Flying on the dragon was the most amazing experience ever, Piper thought. Up high, the air was freezing cold; but the dragon's metal hide generated so much heat, it was like they were flying in a protective bubble. Talk about seat warmers! And the grooves in the dragon's back were designed like high-tech saddles, so they weren't uncomfortable at all. Leo showed them how to hook their feet in the chinks of the armor, like in stirrups, and use the leather safety harnesses cleverly concealed under the exterior plating. They sat single file: Leo in front, then Jason, then Piper, and Ash. She was very aware of Ash right behind her.

He was looking all around, his jacket open and billowing out behind him as they flew. Through the reflection on the back of the dragons ear she could see him without directly looking at him. Strung from the right side of his belt was 5 necklace looking things, they looked beautiful in her opinion, silver chain with a crescent moon as the pendant, each had a different Greek digit. the first on on the line had a ζ. 7 she internally translated. The next, λδ, 34. The third one had οη, 78. The fourth, ρμγʹ, 143. The last one had a silver stone studded into the middle, and had the number υοηʹ, 478. As far she could see, there was no correlation between the numbers. She looked through the reflection again and tensed as he drew his bow, aiming at something below. As she turned to face him, she heard the whistle of his arrow as it left his bow, and found it's mark, on a target billboard, she smiled at that.

Leo used the reins to steer the dragon into the sky like he'd been doing it all his life. The metal wings worked perfectly, and soon the coast of Long Island was just a hazy line behind them. They shot over Connecticut and climbed into the gray winter clouds. Leo grinned back at them. "Cool, right?"

"What if we get spotted?" Piper asked.

"The Mist," Jason said. "It keeps mortals from seeing magic things. If they spot us, they'll probably mistake us for a small plane or something."

Piper glanced over her shoulder. "You sure about that?"

"No," he admitted. Then Piper saw he was clutching a photo in his hand—a picture of a girl with dark hair. She gave Jason a quizzical look, and didn't miss the scowl on Ash's face as he too saw it, but he blushed and put the photo in his pocket.

"We're making good time. Probably get there by tonight." Piper wondered who the girl in the picture was, but she didn't want to ask; and if Jason didn't volunteer the information, that wasn't a good sign. Had he remembered something about his life before? Was that a photo of his real girlfriend? Stop it, she thought. You'll just torture yourself. She asked a safer question.

"Where are we heading?"

"To find the god of the North Wind," Jason said. "And chase some storm spirits."

"So what's the plan, bro? You said something about catching wind, or breaking wind, or something?" Leo asked, As they flew over New England, Jason laid out the game plan: First, find some guy named Boreas and grill him for information— "His name is Boreas?" Leo had to ask. "What is he, the God of Boring?" Second, Jason continued, they had to find those venti that had attacked them at the Grand Canyon— "Can we just call them storm spirits?" Leo asked. "Venti makes them sound like evil espresso drinks." And third, Jason finished, they had to find out who the storm spirits worked for, so they could find Hera and free her.

"So you want to look for Dylan, the nasty storm dude, on purpose," Leo said. "The guy who threw me off the skywalk and sucked Coach Hedge into the clouds."

"That's about it," Jason said. "Well … there may be a wolf involved, too. But I think she's friendly. She probably won't eat us, unless we show weakness." Jason told them about his dream—the big nasty mother wolf and a burned-out house with stone spires growing out of the swimming pool.

"Uh-huh," Leo said. "But you don't know where this place is."

"Nope," Jason admitted.

"There's also giants," Piper added. "The prophecy said the giants' revenge."

"Hold on," Leo said. "Giants—like more than one? Why can't it be just one giant who wants revenge?"

"I don't think so," Piper said. "I remember in some of the old Greek stories, there was something about an army of giants."

"Great," Leo muttered. "Of course, with our luck, it's an army. So you know anything else about these giants? Didn't you do a bunch of myth research for that movie with your dad?"

"Your dad's an actor?" Jason asked. Leo laughed. "I keep forgetting about your amnesia. Heh. Forgetting about amnesia. That's funny. But yeah, her dad's Tristan McLean."

"Uh—Sorry, what was he in?"

"It doesn't matter," Piper said quickly. "The giants—well, there were lots of giants in Greek mythology. But if I'm thinking of the right ones, they were bad news. Huge, almost impossible to kill. They could throw mountains and stuff. I think they were related to the Titans. They rose from the earth after Kronos lost the war—I mean the first Titan war, thousands of years ago—and they tried to destroy Olympus. If we're talking about the same giants—"

"Chiron said it was happening again, " Jason remembered. "The last chapter. That's what he meant. No wonder he didn't want us to know all the details."

Leo whistled. "So … giants who can throw mountains. Friendly wolves that will eat us if we show weakness. Evil espresso drinks. Gotcha. Maybe this isn't the time to bring up my psycho babysitter."

