Menelaus and Achilles stand apart on separate halves of the dusty terrain. The rising sun behind me paints their faces in shades of yellow and brown. Hector and I share one last nod before moving to our opposite sides.

My sword is already in my hand and my shield hefted high in the other. I will take no chances.

A salphinx sings. There are no proclamations, no threats or boasting. We know the true weight of this fight.

Menelaus leaps forward with a spear hooked beneath an arm. He covers the distance in inhuman bounds. A god imbues his steps.

I run to meet him. His spear swings wide. I slide beneath it and slash at his knee but he jumps before my sword can kiss his skin. He spins around, his spear jabbing the earth where I just stood.

The sun is now to his back. It’s blinding, but I don’t let him take advantage. I leap to the side and avoid his next swing. Before he can try a third time, I jump within his reach and slam my shield into his. He stumbles backward.

“Moves I should expect from a traitor to her own people,” he says. He bends, feet crossing over each other as he circles me. “I always said that Sparta should never allow women to train with their men.”

“Because we’ll toss you all on your backs?”

“Because women and betrayal go hand in hand.” He lunges.

I dodge the point of his spear and grab it, yanking him forward. I slam my forehead into his own. Stars erupt between my eyes. His nose spurts and blood sprays between us. He spits at my feet and stumbles away.

Achilles and Hector’s fight is wild. They lunge and dive toward each other. They’re mere feet from our own duel now. Spears clash in the air. Hector sweeps Achilles’s legs and sends him tumbling, but he rolls away before pouncing to his feet. Hector hooks a foot under Achilles’s dory and kicks it away.

Menelaus lunges for me again. I beat aside his dory with my shield.

“You’re a traitor to Sparta,” he bites out. “To your people.”

“But not to my anassa.” I clip his jaw.

He’s relentless. Slashing and jabbing, again and again. I barely have time to deflect. Sweat drips into my eyes and soaks the back of my neck. But I’m younger and stronger.

He strikes. This time, instead of beating away his swing, I drop my shield and grab on to the spear. He lurches and I yank. He falls to his knees as I rip the dory from his hands. He doesn’t have time to cry out before I spin it in the air and slam his temple with the butt.

He drops like a bag of rocks.

Something barrels into me and I’m flung into the air. My back collides with the ground hard enough to knock the wind from my lungs.

Hector and Achilles duel where I just stood. Both have lost their weapons. They grip each other by their forearms, yanking and pulling. Hector wrenches from the Myrmidon’s grip, then Achilles leaps, spinning in midair to catch the Trojan prince across the jaw with his heel.

I knew Achilles was an incredible fighter, but nothing like this. Hector stumbles backward and picks up my shield. Achilles stoops and picks up my sword. I clench my hands into the sand and horror dawns on me.

“No.” The word is a whisper.

The Trojan leaps to the side to avoid the next swing and Achilles takes a step back. His face is painted with fury and pain when he leaps forward. The Adamantine sword drives right through the shield and plunges into Hector’s chest.

With a roar that can be heard all the way to Atlantis, Achilles lifts both shield and Hector’s twitching body and flings them aside. Wails erupt from the wall.

I choke and climb to my feet. Rules of combat keep me from attacking, but an image of my nails gouging out his eyes fills my head. He stares me down in a wordless dare.

Wild laughter erupts and we both turn. Menelaus rises, his body swaying and head hanging. His back heaves with the insane, keening laughter. Ignoring Achilles, still standing over Hector’s lifeless body, I march over.

“I’m sorry.” Tears prick my eyes. I grit my teeth and wrench free the sword.

When I turn, Menelaus now stands tall.

Achilles has disappeared. I spin, but he’s nowhere to be seen. When my gaze lands on my once king, I gasp.

Shadows reach long tendrils from his back. They arc higher and higher, snuffing out the sunlight, city, and sky, until all that remains are him and me and darkness.

“You thought it would be so simple?” This time, when my opponent speaks, his voice has lost its deep timber and is now sweet like overripe pomegranate seeds. And when he raises his face, his eyes are no longer brown.

They’re red.

Nyx’s full lips part in a wide, terrifying smile.