The Tyrant's Tomb

really supposed to be here?
That feeling was understandable. Frank had climbed the ranks from
probatio to centurion to praetor in record time. Not since Julius Caesar had a
Roman officer risen so rapidly and brightly. That wasn’t a comparison I
would have shared with Frank, though, given what happened to my man
Julius.
My gaze drifted to the young woman at Frank’s side: Praetor Reyna
Avila Ramírez-Arellano…and I remembered.
A bowling ball of panic formed in my heart and rolled into my lower
intestines. It was a good thing I wasn’t carrying Jason’s coffin or I would
have dropped it.
How can I explain this to you?
Have you ever had an experience so painful or embarrassing you literally
forgot it happened? Your mind disassociates, scuttles away from the incident
yelling Nope, nope, nope, and refuses to acknowledge the memory ever
again?
That was me with Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano.
Oh, yes, I knew who she was. I was familiar with her name and
reputation. I was fully aware we were destined to run into her at Camp
Jupiter. The prophecy we’d deciphered in the Burning Maze had told me as
much.
But my fuzzy mortal brain had completely refused to make the most
important connection: that this Reyna was that Reyna, the one whose face I
had been shown long ago by a certain annoying goddess of love.
That’s her! my brain screamed at me, as I stood before her in my flabby
and acne-spotted glory, clutching a bloody dress to my gut. Oh, wow, she’s
beautiful!
Now you recognize her? I mentally screamed back. Now you want to talk
about her? Can’t you please forget again?
But, like, remember what Venus said? my brain insisted. You’re supposed
to stay away from Reyna or—
Yes, I remember! Shut up!
You have conversations like this with your brain, don’t you? It’s
completely normal, right?
Reyna was indeed beautiful and imposing. Her Imperial gold armor was
cloaked in a mantle of purple. Military medals twinkled on her chest. Her