The Tyrant's Tomb

I swallowed, wishing I had some of Lavinia’s bubble gum to cut the taste
of poison and fear.
Reyna made a good point. Whether I died today, or turned into a zombie,
or somehow managed to live, I would rather face my fate with my
conscience clear and no secrets. For one thing, I should tell Meg about my
encounter with Peaches. I should also tell her I didn’t hate her. In fact, I liked
her pretty well. All right, I loved her. She was the bratty little sister I’d never
had.
As for Reyna—I didn’t know whether I was or wasn’t the answer to her
destiny. Venus might curse me for leveling with the praetor, but I had to tell
Reyna what was bothering me. I was unlikely to get another chance.
“It’s about Venus,” I said.
Reyna’s expression hardened. It was her turn to stare at the hillside and
hope the conversation went away. “I see.”
“She told me—”
“Her little prediction.” Reyna spat out the words like inedible seeds. “No
mortal or demigod will ever heal my heart.”
“I didn’t mean to pry,” I promised. “It’s just—”
“Oh, I believe you. Venus loves her gossip. I doubt there’s anyone at
Camp Jupiter who doesn’t know what she told in me Charleston.”
“I—Really?”
Reyna broke a dry branch off a shrub and flicked it into the underbrush.
“I went on that quest with Jason, what, two years ago? Venus took one look
at me and decided…I don’t know. I was broken. I needed romantic healing.
Whatever. I wasn’t back at camp a full day before the whispering started.
Nobody would admit that they knew, but they knew. The looks I got: Oh,
poor Reyna. The innocent suggestions about who I should date.”
She didn’t sound angry. It was more like weighed down and weary. I
remembered Frank Zhang’s concern about how long Reyna had shouldered
the burdens of leadership, how he wished he could do more to relieve her.
Apparently, a lot of legionnaires wanted to help Reyna. Not all of that help
had been welcome or useful.
“The thing is,” she continued, “I’m not broken.”
“Of course not.”
“So why have you been acting nervous? What does Venus have to do
with it? Please don’t tell me it’s pity.”
“N-no. Nothing like that.”