"Is that another joke?" Piper asked. Leo told them about Tía Callida, who was really Hera, and how she'd appeared to him at camp. He didn't tell them about his fire abilities. That was still a touchy subject, especially after Nyssa had told him fire demigods tended to destroy cities and stuff. Besides, then Leo would have to get into how he'd caused his mom's death, and … No. He wasn't ready to go there. He did manage to tell about the night she died, not mentioning the fire, just saying the machine shop collapsed. It was easier without having to look at his friends, just keeping his eyes straight ahead as they flew. And he told them about the strange woman in earthen robes who seemed to be asleep, and seemed to know the future. Leo estimated the whole state of Massachusetts passed below them before his friends spoke.

"That's … disturbing," Piper said.

"'Bout sums it up," Leo agreed. "Thing is, everybody says don't trust Hera. She hates demigods. And the prophecy said we'd cause death if we unleash her rage. So I'm wondering … why are we doing this?"

"She chose us," Jason said. "All three, Maybe four, of us. We're the first of the eight who have to gather for the Great Prophecy. This quest is the beginning of something much bigger." That didn't make Leo feel any better, but he couldn't argue with Jason's point. I feel like this was the start of something huge. He just wished that if there were four more demigods destined to help them, they'd show up quick. Leo didn't want to hog all the terrifying life-threatening adventures.

"Besides," Jason continued, "helping Hera is the only way I can get back my memory. And that dark spire in my dream seemed to be feeding on Hera's energy. If that thing unleashes a king of the giants by destroying Hera—"

"Not a good trade-off," Piper agreed, She thought she heard Ash mumble debatable. "At least Hera is on our side—mostly. Losing her would throw the gods into chaos. She's the main one who keeps peace in the family. And a war with the giants could be even more destructive than the Titan War." Jason nodded. "Chiron also talked about worse forces stirring on the solstice, with it being a good time for dark magic, and all—something that could awaken if Hera were sacrificed on that day. And this mistress who's controlling the storm spirits, the one who wants to kill all the demigods—" "Might be that weird sleeping lady," Leo finished. "Dirt Woman fully awake? Not something Iwant to see."

"But who is she?" Jason asked. "And what does she have to do with giants?" Good questions, but none of them had answers. They flew in silence while Leo wondered if he'd done the right thing, sharing so much. He'd never told anyone about that night at the warehouse. Even if he hadn't give them the whole story, it still felt strange, like he'd opened up his chest and taken out all the gears that made him tick. His body was shaking, and not from the cold. He hoped Piper, sitting behind him, couldn't tell. The forge and dove shall break the cage. Wasn't that the prophecy line? That meant Piper and he would have to figure out how to break into that magic rock prison, assuming they could find it. Then they'd unleash Hera's rage, causing a lot of death. Well, that sounded fun! Leo had seen Tía Callida in death. Well, that sounded fun! Leo had seen Tía Callida in action; she liked knives, snakes, and putting babies in roaring fires. Yeah, definitely let's unleash her rage. Great idea.

Festus kept flying. The wind got colder, and below them snowy forests seemed to go on forever. Leo didn't know exactly where Quebec was. He'd told Festus to take them to the palace of Boreas, and Festus kept going north. Hopefully, the dragon knew the way, and they wouldn't end up at the North Pole. "

Why don't you get some sleep?" Piper said in his ear. "You were up all night." Leo wanted to protest, but the word sleep sounded really good.

"You won't let me fall off?" Piper patted his shoulder. "Trust me, Valdez. Beautiful people never lie."

"Right," he muttered. He leaned forward against the warm bronze of the dragon's neck, and closed his eyes.

-P-

It seemed like he only slept for seconds, but when Piper shook him awake, the daylight was fading. "We're here," she said. Leo rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and Ash untied the rope from where he had tied the boy down to stop him from falling, he gave a small smile at that.

Below them, a city sat on a cliff overlooking a river. The plains around it were dusted with snow, but the city itself glowed warmly in the winter sunset. Buildings crowded together inside high walls like a medieval town, way older than any place Leo had seen before. In the center was an actual castle—at least Leo assumed it was a castle—with massive red brick walls and a square tower with a peaked, green gabled roof. "Tell me that's Quebec and not Santa's workshop," Leo said.

"Yeah, Quebec City," Piper confirmed. "One of the oldest cities in North America. Founded around sixteen hundred or so?"

Leo raised an eyebrow. "Your dad do a movie about that too?" She made a face at him, which Leo was used to, but it didn't quite work with her new glamorous makeup.

"I read sometimes, okay? Just because Aphrodite claimed me, doesn't mean I have to be an airhead."

"Feisty!" Leo said. "So you know so much, what's that castle?"

"A hotel, I think."

