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Thalia
He was obviously in pain, every step he took jarring his shoulder and drawing the color from his face, but he only urged her on, glancing behind them frequently, his hand tight around his sword hilt. The snakes still followed them, chasing them deeper into the woods, and Thalia wasn’t at all sure where she was relative to the house.
“Pirithous—”
“You should not have come alone,” he said, his voice tight. He sheathed his sword, finally, but none of the tension left him. “You gave me your word, Thalia.”
She glanced at his face, slowing her run to a walk to catch her breath. The snakes began to hiss, but she ignored it. She couldn’t keep up with Pirithous, no matter what chased them. The last time she’d had to run at all was high school, and she hadn’t been all that great at it then either. But at least he wasn’t complaining that she’d come—only that she’d come alone.
“Nikki said Cyllarus clubbed you over the head.”
His fingers pressed into her arm, but he slowed with her. “He’s hunting for you. Whatever happened to me, it was you he wanted first. He would not have done me any lasting harm as long as he did not have you.”
“How was I supposed to know that?” She pulled her arm free from his grasp. “All I could think was that you were being taken apart somewhere in the woods, and the least you could do is show a little gratitude instead of rounding on me before we even make it back to the house! I risked everything for you, Pirithous—”
She bit her lip, stopping herself. He would only be more upset if she told him about the wine she’d offered Persephone.
“Nikki must have told you what you faced. You must have known you stood no chance against Cyllarus by yourself.”
“Well, I wasn’t going to let him kill you. Alex was all set to believe you’d set the whole thing up, though where anyone would find centaurs to stick in the woods, I don’t know. He was sure Nikki was delusional.”
He shook his head, staring at her. “You are not an Amazon, Thalia. You cannot defend yourself, let alone me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Then I guess you’ll just have to teach me before the next monster shows up. Then when you get yourself tied to a tree in the future we don’t have to go through this again.”
His forehead furrowed, then he turned, his expression hardening. Thalia was only glad that when his eyes began to glow white, his gaze wasn’t directed at her. Pirithous caught her arm, quickening his pace.
“Run, Thalia.”
She broke into a jog, but her side was cramping. She should have had some of the wine before she dumped it on the fire. Maybe it would have helped relax the muscles she hadn’t used for the last six years. “I don’t have half-god endurance, Pirithous.”
His eyes flashed white again, and for the first time, she realized the snakes had stopped chasing them. Pirithous muttered something in his not-quite-Greek and pulled her with him behind the thickest tree trunk nearby, clapping his hand over her mouth when she opened it to ask what was wrong.
“When I charge him, you must run,” he breathed. He held her tight against his body, her back to his chest, and his lips against her ear would have made her squirm if he hadn’t sounded so deathly grim. “Go back to the house and stay there this time. Promise me.”
She shook her head, tearing his hand from her mouth and twisting in his arms to face him. His expression was so dark it sent a chill down her spine. “I don’t know how to get back,” she said. “And even if I did—I’m not leaving you behind. Not again.”
“If he takes you, Thalia, he will do worse than kill you.”
She swallowed at the pain in his eyes as they searched her own. If Pirithous had known how to beg, truly beg, this was what his face would look like while he did it. Desperate and agonized. Afraid. He was afraid, and the realization made her tremble. She had accused him of it, but she hadn’t ever thought she’d see it. Not like this.
Thalia pressed her face to the curve of his shoulder, breathing him in. Citrus and wood smoke and lavender. “Then we just won’t let him take either of us.”
Pirithous lifted her chin, holding her gaze. “Brave, stubborn girl.”
He brushed his lips over hers, his other hand a fist in her shirt, and her whole body tingled. But he let her go too soon, pressing cold metal into her hand. She stared at the knife he’d given her, then at his face. He had already unsheathed his sword.
“The tendons on his legs are the most vulnerable, but the only safe approach is from the sides. Do you understand?”
He was asking her to fight. Telling her how to fight. She nodded, numb. She could hear it finally—the crash of the centaur through the trees, and he must have known they were there, because he bellowed, and even to Thalia, it sounded like a challenge.
“What about you?”
“I will charge him head on.” Pirithous did not so much as turn to look at the sounds the centaur made, but he drew himself up, and every line of muscle spoke of his tension, his readiness to fight. “His right foreleg is already weak. If you can injure his rear, I can end this quickly enough to save us both. But you must move swiftly, Thalia. Do not linger near his flanks. Even weakened, he could kill you with one blow, by hoof or club. Can you do as I ask?”
“Yes,” she said, but she wasn’t at all sure it was the truth.
Pirithous nodded, something like satisfaction in his eyes. His lips quirked just slightly, as if he knew her doubts. Of course he knew her doubts. He could practically read her mind. She took a steadying breath, wanting to curse him for it, but he’d already turned away, stepping out from behind the tree and squaring his shoulders.
“Cyllarus!” Pirithous roared.
The centaur barreled out of the trees and Pirithous’s whole body responded, his weight shifting to his toes, his knees bending just so, no motion wasted. Cyllarus let out another bellow, and Thalia jerked herself back behind the tree, biting back a moan of fear. He was immense. A chestnut brown from hoof to forehead, but built like some kind of Clydesdale. And his face. There was nothing in his face but hate and rage, dark eyes burning like coals, wide nose flaring and teeth bared in a snarl, all cut by a jagged scar from his hairline to his shoulder.
Pirithous was grinning fiercely, and she realized suddenly that he meant to lead the centaur right past her. Approach from the sides, he’d said, and he was making sure she’d have the opportunity. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of the knife, but it took all her courage to keep her hand from shaking. The centaur reared, his club held high, and Pirithous ducked a kick to his head, a branch behind him shattering instead.
Thalia lurched from her scant shelter, stabbing the knife deep into the centaur’s rear flank and tearing it down with all her strength. Cyllarus roared, his human body twisting even as he staggered away from her strike. Pirithous’s sword opened his torso from shoulder to foreleg.
She lost her grip on the knife, and the centaur’s club clipped her arm with a sickening crack. Fire blossomed from her elbow to her shoulder, and everything blurred. She couldn’t feel her fingers. Couldn’t feel anything below her elbow at all.
Pirithous shouted something she couldn’t hear, and Cyllarus was bellowing, worse than a horse’s scream, swinging his club wildly. She stumbled back, the pain in her arm exploding like fireworks behind her eyes. Pirithous still yelled, demanding something. Her throat was raw with it, but she couldn’t understand why.
Cyllarus fell to the ground, skidding in the dead leaves and broken branches, legs kicking out. The knife was still stuck in his flank, blood staining his hide black. And then Pirithous raised his sword. One quick stroke. Cyllarus went still, his head rolling into the mulch.
Her stomach twisted, then heaved, and Thalia dropped to her knees. The rush of saliva and then vomit burning her throat. She couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t do anything but cry and puke and cough, cradling her deadened arm against her body.