Leila bent down slowly and retrieved her sword, keeping her eyes on the Athena Parthenos. ‘I’ll take your word for it. What do we do with Michael?’
Reyna regarded the snoring mountain of Hawaiian demigod. ‘Put him in your boat. Don’t hurt him or bind him. I have a feeling Michael’s heart is in the right place. He just had the bad luck of being sponsored by the wrong person.’
Nico sheathed his black sword. ‘You sure about this, Reyna? I don’t like leaving you alone.’
Blackjack whinnied and licked the side of Nico’s face.
‘Gah! Okay, I’m sorry.’ Nico wiped off the horse spit. ‘Reyna’s not alone. She’s got a herd of excellent pegasi.’
Reyna couldn’t help but smile. ‘I’ll be fine. With luck, we’ll all meet again soon enough. We’ll fight side by side against Gaia’s forces. Be careful, and Ave Romae!’
Dakota and Leila repeated the cheer.
Tyson furrowed his single eyebrow. ‘Who is Ave?’
‘It means Go, Romans.’ Reyna clapped the Cyclops’s forearm. ‘But, by all means, Go, Greeks, too.’ The words sounded strange in her mouth.
She faced Nico. She wanted to hug him but wasn’t sure the gesture would be welcome. She extended her hand. ‘It’s been an honour questing with you, son of Hades.’
Nico’s grip was strong. ‘You’re the most courageous demigod I’ve ever met, Reyna. I –’ He faltered, perhaps realizing he had a large audience. ‘I won’t let you down. See you on Half-Blood Hill.’
The sky began to lighten in the east as the group dispersed. Soon Reyna stood on the deck of the Mi Amor … alone except for eight pegasi and a forty-foot-tall Athena.
She tried to steady her nerves. Until Nico, Dakota and Leila had time to disrupt the legion’s attack, she couldn’t do anything, but she hated standing around and waiting.
Just over that dark line of hills, her comrades in the Twelfth Legion were preparing for a needless attack. If Reyna had stayed with them, she could’ve guided them better. She could’ve kept Octavian in check. Perhaps the giant Orion was correct: she’d failed in her duties.
She remembered the ghosts on the balcony in San Juan – pointing at her, whispering accusations: Murderer. Traitor. She remembered the feel of the golden sabre in her hand as she slashed down her father’s spectre – his face full of outrage and betrayal.
You are a Ramírez-Arellano! her father used to rant. Never abandon your post. Never let anyone in. Above all, never betray your own!
By helping the Greeks, Reyna had done all of those things. A Roman was supposed to destroy her enemies. Instead, Reyna had joined forces with them. She’d left her legion in the hands of a madman.
What would her mother say? Bellona, the war goddess …
Blackjack must have sensed her agitation. He clopped over and nuzzled her.
She stroked his muzzle. ‘I don’t have any treats for you, boy.’
He bumped her affectionately. Nico had told her that Blackjack was Percy’s usual ride, but he seemed friendly to everyone. He’d carried the son of Hades without protest. Now he was comforting a Roman.
She wrapped her arms around his powerful neck. His coat smelled just like Scipio’s – a mixture of fresh-cut grass and warm bread. She let loose a sob that had been building in her chest. As praetor, she couldn’t show weakness or fear to her comrades. She had to stay strong. But the horse didn’t seem to mind.
He nickered gently. Reyna couldn’t understand Horse, but he seemed to say, It’s all right. You’ve done well.
She looked up at the fading stars.
‘Mother,’ she said, ‘I haven’t prayed to you enough. I’ve never met you. I’ve never asked for your help. But please … this morning, give me the strength to do what is right.’
As if on cue, something flashed on the eastern horizon – a light across the Sound, approaching fast like another speedboat.
For one elated moment, Reyna thought it was a sign from Bellona.
The dark shape got closer. Reyna’s hope turned to dread. She waited too long, paralysed with disbelief, as the figure resolved into a large humanoid, running towards her across the surface of the water.
The first arrow struck Blackjack’s flank. The horse collapsed with a shriek of pain.
Reyna screamed, but, before she could move, a second arrow hit the deck between her feet. Attached to its shaft was a glowing LED read-out the size of a wristwatch, counting down from 5:00.
4:59.
4:58.
XXXIX
Reyna
‘I WOULDN’T MOVE, PRAETOR!’
Orion stood on the surface of the water, fifty feet to starboard, an arrow nocked in his bow.