feels so different. “Dad never had the whole Thirteen meet. He just made executive decisions and expected everyone to fall in line.”
“I know.” Perseus looks away. “I’m not him, Helen. I might be a monster, but I’m Olympus’s monster. Everything I do, I do for this city and the people in it. We need the entire Thirteen unified if there’s an outside threat.” He pauses. “Will you stand with me?”
What kind of question is that? Except as I consider it, consider him, I realize I’m not a sure thing from Perseus’s view. He’s treated me like a piece to be moved about the board, has used and misused me. Our father preached loyalty to family above all else, but we both know it’s bullshit. Gods, Perseus hasn’t even given a proper apology, and as much as I love him, I know better than to hold my breath and wait for one. I could—should—hate my brother for what he’s done.
But this is Olympus.
We’re all monsters here.
Even monsters have to work together when threatened by an outside force. I’m sure Achilles… I stop the thought before it can reach completion. It doesn’t matter what Achilles would or wouldn’t do. I can’t make decisions based on his and Patroclus’s theoretical position in my life when it’s all but guaranteed they’ll never want to see me again.
Helen Kasios may have had time and space to mourn something like the loss currently residing deep inside me. Ares doesn’t. With the safety of Olympus in the balance, I will do my duty. “Yes,” I finally say. “I’ll stand with you.”
He nods and walks past me to the door, only to pause with his hand on the knob. “Helen.”
“Yes?”
“You being Ares fucks things up. It will make it harder to get some members of the Thirteen on our side. It makes our family look power-hungry and greedy, which complicates everyone’s life.”
The words sting, but I manage to keep a sarcastic reply internal. Mostly. “And?”
He glances over his shoulder. For a moment, the briefest blink, his eyes warm up and his smile is bright and sharp just like it used to be before our father beat every soft emotion out of him. “I’m proud of you. You were amazing out there.” He opens the door and walks out of the room before I can work though my shock to come up with an answer.
My brother is proud of me.