Leo laughed. "No way." But as they got closer, Leo saw she was right. The grand entrance was bustling with doormen, valets, and porters taking bags. Sleek black luxury cars idled in the drive. People in elegant suits and winter cloaks hurried to get out of the cold. "The North Wind is staying in a hotel?" Leo said. "That can't be—"

"Heads up, guys," Jason interrupted. "We got company!" Leo looked below and saw what Jason meant. Rising from the top of the tower were two winged figures—angry angels, with nasty-looking swords. Festus didn't like the angel guys. He swooped to a halt in midair, wings beating and talons bared, and made a rumbling sound in his throat that Leo recognized. He was getting ready to blow fire. "Steady, boy," Leo muttered. Something told him the angels would not take kindly to getting torched. He heard the shaft of an arrow slide along a bow. Ash was ready.

"I don't like this," Jason said. "They look like storm spirits." At first Leo thought he was right, but as the angels got closer, he could see they were much more solid than venti. They looked like regular teenagers except for their icy white hair and feathery purple wings. Their bronze swords were jagged, like icicles. Their faces looked similar enough that they might've been brothers, but they definitely weren't twins. One was the size of an ox, with a bright red hockey jersey, baggy sweatpants, and black leather cleats. The guy clearly had been in too many fights, because both his eyes were black, and when he bared his teeth, several of them were missing. The other guy looked like he'd just stepped off one of Leo's mom's 1980s rock album covers—Journey, maybe, or Hall & Oates, or something even lamer. His ice-white hair was long and feathered into a mullet. He wore pointy-toed leather shoes, designer pants that were way too tight, and a god-awful silk shirt with the top three buttons open.

Maybe he thought he looked like a groovy love god, but the guy couldn't have weighed more than ninety pounds, and he had a bad case of acne. The angels pulled up in front of the dragon and hovered there, swords at the ready. The hockey ox grunted. "No clearance."

"'Scuse me?" Leo said. "You have no flight plan on file," explained the groovy love god. On top of his other problems, he had a French accent so bad Leo was sure it was fake.

"This is restricted airspace."

"Destroy them?" The ox showed off his gap-toothed grin. The dragon began to hiss steam, ready to defend them. Jason summoned his golden sword,

but Leo cried, "Hold on! Let's have some manners here, boys. Can I at least find out who has the honor of destroying me?"

"I am Cal!" the ox grunted. He looked very proud of himself, like he'd taken a long time to memorize that sentence.

"That's short for Calais," the love god said. "Sadly, my brother cannot say words with more than two syllables—"

"Pizza! Hockey! Destroy!" Cal offered.

"—which includes his own name," the love god finished.

"I am Cal," Cal repeated. "And this is Zethes! My brother!"

"Wow," Leo said. "That was almost three sentences, man! Way to go." Cal grunted, obviously pleased with himself.

"Stupid buffoon," his brother grumbled. "They make fun of you. But no matter. I am Zethes, which is short for Zethes. And the lady there—" He winked at Piper, but the wink was more like a facial seizure. "She can call me anything she likes. Perhaps she would like to have dinner with a famous demigod before we must destroy you?"

Piper made a sound like gagging on a cough drop. "That's … a truly horrifying offer."

"It is no problem." Zethes wiggled his eyebrows. "We are a very romantic people, we Boreads."

"Boreads?" Jason cut in. "Do you mean, like, the sons of Boreas?"

"Ah, so you've heard of us!" Zethes looked pleased. "We are our father's gatekeepers. So you understand, we cannot have unauthorized people flying in his airspace on creaky dragons, scaring the silly mortal peoples." He pointed below, and Leo saw that the mortals were starting to take notice. Several were pointing up—not with alarm, yet—more with confusion and annoyance, like the dragon was a traffic helicopter flying too low. "Which is sadly why, unless this is an emergency landing," Zethes said, brushing his hair out of his acne-covered face, "we will have to destroy you painfully."

"Destroy!" Cal agreed, with a little more enthusiasm than Leo thought necessary.

"Wait!" Piper said. "This is an emergency landing."

"Awww!" Cal looked so disappointed, Leo almost felt sorry for him. Zethes studied Piper, which of course he'd already been doing.

"How does the pretty girl decide this is an emergency, then?"

"We have to see Boreas. It's totally urgent! Please?" She forced a smile, which Leo figured must've been killing her; but she still had that blessing of Aphrodite thing going on, and she looked great. Something about her voice, too—Leo found himself believing every word. Jason was nodding, looking absolutely convinced, Ash showed as much expression as a world class poker player.

Zethes picked at his silk shirt, probably making sure it was still open wide enough. "Well … I hate to disappoint a lovely lady, but you see, my sister, she would have an avalanche if we allowed you—"

"And our dragon is malfunctioning!" Piper added. "It could crash any minute!" Festus shuddered helpfully, then turned his head and spilled gunk out of his ear, splattering a black Mercedes in the parking lot below.

"No destroy?" Cal whimpered. Zethes pondered the problem. Then he gave Piper another spasmodic wink.

"Well, you are pretty. I mean, you're right. A malfunctioning dragon—this could be an emergency."

"Destroy them later?" Cal offered, which was probably as close to friendly as he ever got.

