The Tyrant's Tomb

“I’m okay,” I lied. “What did you mean earlier, when you said, ‘You
too’?”
Her expression closed up like a hurricane shutter. “Nightmares. I woke
up screaming a couple of times. You slept through it, but…” She picked a
clod of dirt off her trowel. “This place reminds me of…you know.”
I regretted I hadn’t thought about that sooner. After Meg’s experience
growing up in Nero’s Imperial Household, surrounded by Latin-speaking
servants and guards in Roman armor, purple banners, all the regalia of the
old empire—of course Camp Jupiter must have triggered unwelcome
memories.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Did you dream…anything I should know about?”
“The usual.” Her tone made it clear she didn’t want to elaborate. “What
about you?”
I thought about my dream of the two emperors sailing leisurely in our
direction, drinking cherry-garnished mocktails while their troops rushed to
assemble secret weapons they’d ordered from IKEA.
Our deceased ally. Plan B. Five days.
I saw those burning purple eyes in a chamber filled with the undead. The
king’s dead.
“The usual,” I agreed. “Help me up?”
It hurt to stand, but if I’d been lying in that cot for a day and a half, I
wanted to move before my muscles turned to tapioca. Also, I was beginning
to realize I was hungry and thirsty and, in the immortal words of Meg
McCaffrey, I needed to pee. Human bodies are annoying that way.
I braced myself against the windowsill and peered outside. Below,
demigods bustled along the Via Praetoria—carrying supplies, reporting for
duty assignments, hurrying between the barracks and the mess hall. The pall
of shock and grief seemed to have faded. Now everyone looked busy and
determined. Craning my head and looking south, I could see Temple Hill
abuzz with activity. Siege engines had been converted to cranes and
earthmovers. Scaffolds had been erected in a dozen locations. The sounds of
hammering and stone-cutting echoed across the valley. From my vantage
point, I could identify at least ten new small shrines and two large temples
that hadn’t been there when we arrived, with more in the works.
“Wow,” I murmured. “Those Romans don’t mess around.”
“Tonight’s the funeral for Jason,” Meg informed me. “They’re trying to
finish up work before then.”