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“Theyy will ask me to fight,” Achilles said. It was not a question.

“Theyy will.”

“You wish me to give them audience.”

“I do.”

There was quiet again. Then Achilles said, “I will not dishonor them, or

yyou. I will hear their reasons. But I sayy to yyou that I do not think theyy will

convince me.”

I saw that Peleus was surprised, a little, byy his son’s certaintyy, but not

displeased. “That is also not for me to decide,” he said mildlyy.

The fire popped again, spitting out its sap.

Achilles knelt, and Peleus placed one hand on his head. I was used to

seeing Chiron do this, and Peleus’ hand looked withered byy comparison,

threaded with trembling veins. It was hard to remember, sometimes, that he

had been a warrior, that he had walked with gods.

ACHILLES’ ROOM was as we had left it, except for the cot, which had been

removed in our absence. I was glad; it was an easyy excuse, in case anyyone

asked whyy we shared a bed. We reached for each other, and I thought of

how manyy nights I had lain awake in this room loving him in silence.

Later, Achilles pressed close for a final, drowsyy whisper. “If yyou have to

go, yyou know I will go with yyou.” We slept.

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