Where You Go ― Jason Grace

ix. pissing off a spoiled ice princess

THE THRONE ROOM was even colder than the hallway. Ophelia's breath was visible in front of her and she had to suppress a shiver as her body protested the severe lack of warmth. High above them, there were ribbons of colored light, and Ophelia realized after a moment that it was the aurora borealis. A layer of snow covered the floor, forcing them to tread carefully, and all around them were life-size, incredibly realistic ice sculpture warriors, ranging from gladiators to knights to modern-day soldiers. All were frozen in various positions, swords raised, guns locked and loaded. 

Jason went to step between two frozen Greek spearmen, who moved with surprising speed, their joints cracking and spraying ice crystals as they crossed their javelins to block Jason's path. 

A man's voice at the end of the hall rang out in what sounded like some kind of romance language. Whatever the voice had said, the ice guards uncrossed their javelins. 

"It's fine," Khione said. "My father has ordered them not to kill you just yet." 

"Super," Jason muttered. 

Zethes prodded him in the back with his sword. "Keep moving, Jason Junior." 

"Please don't call me that." 

"My father is not a patient man," Zethes warned, "and the beautiful Piper, sadly, is losing her magic hairdo, and the other girl is beginning to look like that silly reindeer you mortals are so fond of." 

Ophelia scowled, both at being called "the other girl" and being compared to Rudolph. She was about half second away from telling the fashion disaster of a god to fuck off.  

They kept walking, the mist parting to reveal a man on an ice throne. He was sturdily built, dressed in a stylish white suit that seemed woven from snow. Dark purple wings spread out from his back, icicles dangling from his hair and shaggy beard. 

"Bienvenu," the king said. "Je suis Boreas le Roi. Et vous?" 

Khione went to speak, but Piper stepped forward and curtsied."Votre Majesté," she said, "je suis Piper McLean. Et c'est Jason, fils de Zeus, et Ophelia, fille de Hermes." 

Ophelia blinked in surprise, not having expecting the pretty language to come out of Piper's mouth. 

The king smiled with pleasant surprise. "Vous parlez français? Très bien!"

"Since when can you speak French?" Ophelia asked, raising an eyebrow at the daughter of Aphrodite. 

Piper frowned. "I don't know French." 

"You just spoke French, Piper," Jason said. 

Piper blinked. "I did?" The king said something else, and Piper nodded. "Oui, Votre Majesté." 

The king laughed and clapped his hands in delight. He said a few more sentences, then waved dismissively at Khione. 

The goddess of snow looked miffed. "The king says—"

"He says I'm a daughter of Aphrodite," Piper interrupted, "so naturally I can speak French, which is the language of love. I had no idea. His Majesty says Khione won't have to translate now." 

Good riddance. 

Behind them, Zethes snorted none too subtly, and his sister shot him a murderous look. She bowed stiffly to her father and stepped back. 

The king sized Jason up as he bowed respectfully. "Your Majesty, I'm Jason Grace. Thank you for, um, not killing us. May I ask... why does a Greek god speak French?"