"It will take some explaining," Zethes decided. "Father has not been kind to visitors lately. But, yes. Come, faulty dragon people. Follow us." The Boreads sheathed their swords and pulled smaller weapons from their belts—or at least Leo thought they were weapons. Then the Boreads switched them on, and Leo realized they were flashlights with orange cones, like the ones traffic controller guys use on a runway. Cal and Zethes turned and swooped toward the hotel's tower. Leo turned to his friends.

"I love these guys. Follow them?" Jason and Piper didn't look eager. "I guess," Jason decided. "We're here now. But I wonder why Boreas hasn't been kind to visitors."

"Pfft, he just hasn't met us." Leo whistled. "Festus, after those flashlights!"

As they got closer, Leo worried they'd crash into the tower. The Boreads made right for the green gabled peak and didn't slow down. Then a section of the slanted roof slid open, revealing an entrance easily wide enough for Festus. The top and bottom were lined with icicles like jagged teeth. "This cannot be good," Jason muttered, but Leo spurred the dragon downward, and they swooped in after the Boreads. They landed in what must have been the penthouse suite; but the place had been hit by a flash freeze. The entry hall had vaulted ceilings forty feet high, huge draped windows, and lush oriental carpets. A staircase at the back of the room led up to another equally massive hall, and more corridors branched off to the left and right. But the ice made the room's beauty a little frightening.

When Leo slid off the dragon, the carpet crunched under his feet. A fine layer of frost covered the furniture. The curtains didn't budge because they were frozen solid, and the ice-coated windows let in weird watery light from the sunset. Even the ceiling was furry with icicles. As for the stairs, Leo was sure he'd slip and break his neck if he tried to climb them. "Guys," Leo said, "fix the thermostat in here, and I would totally move in."

"Not me." Jason looked uneasily at the staircase. "Something feels wrong. Something up there …" Piper looked over at Ash, who looked completely unaffected by the cold, he still has his jacket open. She thought to herself, the boy looked completely in his element, smoothly sliding his way towards of the windows the frozen curtains wasn't blocking.

Festus shuddered and snorted flames. Frost started to form on his scales. "No, no, no." Zethes marched over, though how he could walk in those pointy leather shoes, Leo had no idea. "The dragon must be deactivated. We can't have fire in here. The heat ruins my hair." Festus growled and spun his drill-bit teeth.

"'S'okay, boy." Leo turned to Zethes. "The dragon's a little touchy about the whole deactivation concept. But I've got a better solution."

"Destroy?" Cal suggested. "No, man. You gotta stop with the destroy talk. Just wait."

"Leo," Piper said nervously, "what are you—"

"Watch and learn, beauty queen. When I was repairing Festus last night, I found all kinds of buttons. Some, you do not want to know what they do. But others … Ah, here we go." Leo hooked his fingers behind the dragon's left foreleg. He pulled a switch, and the dragon shuddered from head to toe. Everyone backed away as Festus folded like origami. His bronze plating stacked together. His neck and tail contracted into his body. His wings collapsed and his trunk compacted until he was a rectangular metal wedge the size of a suitcase. Leo tried to lift it, but the thing weighed about six billion pounds.

"Um … yeah. Hold on. I think—aha." He pushed another button. A handle flipped up on the top, and wheels clicked out on the bottom. "Ta-da!" he announced. "The world's heaviest carry-on bag!"

"That's impossible," Jason said. "Something that big couldn't—"

"Stop!" Zethes ordered. He and Cal both drew their swords and glared at Leo. Leo raised his hands. "Okay … what'd I do? Stay calm, guys. If it bothers you that much, I don't have to take the dragon as carry-on—"

"Who are you?" Zethes shoved the point of his sword against Leo's chest. "A child of the South Wind, spying on us?"

"What? No!" Leo said. "Son of Hephaestus. Friendly blacksmith, no harm to anyone!" Cal growled. He put his face up to Leo's, and he definitely wasn't any prettier at point-blank, with his bruised eyes and bashed-in mouth.

"Smell fire," he said. "Fire is bad."

"Oh." Leo's heart raced. "Yeah, well … my clothes are kind of singed, and I've been working with oil, and—"

"No!" Zethes pushed Leo back at sword point. "We can smell fire, demigod. We assumed it was from the creaky dragon, but now the dragon is a suitcase. And I still smell fire … on you." If it hadn't been like three degrees in the penthouse, Leo would've started sweating.

"Hey … look … I don't know—" He glanced at his friends desperately. "Guys, a little help?" Jason already had his gold coin in his hand. He stepped forward, his eyes on Zethes. "Look, there's been a mistake. Leo isn't a fire guy. Tell them, Leo. Tell them you're not a fire guy."

"Um …" "Zethes?" Piper tried her dazzling smile again, though she looked a little too nervous and cold to pull it off. "We're all friends here. Put down your swords and let's talk."

