“Very good, Jason Grace,” Notus said. “You are a son of Jupiter, yet you have chosen your own path—as all the greatest demigods have done before you. You cannot control your parentage, but you can choose your legacy. Now, go. Lash your team to the prow and direct them toward Malta. ”
“Malta?” Jason tried to focus, but the heat from the horses was making him light-headed. He knew nothing about Malta, except for some vague story about a Maltese falcon. Were malts invented there?
“Once you arrive in the city of Valletta,” Notus said, “you will no longer need these horses. ”
“You mean…we’ll find Leo there?”
The god shimmered, slowly fading into waves of heat. “Your destiny grows clearer, Jason Grace. When the choice comes again—storm or fire—remember me. And do not despair. ”
The doors of the throne room burst open. The horses, smelling freedom, bolted for the exit.
AT SIXTEEN, MOST KIDS WOULD STRESS about parallel parking tests, getting a driver’s license, and affording a car.
Jason stressed about controlling a team of fiery horses with wind ropes.
After making sure his friends were aboard and safely below deck, he lashed the venti to the prow of the Argo II (which Festus was not happy about), straddled the figurehead, and yelled, “Giddyup!”
The venti tore across the waves. They weren’t quite as fast as Hazel’s horse, Arion, but they had a lot more heat. They kicked up a rooster tail of steam that made it almost impossible for Jason to see where they were going. The ship shot out of the bay. In no time Africa was a hazy line on the horizon behind them.
Maintaining the wind ropes took all of Jason’s concentration. The horses strained to break free. Only his willpower kept them in check.
Malta, he ordered. Straight to Malta.
By the time land finally appeared in the distance—a hilly island carpeted with low stone buildings—Jason was soaked in sweat. His arms felt rubbery, like he’d been holding a barbell straight out in front of him.
He hoped they’d reached the right place, because he couldn’t keep the horses together any longer. He released the wind reins. The venti scattered into particles of sand and steam.
Exhausted, Jason climbed down from the prow. He leaned against Festus’s neck. The dragon turned and gave him a chin hug.
“Thanks, man,” Jason said. “Rough day, huh?”
Behind him, the deck boards creaked.
“Jason?” Piper called. “Oh, gods, your arms…”
He hadn’t noticed, but his skin was dotted with blisters.
Piper unwrapped a square of ambrosia. “Eat this. ”
He chewed. His mouth was filled with the taste of fresh brownies—his favorite treat from the bakeries in New Rome. The blisters faded on his arms. His strength returned, but the brownie ambrosia tasted more bitter than usual, as if it somehow knew that Jason was turning his back on Camp Jupiter. This was no longer the taste of home.
“Thanks, Pipes,” he murmured. “How long was I—?”
“About six hours. ”
Wow, Jason thought. No wonder he felt sore and hungry. “The others?”
“All fine. Tired of being cooped up. Should I tell them it’s safe to come above deck?”
Jason licked his dry lips. Despite the ambrosia, he felt shaky. He didn’t want the others to see him like this.
“Give me a second,” he said. “…catch my breath. ”
Piper leaned next to him. In her green tank top, her beige shorts, and her hiking boots, she looked like she was ready to climb a mountain—and then fight an army at the top. Her dagger was strapped to her belt. Her cornucopia was slung over one shoulder. She’d taken to wearing the jagged bronze sword she’d recovered from Zethes the Boread, which was only slightly less intimidating than an assault rifle.
During their time at Auster’s palace, Jason had watched Piper and Hazel spend hours sword fighting—something Piper had never been interested in before. Since her encounter with Khione, Piper seemed more wired, tensed up inside like a primed catapult, as if she were determined never to be caught off guard again.
Jason understood the feeling, but he worried she was being too hard on herself. Nobody could be ready for anything all the time. He should know. He’d spent the last fight as a freeze-dried throw rug.
He must have been staring, because she gave him a knowing smirk. “Hey, I’m fine. We’re fine. ”
She perched on her tiptoes and kissed him, which felt as good as the ambrosia. Her eyes were flecked with so many colors Jason could’ve stared into them all day, studying the changing patterns, the way people watched the northern lights.
“I’m lucky to have you,” he said.
“Yeah, you are. ” She pushed his chest gently. “Now, how do we get this ship to the docks?”
Jason frowned across the water. They were still half a mile from the island. He had no idea whether they could get the engines working, or the sails. …
Fortunately, Festus had been listening. He faced front and blew a plume of fire. The ship’s engine clattered and hummed. It sounded like a massive bike with a busted chain—but they lurched forward. Slowly, the Argo II headed toward the shore.
“Good dragon. ” Piper patted Festus’s neck.
The dragon’s ruby eyes glinted as if he was pleased with himself.
“He seems different since you woke him,” Jason said. “More…alive. ”
“The way he should be. ” Piper smiled. “I guess once in a while we all need a wake-up call from somebody who loves us. ”