A/N: I'M FINALLY OUT SCHOOL. *pops confetti cannon* Master has given Fangirl a sock, Fangirl is free! One year down, three more to go. Lol, I don't think I'll make it. You know, somebody told me high school was supposed to be the best years of your life. Biggest lie of 2019.
Also, I'm leaving for a short vacation tomorrow morning with the fam, so I wrote this ahead of time and posted one day ahead, but I might miss next week's update, just a heads up. I'll try my best, but I make no promises :P
**IMPORTANT A/N AT THE END OF THE CHAPTER: Please read (especially if you've read Red Queen before this. In fact if you've already read Red Queen before, you might want to read the PSA before even reading this chapter tbh.)
Disclaimer: All rights remain.
Annabeth
In all honesty, Annabeth hadn't been looking where she was going, so running into someone was bound to happen.
"Shit!" she loudly cursed, bumping into a hard chest.
"Nice," he teased her for her language, looking down at her carefully. But when he saw the upset expression on her face, he wasn't smiling anymore. "Annabeth?"
"Luke?" Annabeth's eyes were rimmed red from frustration and earlier tears.
"Were you crying?" he frowned.
"No," said Annabeth, much too quickly. She wiped at her face furiously, only proving his point.
"What happened?"
Maybe it was his sympathetic tone and she felt that she deserved none of it, but Annabeth stiffened, her eyes hardening on his. "Nothing," she spit out rather savagely, and tried to push past him, only for him to catch her arms in his.
"Something obviously happened. You never struck me as the type to weep at the drop of a hat," he reasoned. Annabeth was quiet for a moment, unresponsive. And then:
"Malcolm knows," she whispered so quietly that Luke had to strain his ears to hear her.
Luke paused, trying to figure out exactly what Malcolm knew. "He's turning you in?" his eyes went wide.
"No- no! He wouldn't," Annabeth assured him, but it felt half-hearted. Luke relaxed, if only for a moment. She took a deep breath. "But I am."
"No! Don't be stupid," he sputtered. "That helps no one."
"But it's treason, and Malcolm will be looped in with my crimes for not saying anything. It's the only way to save him," Annabeth argued, tears welling in her eyes once more.
Seeing her state of mind, Luke's tone softened. "Annabeth, nobody knows yet. We can keep it that way. Don't do it. You heard General Reyna, you're a symbol of the Amazons. We can't lose you this fast, this soon. It'll all be over soon and you won't have to wait much longer. Just wait for the ball tomorrow night, wait for a little change before you out yourself," he convinced her.
Annabeth bit her lip. "Are you sure?"
"Positive," he nodded. "Okay?"
She looked at the ground. "Okay," she hardly whispered, her voice raspy.
"Okay," he repeated, letting out a breath of relief. "Are we all good now?"
Annabeth nodded, still sniffling a little. Remembering her manners for probably the first time in her seventeen years of life, she squeezed his hand tightly, the pressure easing her mind. "Thank you." She let out her own breath she'd been holding in when he squeezed her hand in return. Luke was right. It would all work out in the end, she just needed patience, and she couldn't lose her head in the process. Faith and stamina, she could make this work. Nobody was dying, not yet, not except for those who Luke offered for their plan. Everything was in her control, she just needed to breathe. Inhaling and exhaling slowly, she calmed herself, allowing just this once for Luke's comfort.
Annabeth
"Tell me about the Queen." It came out of her mouth before she could even think about what she'd said. Annabeth's lips parted in surprise, just as shocked by her request as her teacher was. Annabeth didn't even have to say her name for Chiron to know exactly who she was talking about. Percy's mother. His sister. His dead sister. Chiron was House Calbourne, despite serving the Ashingtons. He had turned his back on Calbournes a long time ago, ever since Queen Medusa moved in with her son, Percy's half-brother, Luke. Chiron's face darkened.
"What do you want to know?" His tone was curt, but Annabeth pushed ahead.
"No one seems to say anything about her. Not to me, anyways."
"People don't like to talk about dead Queens," he snapped, turning away from her in a smooth motion. "But they talked when she was alive. Sally Jackson, the Kind Queen." Annabeth had never seen Chiron this way, not once. Usually he was quiet, calm, a little obsessed maybe, but never angry. Never so hurt. "She wasn't chosen by a betrothal, you know. Not like Medusa, or Drew, or even you. No, Poseidon married my sister because he loved her- and she loved him." He paused, glancing at the old book in his hand. "They hated her because we were from a low house, because we didn't have strength or power or any other silly thing those people uphold," Chiron railed on, still looking away. His shoulders heaved with each breath. "And when my sister became Queen, she threatened to change all that. She was king, compassionate, a mother who could raise Percy to be the King their country, our country needed to unite us all. A King who wouldn't be afraid of change. But that never came to be."
"They killed her," Annabeth's voice felt small. Chiron nodded.
"They killed my sister. She stood in the way, and she was removed. And-" his voice dropped "-they'll do it again, to anyone they have to. Even Percy, even Luke, and especially you." Especially me. Annabeth felt her heart beat faster.
"I thought you wanted to change things, Chiron."
"I do indeed. But these things take time." He stared her up and down, like somehow he knew she'd already taken the first step down a dark path.
Annabeth
Luke wiped blood from his sleeve, frowning at the ground.
"You can't let people corner you like that, Lukey," Percy offered some advice, clasping his little brother by the shoulder. "When they have the advantage, you've got to be careful. He had a bow and arrows, he had the advantage, you should give them space and play the defensive role."
Annabeth looked at Luke's scowl and understood immediately. "Thanks, Percy, I think he gets it." Percy frowned. He wasn't stupid. He walked away from them both, standing by Drew's side instead. Annabeth wished he wouldn't. She ignored him, turning her attention back to the younger Calbourne brother.
Training sessions with the royals were interesting, to say the least. She was so used to training only against Jason her entire life, but with the royal children in castle, the instructor had come out to make sure nobody died and match up fights. However, before all this ball business and betrothals, a few weeks ago, Annabeth had just finished recovering from fractured ribs and a collarbone. (Climbing out the window hadn't gone as well that night). Under the strict instructions of the castle healer, Will Solace, Annabeth was not to train with the others, so she had come to just watch. In her training suit. Fine, she wanted to train. Stubborn as Will was, nobody could out-stubborn Annabeth. Still, Instructor Zeus had not paired her up yet, probably following Will's orders better than the blonde could.
"He's right, you know," she said gently to Luke.
