sixty: the feast of fortuna.

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THE FEAST OF Fortuna had nothing to do with tuna, which was fine with Brooklyn.

Campers, Amazons and Lares crowded the mess hall for a lavish dinner. Even the fauns were invited, since they'd helped out by bandaging the wounded after the battle. Wind nymphs zipped around the room, delivering orders of pizza, burgers, steaks, salads, Chinese food, and burritos, all flying at terminal velocity.

Despite the exhausting battle, everyone was in good spirits. Casualties had been light, and the few campers who'd previously died and come back to life, like Gwen, hadn't been taken to the Underworld. Maybe Thanatos had turned a blind eye. Or maybe Pluto had given those folks a pass, like he had for Hazel. Whatever the case, nobody complained.

Colorful Amazon and Roman banners hung side-by-side from the rafters. The restored golden eagle stood proudly behind the praetor's table, and the walls were decorated with cornucopias — magical horns of plenty that spilled out recycling waterfalls of fruit, chocolate, and fresh-baked cookies.

The cohorts mingled freely with the Amazons, jumping from couch to couch as they pleased, and for once the soldiers of the Fifth were welcome everywhere. Brooklyn changed seats so many times, she lost track of her dinner. Which was a shame, because she was hungry.

There was a lot of flirting and arm-wrestling, even with the Amazons around. At one point, Octavian sat next to Brooklyn and she recoiled, sitting as far away from him as she could.

"Congratulations on your Praetorship, Brooklyn," he told her. "You deserve it, you're the best person for the job."

"Thanks," she said stiffly. "Is there anything else you're here for?"

"No, nothing at all." He was staring at her weirdly, the way that no person wanted to be looked at. "Just know that you have me as an ally. A very close ally. And maybe . . ."

Do not, she thought as he shifted on the couch so he was closer to her.

"We could be more than allies, Brooklyn. We could be the best pair — in and out of the legion."

Nope, nope, nope. She was about to vomit. Absolutely not.

"Unfortunately for you," she started, looking at anywhere but him, "I think that Reyna's pretty good herself. She's badass."

"Okay, but—"

"Princess! Hey!" Suddenly Percy was there, her knight in shining armor.

She plastered on the biggest smile she'd smiled yet — sure, she usually smiled around him; it was always either a smile or a scowl — but in order to get Octavian the fuck away from her, she yelled, "Darling!" and made Percy lean down for a kiss that was probably too scandalous to be done in public, but past her probably wouldn't have cared so she didn't care.

"I found your dinner," he told her, surprisingly keeping a straight face though she could see the mischief in his eyes. "You had that boring salad, right?"

"I am so tired of eating fast food," she rolled her eyes. "Nothin' like a good salad. Where is it?"

"Frank and Hazel's table," he nodded in a direction. "Go over there. I'll meet you in a bit."

Brooklyn nodded, stood up and kissed Percy again, whispered "I owe you one," then bolted toward her salad.

Once everyone had eaten and the plates stopped flying, Reyna made a short speech. She formally welcomed the Amazons, thanking them for their help. Then she hugged her sister and everybody applauded.

Reyna raised her hands for quiet. "My sister and I haven't always seen eye to eye—"

Hylla laughed. "That's an understatement."

NEVER BE THE SAME . . . percy jacksonWhere stories live. Discover now