The Tyrant's Tomb

If you hate me, fine
Just don’t hit me in the gut
Or, well, anywhere
THE NEXT FEW DAYS were almost as hard as battle itself. War leaves a
huge mess that cannot simply be addressed with a mop and a bucket.
We cleared the rubble and shored up the most precarious damaged
buildings. We put out fires, both literal and figurative. Terminus had made it
through the battle, though he was weak and shaken. His first announcement
was that he was formally adopting little Julia. The girl seemed delighted,
though I wasn’t sure how Roman law would work out adoption-by-statue.
Tyson and Ella were safely accounted for. Once Ella learned that I hadn’t
messed up the summoning after all, she announced that she and Tyson were
going back to the bookstore to clean up the mess, finish the Sibylline Books,
and feed the cat, not necessarily in that order. Oh, and she was also gratified
Frank was alive. As for me…I got the feeling she was still making up her
mind.
Peaches left us once more to go help the local dryads and fauns, but he
promised us, “Peaches,” which I took to mean that we would see him again
soon.
With Thalia’s help, Reyna somehow managed to find One Eye and Short
Ears, the abused pegasi from the emperors’ chariot. She talked to them in
soothing tones, promised them healing, and convinced them to come back
with her to camp, where she spent most of her time dressing their wounds
and providing them with good food and plenty of open air. The animals