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jason tensed. phoebe placed a hand on his arm to remind him it was okay; they would be fine. the king was still smiling amiably, like he'd just delivered great news.
"kill us?" jason said. "why?"
"because," the king said, in heavily accented english, "my lord aeolus has commanded it."
boreas rose. he stepped down from his throne and furled his wings against his back. as he approached, khione and zethes bowed. jason and piper followed their example, jason tugging on phoebes hand, but she stood her ground.
"i shall deign to speak your language," boreas said, "as piper mclean has honored me in mine. toujours, i have had a fondness for the children of aphrodite." boreas paused and looked at phoebe, am impressed glint in his eyes. "ah, the brave, phoebe jackson. i hear they call you a saviour of olympus. you declined immortality with your twin brother, correct?"
jason and piper stared at her, impressed.
"yes, we turned it down, your majesty. and dunno if they call us that." phoebe said with a shrug. clearly, phoebe wasn't scared of gods. she must have dealt with them all the time.
"well, i have heard you are impressive," boreas said. "as for you, jason grace, my master aeolus would not expect me to kill a son of lord zeus ... without first hearing you out."
jason's gold coin seemed to grow heavy in his pocket. if he were forced to fight, he didn't like his chances. two seconds at least to summon his blade. then he'd be facing a god, two of his children, and an army of freeze-dried warriors.
"aeolus is the master of the winds, right?" jason asked. "why would he want us dead?"
"you are demigods," boreas said, as if this explained everything. "aeolus's job is to contain the winds, and demigods have always caused him many headaches. they ask him for favors. they unleash winds and cause chaos. but the final insult was the battle with typhon last summer..."
boreas waved his hand, and a sheet of ice like a flat-screen tv appeared in the air. images of a battle flickered across the surface—a giant wrapped in storm clouds, wading across a river toward the manhattan skyline. tiny, glowing figures—the gods, jason guessed—swarmed around him like angry wasps, pounding the monster with lightning and fire. finally the river erupted in a massive whirlpool, and the smoky form sank beneath the waves and disappeared.
"the storm giant, typhon," boreas explained. "the first time the gods defeated him, eons ago, he did not die quietly. his death released a host of storm spirits—wild winds that answered to no one. it was aeolus's job to track them all down and imprison them in his fortress. the other gods—they did not help. they did not even apologize for the inconvenience. it took aeolus centuries to track down all the storm spirits, and naturally this irritated him. then, last summer, typhon was defeated again—"
"and his death released another wave of venti," jason guessed. "which made aeolus even angrier."
