Clarisse was never supposed to be easy.

She barked, yelled, shoved you into the mud during your first spar and expected you to break.

You didn’t.

You laughed.

And gods, that confused her.

After that, everything shifted in tiny, dangerous increments.

Training matches became contests. Insults became inside jokes. Arguments became long, heated conversations that neither of you walked away from.

And somewhere in the middle of the chaos, she started opening up — just for you.

She told you about Ares. About expectations. About anger she couldn’t explain. You told her nothing about why you were here.

And yet, it didn’t stop you from falling.

That was never part of Eris’ plan — but it happened anyway.

⟡

Which made standing in the forest now feel like having a blade pressed to your own throat.

The rainbow shimmered in midair as the Iris Message connected. Eris lounged in her throne as always, your mother beside her — gentle hand resting on Eris’ arm, the picture of love and danger intertwined.

“Well?” Eris purred. “Has she fallen yet?”

You grit your teeth. “Clarisse trusts me. She respects me. That’s more than anyone else gets from her. But I’m not going to push her into love just because you want to start a war.”

Eris raised a brow, amused. “Oh? My daughter is growing a conscience.”

Your mother spoke quietly. “Do you… care for her?”

You forced yourself not to flinch. “That isn’t the point.”

“It is exactly the point,” Eris said. “You will continue. Ares has already heard rumors that his little warrior might be… vulnerable to someone. He’s furious. Good.”

You clenched your fists. “If she finds out I was sent here to make her fall for me—”

“She won’t,” Eris interrupted. “You are my child. You do not fail.”

For the first time, that word felt like a knife.

Child.

Not daughter.

Not you.

The mist shimmered, the message fading — and your mother was about to add something when your name escaped her lips, soft, almost warning—

But it was too late.

The message vanished.

And Annabeth stepped out from between the trees, pulling off her Yankees cap.

Her face wasn’t angry.

It was worse — surgical, calculating. Like she had just solved a puzzle.

“So that’s it,” she murmured. “You’re not here to train. You’re not here to help. You were sent to manipulate Clarisse because of some godly feud.”

You inhaled sharply. “Annabeth, this has nothing to do with you—”

“Oh, it does,” she snapped. “Clarisse may not be my friend, but she’s my teammate. And she deserves someone who’s honest, not someone who’s playing her.”

The part she didn’t understand — the part that hurt — was that you agreed.

If Clarisse found out the truth, she wouldn’t yell.

She would look at you like you were just like everyone else — someone who wanted to use her.

And that would destroy you.

Annabeth turned on her heel, clearly ready to march straight back to camp with the truth.

You grabbed her wrist. “Please. Don’t. Not yet.”

She looked back slowly. “Give me one reason.”

Your voice cracked, the truth ripping out before you could stop it.

“Because Clarisse is the first person who’s ever loved me without knowing my mother.”

Annabeth froze.

She searched your eyes — not for lies, but for intent.

“You really care about her,” she said quietly.

You nodded once.

Annabeth exhaled shakily, then pulled her wrist free.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she said at last. “Not yet. But you’d better decide what you are sooner rather than later — Eris’s pawn… or Clarisse’s partner.”

She pulled the cap over her head and vanished.

You were left alone in the clearing, hands shaking.

You knew Annabeth was right.

You could keep the secret… and keep Clarisse.

Or you could tell the truth… and maybe lose her forever.

Either way, the clock was ticking.