ENTRAPPED ₂

50

MADELEINE WAS SICK AND FUCKING TIRED. Not necessarily in that order.

She had a hard time remembering the last time she'd felt this terrible. Maybe it was because she was always moving. She hadn't been able to sit and think by herself in ages. The last time must have been before Luke was dead, because after that, she had always been around friends.

She sat dejectedly in the mess hall, staring up at the short ceiling. She didn't want to look at those stupid video feeds anymore. What an incompetent, short-sighted idea. She didn't want to see Drew in the strawberry fields with Lee. The whole thing made Madeleine sick.

She felt like she was being torn in multiple different directions. She had thought, with Ethan back, things would be better.

She felt worse than she had in a year.

What did she do when she felt like this? She went to her friends. After Zoe, Madeleine had had Apollo. After Beckendorf, she'd had Ethan and Drew and Lee. After Luke, she'd had all of her friends. His death had been especially worth it, because it meant that no one she loved was in danger anymore.

They had all almost died so much. Lee, thrown down the street until the skin tore from his back. Drew, her body broken from Luke's blows. Castor, two inches away from his throat being slit.

Madeleine was glad they were not here, but it did not do away with all of her bad feelings. They were at camp, without her. She didn't have them.

She felt like she didn't have anything.

She got to her feet, deciding that wallowing in her own self pity wasn't going to do her any good. She wandered the ship, committing the layout to memory. She was tempted to investigate the cabins, but she didn't really care enough to. Hazel's, Frank's, and Percy's would be blank. Madeleine didn't need to snoop on Annabeth, and she thought seeing Leo's and Piper's places would only make her angrier.

That only left her own cabin, which she didn't want to confine herself to, and Ethan's. She didn't want to go into Ethan's cabin unless he was in it.

So she allowed her feet to lead her to the only open door.

Jason was limp in his bed. His skin was so pale, he might've been dead. A white Band-Aid pouch covered his forehead, clean and neat and undoubtedly a combination of Ethan's and Annabeth's work.

For all the time he had had to decorate, Jason's cabin was surprisingly bare. The most important part of the room were the photos taped above his bed. Madeleine had to look away before she could rip the one of Annabeth and Ethan from the wall.

All this time, she had been fighting for her life, and they had been making memories without her. Nothing good ever came from her sticking around. She should have known.

Piper McLean sat on the floor, studying her dagger. Out of the three members of Ethan's fan club, Madeleine had talked to Piper the least. She didn't really know what to make of her.

She was pretty, that was certain. Drew had spoken highly of her, but that didn't really matter to Madeleine. She felt bitter and angry and absolutely, completely alone.

Something drew Madeleine out of her depressive state. At first, she thought it must just be a reflection of sunset on the bronze of Piper's dagger.

But it wasn't. An image formed in the metal: a crowd of Roman demigods gathered in the ruined forum. Octavian was speaking to the mob, shaking his fist. There was no audio, but Madeleine could guess what he was saying.

Reyna stood to one side, her face tight with suppressed emotions. Madeleine could see bitterness and anger there, and hurt. Lots of hurt. Madeleine's stomach felt like a twist-tie.