“I’m fine, you know,” Cassandra said. “You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves.”
“I’m not treating you with kid gloves,” he said. “But that vision had to take a little wind out of your sails.”
“Not all the wind. These punches are pathetic.” Even when she didn’t dodge fast enough, the blows landed with as much authority as a tossed pair of socks.
“Fine. How about some holds, then?”
He twisted to demonstrate, and she elbowed him in the nose.
“Ow.”
“How about you pay attention?” she asked.
“I am.”
“To me. Not to Athena and Achilles.”
It was a lot to ask. Athena and Achilles slammed into the side of the house, and it shook to the foundation.
“They’re pulling their punches,” Odysseus said.
“How do you know?”
“If they weren’t, that wall would’ve caved.”
He was probably right. They should keep away from the house altogether before they cracked something important. Achilles pulled Athena in close, her back to his chest. He whispered something into her ear, and she smiled.
“He’s been pulling her in like that a lot,” Cassandra whispered to Odysseus.
“I’ve noticed.”
“Jealous?” she asked. “Threatened?”
The storm clouds vanished from Odysseus’ face. He flashed his typical Odysseus smile, and went for weapons.
* * *
Athena shifted her feet. The boy kept her on her toes. So much power, encased in mortal skin. A human being who could stand against gods. But she would save the philosophical questions for later. Achilles demanded all of her concentration. Even when he held back.
Of course, she held back, too.
“So, what do you think?” he asked.
“That your tale hasn’t grown much in the telling,” she said.
“Would you be angry if I made you bleed?” He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and left a wet, red streak.
“No. But you aren’t likely to.”
He looped an arm around her neck and twisted her close. The muscles of his forearm squeezed her throat like a constricting snake.
“Your bones are steel,” he said admiringly. “Fat chance of me breaking your neck like you did mine.” He let her go a fraction of an inch and placed his free hand on her hip. “But I think I’ve found a weak spot.” His fingers slipped up her waist, underneath her shirt.
“Enough!”
Athena jerked loose as Odysseus shouted. Achilles had been going for the feather working its way out underneath her ribs.
“It is,” she said. “I want to see how Cassandra’s progressing.”
“Not so fast,” said Odysseus. In his hands he carried two swords: thick and short bladed, like the ones they’d used in their last life. He tossed one to Achilles. “It’s been awhile.”
Achilles shook back his blond hair. The sword flipped in his palm. “Feels familiar.”
“Those aren’t practice swords,” Hermes said. “They’re sharp enough to dice a tomato.”
But of course Odysseus would know that.
“It’s okay, Hermes,” said Athena. “It’s only play. Two old friends sparring. Right?”
“Like we used to,” Odysseus said. Except back then Achilles hadn’t been truly invincible. Back then he’d been just a boy.
“Blunt swords would be just as good,” Hermes said, but Athena shushed him. She wanted to know who would swing first. What tricks Odysseus would use.
The swords clashed once, hard. Andie flinched at the sound, and Henry nudged closer to her. The two fighters grinned. Achilles slashed and drove Odysseus back; Odysseus parried and spun away to give himself fresh space.
“Careful,” Achilles said. “No armor.”
Odysseus laughed. “What? Afraid of a few scars?”
They fought, and talked, and never drew the slightest blood. It was all for show, but Andie gasped and held Henry’s arm so tight it was about to turn purple. Achilles cut the air inches from Odysseus’ face, and Odysseus arched backward just right.
“They look good together,” Hermes said. “Your heroes.”
“Yes,” Athena agreed. “They do.”
Odysseus’ lines were beautiful. He kept his pacing erratic to keep his opponent off-balance, and even though it was Achilles he fought, Athena couldn’t keep her eyes off him. He could’ve been fighting the Chimera. To her, Odysseus was always the only thing worth watching.