I hold the god against the wall with an arm pressing into the back of his neck. A dagger flicks to my other hand. I dig its tip into his side, right where I drove another blade less than a year before.

“Give me one good reason not to finish the job I failed to do in Tartarus,” I snarl.

Hermes chuckles. “Well, you’ll find that that one spot isn’t quite so easily wounded anymore, now that you’ve returned the Muses.”

His dark, wiry hair has grown out considerably, braided now and bound at the back of his head. His frame, broad and imposing, is wrapped in dark blue, rough-hewn fabric that matches the tattoos fluttering across his skin.

Before I can blink, he spins around. He backhands the dagger away and it clatters down the hallway. I duck beneath the swing he takes at my face and leap back from the knee that rises toward my midriff. My back collides with the wall.

I palm another dagger. But before I can leap across the space between us, Hermes lifts his palms.

His grin is tainted with wickedness. “Would you kill me so quickly?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation.

“I guess I should have expected nothing less from you.” He blocks the hallway leading toward the stairs. “How about a truce, then?”

“And give you more time to betray me?” I raise the dagger. “Think again.”

I leap forward. Hermes rolls from my reach. Nimbly, he snatches up my other dagger and twirls it between his fingers. We circle each other.

“What would you say to an alliance if I had something to offer you?” He looks me up and down. “A trade, per se.”

I bark a laugh. “There are countless reasons why I would never align myself with you.”

“Was it so terrible last time?” Hermes tosses the dagger from one hand to the other, feinting toward my left side. “I brought the first three Muses back to Olympus, remember?”

“Only because you stole them in the first place and didn’t want to get caught!” I lunge, a test he easily dodges. “How are you even here?” Still facing him, I search the hallway for the gods who surely know of his whereabouts now. “How have you avoided their reach all this time?”

“I have my tricks.” He grins, then disappears before my eyes.

“You always do.”

A flutter of wings over my shoulder spins me around.

He leans a hip against the wall. “To prove I can be trusted, I shall offer you some advice for which I expect nothing in return.”

“Gods always expect something in return.”

He snaps his fingers. The dagger he held is now in my other hand and we’ve switched places. His back is to the stairwell, again blocking my way out.

Hermes holds up both hands. “The days before the Achaeans arrive are officially numbered. Priam will find his allies have suddenly vanished, either swept into the sea or outnumbered by the Myrmidons leading the fleet.”

My throat is suddenly dry. “You’re lying. There’s no possible way they could have traveled the Aegean so quickly. Not without…”

“The help of Poseidon? How long did it take you to get from Sparta to Troy?” He grins as my retort catches in the back of my mouth. “The same gods that help or hinder you do so as well for the Achaeans. This war will be but a mere game to Olympus, when instead they should fear it.”

“Not all the gods,” I say with a sneer. “Apollo wouldn’t help the Achaeans.”

Hermes merely shrugs, backing a step toward the stairwell. “He would if his father commanded him to. Or do you still truly think that Apollo would do anything for you? Do you not remember Koronis? I told you of her last summer.”

The princess who spurned Apollo and her entire kingdom fell to ruin. I could never forget.

“Don’t let your desire, or whatever it is your fickle mortal heart tells you you’re feeling for that insufferable sunspot blind you.”

“There’s no desire left in me.” I clench my teeth. “Not anymore.”

“Don’t lie to me, Daphne. I see right through all falsehoods.” The grin falls from Hermes’s handsome face. “And don’t let your distrust of me keep you from seeing reason. Prepare your allies, Daphne. The Achaeans will arrive in ten days.”

“I’ll kill you if I see you again,” I promise.

“Another lie.” Hermes laughs. “No, you’ll beg me to help you.”

He tosses something to me. It whistles through the air. Without thinking, I drop a dagger in order to catch it. Uncurling my fingers, I find Hermes’s pipes in my hand. Completely unharmed from when I threw them into the sea last summer.

When I look up, the god of cunning is gone.