The Tyrant's Tomb

She was right, of course. With my luck, I would probably come all this
way, fighting monsters and evil emperors, only to get killed by an overgrown
house cat.
“How much farther?” I asked.
“Not this again,” Lavinia said. “You aren’t even carrying a coffin this
time. We’re about halfway there.”
“Halfway. And we couldn’t have taken a car, or a giant eagle, or an
elephant?”
Hazel patted me on the shoulder. “Relax, Apollo. Sneaking up on foot
draws less attention. Besides, this is an easy quest. Most of mine have been
like Go to Alaska and fight literally everything along the way, or Sail
halfway across the world and be seasick for months. This is just Go over that
hill and check on a merry-go-round.”
“A zombie-infested merry-go-round,” I corrected. “And we’ve been over
several hills.”
Hazel glanced at Meg. “Does he always complain this much?”
“He used to be a lot whinier.”
Hazel whistled softly.
“I know,” Meg agreed. “Big baby.”
“I beg your pardon!” I said.
“Shh,” Lavinia said, before blowing and popping a giant pink bubble.
“Stealth, remember?”
We continued along the trail for another hour or so. As we passed a silver
lake nestled between the hills, I couldn’t help thinking it was just the sort of
place my sister would love. Oh, how I wished she would appear with her
Hunters!
Despite our differences, Artemis understood me. Well, okay, she
tolerated me. Most of the time. All right, some of the time. I longed to see
her beautiful, annoying face again. That’s how lonely and pathetic I had
become.
Meg walked a few yards ahead of me, flanking Lavinia so they could
share bubble gum and talk unicorns. Hazel hiked at my side, though I got the
feeling she was mostly trying to make sure I didn’t collapse.
“You don’t look so good,” she noted.
“What gave it away? The cold sweat? The rapid breathing?”
In the darkness, Hazel’s gold eyes reminded me of an owl’s: supremely
alert, ready to fly or pounce as needed. “How’s the gut wound?”