"He's always right when it comes to the arena," he said, strangely upset. "Just wait and see." Across the arena, Drew smiled at the murderous display in front of them. How she could watch her friends bleeding on the floor, Annabeth didn't know. Royals were different, she reminded herself. Their scars didn't last. They didn't remember pain. With healers waiting in the wings, violence had taken on a new meaning for them. A broken spine, a split stomach, it didn't matter. Someone would always come to fix you. They didn't know the meaning of danger or fear or pain. It was only their pride that could ever truly be hurt.
Annabeth swallowed. Sometimes when she thought like that, she realized just how much like she had begun to talk like a commoner. Like an Amazon. Like she wasn't still royal in blood, even if not by nature. You are royal. You are Princess Annabeth Chase. You enjoy this.
Percy's eyes darted between the girls, studying them like a book or a painting rather than a moving mass of blood and bone. Annabeth studied his appearance absentmindedly wondered why make a training suit white, why not blue for their other house color? Healers could heal the person, not clean the suit with some bullshit magic. Hers was a dark orange, dark enough that it could seem gold if under the right light. Beneath the white cut of this training suit, Percy's muscles tensed, ready for his turn.
And when it came, she understood what Luke meant.
Instructor Zeus pitted Percy against two others, both of whom Annabeth didn't recognize enough to know their houses or titles, but she knew enough to know they were respected well enough. One was a boy by the name of Chris Rodriguez flipped his wrist back, unsheathing two matching butterfly knives. He curled his fingers under the catch, prowling in a circle like a predator would a prey, only Annabeth saw that his knuckles were white, and she knew that she was about to witness something very important. The other young man, Ethan Nakamura, had an eyepatch covering his left eye. Annabeth knew that, despite how incredible the healers were, some injuries were built to last the rest of a lifetime, and despite herself, she felt a stab of sympathy for him. He had a dark hair and pale skin, and like Percy, his weapon of choice was a sword. But while Percy's was a longsword, Ethan wielded a claymore with a broader hilt.
It was a match in name only. Despite being outnumbered, Percy toyed with the other two. He incapacitated them one at a time, trapping Chris in a corner with a few slices of the air. He drove him behind a few boxes, successfully hindering his progress while trading blows with Ethan. He looked like he was made of stone, made of solid rock rather than flesh, and his face was hard, but Percy was stronger. His blows splintered Ethan's shield, sending spider cracks through his armor with every punch. This was just practice to him; Percy almost looked bored. He ended the match when the arena exploded into a churning inferno that even Luke stepped back from. By the time the smoke and fire cleared, both Ethan and Chris yielded. Their skin cracked in bits of burned flesh, but neither cried out. Percy left them both behind, not bothering to watch as Will Solace appeared to fix them up.
He saved Annabeth from the council, he broke the rules for her, he let her speak to him however she liked. And he was a merciless soldier, the heir to a bloody throne. Only then she realized why his suit was white, even when Luke's was a dark blue. He could afford white; he was only ever victorious. Annabeth swallowed her bile.
Percy's blood might have been red and proud, but his heart was black as burned skin.
When his eyes trailed to hers, she forced herself to look away. Instead of letting his warmth, his strange kindness confuse her, Annabeth committed the inferno to memory. Percy was more dangerous than all of them put together. She could not forget that.
"Drew, Phobos," Zeus clipped, nodding at the pair of them. Phobos deflated, almost annoyed at the prospect of fighting- and losing- to Drew, but dutifully trudged into the arena. To Annabeth's surprise, Drew didn't budge.
"No," she said boldly, planting her feet.
When Zeus whirled to face her, his voice rose about his usual whisper and it cut like a razor. "I beg your pardon, Lady Tanaka?"
She turned her black eyes on Annabeth, and her gaze was sharp as any knife.
"I challenge Annabeth Chase."
"Absolutely not," Luke rumbled. "She's been light training for only two weeks since her injury; you'll cut her apart."
In response, Drew just shrugged, letting a lazy smirk rise to her features. Her fingers danced against her leg, and Annabeth could almost feel them like claws across her golden skin.
"So what if she does?" Clarisse La Rue broke in, and Annabeth thought she saw a gleam in her eye. "The healers are here. There'll be no harm done. Besides, if she's going to train with us, she might as well do it properly, right?"
No harm done, Annabeth scoffed in her head. No harm but my blood exposed for all to see. Her heartbeat thumped in her head, quickening with every passing second. Overhead, the lights shone brightly, illuminating the ring. Annabeth was desperate to get training again, but not to shatter her pride to Drew of all people and break something real bad again, putting her out for another couple months, benching her from the Amazons, and worst of all, incensing Will, one of her favorite people in the castle. She was a temptress, but she wasn't stupid.
"I'd like some more time observing before I get in the ring, if you don't mind," she replied, trying her best to sound calm. Instead, her voice quavered. Drew caught it.
"Too scared to fight?" she goaded, lazily flicking a hand. One of her knives, a little thing like a tooth of silver, circled her wrist slowly in open threat. "Poor little Annie."
Yes, she wanted to scream. Yes, I am scared. But royals didn't admit things like that. Royals had their pride, their strength- and nothing else. "When I fight, I intend to win," she said instead, throwing her words back in her face. "I'm not a fool, Drew, and I cannot win yet."
"Training outside the ring can only get you so far, Annabeth," Clarisse purred, latching on to her lie with glee. "Don't you agree, Instructor? How can she ever expect to win if she doesn't try?"
There's a glint of curiosity in Zeus's eye. He knew Annabeth used to be real strong before her injury and he wanted to see Annabeth in the ring as well. And her only allies, Percy and Luke (Malcolm and Bianca weren't training, and Nico was taking a break), exchanged worried glances, wondering how to proceed across such shaky ground. Didn't they expect this? Didn't they think it would come to this? Or maybe this was what she had been headed for all along. An accidental death in Training, another lie for Queen Medusa to tell, a fitting death for the girl who didn't belong. It was a trap she willingly stepped into. The game will be over long before it had began. And everyone she loved would lose.
"Lady Chase is the daughter of a war-strategist heroine and you can do nothing but tease her," Percy growled, referring to Queen Athena, throwing daggered glances at both girls. They barely seemed to notice, almost laughing at his poor defense. He might have been a born fighter, but was at a loss when it came to words.
Drew was even more incensed, her sly nature taking hold. Whereas Percy was a warrior in the ring, she was a soldier of speech, and twisted his words with frightening ease. "Queen Athena's daughter should do well in the ring. If anything, I should be afraid."
