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Chapter 20: Stubborn

Adara bolted down the hallways, unable to enjoy the feeling of running. As she threw open the door to her room, the tears were all over her face. She was so frustrated, and not being able to stop them from flowing only unsettled her more. She collapsed on the floor, pulling up the stone and pushing it aside. She searched for her pouch in the wooden compartment, but the tears blurred her vision. Sticking her hand in, she felt around blindly until she found the Ambrosia. From a glance out the window, she saw she still had time. She could sneak out now, and no one would be the wiser until dinner, by which time she would be long gone...

She never got back on her feet. Instead, she remained seated, angry tears rolling down her cheeks, the pain in her chest and stomach not lessening in the slightest way. Reality was setting in.

What could she do? By the time she reached him, that wound would be at least three hours old. If what Hector said was true, Patroclus was probably already dead, and throwing herself straight into the enemy camp, her only true protection gone, would be nothing short of suicide.

She looked down at the Ambrosia in her hand, the golden food of the gods.

The gods. He was part god.

A hope sparked, and she clung to it, feeding it with the strength of her emotions. He had a chance, and she wouldn't take that away from him.

A few minutes later, dressed in dark clothes, Adara opened the door to the medicine closet in Daan's healing room and threw into a bag things she wasn't sure if the Greek's had: turmac, blood rose, lonwart, and a multitude of herbs she doubted she'd need but wanted just in case.

Her pack sufficiently stuffed, she closed the door to the small room and ran to the exit, then to the left, where the temple was. She pounded up the stairs, and knowing the area would be empty, threw open the door-

-And nearly crashed into Daan. He stood, eyebrows knitted together, confounded, as he looked her up and down. "What are you doing?" She didn't answer, just looked around him, feeling as if some internal timer were counting down, and he was wasting Patroclus's seconds. He noted her clothing. "Where are you going?" Following her sight to the statue of Apollo, his eyes widened. He gripped her shoulders. "Adara, what is going on?"

"I'm sorry, Daan," she said hurriedly, unsure what else she could say. "I truly am, but I have to go."

"Where?" His voice was harsh, but she could hear the confusion and worry. He pointed at the statue. "I know exactly what that statue is and I know exactly where it leads. Now tell me what you are doing."

"Daan, please, just let me go," she begged, not wanting to fight with him. He held onto her shoulders tighter.

"Just let you go? You must be crazy!" She tried to break free of his grip, her struggling only succeeding in revealing the Ambrosia in her cloak. "Adara-" Then he seemed to put things together. "Is this about that boy Hector killed?"

Her head snapped up. "How do you know about that?"

"He and Paris asked me how fatal the wound was, and Paris stayed behind to inform me that you seemed distracted after Hector told you. He was worried." Daan shook his head, trying to think of what he could say. "I don't understand what you are trying to accomplish, but that boy is dead."

"He's not dead!" she shouted back, shocking both of them. She waited until the echoing of the yell quieted before continuing, softer, "He's part god."

Daan's mouth parted, then closed and opened a few more times. It looked like he wasn't sure what to ask first. "How do you know?"

"He told me."

"He told you?" Daan repeated.

His skepticism was wasting her time. "I know him," she said, her voice rising again. "I know who he is, and I know that he is possibly the only person in that camp that doesn't deserve to die." Finally, she caught him truly off guard, and she was able to shoulder past him to the statue. As it moved to reveal the hole, she said, "I'm going. With or without your approval."

"He's a Greek!" Daan argued.

"Is that supposed to mean his life isn't worth saving?" she fired back.

Daan scowled. "Of course not! Just think about what you're doing, Adara, please! Will he protect you from the entire Greek army if you save his life? Will he sacrifice the life he just received for you?"

"Yes." Her immediate answer and the assurance behind it silenced him. "He would whether I saved him or not." Daan was not convinced. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him. "He will take care of me. He's not like the other soldiers."

She saw realization dawn in the eyes of her teacher in an odd mix of happiness and horror. "You...love him." It wasn't a question.

Something grew tight in her chest as she considered the implications of her response. "I do." She sat down, her feet dangling in the hole, ready to land, though it was a bit of a drop down. "And I'm going. The only thing you're doing is wasting his life." He walked over to her. "Daan, I'm sorry, but you can't stop me."

"I know," he said quietly; there would be no way of changing her mind. He took her hands and lowered her into the tunnel. "Your secret is safe with me. But please, I beg of you, be safe." He pulled a torch from its holder on the wall and handed it to her. "Remember: just a pinch. Even as part-god, he can only take so much Ambrosia. Now go."

She blinked at him, then turned. She wasn't sure who was more surprised by his action.

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