by Rick Riordan
We didn’t count the dead. They weren’t numbers. They were people we had known, friends we had fought with.
We lit the funeral pyres all on one night, at the base of Jupiter’s temple, and shared the traditional feast for the dead to send our fallen comrades off to the Underworld. The Lares turned out in full force until the hillside was a glowing field of purple, ghosts outnumbering the living.
I noticed that Reyna stood back and let Frank officiate. Praetor Zhang had quickly regained his strength. Dressed in full armor and his maroon cloak, he gave his eulogy while the legionnaires listened with awed reverence, as one does when the speaker has recently sacrificed himself in a fiery explosion and then, somehow, made it out alive with his underwear and cape intact.
Hazel helped, too, going through the ranks and comforting those who were crying or looking shell-shocked. Reyna stayed at the edge of the crowd, leaning on her crutches, gazing wistfully at the legionnaires as if they were loved ones she hadn’t seen in a decade and now barely recognized.
As Frank finished his speech, a voice next to me said, “Hey.”
Thalia Grace wore her usual black and silver. In the light of the funeral pyres, her electric-blue eyes turned piercing violet. Over the past few days, we had spoken a few times, but it had all been surface talk: where to bring supplies, how to help the wounded. We had avoided the subject.
“Hey,” I said, my voice hoarse.
She folded her arms and stared at the fire. “I don’t blame you, Apollo. My brother…” She hesitated, steadying her breath. “Jason made his own choices. Heroes have to do that.”
Somehow, having her not blame me only made me feel guiltier and more unworthy. Ugh, human emotions were like barbed wire. There was just no safe way to grab hold of them or get through them.
“I’m so sorry,” I said at last.
“Yeah. I know.” She closed her eyes as if listening for a distant sound—a wolf cry in the forest, perhaps. “I got Reyna’s letter, a few hours before Diana received your summons. An aura—one of the breeze nymphs—she plucked it out of the mail and flew it to me personally. So dangerous for her, but she did it anyway.” Thalia picked at one of the buttons on her lapel: Iggy and the Stooges, a band older than she was by several generations. “We came as fast as we could, but still…I had some time to cry and scream and throw things.”
I remained very still. I had vivid memories of Iggy Pop throwing peanut butter, ice cubes, watermelons, and other dangerous objects at his fans during his concerts. I found Thalia more intimidating than him by far.
“It seems so cruel,” she continued. “We lose someone and finally get them back, only to lose them again.”
I wondered why she used the word we. She seemed to be saying that she and I shared this experience—the loss of an only sibling. But she had suffered so much worse. My sister couldn’t die. I couldn’t lose her permanently.
Then, after a moment of disorientation, like I’d been flipped upside down, I realized she wasn’t talking about me losing someone. She was talking about Artemis—Diana.
Was she suggesting that my sister missed me, even grieved for me as Thalia grieved for Jason?
Thalia must have read my expression. “The goddess has been beside herself,” she said. “I mean that literally. Sometimes she gets so worried she splits into two forms, Roman and Greek, right in front of me. She’ll probably get mad at me for telling you this, but she loves you more than anyone else in the world.”
A marble seemed to have lodged in my throat. I couldn’t speak, so I just nodded.
“Diana didn’t want to leave camp so suddenly like that,” Thalia continued. “But you know how it is. Gods can’t stick around. Once the danger to New Rome had passed, she couldn’t risk overstaying her summons. Jupiter…Dad wouldn’t approve.”
I shivered. How easy it was to forget that this young woman was also my sister. And Jason was my brother. At one time, I would have discounted that connection. They’re just demigods, I would have said. Not really family.
Now I found the idea hard to accept for a different reason. I didn’t feel worthy of that family. Or Thalia’s forgiveness.
Gradually, the funeral picnic began to break up. Romans drifted off in twos and threes, heading for New Rome, where a special nighttime meeting was being held at the Senate House. Sadly, the valley’s population was so reduced that the entire legion and the citizenry of New Rome could now fit inside that one building.
Reyna hobbled over to us.