"She wasn't raised in the war times, Athena didn't teach her war strategy, don't be foolish-," Luke sneered. He was much better at this sort of thing, but Annabeth couldn't let him win her battles. Not with these girls.
"I will not fight," she said again. "Challenge someone else.
When Drew smiled, her teeth white and sharp, Annabeth's old instincts rung in her head like a bell. She barely had time to drop as her knife burned through the air, cutting through the spot where her neck was seconds before.
"I challenge you," she snapped, and another blade flew at her face. More were tucked into her belt, ready to cut the blonde to ribbons.
"Drew, stop-," Luke shouted, and Percy pulled Annabeth to her feet, his eyes alive with worry. Her blood sang, coursing with adrenaline, her pulse so loud she almost missed his whispered words.
"You're faster. Keep her on the run. Don't be afraid." Another knife blazed by, this time digging into the ground at her feet. "Don't let her see you bleed."
Over his shoulder, Drew prowled like a predatory cat, a glittering storm of knives in her fist.
In that instant, Annabeth knew nothing and no one would stop her. Not even the Princes. And she could not give her the chance to win. She could not lose.
Annabeth unsheathed her trusty dagger, and throwing with the grace of many, many years of practice, it streaked through the air at her command. It hit Drew in the chest and she staggered back, colliding with the outer wall of the arena. But instead of looking angry, Drew regarded the Princess with glee.
"This will be quick, Annie," she snarled, wiping away a trickle of blood.
All around, the other students drew back, glancing between the two of them. This could have been the last time they saw her alive. No, Annabeth thought again. I cannot lose. Her focus intensified, deepening her sense of power until it was so strong she hardly noticed the walls shifting around them both. With a click, Instructor Zeus reclosed the arena, locking them in together, an Amazon and a smiling poisonous monster.
She grinned across at Annabeth, twirling the knives dangerously. Power raced through her, driven by her own strength- and by need. She would not die here.
On the other side of the wall, Luke smiled, but his face was pale, afraid. Next to him, Percy didn't move. A soldier didn't blink until the battle was won.
"Who has the advantage?" Instructor Zeus asked, as he always did. "Annabeth or Drew?"
No one raised a hand. Not even Drew's friends. Instead, they stared between them, watching carefully.
Drew's smile faded into a sneer. She was used to being favored, to being the one everyone's afraid of. And now she was angrier than ever. A flash of metal soared through the air- one of Drew's throwing knives- aiming straight from Annabeth's head, and just like that, the fight had begun.
Annabeth hit the ground, the knife grazing her ear. A drop of blood fell onto her orange suit, blending easily. She grit her teeth, scanning her surroundings. Luke might have been right, maybe Athena had not taught her formally, but Annabeth had taught herself, forgoing sleep and food, basic self-care, to forage her mother's documentations of her brilliant mind. It was engraved in her mind and in a fight like this, she saw it all so clearly. Her body was rusty, but her brain was not.
Her steel grey eyes landed on the squeaky metal light fixture swinging on the ceiling in the center between them. And like that, she knew what to do. Sweeping up the knife Drew had discarded (that was why Annabeth had never liked throwing daggers; it was inefficient), she aimed high and pursing her lips in concentration, she let go, sending it flying into the sky. Drew's mouth parted in surprise as the knife shattered the fluorescent lights, glass raining down on them. Darkness and light exploded back and forth, plunging them both into a strange battle of flickering color. Annabeth ducked behind a shield rack, quicker than Drew. But she was not completely spared, a shard slicing her left forearm. Annabeth bit her lip, ignoring the pain. Drew had taken more of the hit, a few ribbons of red flowing from her arms. Annabeth didn't have it in her to smile. A small victory was no victory. She still could die. She could not lose her head to this.
Percy's advice echoed in her head, and she kept moving, never sticking to one spot on the floor long enough for Drew to hurt her. Drew weaved through the dark, dodging Annabeth's parries as best she could. Jagged metal tore at Annabeth's arms, but the leather suit held firm. Drew was fast, but the blonde was faster, even with knives whizzing past her head occasionally. For a second, her infuriating dark braid passed through her fingertips, before she was out of reach again. But Annabeth had her on the run. She was winning.
Annabeth heard Luke through the shriek of metal and cheering classmates, roaring for her to finish Drew. The lights flashed, making her hard to spot, but for a brief moment, she felt like what it was to be one of them again. To feel strength and power absolutely, to know you could do what millions couldn't. Drew felt like this every day, and now it was her turn. I'll teach you what it's like to know fear.
A fist slammed against the small of Annabeth's back, shooting pain through the rest of her body. Her knees buckled with agony, sending her to the ground. Drew paused above the blonde, her smile surrounded by a messy curtain of dark hair.
"Like I said," she snarled. "Quick."
Annabeth's legs moved on their own, swinging out in a maneuver she'd used in the back alleys of the black market and slums a hundred times. Even on Jason once or twice. Maybe even Malcolm. Her foot connected with Drew's leg, sweeping it out from under her, and she crashed to the floor next to Annabeth. The Amazon warrior was on her in a second, despite the exploding pain in her back. Her hands, skilled and experienced, collided against the Japanese girl's face. Pain seared through her knucklebone but she kept going, wanting to see sweet red blood.
"You'll wish it was quick," Annabeth whispered, but it was strong, a deadly whisper- like Percy- as she beared down on her.
Somehow, through her bruising lips, Drew managed to laugh. The sound melted away, replaced by metallic screeching. And only then Annabeth realized that Drew had picked up one of the light fixture's glass shards. A rookie mistake- she'd forgotten to make sure she was disarmed before turning it into a fist fight. Annabeth's own dagger was scattered somewhere across the arena. Her confidence wavered, replaced by a prickly fear. It had been too long since she'd done this. She was too stupid, too inexperienced, too rusty. She was going to die here, and everyone would watch.
Drew knocked her off. She was the pinned now, looking up at the shard of metal. The spark in her heart died, driven away by fear and exhaustion. Even the healer wouldn't be able to save her after this.
A razor tip dragged across her face, drawing red, hot blood. Annabeth heard herself scream, not in pain, but in defeat. This was the end.
And then an arc of steel- his signature double-edged sword- knocked the glass off her, burning it into nothing more than a charred black pile of ash. Strong hands pulled her to her feet and then went to hair, pulling it across her face to hide the red mark that betrayed her pride. Annabeth turned in to Luke, letting him walk her from the training room. Every inch of her shook, but he kept her steady and moving. Will came her way, but Luke waved him away, blocking her face from his sight to protect her pride and give the blonde some breathing room. Room to come to terms with what just happened.
