Warrior Rising (Goddess Summoning #6)(62)

“Agamemnon does. He has before,” Patroklos said.

Achilles nodded. “Briseis is nothing more than Agamemnon’s mouthpiece—the tool he used to get the princess into a vulnerable position.”

“But why? What does he have against me?”

“It isn’t you. It’s me,” Achilles said. “The king and I have long been enemies.”

“It’s more than just that,” Patroklos said. “Agamemnon is trying to force you to return to battle.”

“Why would he think killing me would make Achilles fight?”

“Haven’t you heard? We’ve been bespelled by both of you.” Patroklos’s smile was as boyish and engaging as always, but Kat was surprised by the dark circles she was just now noticing beneath his expressive eyes. And had he lost weight? His high cheekbones certainly looked more visible.

“So you get rid of us witches, and you two will, naturally, jump back in the battle,” Jacky said.

“Because, according to Agamemnon’s reasoning, you have nothing to live for except battle,” Kat said, meeting Achilles’ blue gaze.

“According to most people that is all I have to live for,” Achilles said.

“I’m not most people,” Kat said.

Achilles’ lips lifted at the corners. “And that is something of which I am becoming profoundly grateful.”

* * *

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

"The problem is, Agamemnon’s men are being killed,” Patroklos said abruptly. “Greeks are being killed.”

Achilles turned to his cousin. “Agamemnon knew the possible cost to the Greek people when he left our shores to attack Troy under the guise of rescuing a faithless woman. Many men have been killed during the past nine years.”

“The fighting was even when we were in it.”

“Cousin, I am not keeping you from the battlefield. You, as well as all of my men, are free to fight with the Greeks.”

“No!” Jacky said, standing up and grabbing Patroklos’s hand. “You can’t fight without Achilles, and Achilles has damn good reasons for not fighting. Agamemnon, the guy who’s supposed to be a great king and leader, is a liar and a cheat. He just tried to have a princess killed to get his way. He’s like a sneaky old harem bitch. Don’t let him get to you.”

Kat watched Patroklos caress Jacky’s cheek and was touched by the obvious adoration in the warrior’s eyes as he smiled at her best friend. “Don’t fret, my beauty. Fighting without my cousin is not something I want to do.”

“It doesn’t sound like Agamemnon knows you very well if he thinks the way to get you back on his side is to attack someone you care about,” Kat said.

“Agamemnon is a fool,” Achilles said. “I know. I recognize a fool. I have been one for much of my life. The king fights for glory, believing his immortality will be secured by the sword.” Achilles shook his head, looking several decades older than his twenty-nine years. “True immortality can only be found in your sons and daughters.” He smiled ruefully at Patroklos. “You would do well to remember that, cousin.”

“We would do well to remember that,” Patroklos said, moving to stand beside Jacky and resting his hand on her shoulder.

Kat expected Jacky to blanch and make a comment about “not birthing no babies for no one.” Instead she smiled up at Patroklos and looked young and completely happy.

“So you’re still not fighting,” Kat said. “Even though he had me attacked and almost killed.”

Achilles had begun to relax, so his instant return to steely self-control was doubly obvious. “Would you have me exact vengeance on your behalf?”

“No, I would not. But I was wondering if that was your intention.”

“My intention hasn’t changed.”

“You still want to change your fate?” Kat said.

"Y-your dinner, my lady.” Aetnia, clearly overhearing Kat’s last comment, almost spilled the bowl of stew she’d brought Kat.

“Leave the bowl and bring wine for all of us,” Achilles said with a growl.

Cringing, Aetnia hurried away to do his bidding.

“You have really got to quit scaring her like that,” Kat said.

“I like it. Scare away, Achilles,” Jacky said.

“Outside you are like the sword, my beauty, sharp and strong and deadly. Inside you are like a succulent peach, always ready for my mouth,” Patroklos said.

Kat’s brows shot up when, instead of smacking the crap out of him for the sappy comment, Jacky giggled, said, “You say the sweetest things,” and tilted her head back for his kiss.

Kat ate her stew in silence while Aetnia rushed around with another equally cowed servant giving everyone goblets and filling them with dark red wine. Kat was beginning to feel much more like herself physically. The weakness was leaving, as was the insatiable thirst and the sense of not really belonging to this world, which was, she realized, completely ironic. Of course she didn’t belong to this world. Neither did Jacky. But here they both were, undeniably drawn to these two men—unalterably tangled in their fates.

“Are you really okay?” Jacky’s soft but insistent question pulled Kat out of her introspection.

“I’m confused,” she said. Achilles and Patroklos had gone over to the campfire to retrieve a tray of bread, olives and cheese, and—at Jacky’s insistence—another pitcher of red wine without calling Aetnia back to wait on them, leaving the two women alone for a few moments.