"The girl is pretty," Zethes admitted, "and of course she cannot help being attracted to my amazingness; but sadly, I cannot romance her at this time." He poked his sword point farther into Leo's chest, and Leo could feel the frost spreading across his shirt, turning his skin numb. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ash drawing his bow, nocking an arrow, ready to fire. He wished he could reactivate Festus. He needed some backup. But it would've taken several minutes, even if he could reach the button, with two purple-winged crazy guys in his path.

"Destroy him now?" Cal asked his brother. Zethes nodded. "Sadly, I think—"

"No," Jason insisted. He sounded calm enough, but Leo figured he was about two seconds away from flipping that coin and going into full gladiator mode. "Leo's just a son of Hephaestus. He's no threat. Piper here is a daughter of Aphrodite. I'm the son of Zeus. We're on a peaceful …" Jason's voice faltered, because both Boreads had suddenly turned on him.

"What did you say?" Zethes demanded. "You are the son of Zeus?"

"Um … yeah," Jason said. "That's a good thing, right? My name is Jason." Cal looked so surprised, he almost dropped his sword.

"Can't be Jason," he said. "Doesn't look the same." Zethes stepped forward and squinted at Jason's face.

"No, he is not our Jason. Our Jason was more stylish. Not as much as me—but stylish. Besides, our Jason died millennia ago."

"Wait," Jason said. "Your Jason … you mean the original Jason? The Golden Fleece guy?"

"Of course," Zethes said. "We were his crewmates aboard his ship, the Argo, in the old times, when we were mortal demigods. Then we accepted immortality to serve our father, so I could look this good for all time, and my silly brother could enjoy pizza and hockey."

"Hockey!" Cal agreed.

"But Jason—our Jason—he died a mortal death," Zethes said. "You can't be him." "I'm not," Jason agreed, Ash rolled his silver eyes.

"So, destroy?" Cal asked. Clearly the conversation was giving his two brain cells a serious workout.

"No," Zethes said regretfully. "If he is a son of Zeus, he could be the one we've been watching for."

"Watching for?" Leo asked. "You mean like in a good way: you'll shower him with fabulous prizes? Or watching for like in a bad way: he's in trouble?"

A girl's voice said, "That depends on my father's will." Leo looked up the staircase. His heart nearly stopped. At the top stood a girl in a white silk dress. Her skin was unnaturally pale, the color of snow, but her hair was a lush mane of black, and her eyes were coffee brown. She focused on Leo with no expression, no smile, no friendliness. But it didn't matter. Leo was in love. She was the most dazzling girl he'd ever seen. Then she looked at Jason and Piper, and seemed to understand the situation immediately. "Father will want to see the one called Jason," the girl said.

"Then it is him?" Zethes asked excitedly.

"We'll see," the girl said. "Zethes, bring our guests." Leo grabbed the handle of his bronze dragon suitcase. He wasn't sure how he'd lug it up the stairs, but he had to get next to that girl and ask her some important questions—like her email address and phone number. Before he could take a step, she froze him with a look. Not literally froze, but she might as well have.

"Not you, Leo Valdez," she said. In the back of his mind, Leo wondered how she knew his name; but mostly he was just concentrating on how crushed he felt.

"Why not?" He probably sounded like a whiny kindergartner, but he couldn't help it.

"You cannot be in the presence of my father," the girl said. "Fire and ice—it would not be wise."

"We're going together," Jason insisted, putting his hand on Leo's shoulder, "or not at all." The girl tilted her head, like she wasn't used to people refusing her orders.

"He will not be harmed, Jason Grace, unless you make trouble. Calais, keep Leo Valdez here. Guard him, but do not kill him."

Cal pouted. "Just a little?"

"No," the girl insisted. "And take care of his interesting suitcase, until Father passes judgment." Jason and Piper looked at Leo, their expressions asking him a silent question: How do you want to play this? Leo felt a surge of gratitude. They were ready to fight for him. They wouldn't leave him alone with the hockey ox. Part of him wanted to go for it, bust out his new tool belt and see what he could do, maybe even summon a fireball or two and warm this place up. But the Boread guys scared him. And that gorgeous girl scared him more, even if he still wanted her number. "It's fine, guys," he said. "No sense causing trouble if we don't have to. You go ahead."

"Listen to your friend," the pale girl said. "Leo Valdez will be perfectly safe. I wish I could say the same for you, son of Zeus. Now come, King Boreas is waiting."

As they climbed the icy staircase, Zethes stayed behind them, his blade drawn. The guy might've looked like a disco era reject, but there was nothing funny about his sword. Jason figured one hit from that thing would probably turn him into a Popsicle. Then there was the ice princess. Every once in a while she'd turn and give Jason a smile, but there was no warmth in her expression. She was also looking at Ash a lot, Grimace as she did. When Jason looked at Ash, his silver eyes had lost their metallic sheen, and looked malevolent, He could tell great anger was bubbling below. She regarded Jason like he was an especially interesting science specimen—one she couldn't wait to dissect.

ssect. If these were Boreas's kids, Jason wasn't sure he wanted to meet Daddy. Annabeth had told him Boreas was the friendliest of the wind gods. Apparently that meant he didn't kill heroes quite as fast as the others did. Jason worried that he'd led his friends into a trap. If things went bad, he wasn't sure he could get them out alive. Without thinking about it, he took Piper's hand for reassurance. She raised her eyebrows, but she didn't let go.