Before the door slammed behind them, Annabeth heard Drew yelling and Percy's usually calm voice yelling right back, roaring over her like a storm.
...
Once outside, Luke kept a tight grip on her arm, like he was afraid that she might be pulled away from him. His hand ghosted over her face, wiping away the blood with his sleeve.
"Take me to Chiron." Chiron was her beloved instructor and Annabeth had always had a close bond with the old man.
"Chiron's a fool," he muttered.
"Chiron knows who I am," she whispered back, grabbing on to him. As his grip tightened, so did hers.
"Chiron will know what to do."
Luke looked down on her, conflicted, but finally nodded. By the time they reached Chiron's quarters, the bleeding had stopped, but her face was still a mess.
He opened the door on the first knock, looking like his usual haphazard self. To Annabeth's surprise, he frowned at Luke.
"Prince Luke," he said, bending into a stiff, almost insulting bow. Luke didn't respond, only pushing her past Chiron into the sitting room beyond.
Chiron had a small set of rooms, made smaller by darkness and stale air. The curtains were drawn, blotting out the afternoon sun, and the floor was slippery with loose stacks of paper. A kettle simmered in the corner, on an electric piece of metal meant to replace a stove. No wonder Annabeth never saw him outside of Lessons; he appeared to have everything he needed right here.
"What's going on?" he asked, waving them to a pair of dusty chairs. Obviously he didn't entertain much. Annabeth took a seat, but Luke refused, still standing.
She drew aside her curtain of hair, revealing the shining red of her cheek. "Drew got carried away."
Chiron shifted, uncomfortable on his own two feet. But it was not her making him squirm; it was Luke.
The two glared at each other, at odds over something she didn't understand. Finally, he turned his gaze back on her. "I'm not a healer, Annabeth. The best I can do is clean you up."
"I told you," said Luke. "He can't do anything."
Chiron's lip curled into a snarl. "Find Kayla Knowles," he snapped, his jaw tightening as he waited for Luke to move. Annabeth had never seen Luke this angry, not even with Percy. But then, it was not anger spilling out from Luke or Chiron- it was hate. They absolutely despised each other.
"Do it, my Prince." The title sounded like a curse coming from Chiron's lips.
Luke finally conceded and slipped out the door.
"What's that all about?" she whispered, gesturing between Chiron and the door.
"Not now," he said, and tossed her a white cloth to clean herself with. It stained a dark red as her blood ruined the fabric.
"Who's Kayla Knowles?" The castle healer was Will Solace and she had never heard of this mysterious Kayla.
Again, Chiron hesitated. "A healer. She'll take care of you." He sighed. "And she's a friend. A discreet friend."
Annabeth didn't know Chiron had friends beyond herself and his books, but she didn't question him.
When Luke slipped back into the room a few moments later, she had managed to clean her face properly, though it still felt sticky and swollen. She'd have a few bruises to hide tomorrow, and she didn't even want to know what her back looked like now. Gingerly, Annabeth touched the growing lump where Drew punched her.
"Kayla's not…" Luke paused, mulling over the words. "She's not who I would have chosen for this."
Before she could ask, the door opened, revealing the woman who she assumed was Kayla. She entered silently, barely raising her eyes. She looked to be about the age of any other castle healer, about a decade older than the eldest of the royal children, maybe twenty five years younger than Chiron, but her shoulders drooped in a way that told Annabeth her life had felt far longer than his.
"Nice to meet you, Lady Knowles." Her voice was calm, like she was asking about the weather. But Kayla didn't respond. Instead, she dropped to her knees in front of Annabeth's chair and took her face in her rough hands. Her touch was cool, like water on a sunburn, and her fingers trailed over the gash on her cheek with surprising gentleness. She worked diligently, healing over the other bruises on her face. Before she could mention her back, Kayla slipped a hand down to the injury, and something like soothing ice bled through the pain. It was all over in a few moments, and the blonde felt like she did when she first came here. Better, in fact. Her old aches and bruises were completely gone.
"Thank you," Annabeth said, but again, she got no response.
"Thank you, Kayla," Chiron breathed, and her eyes darted to his in a flash of blue color. Her head bowed slightly, in the tiniest nod. He reached forward as he helped her to her feet. The two of them moved like partners in a dance, listening to music no one else could hear.
Luke's voice shattered their silence. "That will be all, Knowles."
Kayla's quiet calm melted into barely concealed anger as she spun out of Chiron's grip, scrambling for the door like a wounded animal. The door shut behind her with a slam, shaking the framed maps in their glass prisons. Even Chiron's hands shook, trembling long after she was gone, like he could still feel her.
"Chiron?"
"The longer you're gone, the more people will start to talk," he muttered, gesturing for them to leave.
"I agree." Luke moved to the door, ready to open it and shove Annabeth back out.
"Are you sure no one saw?" Annabeth asked, thinking of Kayla. It was obvious that Kayla wasn't well known for a reason, though she didn't know yet what it was. Her hand moved to her cheek, now smooth and clean.
Luke paused, thinking. "No one who would say anything."
"Secrets don't stay secrets here," Chiron muttered. His voice quivered with rare anger. "You know that, Your Highness."
Annabeth was reminded of an earlier conversation with her beloved teacher. His anger was so familiar to how it had been when he had spoke long ago. He had been talking about the Amazons, ironically enough. She hadn't joined up yet, not back then, but Annabeth knew that Chiron still wanted change, the same as her. Chiron had echoed Jason's opinion, saying the Amazons scared people, that Annabeth could be the slow change people needed.
"You should know the difference between secrets," Luke snapped, "and lies.'
His hand closed around Annabeth's wrist, pulling her back out into the hall before she could bother to ask what was going on. They didn't make it far before a familiar figure stopped them.
"Trouble, dear?"
Queen Medusa, a vision in silk, addressed Luke. Strangely, she was alone, with no guards to protect her. Her eyes lingered on his hand still in hers. For once, Annabeth didn't feel her try to read her mind with that cold look. She was probably scrutinizing Luke instead, not her.
"Nothing I can't handle," Luke said, tightening his grip on Annabeth like she was some kind of anchor.
Medusa raised an eyebrow, not believing a word he said, but she didn't question him. Annabeth seriously doubted she really questioned anyone; she knew all the answers.
"Best hurry up, Lady Annabeth, or you'll be late for luncheon," she purred, finally turning her ghostly eyes on the blonde. And then it was her turn to hold on to Luke. "And take a little more care in your Training sessions, little Annie. Blood is just so hard to clean up."
