look like that’s happening soon?”
His lips thinned; he couldn’t argue there.
I understood why he pushed so hard against me on this. The Underworld had scarred him, and this was his way of keeping me safe. I gently touched his shoulder, trying to draw him out of his own head. “Would training me really be so terrible?”
“Yes,” he snapped. “If I build your confidence, you’ll believe you’re ready to face anything, and you’re not. Nothing can ever prepare you for what’s down there.”
“You’re forgetting, I survived it once.”
“For one measly day, Sheridan. Not six months.”
“My mother,” I swallowed, despising that word, “lives there. She would help me.”
Probably.
Petra Drakos, or as I liked to call her, The World’s Worst Mother, was a bit of an enigma. For all of her wickedness, she seemed to genuinely care about me.
“Oh, sure,” Xander scoffed. “Let’s entrust the woman who vowed to kill your sister to keep you safe in the Underworld. Great plan.”
Okay, he had me there. “So, I need to fine-tune the details. But you have to admit, it’s still the best plan I’ve got.”
He looked away. “The right plan just hasn’t occurred to us yet.”
Ugh. He was beyond impossible!
Since making him see reason wasn’t working, I tried a new tactic.
“Who cares about what’s down there anyway—what about what I’m dealing with right here? If Riley sends another monster my way, I’m screwed.”
Xander sniffed, seeing through me. “Really, a guilt-trip?”
“I’ll be ripped to shreds.” I gave him my best damsel face, batting my lashes. Hey, he was the one who came up with the nickname. If he wanted the shoe to fit… “Remember the nightcrawler? I was seconds away from death.”
“This is beneath you, Sheridan.”
“Or what if it’s Riley herself? You can’t defend me because you swore to protect her.”
He let out a long, tortured groan. “I hate you.” He rubbed his temples, looking stressed. “Fine. I’ll train you.”
I stood on my tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you, Xander.”
He steered me back down the stairs, grumbling as we walked. “I’m clearly on the losing side of this bargain.”
“Let’s try to make tonight worth it then.”
5
Xander wasn’t exaggerating. The Ares party was Aphrodite’s polar opposite. As we approached the house, two gladiators were fencing outside in a makeshift ring, using magic to help them levitate. Their swords clanked loudly, fire sparking with every blow. We stopped to watch the match while others around us placed bets. One sword glowed a neon green, the other a fiery red. I leaned against a wooden post, holding my breath as the fighter with the green sword barely missed a clip to the shoulder.
“Do they ever get hurt?” I said, unable to tear my gaze away.
“Yes, sometimes.” Xander leaned against the post beside me. “But during matches like these, they spell the swords to prevent killing blows.”
Ah, no wonder Ares descendants trained and sparred with such fervor, as if nothing could stop them. Fear didn’t hold them back.
“Who do you think will win?”
The question caught me by surprise; my fencing knowledge was limited. Seizing up the two combatants, I tried to guess. “The one with the red sword looks like he could squash the other guy.”
“It’s not always about strength or size. The green one is swift.”
The green fighter knocked his opponent’s sword from his hands. It fell and slid feet across the ground. He held his blade to his red fighter’s throat, demanding he yield.
“You’re good,” I said, admiring his ability to call the win. “You should’ve placed a bet.”
“Around here, you learn to watch how others fight. Knowing their strengths and weaknesses will help you more than anything else.”
“Thanks for the tip, gladiator.”
He grinned. “Let’s go in.”
House Ares was all hardwood and metal, no frills or pretty things like Aphrodite. Ancient weapons decorated the stone walls. Loud, upbeat music vibrated throughout the house, as well as raucous shouts and laughter. Xander took my hand, leading me toward a set of sofas by the fireplace where a group of gladiators in leather kilts sat, drinking ale from wooden mugs.
One of them stood and shouted, spilling his ale in his excitement. He was stocky with dark, shaggy hair and an infectious grin. As we approached, the guy clapped Xander on the back. “Bout time you made it. Where have you been—” he peeked around his shoulder, “—and who have you brought?”
“Cassius, meet Sheridan Thorne.”
His brown eyes flicked to Xander for a second, a question in them, then quickly returned to me. I stilled under the weight