"It'll be fine," she promised. "Just a talk, right?" At the top of the stairs, the ice princess looked back and noticed them holding hands. Her smile faded. Suddenly Jason's hand in Piper's turned ice cold—burning cold. He let go, and his fingers were smoking with frost. So were Piper's.

"Warmth is not a good idea here," the princess advised, "especially when I am your best chance of staying alive. Please, this way." Piper gave him a nervous frown like, What was that about? Jason didn't have an answer. Ash was giving her a nuclear scowl, utter loathing fueling it. Zethes poked him in the back with his icicle sword, and they followed the princess down a massive hallway decked in frosty tapestries.

Freezing winds blew back and forth, and Jason's thoughts moved almost as fast. He'd had a lot of time to think while they rode the dragon north, but he felt as confused as ever. Thalia's picture was still in his pocket, though he didn't need to look at it anymore. Her image had burned itself into his mind. It was bad enough not remembering his past, but to know he had a sister out there somewhere who might have answers and to have no way of finding her—that just drove him up the wall.

In the picture, Thalia looked nothing like him. They both had blue eyes, but that was it. Her hair was black. Her complexion was more Mediterranean. Her facial features were sharper—like a hawk's. Still, Thalia looked s o familiar. Hera had left him just enough memory that he could be certain Thalia was his sister. But Annabeth had acted completely surprised when he'd told her, like she'd never heard of Thalia's having a brother. Did Thalia even know about him? How had they been separated? Hera had taken those memories. She'd stolen everything from Jason's past, plopped him into a new life, and now she expected him to save her from some prison just so he could get back what she'd taken.

It made Jason so angry, he wanted to walk away, let Hera rot in that cage: but he couldn't. He was hooked. He had to know more, and that made him even more resentful. "Hey." Piper touched his arm. "You still with me?"

"Yeah … yeah, sorry." He was grateful for Piper. He needed a friend, and he was glad she'd started losing the Aphrodite blessing. The makeup was fading. Her hair was slowly going back to its old choppy style with the little braids down the sides. It made her look more real, and as far as Jason was concerned, more beautiful. He was sure now that they'd never known each other before the Grand Canyon. Their relationship was just a trick of the Mist in Piper's mind. But the longer he spent with her, the more he wished it had been real. more he wished it had been real. Stop that, he told himself. It wasn't fair to Piper, thinking that way. Jason had no idea what was waiting for him back in his old life—or who might be waiting. But he was pretty sure his past wouldn't mix with Camp Half-Blood. After this quest, who knew what would happen? Assuming they even survived. At the end of the hallway they found themselves in front of a set of oaken doors carved with a map of the world. In each corner was a man's bearded face, blowing wind.

Jason was pretty sure he'd seen maps like this before. But in this version, all the wind guys were Winter, blowing ice and snow from every corner of the world. The princess turned. Her brown eyes glittered, and Jason felt like he was a Christmas present she was hoping to open. "This is the throne room," she said. "Be on your best behavior, Jason Grace. My father can be … chilly. I will translate for you, and try to encourage him to hear you out. I do hope he spares you. We could have such fun." Jason guessed this girl's definition of fun was not the same as his.

"Um, okay," he managed. "But really, we're just here for a little talk. We'll be leaving right afterward." The girl smiled.

"I love heroes. So blissfully ignorant." Piper rested her hand on her dagger. "Well, how about you enlighten us? You say you're going to translate for us, and we don't even know who you are. What's your name?" The girl sniffed with distaste. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you don't recognize me. Even in the ancient times the Greeks did not know me well. Their island homes were too warm, too far from my domain. I am Khione, daughter of Boreas, goddess of snow." She stirred the air with her finger, and a miniature blizzard swirled around her—big, fluffy flakes as soft as cotton. "Now, come," Khione said. The oaken doors blew open, and cold blue light spilled out of the room. "Hopefully you will survive your little talk."

Mist hung in the air. Jason shivered, and his breath steamed. Along the walls, purple tapestries showed scenes of snowy forests, barren mountains, and glaciers. High above, ribbons of colored light—the aurora borealis—pulsed along the ceiling. A layer of snow covered the floor, so Jason had to step carefully. All around the room stood life-size ice sculpture warriors—some in Greek armor, some medieval, some in modern camouflage—all frozen in various attack positions, swords raised, guns locked and loaded. At least Jason thought they were sculptures. Then he tried to step between two Greek spearmen, and they moved with surprising speed, their joints cracking and spraying ice crystals as they crossed their javelins to block Jason's path. From the far end of the hall, a man's voice rang out in a language that sounded like French. The room was so long and misty, Jason couldn't see the other end; but whatever the man said, the ice guards uncrossed their javelins.

