Athan heard the staccato beat of gloves against a heavy bag and followed the sound to the gym. He should’ve come here first. Of course, Xan was training. He was always training. That aspect of the son of Ares hadn’t changed. But when Athan pulled open the door to the gym, he froze. Xan wasn’t in the gym.

Dahlia’s dark hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, and her warm russet skin glistened with sweat. She delivered a flurry of kicks and punches that were only a blur of activity, and the bag swung far away from the demigod’s force. She paused a beat, and then spun and delivered a round kick that split the seam of the black bag. Dahlia wiped her brow with her hand and flung the moisture to the mats. She glanced up and frowned when she spotted Athan.

“You’re up.” She grabbed a towel off the bench and dried her face, neck, and chest then pulled a shirt over her black sports bra. “Are you well enough to come?”

“We’re leaving tomorrow?” He did the math in his head. “Don’t we have another day?”

Dahlia quirked a brow at him. “Where have you been? Didn’t you hear Obelia at dinner tonight? Thenia’s coming tomorrow.” She flipped the top on her water bottle and started drinking.

And Athena, her mother, would be with her.

Trepidation beat through his chest. They needed to be gone before Athena got there or they would have to answer to her.

“What time?”

Silence hung between them while Dahlia finished the last of her drink. She closed the bottle and let out a long breath. “It isn’t my show. I’m just going along for the ride.”

It was times like this, when she was deliberately obtuse, that reminded Athan why he didn’t like the demigod bombshell.

“But do you know what time we’re leaving?” He pinched the bridge of his nose against the pressure building in his head.

She shrugged. “You should talk to Xan.”

Dahlia picked up her gym bag and brushed by Athan, bumping him as she passed. It was just hard enough to let him know it wasn’t an accident. Surprise.

Athan looked at the bag on the floor and remembered the brutal practices with Xan all those years ago. He’d been merciless as he drove Athan to improve his reaction time and accuracy. Pushing back the memories, Athan resumed his search for his former friend.

The heavy wood muffled Athan’s light rap on the door, so he followed up by pounding his fist on the dark wood. He’d searched the entire conservatory and was now back at the beginning, in front of Xan’s room.

“Xan,” he started as Dahlia came out of her room.

She wore fitted leather fighting gear with the hilts of her blades strapped to her thighs. Her dark curls were still pulled up in a high ponytail. She dropped a canvas duffle bag on the floor and turned back to lock her door.

“Hunting gear?” Athan asked.

She ignored him.

The click of a door opening made him glance down the hall. Obelia stepped out of her room, and internally he groaned.

Dressed in tight jeans and a bright magenta top, she looked ready for a night of clubbing. She squealed as she barreled toward him, “Athan!”

He took a step back and bumped into the wall. There wasn’t enough space to avoid her.

Obelia jumped and wrapped herself around him. She whispered in his ear, her lips grazing his skin, “Are we going out tonight?”

He couldn’t help the flinch that came with her intimate contact. He wanted to be gentle with her feelings, but he wanted her off even more.

“’Belia,” he warned as he pried her off and set her on the ground.

The petite demigod pouted, her full lips pulling down into a frown. “You said—”

“More promises you don’t intend to keep?” Dahlia sneered, curling her lip in disgust.

If he could go back and change one thing, this was it. He’d never meant for Obelia to fall in love with him when he found her five years ago. Well, that wasn’t completely true. He’d just never thought her feelings would last this long.

“Why don’t you two go out?” Dahlia pursed her lips as if suppressing a chuckle. She leaned toward Athan and in a low voice continued, “Really, you two deserve each other.”

Obelia’s frown morphed, and her eyes lit up as if Dahlia’s words were a blessing.

Like she didn’t know Athan didn’t like the demigod daughter of Hestia. Not like that. “Don’t you—?”

“What the bloody Hades is wrong with you, Dahl?”

Athan had been so absorbed in the other conversation he hadn’t heard Xan join them.

“Are you trying to cause more problems?” Xan grabbed Dahlia’s bag then threw it through his open doorway. The large duffle landed on the hardwood floor with a thud.

“Just calling it like I see it,” she said as she sauntered past Athan into Xan’s room.

Xan’s black hair glistened, and when he ran his hand through it, small rivulets of water dripped onto his pale-blue T-shirt.

He stepped between Athan and Obelia, and towering over the young woman, he said, “He doesn’t like you. He probably never did. So stop skulking around waiting for something that’s never going to happen. It’s time for you to . . . grow up.” He nodded. “Right then. Go cry and eat some chocolate, or whatever it is you do.”

Athan was dumbstruck by Xan’s cruel words. Not that they weren’t true, but—

“And you!” Xan turned around and poked Athan in the chest. “Quit being so nice to her. You’re giving her false hope, and that’s not right.”

Xan moved, and Athan was able to see Obelia. Her skin was ashen, and her eyes glistened with tears.

“’Belia—”

She held up her hand, cutting him off.

“Is it true?” she asked, her voice cracking over the fragile question.

“I . . . I like you a lot.” He sighed. Why were the lies easier than the truth? “But not . . . not like that.”

Obelia’s chin dropped, and her shoulders sagged. When she looked back up, tears streaked her cheeks and spilled onto her flowy top, turning the pink to a dark crimson.

Xan cleared his throat. “Right then. All done here?” He didn’t wait for an answer but pulled on Athan’s sleeve. “We need to go find Hope now.”

Athan stumbled forward a step and then righted himself. He ached for Obelia. She’d always been so nice to him. So sweet. Guilt gnawed at his heart, and he racked his brain for a way to fix the pain he’d caused.

But at the mention of Hope’s name, Obelia sucked in a deep breath. She glared at Xan and wiped the tears from her face, her pain seeming to disappear with the moisture from her cheeks. “Really?” Bitterness laced her question, and she turned her anger on Athan. “You’re going after her? How can you even like her? She’s a monster!”

The remorse he’d been feeling also evaporated. Something deep in his chest flared to life. A sense of possessiveness and protection. “She is not a monster. She’s cursed.” He stepped closer to Obelia. “You would do well to remember that I love her.”

Obelia took a step back as if he’d slapped her. Her jaw dropped, and her gaze darted away from his face. With a ragged breath, she choked out a feeble, “No.”

He nodded. “I do.”

Obelia’s wide eyes filled with fresh tears, but she turned and ran down the hall and then down the stairs. Seconds later, the front door slammed shut.

“You did that all arseways,” Xan said, clapping Athan on the back. “You better go pack a bag so we can go. And tell Kaia to hunt Obelia down. She really shouldn’t be out on her own.”

With that, Xan went into his room where Dahlia sat on the bed.

“Do you want me to go get her?” Dahlia asked. “You know Kaia will never find her.”

Xan shook his head. “We need to leave now.” He turned back and stared Athan down. “If you’re not back here in five minutes, we’re leaving without you, pretty boy.”