Thalia gave her a smile. “So, Praetor Ramírez-Arellano, you ready?”
“Yes.” Reyna answered without hesitation, though I wasn’t sure what she was ready for. “Do you mind if…” She nodded at me.
Thalia gripped her friend’s shoulder. “Of course. See you at the Senate House.” She strode away into the darkness.
“Come on, Lester.” Reyna winked. “Limp with me.”
The limping was easy. Even though I was healed, I tired easily. It was no problem to walk at Reyna’s pace. Her dogs, Aurum and Argentum, weren’t with her, I noticed, perhaps because Terminus didn’t approve of deadly weapons inside the city limits.
We made our way slowly down the road from Temple Hill toward New Rome. Other legionnaires gave us a wide berth, apparently sensing we had private business to discuss.
Reyna kept me in suspense until we reached the bridge spanning the Little Tiber.
“I wanted to thank you,” she said.
Her smile was a ghost of the one she’d had on the hillside of Sutro Tower, when I’d offered to be her boyfriend. That left me in no doubt as to what she meant—not Thank you for helping to save the camp, but Thank you for giving me a good laugh.
“No problem,” I grumbled.
“I don’t mean it in a negative way.” Seeing my dubious look, she sighed and stared out at the dark river, its ripples curling silver in the moonlight. “I don’t know if I can explain this. My whole life, I’ve been living with other people’s expectations of what I’m supposed to be. Be this. Be that. You know?”
“You’re talking to a former god. Dealing with people’s expectations is our job description.”
Reyna conceded this with a nod. “For years, I was supposed to be a good little sister to Hylla in a tough family situation. Then, on Calypso’s island, I was supposed to be an obedient servant. Then I was a pirate for a while. Then a legionnaire. Then a praetor.”
“You do have an impressive résumé,” I admitted.
“But the whole time I’ve been a leader here,” she forged on, “I was looking for a partner. Praetors often partner up. In power. But also romantically, I mean. I thought Jason. Then for a hot minute, Percy Jackson. Gods help me, I even considered Octavian.” She shuddered. “Everybody was always trying to ship me with somebody. Thalia. Jason. Gwen. Even Frank. Oh, you’d be perfect together! That’s who you need! But I was never really sure if I wanted that, or if I just felt like I was supposed to want it. People, well-meaning, would be like, Oh, you poor thing. You deserve somebody in your life. Date him. Date her. Date whoever. Find your soul mate.”
She looked at me to see if I was following. Her words came out hot and fast, as if she’d been holding them in for a long time. “And that meeting with Venus. That really messed me up. No demigod will heal your heart. What was that supposed to mean? Then finally, you came along.”
“Do we have to review that part again? I am quite embarrassed enough.”
“But you showed me. When you proposed dating…” She took a deep breath, her body shaking with silent giggles. “Oh, gods. I saw how ridiculous I’d been. How ridiculous the whole situation was. That’s what healed my heart—being able to laugh at myself again, at my stupid ideas about destiny. That allowed me to break free—just like Frank broke free of his firewood. I don’t need another person to heal my heart. I don’t need a partner…at least, not until and unless I’m ready on my own terms. I don’t need to be force-shipped with anyone or wear anybody else’s label. For the first
time in a long time, I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. So thank you.”
“You’re welcome?”
She laughed. “Don’t you see, though? Venus put you up to the job. She tricked you into it, because she knew you are the only one in the cosmos with an ego big enough to handle the rejection. I could laugh in your face, and you would heal.”
“Hmph.” I suspected she was right about Venus manipulating me. I wasn’t so sure the goddess cared whether or not I would heal, though. “So what does this mean for you, exactly? What’s next for Praetor Reyna?”
Even as I asked the question, I realized I knew the answer.
“Come along to the Senate House,” she said. “We’ve got a few surprises in store.”
Life is uncertain
Accept presents, and always
Eat your birthday cake
MY FIRST SURPRISE: A front-row seat.
