The Tyrant's Tomb

The faun raised his panpipes and played a lullaby, soft and low, right
next to Reyna’s head.
“Can’t!” Reyna struggled to keep her eyes open. “Won’t. Ahhggghh.”
She went limp and began to snore.
“That’s better.” Lavinia turned to me. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave her
someplace safe with a couple of fauns, and of course Aurum and Argentum.
She’ll be taken care of while she heals. You and Meg, do what you need to
do.”
Her confident stance and her take-charge tone made her almost
unrecognizable as the gawky, nervous legionnaire we’d met at Lake
Temescal. She reminded me more of Reyna now, and of Meg. Mostly,
though, she seemed like a stronger version of herself—a Lavinia who had
decided what she needed to do and would not rest until she did it.
“Where are you going?” I asked, still utterly confused. “Why won’t you
come back to camp with us?”
Meg stumbled over, ambrosia crumbles stuck around her mouth. “Don’t
pester her,” she told me. Then to Lavinia: “Is Peaches…?”
Lavinia shook her head. “He and Don are with the advance group,
making contact with the Nereids.”
Meg pouted. “Yeah. Okay. The emperors’ ground forces?”
Lavinia’s expression turned somber. “They already passed by. We hid
and watched. Yeah…It’s not good. I’m sure they’ll be in combat with the
legion by the time you get there. You remember the path I told you about?”
“Yeah,” Meg agreed. “Okay, good luck.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I tried to make a time-out sign, though my
uncoordinated hands made it look more like a tent. “What are you talking
about? What path? Why would you come out here just to hide as the enemy
army passes by? Why are Peaches and Don talking to…Wait. Nereids?”
Nereids are spirits of the sea. The nearest ones would be…Oh.
I couldn’t see much from our trash-filled gulley. I definitely couldn’t see
the San Francisco Bay, or the string of yachts taking up position to fire on
the camp. But I knew we were close.
I looked at Lavinia with newfound respect. Or disrespect. Which is it
when you realize that someone you knew was crazy is actually even crazier
than you suspected?
“Lavinia, you are not planning—”