This Cold Year ― Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase²

―ix. feelin' alive

NAOMI WASN'T SURE WHAT TO EXPECT from a senate meeting. Michael warned her it was a bit formal, as evidenced by the toga he was wearing over his clothes. Luckily, Naomi didn't have to wear any bed sheets, though she felt a little underdressed with her t-shirt and jeans.

Naomi ate breakfast with Michael, Isaac, and Adrien (Octavian was, thankfully, nowhere in sight). As she took her last bite of blueberry waffles, Nico di Angelo joined them.

Clearly this was unusual, given that Isaac choked on his pancakes. Adrien pounded him on the back, earning an embarrassed glare from his little brother.

"How are you feeling?" Nico asked Naomi, his face a mask of polite intrigue that Naomi saw right through. There was something deeper in his eyes, like worry. She wasn't sure why. Maybe because they were technically family?

"Um... good, I guess," Naomi said, setting down her fork. "I feel as alive as I did before dying, if that's what you're asking."

Nico managed to hide most of a wince, but not all of it. Naomi wondered what that was about. "Good," he said. "That—that's good. I—uh, we were worried."

Naomi nodded slowly. "I... appreciate the concern."

Nico nodded. A long silence stretched until Michael cleared his throat.

"As... touching as this... very awkward interaction is," he said, ignoring Nico's embarrassed scowl, "the procession's about to start."

Right on cue, Reyna announced that the senate would now convene in the city, and everyone in togas got up to leave.

Naomi, Nico, and Michael stood up, joining Octavian and Reyna (and her metal greyhounds) just outside of the mess hall. Apparently the procession order went down the line of cohorts, so Naomi was stuck near the front with Michael while Percy was at the back with Frank and Hazel. He caught her eye just before Reyna set off, sending her a comforting smile.

As they walked toward the city, Naomi stared at it in awe. The tiled roofs and gold domes gleamed in the sunlight; gardens bloomed with honeysuckle and jasmine so sweet-smelling Naomi had to resist the urge to wander toward them. The central plaza was paved in white and gray stone, decorated with statues, fountains, and gilded columns. In the surrounding neighborhoods, painted town houses, shops, cafes, and parks lined the cobblestone streets. In the distance rose the coliseum and the horse racing arena.

The procession slowed down as they reached the city limits.

Michael leaned toward Naomi and said, "You're going to have to present your probatio tablet and put your rings in the tray. No weapons allowed inside the Pomerian Line."

"The... you have a line named after a dog breed?" Naomi asked.

Michael sighed. "Pomerian," he said, emphasizing the pronunciation. "It's the city limits. Inside is a designated 'safe zone.' No legion can march through it. No weapons are permitted. It's to keep senate meetings from getting bloody."

"I'm guessing that rule was put in place after Caesar?" Naomi guessed.

"Yep," Michael said. "Doesn't always work, but the last incident was... April, I think."

Naomi blinked. "So... two months ago?"

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

On the side of the road stood a white marble statue—a life-size muscular man with curly hair, no arms, and an irritated expression.

"Single file, please!" the statue said. "Have your IDs ready."

Naomi looked to each side. She hadn't noticed before, but a line of identical statues ringed the city at intervals of about a hundred yards.