Meg and I were given places of honor next to the senior senators, and the most important citizens of New Rome, and those demigods with accessibility needs. When Meg saw me, she patted the bench next to her, as if there were any other place to sit. The chamber was absolutely packed. Somehow, it was reassuring to see everyone together, even if the populace was much reduced and the sea of white bandages could have caused snow blindness.
Reyna limped into the chamber right behind me. The entire assembly came to its feet. They waited in respectful silence as she made her way to her praetor’s seat next to Frank, who nodded at his colleague.
Once she was seated, everyone else followed suit.
Reyna gestured at Frank like, Let the fun begin.
“So,” Frank addressed the audience, “I call to order this extraordinary meeting of the people of New Rome and the Twelfth Legion. First item on the agenda: a formal thank-you to all. We survived by a team effort. We’ve dealt a huge blow to our enemies. Tarquin is dead—really dead at last. Two out of three emperors of the Triumvirate have been destroyed, along with their fleet and their troops. This was done at great cost. But you all acted like true Romans. We live to see another day!”
There was applause, some nods, and a few cheers of “Yes!” and “Another day!” One guy in the back, who must not have been paying attention for the last week said, “Tarquin?”
“Second,” Frank said, “I want to reassure you that I’m alive and well.” He patted his chest as if to prove it. “My fate is no longer tied to a piece of wood, which is nice. And if you would all please forget that you saw me in my underwear, I’d appreciate it.”
That got some laughs. Who knew Frank could be funny on purpose?
“Now…” His expression turned serious. “It’s our duty to inform you of some personnel changes. Reyna?”
He watched her quizzically, as if wondering whether she would really go through with it.
“Thank you, Frank.” She pulled herself to her feet. Again, everyone in the assembly who could stand did.
“Guys. Please.” She gestured for us to be seated. “This is hard enough.”
When we were all settled, she scanned the faces in the crowd: a lot of anxious, sad expressions. I suspected many people knew what was coming.
“I’ve been praetor a long time,” Reyna said. “It’s been an honor to serve the legion. We’ve been through some rough times together. Some…interesting years.”
A bit of nervous laughter. Interesting was the perfect curse word.
“But it’s time for me to step down,” she continued. “So I am resigning my post as praetor.”
A moan of disbelief filled the chamber, as if homework had just been assigned on a Friday afternoon.
“It’s for personal reasons,” Reyna said. “Like, my sanity, for instance. I need time just to be Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano, to find out who I am outside the legion. It may take a few years, or decades, or centuries. And so…” She removed her praetor’s cloak and badge and handed them to Frank.
“Thalia?” she called.
Thalia Grace made her way down the central aisle. She winked at me as she passed.
She stood before Reyna and said, “Repeat after me: I pledge myself to the goddess Diana. I turn my back on the company of men, accept eternal maidenhood, and join the hunt.”
Reyna repeated the words. Nothing magical happened that I could see: no thunder or lightning, no silver glitter falling from the ceiling. But Reyna looked as if she’d been given a new lease on life, which she had—infinity years, with zero interest and no money down.
Thalia clasped her shoulder. “Welcome to the hunt, sister!”
Reyna grinned. “Thanks.” She faced the crowd. “And thank you, all. Long live Rome!”
The crowd rose again and gave Reyna a standing ovation. They cheered and stomped with such jubilation I was afraid the duct-taped dome might collapse on us.
Finally, when Reyna was seated in the front row with her new leader, Thalia (having taken the seats of two senators who were more than happy to move), everyone turned their attention back to Frank.
“Well, guys”—he spread his arms—“I could thank Reyna all day long. She has given so much to the legion. She’s been the best mentor and friend. She can never be replaced. On the other hand, I’m up here all alone now, and we have an empty praetor’s chair. So I’d like to take nominations for—”
Lavinia started the chant: “HA-ZEL! HA-ZEL!”