"You would know," Annabeth snapped, remembering the people from town. "Because no matter how hard you try to hide it, I see it all over your hands."
Her eyes widened, surprised by her outburst. Annabeth didn't think anyone had ever spoken to her that way, and it made her feel like a conqueror. But it didn't last long.
Suddenly her body twitched backward, thrown into the passage wall with a resounding smack. Medusa sure knew how to place a blow. She made Annabeth dance like a puppet on violent strings. Every bone rattled and her neck cracked, slamming her head back until she saw icy blue stars.
No, not stars. Eyes. Her eyes.
"Mother!" Luke shouted, but his voice sounded far away. "Mother, stop!"
A hand closed around Annabeth's throat, holding her in place as control of her own body ebbed away. Her breath was sweet on her face, too sweet to stand.
"You will not speak to me like that again," Medusa said, extremely angry. Her grip tightened, and Annabeth couldn't even agree with her if she wanted to.
Why doesn't she just kill me? Annabeth wondered as she gasped for breath. If she was such a burden, such a problem, why didn't she just kill her?
"That's enough!" Luke roared, the heat of his anger pulsing through the passage. Even through the hazy darkness eating at Annabeth's vision, she saw him pull his mother off her with surprising strength and boldness.
Annabeth slumped against the wall. Medusa almost stumbled herself, reeling with shock. Now her glare turned on Luke, on her own son standing against her.
"Return to your schedule, Annabeth." He seethed, not breaking eye contact with his mother. Annabeth had no doubt that she was about to start screaming at him, scolding him for protecting her. "Go!"
Heat crackled all around, radiating off his skin, and for a moment Annabeth was reminded of Percy's guarded temper. It seemed Luke hid a fire as well, an even stronger one, and she didn't want to be around when it exploded.
As she scrambled away, trying to put as much distance as she could between herself and the Queen, she couldn't help but look back at them. They stared at each other, two pieces squaring off in a game she didn't understand.
Annabeth
Back in her room, the maids waited silently, another gilded dress laid across their arms. Annabeth wrung her hands as her handmaidens fussed over her appearance. While one slipped her into the spectacle of silk and amber gemstones, the others fixed her hair and makeup. As usual, they didn't say a word, even though Annabeth looked frantic and harried after such a morning. The blonde fell silent as they dressed her in silver and orange, quietly staring at the asshole in the mirror. Knowing what she knew, knowing what was going to happen at the ball, she wasn't sure she recognized herself anymore.
…
Annabeth pressed her hand into Luke's. Her palms were sweating and she prayed he couldn't feel it. Maybe he was just holding on to be nice. She was sure she was sticky by now from the perspiration.
"Breathe," his teeth grazed her ear and Annabeth stood up stiff. She nodded, exhaling slowly.
"You're right." It sounded like she was trying to assure herself instead of him. "Breathe," she repeated, inhaling slowly and releasing the air once more.
"This will be easy," he promised her, holding her gaze. "You just have to stay out of the commotion. That's all." She nodded again.
"What if it fails?" she voiced her concern, peering up at him helplessly.
"It won't."
"You can't be sure of that," she pointed out.
His expression was grim, his mouth set in a flat line. "Then we die traitors."
…
Next to them, Phoebe, the servant, brushed up against Annabeth, signaling the beginning of this murder. Annabeth shut her eyes, if only for a moment. It was unrealistic and childish, but perhaps if she didn't see it happen, it wouldn't be true. She thought of Piper and Drew, Silena too. They were going to lose a dad. Fuck. Annabeth squeezed Luke's hand tightly, fairly positive she was hurting him, but she was unable to stop. These nerves inside her, where were they supposed to go but rot inside of her? She couldn't handle this, she couldn't carry this guilt. Deep down, she'd always been a good little girl, doing as Athena said, following Malcolm's example. This hurt her worse than it should have.
"Three," Luke whispered, and suddenly it felt all so real. Wait. "Two." Wait! She wanted to wave her hands in front of the armed Amazons, hidden in the ceiling, wave a white flag of surrender and warn them not to shoot. She wanted to call it off, but it was too late, because they had reached the end already. "One."
As her world exploded around her, Annabeth exhaled one more time, knowing nothing would ever be the same.
…
There was a ringing in her ears. Panic seized the Princess. Screams were drowning in her fuzzy hearing and blurry vision. Part of the ballroom was set on fire. A bomb? It was supposed to be three clean bullets, not a bomb. Anger swirled inside of her. She had known, she knew it was a fucking bad idea, and now gods knew how many were dead. Fuck. Shit. As she scanned her surroundings, she realized that Luke wasn't by her side anymore. Percy was across the room somewhere, his eyes lit up and livid as he barked out orders. He was probably trying to capture the Amazons. Annabeth wasn't so sure if she wanted him to or not anymore. There were two Generals of two different squads there that night, not just Reyna. Though Annabeth wasn't familiar with the other one. Perhaps Percy would catch them both.
Annabeth fought the temptation to lie there on the ground, the explosion claiming her life along with many others. She sat up, cradling her hand with the other and gazing at it in astonishment. Even in the dark (the Amazons must have cut the power), she could barely make out the slick, red shine on her smooth skin. It wasn't her own blood, that much she was sure of. And then she saw it.
She scooted back hastily, horror-stricken. The hem of her gown was dark with blood. Around her, bodies had fallen, and those who were still alive, had cuts and bruises. There was lots of shouting, but she could only focus on one thing. On whose blood she had soaked up in the explosion.
There at her feet was none other than the Crown Princess herself, daughter of House Pevanshire, her face paler than usual, her dark eyes wide open and terrified, but… empty. Annabeth dry heaved, involuntary tears streaming down her face. It was supposed to be three people! Three! And this bomb, it had claimed a sister, a future wife, a kind Queen, the sort of Queen Annabeth knew the country needed if the monarchy wasn't killed by the Amazons first.
What will Nico do? Annabeth sobbed then, covering her mouth with the other hand, praying this was all some twisted nightmare. But no matter how many times she blinked, she could not wake up from this. It was reality. It was real and Bianca di Angelo Pevanshire was dead. Selfishly, perhaps, she felt relief that Malcolm was still there. That it wasn't her brother instead. Only that made her cry harder, worsening her growing headache. She was sure she had hit her head too hard. Because Malcolm was screaming too, Percy and him working efficiently together to get to the bottom of this crime.
