Goddess (Starcrossed)

solidified in Helen and froze her tears in their tracks. She knew that if she allowed herself to give in to sorrow, she wouldn’t be of any use to anyone. Let Andy cry for Hector, and let Ariadne cry for Matt. Helen no longer had the luxury to mourn.
    “We can’t deny you the right to prepare your dead,” Tantalus shouted back at Castor, their emotions lighting up their insides like swords being sharpened on rocks. “But the Tyrant’s champion has gone missing.” Tantalus continued in a falsely innocent tone. “How can you prove that he did not run away because he has taken a mortal injury from our champion?”
    “Ridiculous!” Orion shouted. “Matt never even touched Lucas. We all saw the duel.”
    Helen spun around and looked at her mother. “What’s going on?” she asked in a whisper.
    “You’re in danger,” Daphne replied tersely, but she didn’t have a chance to elaborate before Tantalus continued.
    “The Tyrant’s champion isn’t here to prove that he is unharmed,” Tantalus said with a forbidding shake of his head. “Produce your living champion, or hand over the Tyrant.”
    “And who will enforce that?” Orion called back. “The gods can’t fight us.”
    “My army will,” Tantalus replied calmly.
    Orion and his entourage of loyal Athenians moved like a swarm, massing between Helen and the battalion of Hundred Cousins that seemed to materialize out of thin air around Tantalus.
    “The House of Thebes goes too far!” hissed a relative of Orion’s who Helen didn’t know.
    “Again, Tantalus wants to wipe out every other House, starting with Atreus and Athens,” said another, even more boldly. “And when we are dead, the gods will let him plunder our Houses. Again.”
    Helen felt a hand on her shoulder and glanced over to see that her mother was pulling her back in the ranks. It suddenly seemed like the beach was filled with hundreds of men. Where did they all come from? Helen wondered in a daze.
    “Get behind them,” Daphne said to Helen in a low voice. A flood of armored Romans seemed to surge forward to stand with the Athenians at Orion’s side. “Back, back!” Daphne growled in Helen’s ear as she hauled her daughter away from the front lines.
    In the stampede of armored men, Helen got knocked to the ground. Daphne stood over her daughter, her hands crackling with lightning. The dry, stale smell of burnt ozone wafted all around her, and the acrid glow made the swelling wave of soldiers peel off around them as Daphne helped Helen to her feet.
    “Castor!” Daphne cried desperately, searching the throngs of massing soldiers for a familiar face. “Shelter for the Heir of Atreus!”
    Helen wrapped her arms around her frantic mother and soared into the air, carrying both of them away from the danger of the trampling army.
    “You can carry me?” Daphne asked, stunned. “Ajax couldn’t carry me when he flew.” Daphne smiled, thrilling in the sensation of flight, despite the desperate situation.
    “My father could fly?” Helen asked, curious that no one had mentioned this to her before.
    “Oh yes, he could fly.”
    Daphne’s voice chimed out of tune in Helen’s ear.
    “My father can fly?” Helen asked again, making them soar higher above the massing armies on the beach.
    “Yes,” Daphne repeated distractedly, still laughing at the uplifting sensation of weightlessness that Helen gave her.
    Helen cringed at the lie, and Daphne’s smile fell.
    “You’re a Falsefinder now, aren’t you?” Daphne asked resignedly, like she knew she’d already lost.
    “Yes,” Helen whispered.
    The cottony middle of a new cloud misted the cheeks of the embracing mother and daughter. Dappled sunlight made its way through the dense thunderheads that Zeus had conjured, making the dew in Helen’s and Daphne’s identical blonde hair fracture into tiny rainbows. Two pairs of amber eyes locked, but the blue bolt in Helen’s scarred right iris sparkled when she spoke.
    “Is Ajax my father?” Helen asked in a dangerous monotone, already knowing the answer—it had been right in front of her for a week now, but she’d only just put the pieces together in her mind.
    Ajax looked like Hector—they were the same character in the Fates’ big play, separated by a generation. And Orion had told Helen that the main characters from Troy got replaced with a new baby when they died. Hector had replaced Ajax when Ajax died. But Hector was a year older than Helen, so Ajax had to have been