The crowd quickly joined in. Hazel’s eyes widened. She tried to resist when those sitting around her pulled her to her feet, but her Fifth Cohort fan club had evidently been preparing for this possibility. One of them produced a shield, which they hoisted Hazel onto like a saddle. They raised her overhead and marched her to the middle of the senate floor, turning her around and chanting, “HAZEL! HAZEL!” Reyna clapped and yelled right along with them. Only Frank tried to remain neutral, though he had to hide his smile behind his fist.
“Okay, settle down!” he called at last. “We have one nomination. Are there any other—?”
“HAZEL! HAZEL!”
“Any objections?”
“HAZEL! HAZEL!”
“Then I recognize the will of the Twelfth Legion. Hazel Levesque, you are hereby promoted to praetor!”
More wild cheering. Hazel looked dazed as she was dressed in Reyna’s old cloak and badge of office, then led to her chair.
Seeing Frank and Hazel side by side, I had to smile. They looked so right together—wise and strong and brave. The perfect praetors. Rome’s future was in good hands.
“Thank you,” Hazel managed at last. “I—I’ll do everything I can to be worthy of your trust. Here’s the thing, though. This leaves the Fifth Cohort without a centurion, so—”
The entire Fifth Cohort started chanting in unison: “LAVINIA! LAVINIA!”
“What?” Lavinia’s face turned pinker than her hair. “Oh, no. I don’t do leadership!”
“LAVINIA! LAVINIA!”
“Is this a joke? Guys, I—”
“Lavinia Asimov!” Hazel said with a smile. “The Fifth Cohort read my mind. As my first act as praetor, for your unparalleled heroism in the Battle of San Francisco Bay, I hereby promote you to centurion—unless my fellow praetor has any objections?”
“None,” Frank said.
“Then come forward, Lavinia!”
To more applause and whistling, Lavinia approached the rostrum and got her new badge of office. She hugged Frank and Hazel, which wasn’t the usual military protocol, but no one seemed to care. Nobody clapped louder or whistled more shrilly than Meg. I know because she left me deaf in one ear.
“Thanks, guys,” Lavinia announced. “So, Fifth Cohort, first we’re going to learn to tap-dance. Then—”
“Thank you, Centurion,” Hazel said. “You may be seated.”
“What? I’m not kidding—”
“On to our next order of business!” Frank said, as Lavinia skipped grumpily (if that’s even possible) back to her seat. “We realize the legion will need time to heal. There’s lots to be done. This summ
er we will rebuild. We’ll speak to Lupa about getting more recruits as quickly as possible, so we can come back from this battle stronger than ever. But for now, our fight is won, and we have to honor two people who made that possible: Apollo, otherwise known as Lester Papadopoulos, and his comrade, Meg McCaffrey!”
The crowd applauded so much, I doubt many people heard Meg say, “Master, not comrade,” which was fine with me.
As we stood to accept the legion’s thanks, I felt strangely uncomfortable. Now that I finally had a friendly crowd cheering for me, I just wanted to sit down and cover my head with a toga. I had done so little compared to Hazel or Reyna or Frank, not to mention all those who had died: Jason, Dakota, Don, Jacob, the Sibyl, Harpocrates…dozens more.
Frank raised his hand for quiet. “Now, I know you two have another long, hard quest ahead of you. There’s still one emperor who needs his podex kicked.”
As the crowd chuckled, I wished our next task would be as easy as Frank made it sound. Nero’s podex, yes…but there was also the small matter of Python, my old immortal enemy, presently squatting in my old holy place of Delphi.
“And I understand,” Frank continued, “that you two have decided to leave in the morning.”
“We have?” My voice cracked. I’d been imagining a week or two relaxing in New Rome, enjoying the thermal baths, maybe seeing a chariot race.
“Shh,” Meg told me. “Yes, we’ve decided.”
That didn’t make me feel any better.
“Also,” Hazel chimed in, “I know you two are planning to visit Ella and Tyson at dawn to receive prophetic help for the next stage of your quest.”
“We are?” I yelped. All I could think of was Aristophanes licking his nether regions.
“But tonight,” Frank said, “we want to honor what you two have done for this camp. Without your help, Camp Jupiter might not still be here. So we would like to present you with these gifts.”