She hoped he'd kill her. She hoped she'd die for her crimes. She hoped Luke would make it out alive and Percy wouldn't miss her, because this was too much. But she knew she was only lying to herself, because all of a sudden, there he was.
"Annabeth?!" it was a cry of madness. His sea-green eyes were wide with panic. She probably didn't look too great, bleeding all over the place. In a split second, he was by her side. Malcolm looked like an angel from here, and she could practically see his white, feathered wings as he charged out of the ballroom, guards surging after him for assistance. He would serve mercy, because he knew what to do. He wasn't stupid like her. He was good. It helped steady Annabeth's breathing.
"Annabeth?" Percy was hovering over her, his shadow blocking out Malcolm and the rest of the cries and the world. He pressed on her wound and she couldn't even cry out, she was so fucking exhausted…
"It's not my blood," she tried to say.
"Some of it is," said Percy, and though he was doing his best to stem the bleeding, his breathing was ragged, almost as if he was worried or something. Foolish Prince. Why would he even want to save her? She was a traitor, and she was stupid. "I need you to breathe, Annabeth," he pleaded and part of her really didn't want to go. She wanted to sit there and listen to him talk some more, but the other part was so done with all this shit. "Stay with me, Princess. I just need to get you to Will."
"Are you worried Malcolm will kill you if I die?" She squinted at him, her eyelids heavy. He paled.
"No, Annabeth. And you're not going to die."
"I'm bleeding a lot," she pointed out.
"I don't care. You're not going to die."
He was wrapping something around her, but she could barely register his touch at this point. A soldier, born and bred. He knew how to treat wounds, of course he did.
"Is there anything you can't do?" she inquired dazedly.
He didn't look at her, focused on the task at hand. "Of course."
"Like what?" she pressed, hoping his distraction would rip the image of Bianca's corpse out of her mind. Though she knew nothing ever would. In some ways, she responsible for taking Nico's sister from the world.
"Stuff," he wasn't really listening to her, still trying to save her. Idiot. Just let me die.
"What stuff?"
"Annabeth, I'm trying to save you here. Please not now," his hands were shaking. Why were his hands shaking?
"Don't," she shook her head, leaning her head back against the wall.
"Don't save you?" his tone was incredulous, and partly shocked, she thought. She liked shocking him. If she had any more strength, she might have smiled.
"Bingo." She licked her chapped lips. "Winner winner, chicken dinner."
He stared at her. "What the hell, Annabeth?" She was ninety percent sure that the blood loss was making her slightly delirious.
"Go save the day," she tried to push him away, but ended up just splaying her hand over his chest lazily instead. She didn't have the strength to push him, not right now. "Be everyone's favorite hero, Prince." And this time, she did grin. She didn't feel like herself. "Big, strong Perseus to the rescue. That'll be one hell of a story." She coughed. "Bianca's dead. It should've been me. Maybe they made a mistake. Maybe they meant to shoot me instead." Her grin only widened and Percy looked fucking terrified. Maybe she was going crazy.
"Annabeth?" his voice sounded small, like it was fading away. "Annabeth, stay with me. Don't go to sleep, no, Princess you've got to try and stay awake…"
Slipping into the darkness and surrendering, Annabeth choked over her tears as it all went black, her head still pounding like a machine gun.
Annabeth
"Annabeth, Annabeth wake up."
Her eyes fluttered open and immediately, it felt like she was underwater, the sound fuzzy and muffled, her sight blurry. She blinked a couple times, her elbow freezing cold. Glancing down, she noticed an ice pack pressed against the joint. And then it all came back to her.
The blackout. The screams. The blood, the blood seeping into her. And Bianca, dead amongst many others. It was supposed to be only three dead, three chosen beforehand, and instead many more were injured and many more were dead. Some were children. The pain of the memories burned deeper than the pain in her body. Annabeth exhaled softly, her eyes sliding shut again.
"Annabeth, you've got to wake up. They caught them."
She opened her eyes, trying to process the words.
"They caught Reyna and Thalia."
At that, she shot up in the bed immediately. She was instantly hit by a wave of nausea and dizziness.
"Careful," two hands reached out to stabilize her, allowing her to lean against them for support. She glanced up at two familiar blue eyes and tried to calm her heartbeat. "You passed out," Luke explained briefly.
"Where are they?" Annabeth inquired, ignoring the pain shooting up her arm and the pounding in her head.
"The cells," Luke whispered. "Percy's with them."
Annabeth grit her teeth, angry for letting this happen. "Why the fuck did a bomb go off? Why didn't Reyna tell us?"
Luke couldn't offer any explanation. "Come on," he said instead, "let's go see them. Maybe we can convince Percy to spare them." Annabeth sat up eagerly, allowing him to steady her and burden her weight. Taking her hand, he led her towards the cells below the castle. Annabeth followed obediently, her mind whirring a million times a second. This… this was bad.
…
In the cellar, Percy stood in the center, flanked by a few guards. Malcolm was there too, King Poseidon and King Frederick as well. Queen Athena wasn't here yet, but Queen Aphrodite stood by the side. Annabeth's gaze immediately darted to the prisoners behind the bars. Thalia appeared relatively unscathed, but she had a couple scrapes and bruises. There was a third girl, as well. One with dark hair and eyes, similar to Reyna's, though she looked a little older. Annabeth could only assume they were related. Another girl, one Annabeth had also never seen, was sitting on the ground, clutching her leg. It had a bullet in it and her wrist dangled awkwardly, dislocated. Somehow, she still seemed familiar. Perhaps it was the gold band around her head, like a hunter. Zoë Nightshade, Annabeth realized. She had indeed heard of her. But that wasn't the biggest of her worries. Annabeth swallowed and glanced at the General. Reyna had a large gash down her arm and it was bleeding a lot, enough that Annabeth worried. But that didn't stop her from sneering at them. She even spit through the bars, a mix of blood and saliva that landed at Drew's feet.
"Take her tongue for that," Drew snarled.
Reyna held her gaze, barely blinking at the outburst. If this was her end, she was certainly going to go with her head high. "A little violent for a Princess."
Before Drew could lose her temper, Percy raised his hand, slowly, pointing. "You."
With a horrific lurch, Annabeth realized he was pointing at Thalia. A muscle twitched in Thalia's cheek, but she kept her eyes on the floor. "You." He didn't look at the blonde, but:
"Annabeth, explain this." Annabeth's mouth fell open in surprise. Her first thought, jolting as it was, how did he know? But before she could blurt out all her secrets, she realized he probably didn't. So why was he questioning her?
