The Mark of Athena (The Heroes of Olympus #3)(11)

“I don’t trust the goddess,” Annabeth admitted. “But I do trust my friends. This isn’t a trick, Reyna. We can work together.”

Reyna finished her cup of chocolate. She set the cup on the terrace railing and gazed over the valley as if imagining battle lines.

“I believe you mean it,” she said. “But if you go to the ancient lands, especially Rome itself, there is something you should know about your mother.”

Annabeth’s shoulders tensed. “My—my mother?”

“When I lived on Circe’s island,” Reyna said, “we had many visitors. Once, perhaps a year before you and Percy arrived, a young man washed ashore. He was half mad from thirst and heat. He’d been drifting at sea for days. His words didn’t make much sense, but he said he was a son of Athena.”

Reyna paused as if waiting for a reaction. Annabeth had no idea who the boy might have been. She wasn’t aware of any other Athena kids who’d gone on a quest in the Sea of Monsters, but still she felt a sense of dread. The light filtering through the grapevines made shadows writhe across the ground like a swarm of bugs.

“What happened to this demigod?” she asked.

Reyna waved her hand as if the question was trivial. “Circe turned him into a guinea pig, of course. He made quite a crazy little rodent. But before that, he kept raving about his failed quest. He claimed that he’d gone to Rome, following the Mark of Athena.”

Annabeth grabbed the railing to keep her balance.

“Yes,” Reyna said, seeing her discomfort. “He kept muttering about wisdom’s child, the Mark of Athena, and the giants’ bane standing pale and gold. The same lines Ella was just reciting. But you say that you’ve never heard them before today?”

“Not—not the way Ella said them.” Annabeth’s voice was weak. She wasn’t lying. She’d never heard that prophecy, but her mother had charged her with following the Mark of Athena; and as she thought about the coin in her pocket, a horrible suspicion began taking root in her mind. She remembered her mother’s scathing words. She thought about the strange nightmares she’d been having lately. “Did this demigod—did he explain his quest?”

Reyna shook her head. “At the time, I had no idea what he was talking about. Much later, when I became praetor of Camp Jupiter, I began to suspect.”

“Suspect…what?”

“There is an old legend that the praetors of Camp Jupiter have passed down through the centuries. If it’s true, it may explain why our two groups of demigods have never been able to work together. It may be the cause of our animosity. Until this old score is finally settled, so the legend goes, Romans and Greeks will never be at peace. And the legend centers on Athena—”

A shrill sound pierced the air. Light flashed in the corner of Annabeth’s eye.

She turned in time to see an explosion blast a new crater in the forum. A burning couch tumbled through the air. Demigods scattered in panic.

“Giants?” Annabeth reached for her dagger, which of course wasn’t there. “I thought their army was defeated!”

“It isn’t the giants.” Reyna’s eyes seethed with rage. “You’ve betrayed our trust.”

“What? No!”

As soon as she said it, the Argo II launched a second volley. Its port ballista fired a massive spear wreathed in Greek fire, which sailed straight through the broken dome of the Senate House and exploded inside, lighting up the building like a jack-o’-lantern. If anyone had been in there…

“Gods, no.” A wave of nausea almost made Annabeth’s knees buckle. “Reyna, it isn’t possible. We’d never do this!”

The metal dogs ran to their mistress’s side. They snarled at Annabeth but paced uncertainly, as if reluctant to attack.

“You’re telling the truth,” Reyna judged. “Perhaps you were not aware of this treachery, but someone must pay.”

Down in the forum, chaos was spreading. Crowds were pushing and shoving. Fistfights were breaking out.

“Bloodshed,” Reyna said.

“We have to stop it!”

Annabeth had a horrible feeling this might be the last time Reyna and she ever acted in agreement, but together they ran down the hill.

If weapons had been allowed in the city, Annabeth’s friends would have already been dead. The Roman demigods in the forum had coalesced into an angry mob. Some threw plates, food, and rocks at the Argo II, which was pointless, as most of the stuff fell back into the crowd.

Several dozen Romans had surrounded Piper and Jason, who were trying to calm them without much luck. Piper’s charmspeak was useless against so many screaming, angry demigods. Jason’s forehead was bleeding. His purple cloak had been ripped to shreds. He kept pleading, “I’m on your side!” but his orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirt didn’t help matters—nor did the warship overhead, firing flaming spears into New Rome. One landed nearby and blasted a toga shop to rubble.

“Pluto’s pauldrons,” Reyna cursed. “Look.”

Armed legionnaires were hurrying toward the forum. Two artillery crews had set up catapults just outside the Pomerian Line and were preparing to fire at the Argo II.

“That’ll just make things worse,” Annabeth said.

“I hate my job,” Reyna growled. She rushed off toward the legionnaires, her dogs at her side.