The Lost Hero (The Heroes of Olympus #1)(57)

“You are demigods,” Boreas said, as if this explained everything. “Aeolus’s job is to contain the winds, and demigods have always caused him many headaches. They ask him for favors. They unleash winds and cause chaos. But the final insult was the battle with Typhon last summer…”

Boreas waved his hand, and a sheet of ice like a flat-screen TV appeared in the air. Images of a battle flickered across the surface—a giant wrapped in storm clouds, wading across a river toward the Manhattan skyline. Tiny, glowing figures—the gods, Jason guessed—swarmed around him like angry wasps, pounding the monster with lightning and fire. Finally the river erupted in a massive whirlpool, and the smoky form sank beneath the waves and disappeared.

“The storm giant, Typhon,” Boreas explained. “The first time the gods defeated him, eons ago, he did not die quietly. His death released a host of storm spirits—wild winds that answered to no one. It was Aeolus’s job to track them all down and imprison them in his fortress. The other gods—they did not help. They did not even apologize for the inconvenience. It took Aeolus centuries to track down all the storm spirits, and naturally this irritated him. Then, last summer, Typhon was defeated again—”

“And his death released another wave of venti,” Jason guessed. “Which made Aeolus even angrier.”

“C’est vrai,” Boreas agreed.

“But, Your Majesty,” Piper said, “the gods had no choice but to battle Typhon. He was going to destroy Olympus! Besides, why punish demigods for that?”

The king shrugged. “Aeolus cannot take out his anger on the gods. They are his bosses, and very powerful. So he gets even with the demigods who helped them in the war. He issued orders to us: demigods who come to us for aid are no longer to be tolerated. We are to crush your little mortal faces.”

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“That sounds … extreme,” Jason ventured. “But you’re not going to crush our faces yet, right? You’re going to listen to us first, ’cause once you hear about our quest—”

“Yes, yes,” the king agreed. “You see, Aeolus also said that a son of Zeus might seek my aid, and if this happened, I should listen to you before destroying you, as you might—how did he put it?—make all our lives very interesting. I am only obligated to listen, however. After that, I am free to pass judgment as I see fit. But I will listen first. Khione wishes this also. It may be that we will not kill you.”

Jason felt like he could almost breathe again. “Great. Thanks.”

“Do not thank me.” Boreas smiled. “There are many ways you could make our lives interesting. Sometimes we keep demigods for our amusement, as you can see.”

He gestured around the room to the various ice statues.

Piper made a strangled noise. “You mean—they’re all demigods? Frozen demigods? They’re alive?”

“An interesting question,” Boreas conceded, as if it had never occurred to him before. “They do not move unless they are obeying my orders. The rest of the time, they are merely frozen. Unless they were to melt, I suppose, which would be very messy.”

Khione stepped behind Jason and put her cold fingers on his neck. “My father gives me such lovely presents,” she murmured in his ear. “Join our court. Perhaps I’ll let your friends go.”

“What?” Zethes broke in. “If Khione gets this one, then I deserve the girl. Khione always gets more presents!”

“Now, children,” Boreas said sternly. “Our guests will think you are spoiled! Besides, you moved too fast. We have not even heard the demigod’s story yet. Then we will decide what to do with them. Please, Jason Grace, entertain us.”

Jason felt his brain shutting down. He didn’t look at Piper for fear he’d completely lose it. He’d gotten them into this, and now they were going die—or worse, they’d be amusements for Boreas’s children and end up frozen forever in this throne room, slowly corroding from freezer burn.

Khione purred and stroked his neck. Jason didn’t plan it, but electricity sparked along his skin. There was loud pop, and Khione flew backward, skidding across the floor.

Zethes laughed. “That is good! I’m glad you did that, even though I have to kill you now.”

For a moment, Khione was too stunned to react. Then the air around her began to swirl with a micro-blizzard. “You dare—”

“Stop,” Jason ordered, with as much force as he could muster. “You’re not going to kill us. And you’re not going to keep us. We’re on a quest for the queen of the gods herself, so unless you want Hera busting down your doors, you’re going to let us go.”

He sounded a lot more confident than he felt, but it got their attention. Khione’s blizzard swirled to a stop. Zethes lowered his sword. They both looked uncertainly at their father.

“Hmm,” Boreas said. His eyes twinkled, but Jason couldn’t tell if it was with anger or amusement. “A son of Zeus, favored by Hera? This is definitely a first. Tell us your story.”

Jason would’ve botched it right there. He hadn’t been expecting to get the chance to talk, and now that he could, his voice abandoned him.

Piper saved him. “Your Majesty.” She curtsied again with incredible poise, considering her life was on the line. She told Boreas the whole story, from the Grand Canyon to the prophecy, much better and faster than Jason could have.