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    Summary

    Patroclus…”

    Hephaestion scoffed anew at that; his lip curled, just enough. “What?” he asked, as stern with his tone as Aristotle had been in our Mieza days. “Do you want me to call you Achilles?”

    I swallowed, again. Allowed myself a sweeping smile. “That is what we always used to do, when we were boys.”

    “Yes, well, we are boys no longer.” His lip curled, and, at last, his eyes found mine—dark as ebony, and shining with starlight. “And Achilles had the decency not to send his beloved away…”

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    Following his near-death experience storming the Mallian citadel, Alexander the Great is confronted by Hephaestion. It's the first battle he won't be able to win.

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