Daughter of the Earth

I'm not a hallucination!

ANNABETH

She forced herself to move. Still trembling, she stumbled outside. The ocean air helped clear her mind. She gazed across the courtyard—past the panicked tourists and fighting demigods—to the edge of the battlements, where a large mortar pointed out to sea.

It might have been Annabeth's imagination, but the old artillery piece seemed to be glowing red. She dashed toward it. An eagle swooped at her, but she ducked and kept running. Nothing could possibly scare her as much as those spiders.

Roman demigods had formed ranks and were advancing toward the Argo II, but a miniature storm had gathered over their heads. Though the day was clear all around them, thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed above the Romans. Rain and wind pushed them back.

Annabeth didn't stop to think about it. She reached the mortar and put her hand on the muzzle. On the plug that blocked the opening, the Mark of Athena began to glow—the red outline of an owl.

"In the mortar," she said. "Of course."

She pried at the plug with her fingers. No luck. Cursing, she drew her dagger. As soon as the

Celestial bronze touched the plug, the plug shrank and loosened. Annabeth pulled it off and stuck her hand inside the cannon. Her fingers touched something cold, smooth, and metal. She pulled out a small disk of bronze the size of a tea saucer, etched with delicate letters and illustrations. She decided to examine it later. She thrust it in her pack and turned.

"Rushing off?" Reyna asked.

The praetor stood ten feet away, in full battle armor, holding a golden javelin. Her two metal greyhounds growled at her side. Annabeth scanned the area. They were more or less alone. Most of the combat had moved toward the docks. Hopefully her friends had made it all on board, but they would have to set sail immediately or risk being over run. Annabeth had to hurry.

"Reyna," she said, "what happened at Camp Jupiter was Gaea's fault. Eidolons, possessing spirits—"

"Save your explanations," Reyna said. "You'll need them for the trial."

The dogs snarled and inched forward. This time, it didn't seem to matter to them that Annabeth was telling the truth. She tried to think of an escape plan. She doubted she could take Reyna in one-on-one combat. With those metal dogs, she stood no chance at all.

"If you let Gaea drive our camps apart," Annabeth said, "the giants have already won. They'll destroy the Romans, the Greeks, the gods, the whole mortal world."

"Don't you think I know that?" Reyna's voice was as hard as iron. "What choice have you left me? Octavian smells blood. He's whipped the legion into a frenzy, and I can't stop it. Surrender to me. I'll bring you back to New Rome for trial. It won't be fair. You'll be painfully executed. But it may be enough to stop further violence. Octavian won't be satisfied, of course, but I think I can convince the others to stand down."

"It wasn't me!"

"It doesn't matter!" Reyna snapped. "Someone must pay for what happened. Let it be you. It's the better option."

Annabeth's skin crawled. "Better than what?"

"Use that wisdom of yours," Reyna said. "If you escape today, we won't follow. I told you—not even a madman would cross the sea to the ancient lands. If Octavian can't have vengeance on your ship, he'll turn his attention to Camp Half-Blood. The legion will march on your territory. We will raze it and salt the earth."

Kill the Romans, she heard her mother urging. They can never be your allies.

Annabeth wanted to sob. Camp Half-Blood was the only real home she'd ever known, and in a bid for friendship, she had told Reyna exactly where to find it. She couldn't leave it at the mercy of the Romans and travel halfway around the world.