"It's fine," Khione said. "My father has ordered them not to kill you just yet."

"Super," Jason said, Ash just shook his head in annoyance. Zethes prodded him in the back with his sword. "Keep moving, Jason Junior." "Please don't call me that." "My father is not a patient man," Zethes warned,

"and the beautiful Piper, sadly, is losing her magic hairdo very fast. Later, perhaps, I can lend her something from my wide assortment of hair products."

"Thanks," Piper grumbled. They kept walking, and the mist parted to reveal a man on an ice throne. He was sturdily built, dressed in a stylish white suit that seemed woven from snow, with dark purple wings that spread out to either side. His long hair and shaggy beard were encrusted with icicles, so Jason couldn't tell if his hair was gray or just white with frost. His arched eyebrows made him look angry, but his eyes twinkled more warmly than his daughter's —as if he might have a sense of humor buried somewhere under that permafrost. Jason hoped so.

"Bienvenu," the king said. "Je suis Boreas le Roi. Et vous?" Khione the snow goddess was about to speak, but Piper stepped forward and curtsied.

"Votre Majesté," she said, " je suis Piper McLean. Et c'est Jason, fils de Zeus." she left out Ash, seeing as he looked as if he would rather be anywhere else.

The king smiled with pleasant surprise. "Vous parlez français? Très bien!"

"Piper, you speak French?" Jason asked.

Piper frowned. "No. Why?"

"You just spoke French." Piper blinked.

"I did?" The king said something else, and Piper nodded. "Oui, Votre Majesté." The king laughed and clapped his hands, obviously delighted. He said a few more sentences then swept his hand toward his daughter as if shooing her away. Khione looked miffed.

"The king says—"

"He says I'm a daughter of Aphrodite," Piper interrupted, "so naturally I can speak French, which is the language of love. I had no idea. His Majesty says Khione won't have to translate now." Behind them, Zethes snorted, and Khione shot him a murderous look. She bowed stiffly to her father and took a step back, Placing her next to Ash, who was whispering harshly to her. The king sized up Jason, and Jason decided it would be a good idea to bow.

"Your Majesty, I'm Jason Grace. Thank you for, um, not killing us. May I ask … why does a Greek god speak French?" Piper had another exchange with the king.

"He speaks the language of his host country," Piper translated. "He says all gods do this. Most Greek gods speak English, as they now reside in the United States, but Boreas was never welcomed in their realm. His domain was always far to the north. These days he likes Quebec, so he speaks French." The king said something else, and Piper turned pale. "The king says …" She faltered. "He says—"

"Oh, allow me," Khione said. "My father says he has orders to kill you. Did I not mention that earlier?" Jason tensed. The king was still smiling amiably, like he'd just delivered great news.

"Kill us?" Jason said. "Why?"

"Because," the king said, in heavily accented English, "my lord Aeolus has commanded it." Boreas rose. He stepped down from his throne and furled his wings against his back. As he approached, Khione and Zethes bowed. Jason and Piper followed their example, Ash remained upright, his menacing eyes daring the god to challenge him.

"I shall deign to speak your language," Boreas said, "as Piper McLean has honored me in mine. Toujours, I have had a fondness for the children of Aphrodite. As for you, Jason Grace, my master Aeolus would not expect me to kill a son of Lord Zeus … without first hearing you out." Jason's gold coin seemed to grow heavy in his pocket. If he were forced to fight, he didn't like his chances. Two seconds at least to summon his blade. Then he'd be facing a god, two of his children, and an army of freeze-dried warriors.

"Aeolus is the master of the winds, right?" Jason asked. "Why would he want us dead?"

"You are demigods," Boreas said, as if this explained everything. "Aeolus's job is to contain the winds, and demigods have always caused him many headaches. They ask him for favors. They unleash winds and cause chaos. But the final insult was the battle with Typhon last summer…" Boreas waved his hand, and a sheet of ice like a flatscreen TV appeared in the air. Images of a battle flickered across the surface—a giant wrapped in storm clouds, wading across a river toward the Manhattan skyline. Tiny, glowing figures—the gods, Jason guessed—swarmed around him like angry wasps, pounding the monster with lightning and fire. Finally the river erupted in a massive whirlpool, and the smoky form sank beneath the waves and disappeared. "The storm giant, Typhon," Boreas explained. "The first time the gods defeated him, eons ago, he did not die quietly. His death released a host of storm spirits—wild winds that answered to no one.

It was Aeolus's job to track them all down and imprison them in his fortress. The other gods—they did not help. They did not even apologize for the inconvenience. It took Aeolus centuries to track down all the storm spirits, and naturally this irritated him. Then, last summer, Typhon was defeated again—"

"And his death released another wave of venti," Jason guessed. "Which made Aeolus even angrier."

"C'est vrai," Boreas agreed.

"But, Your Majesty," Piper said, "the gods had no choice but to battle Typhon. He was going to destroy Olympus! Besides, why punish demigods for that?"

