The Tyrant's Tomb

Lavinia looked offended. “Well, yeah. Somebody had to stop the fleet. I
did pay attention during siege-weapon class and ship-boarding class. It
wasn’t that hard. All it took was a little fancy footwork.”
Hazel finally managed to pick her jaw off the pavement. “Wasn’t that
hard?”
“We were motivated! The fauns and dryads did great.” She paused, her
expression momentarily clouding, as if she remembered something
unpleasant. “Um…besides, the Nereids helped a lot. There was only a
skeleton crew aboard each yacht. Not, like, actual skeletons, but—you know
what I mean. Also, look!”
She pointed proudly at her feet, which were now adorned with the shoes
of Terpsichore from Caligula’s private collection.
“You mounted an amphibious assault on an enemy fleet,” I said, “for a
pair of shoes.”
Lavinia huffed. “Not just for the shoes, obviously.” She tap-danced a
routine that would’ve made Savion Glover proud. “Also to save the camp,
and the nature spirits, and Michael Kahale’s commandos.”
Hazel held up her hands to stop the overflow of information. “Wait. Not
to be a killjoy—I mean, you did an amazing thing!—but you still deserted
your post, Lavinia. I certainly didn’t give you permission—”
“I was acting on praetor’s orders,” Lavinia said haughtily. “In fact,
Reyna helped. She was knocked out for a while, healing, but she woke up in
time to instill us with the power of Bellona, right before we boarded those
ships. Made us all strong and stealthy and stuff.”
“Reyna?” I yelped. “Where is she?”
“Right here,” called the praetor.
I didn’t know how I’d missed seeing her. She’d been hiding in plain sight
among the group of survivors talking with Thalia. I suppose I’d been too
focused on Thalia, wondering whether or not she was going to kill me and
whether or not I deserved it.
Reyna limped over on crutches, her broken leg now in a full cast covered
with signatures like Felipe, Lotoya, and Sneezewart. Considering all she’d
been through, Reyna looked great, though she still had a hunk of hair
missing from the raven attack, and her maroon sweater wrap was going to
need a few days at the magical dry cleaner.
Thalia smiled, watching her friend come toward us. Then Thalia met my
eyes, and her smile wavered. Her expression turned bleak. She gave me a