"Excuse me?" she choked, looking at him in surprise.
"She's your friend. Explain this."
Annabeth was bewildered. "She's not my friend." She was, but how could Percy possibly know that? He was good, she knew, but not that good.
"Well. Her brother's your friend, so I can only assume she is as well."
"Her brother?"
Percy turned to look at her finally, but she didn't recognize him, not like this. Not with this cold look in his eyes that was so unfamiliar, so painful. "Jason Grace."
Annabeth opened her mouth, hoping some fantastic lie would fall out, but nothing came. And then she realized, for once, she didn't even have anything to lie about. Thalia was her best friend's sister? No wonder she had seemed so familiar! The eyes, the fucking, lightning blue eyes!
"What?!" she hissed, her grey eyes wide. But before she could protest that she didn't know they were siblings- something that Percy had seemed to realize by her reaction- Drew interrupted.
Drew gasped and turned her wrath on the blonde. "You brought her here!" she screeched, jumping at her. "You did this?!"
"I did n-nothing," she stammered, feeling all the eyes in the room on her. Malcolm didn't look at her. He knew where her alliance stood and he would not display her guilt for all to see.
Luke took a step toward the cell, looking at their friends like it was the first time he had ever seen them. He gestured to their plain, grey uniforms. "They seem to be only servants."
"I'd say the same, except we found them trying to escape through a drainpipe," Percy snapped. "Took us a while to drag them out."
"Is this all of them?" King Frederick said, peering through the cell bars.
Percy shook his head. "There were more ahead, but they got the river. How many, I don't know."
"Well, let's find out," King Poseidon said, his eyebrows raised. "Call for the Inquisitor. And in the meantime…" he faced the other King. Beneath his beard, he grinned a little and nodded.
Annabeth didn't have to ask to know what they were thinking about. Torture.
The four prisoners stood strong, not even flinching. Luke's jaw worked furiously as he tried to think a way out of this, but he knew there wasn't one. If anything, this might have been more than they could have hoped for. If the Amazons managed to lie. But how could Annabeth ask them to? How could they watch them scream while they stood tall?
Thalia seemed to have an answer for her. Even in this awful place, her blue eyes managed to shine. I will lie for you. Annabeth briefly wondered if she knew Jason was her bodyguard all along. If Jason had known his sister was part of the Amazons. If they knew each other were alive.
"Percy, I leave the honor to you," the King said, resting a hand on his son's shoulder. Annabeth could only stare, pleading with wide eyes, praying Percy would not do as his father asked.
He glanced at her once, like somehow that counted as an apology. Then he turned to a guard.
"Yew."
What that meant, Annabeth had no idea, but Drew giggled. "Good choice."
"You don't need to see this," Luke muttered, trying to pull her away. But she couldn't leave Thalia. Not now. She angrily shrugged him off, her eyes still on her best friend's sister.
"Let her stay," Drew crowed, taking pleasure in the blonde's discomfort. "This will teach her to treat Amazons as friends." She turned back to the cell, gesturing for a guard to open the bars. With one white finger, she pointed. "Start with her. She needs to be broken."
The guard nodded and seized Reyna by the wrist, pulling her out of the cell. The bars slid back into place behind her, trapping the rest in. Thalia and then other girl rushed to the bars, both of them the picture of fear.
The guard forced Reyna to her knees, waiting for her next order. "Sir?" Percy and Malcolm traded glances, but Malcolm shook his head, walking out of the room. Annabeth could only assume he was going to see what other damage was down in the ballroom. Probably count the dead, see how many were injured. And inspect the bomb, of course. Just because he knew his sister was a traitor did not mean he would become one, Annabeth knew. Malcolm was too strong.
Pery moved to stand over Reyna, breathing heavily. He hesitated before speaking, but his voice was strong. "How many more of you are there?" Reyna's jaw locked in place, her teeth together. She would die before she talked.
"Start with the arm."
The guard was not gentle, digging their fingers into the wound and pulling. The blood came faster now and Annabeth's lips parted, horrified. Reyna yelped in pain but still said nothing. It took everything Annabeth had not to strike the guard.
"And you call us the savages," the other girl spit, forehead against the bars.
Slowly, the guard peeled away Reyna's blood-soaked sleeve and set pale, cruel hands to her skin. Reyna screamed at the touch.
"Where are the others?" Percy questioned, kneeling to look her in the eyes. For a moment she fell quiet, drawing a ragged breath. He leaned in, patiently waiting for her to break.
Instead, Reyna snapped forward, head butting him with all her strength. "We are everywhere." She laughed, but screamed again as the guard resumed her torture.
Percy recovered neatly, one hand to his now broken nose. Another person might have struck back, but he didn't.
"That's a lot of blood," she whispered, unable to look back. Luke only nodded, his eyes grave and full of sorrow.
Behind them, the guard continued to work, moving up Reyna's arm. Reyna's breath whistled through gritted teeth. Still she said nothing. Annabeth's hard raced as the seconds ticked by, wondering when the Queen would return, wondering if this play would truly be over soon.
Finally, Percy jumped to his feet. "Enough."
Will Solace dropped down next to Reyna. He was expressionless, but Annabeth suspected he pitied Reyna. Will had always had a big heart. She all but collapsed, staring blankly at her arm, now jagged with knives of frozen blood. He healed her quickly, hands moving in a practiced fashion.
Reyna chuckled darkly as the warmth returned to her arm "All to do it again, huh?"
Percy folded his arms behind his back. He shared a glance with his father, who nodded. "Indeed," Percy sighed. But he didn't get a chance to continue.
"WHERE IS SHE?" a terrible voice screamed, echoing down the stairs to us below.
Aphrodite whirled at the noise, rushing to the bottom of the stairs. "I'm here!" she shouted back.
When King Tristan stepped down the embrace his wife, Annabeth had to dig her nails into her palm to keep from reacting. There he stood, alive and breathing and terribly angry. On the floor, Reyna cursed to herself. He only lingered for a moment and sidestepped Aphrodite, a terrifying fury in his eyes. His armored suit was mangled at the shoulder, pulverized by a bullet. But the skin beneath was unbroken. Healed. He prowled toward the cell, hands flexing.
"King Tristan, not yet-," growled Percy, grabbing for him, but Tristan shoved the Prince off. Despite Percy's strength and size, he stumbled backwards. Drew ran at her father, pulling his hand.