The king shrugged. "Aeolus cannot take out his anger on the gods. They are his bosses, and very powerful. So he gets even with the demigods who helped them in the war. He issued orders to us: demigods who come to us for aid are no longer to be tolerated. We are to crush your little mortal faces." There was an uncomfortable silence.

"That sounds … extreme," Jason ventured. "But you're not going to crush our faces yet, right? You're going to listen to us first, 'cause once you hear about our quest—"

"Yes, yes," the king agreed. "You see, Aeolus also said that a son of Zeus might seek my aid, and if this happened, I should listen to you before destroying you, as you might—how did he put it?—make all our lives very interesting. I am only obligated to listen, however. After that, I am free to pass judgment as I see fit. But I will listen first. Khione wishes this also. It may be that we will not kill you."

Jason felt like he could almost breathe again. "Great. Thanks."

"Do not thank me." Boreas smiled. "There are many ways you could make our lives interesting. Sometimes we keep demigods for our amusement, as you can see." He gestured around the room to the various ice statues.

Piper made a strangled noise. "You mean—they're all demigods? Frozen demigods? They're alive?"

"An interesting question," Boreas conceded, as if it had never occurred to him before.

He seemed about to speak but Ash beat him too it. "They're dead. Traitors to Othrys got, well, cold feet." He smiled like a predator as he walked among the statues.

Khione stepped behind Jason and put her cold fingers on his neck. "My father gives me such lovely presents," she murmured in his ear. "Join our court. Perhaps I'll let your friends go."

"Useless Brat." Ash muttered under his breath.

"What?" Zethes broke in. "If Khione gets this one, then I deserve the girl. Khione always gets more presents!"

"Now, children," Boreas said sternly. "Our guests will think you are spoiled! Besides, you moved too fast. We have not even heard the demigod's story yet. Then we will decide what to do with them. Please, Jason Grace, entertain us." Jason felt his brain shutting down. He didn't look at Piper for fear he'd completely lose it. He'd gotten them into this, and now they were going die—or worse, they'd be amusements for Boreas's children and end up frozen forever in this throne room, slowly corroding from freezer burn. Khione purred and stroked his neck. Jason didn't plan it, but electricity sparked along his skin. There was loud pop, and Khione flew backward, skidding across the floor.

Zethes laughed, Ash smirked. "That is good! I'm glad you did that, even though I have to kill you now." For a moment, Khione was too stunned to react. Then the air around her began to swirl with a micro-blizzard. "You dare—" "Hold, Ice Witch" Ash ordered, Khione's blizzard swirled to a stop, Piper thought he was going to get them all killed, but she submitted, averting her eyes.

"You're not going to kill us." Jason began, "And you're not going to keep us. We're on a quest for the queen of the gods herself, so unless you want Hera busting down your doors, you're going to let us go." He sounded a lot more confident than he felt, but it got their attention. Zethes lowered his sword. They both looked uncertainly at their father.

"Hmm," Boreas said. His eyes twinkled, but Jason couldn't tell if it was with anger or amusement. "A son of Zeus, favored by Hera? This is definitely a first. Tell us your story." Jason would've botched it right there. He hadn't been expecting to get the chance to talk, and now that he could, his voice abandoned him. Piper saved him.

"Your Majesty." She curtsied again with incredible poise, considering her life was on the line. She told Boreas the whole story, from the Grand Canyon to the prophecy, much better and faster than Jason could have. "All we ask for is guidance," Piper concluded. "These storm spirits attacked us, and they're working for some evil mistress. If we find them, maybe we can find Hera." The king stroked the icicles in his beard. Out the windows, night had fallen, and the only light came from the aurora borealis overhead, washing everything in red and blue.

"I know of these storm spirits," Boreas said. "I know where they are kept, and of the prisoner they took."

"You mean Coach Hedge?" Jason asked. "He's alive?"

Boreas waved aside the question. "For now. But the one who controls these storm winds … It would be madness to oppose her. You would be better staying here as frozen statues."

"Hera's in trouble," Jason said. "In three days she's going to be—I don't know—consumed, destroyed, something. And a giant is going to rise."

"Yes," Boreas agreed. Was it Jason's imagination, or did he shoot Khione an angry look? "Many horrible things are waking. Even my children do not tell me all the news they should. The Great Stirring of monsters that began with Kronos —your father Zeus foolishly believed it would end when the Titans were defeated. But just as it was before, so it is now. The final battle is yet to come, and the one who will wake is more terrible than any Titan. Storm spirits—these are only beginning. The earth has many more horrors to yield up. When monsters no longer stay in Tartarus, and souls are no longer confined to Hades … Olympus has good reason to fear."

Jason wasn't sure what all this meant, but he didn't like the way Khione was smiling—like this was her definition of fun. "So you'll help us?" Jason asked the king.

Boreas scowled. "I did not say that."

"Please, Your Majesty," Piper said