The Tyrant's Tomb

seemed to recognize that Reyna was a friend of their immortal forefather, the
great Pegasus himself. After what they’d been through, I doubted they would
have trusted anyone else to care for them.
We didn’t count the dead. They weren’t numbers. They were people we
had known, friends we had fought with.
We lit the funeral pyres all on one night, at the base of Jupiter’s temple,
and shared the traditional feast for the dead to send our fallen comrades off
to the Underworld. The Lares turned out in full force until the hillside was a
glowing field of purple, ghosts outnumbering the living.
I noticed that Reyna stood back and let Frank officiate. Praetor Zhang
had quickly regained his strength. Dressed in full armor and his maroon
cloak, he gave his eulogy while the legionnaires listened with awed
reverence, as one does when the speaker has recently sacrificed himself in a
fiery explosion and then, somehow, made it out alive with his underwear and
cape intact.
Hazel helped, too, going through the ranks and comforting those who
were crying or looking shell-shocked. Reyna stayed at the edge of the crowd,
leaning on her crutches, gazing wistfully at the legionnaires as if they were
loved ones she hadn’t seen in a decade and now barely recognized.
As Frank finished his speech, a voice next to me said, “Hey.”
Thalia Grace wore her usual black and silver. In the light of the funeral
pyres, her electric-blue eyes turned piercing violet. Over the past few days,
we had spoken a few times, but it had all been surface talk: where to bring
supplies, how to help the wounded. We had avoided the subject.
“Hey,” I said, my voice hoarse.
She folded her arms and stared at the fire. “I don’t blame you, Apollo.
My brother…” She hesitated, steadying her breath. “Jason made his own
choices. Heroes have to do that.”
Somehow, having her not blame me only made me feel guiltier and more
unworthy. Ugh, human emotions were like barbed wire. There was just no
safe way to grab hold of them or get through them.
“I’m so sorry,” I said at last.
“Yeah. I know.” She closed her eyes as if listening for a distant sound—a
wolf cry in the forest, perhaps. “I got Reyna’s letter, a few hours before
Diana received your summons. An aura—one of the breeze nymphs—she
plucked it out of the mail and flew it to me personally. So dangerous for her,
but she did it anyway.” Thalia picked at one of the buttons on her lapel: Iggy