The training pits were located in the bowels of the castle, a massive cavern of sand and stone that smelled of sweat, old iron, and cold earth. As Athena and I descended the spiral staircase, the sound of my own heartbeat seemed to echo off the walls, a frantic drumming that made my palms damp.
Demetrius was already there.
He had stripped down to a simple black compression shirt that hugged every corded muscle of his torso, and his dark hair was pulled back away from his face. He was mid-motion, driving a heavy wooden staff into a training dummy with enough force to make the reinforced wood groan. When he saw us, he stopped, his gaze immediately locking onto me.
His eyes swept over me, taking in Athena’s oversized gear and the way I was nervously fidgeting with the rolled-up sleeves of