"No, we need them to talk!" With one shrug of his arm he broke her grip- not even she could stop him
Not even the guards could stop him as he strode forward, moving quickly with practiced motions. The Reyna-like girl and Thalia scrambled, jumping back against the stone walls, but Tristan was a predator, and predators attacked the weak. With her leg shot and wrist dislocated, the unnamed girl on the floor didn't stand a chance.
"You will not threaten my wife again," Tristan roared, spearing right through her chest. She gasped, choking in her own blood, dying. And Tristan actually smiled.
When he turned on Thalia, murder in his heart, Annabeth snapped.
Fire burned under her skin. When her arm closed around Tristan's muscled neck, she squeezed hard. He seized under her touch and opened his mouth wide, but nothing came out. And then he dropped to the concrete floor, his body motionless.
"Daddy!" Drew scrambled to his side, reaching for his face. He didn't move. Aphrodite dropped to his side as well, caressing his face. Drew rounded on Annabeth in a blaze of anger. "How dare you-!"
"He'll be fine." She didn't choke enough to do any real damage. Just put him to sleep for a little bit. "Like you said, we need them to talk. They can't do that if they're dead."
The others stared at her with a strange mix of emotions, their eyes wide- and afraid. Percy, the boy she kissed, the soldier, the brute, couldn't hold her gaze at all. She recognized the expression in his face: shame. But because he hurt Reyna, or because he couldn't make her talk, she didn't know. At least Luke had the good sense to look sad, his stare resting on the girl's still bleeding body.
"The Inquisitor can attend to the prisoners later," he said, addressing his father and Annabeth's. "But the people upstairs want to see their Kings and know they are safe. So many have died. You should comfort them, Father, and you, King Frederick. And you as well, Percy, alongside Malcolm and Nico."
He was playing for time. Brilliant Luke was trying to buy them a chance.
Even though it made her skin crawl, Annabeth reached out to touch Percy's shoulder. He kissed her once. He might have still listened when she spoke. "He's right, Percy. This can wait."
Still on the floor, Drew bared her teeth. "The court will want answers, not embraces! Your Majesty, rip the truth from them-"
But even Poseidon saw the wisdom of Luke's words. "They will keep," he echoed.
"And tomorrow the truth will be known," Frederick agreed, making Annabeth's mouth taste bitter.
Annabeth's grip tightened on Percy's arm, feeling the tense muscles beneath. He relaxed into her touch, looking like a great weight had fallen off him. The guards jumped to attention and pulled Reyna back into the broken cell. Her eyes stayed on Annabeth's, wondering what the hell she had in mind. The blonde wished she knew herself.
Drew half dragged Tristan out with Aphrodite's help, letting the guards take care of restoring the cell. "You are weak, my Prince," she hissed into Percy's ear. And with that, she left.
A/N: Eek, Annabeth's going to be in some deep shit. Dead Girl Walking, am I right? (Pls tell me someone understood that reference). Oh, and now Percy's officially on her shit list. Plus Bianca's dead. Fun. I guess we'll just have to see Nico's reaction next chapter. Until next time~
Fangirl xx
[PSA: I wanted to talk to you guys about something. After reading the reviews, I wanted to address the similarity to Red Queen. If you've read Red Queen, here's what I'm going to tell you. Next chapter will finish up the first Red Queen book, and so far, everything's been accurate to the book. In fact, in this chapter, I even transformed a couple of Aveyard's passages just to get through this quickly so I could begin to work on the part where my own plot comes in. Next chapter will be no different (I think y'all know what's coming… *cough* Maven *cough*).
After next chapter, the plot's going to deviate into my own. I don't want to rewrite the entire Red Queen series. I just wanted the first book and part of King's Cage to launch this story. I know that means that this chapter was and the next chapter will be frustrating for some of you, considering it's almost a replica of Red Queen, but please have a little faith and hang in there. I just needed this base in order to transition into my own plot.]
basicwhitechick: Thank you!
Vanilla: As tempted as I am to end this as wickedly as Red Queen, I'm not really sure yet? I really want to deviate from the main Red Queen plot, but I just love the original so much, so I'm not sure what I'm keeping and what I'm changing. So far, it's pretty standard to the series with a couple bells and whistles, but I hope to change it soon, as noted in my PSA. I guess we'll see. :)
Rm7201: Yes, it's inspired by Red Queen :) I think I wrote that in the first chapter (after the prologue), but I don't remember now? Thank you for reading!
loudlilylaugher11: No, it's not hate! I get it. You know I love some good constructive criticism :) In fact, I kinda agree with you… So here's the thing. Red Queen has 4 books. I want to keep some aspects of the original series, because it's SO good. Like Maven? Fuck yeah, I love Maven. Cal? Ehhhh, would love to change him up a bit to suit Percy better. Same with Mare. I feel like the first book was PERFECT from Red Queen and most of King's Cage as well (Maven, duh), so I really want to keep some of that, but I want to change the rest and here's the issue: my frickin' plot won't work with Victoria Aveyard's. I've got another separate plot, and I'm struggling to transition from Victoria's work into my own. I feel like I'm going to have to write out most of the first book (which sucks ass, because I really want to deviate from Aveyard soon) in order to reach my own plot. To sum it up this unorganized response, I just want to say thank you. I actually had wrote this chapter before reading your review, so I'm sorry it still doesn't take your criticism into account. :/ And I also want to say I know, that it bugs me too, that I want to change a lot more, but I suck at this, and I might have to skip a couple updates to figure it out. My mortal brain is too small for this ish. But now that I'm not the only one bothered by this, I might have more of an incentive to fix everything. Thank you. (Edit: After writing this review, I think I might have figured something out, as stated my PSA… All I can say is hang in there. Let me get through the first Red Queen book, and then we'll have some deviation. I should be through with the first book after the next chapter btw.)
Reader: I'm fucking dying. I just read your review as I was typing up the closing A/N for this chapter and I feel so evil haha. You're over there like "I love Malcolm and Bianca together," and I'm just over here murdering love in cold blood. That's some timing right there. I actually wrote this chapter before your review came in, but I still thought it was funny. But yes, I loved Bianca x Malcolm as well. Key word: loved. ;) Dude, same! I've always been soft for awesome sibling dynamics. Imagine if Malcolm dies though haha. That would be… interesting lol. I agree, Percy has more to him than he's allowed to show. Luke's definitely a bit different than his brother, but he's got his own charm. In fact, the character from Red Queen that he's based off of is my absolute favorite, even to this day, even over the main characters. I think this chapter explained a bit more about Medusa vs Sally with Percy, but yes. And yes, she's definitely not happy Percy's the future king. Well, I mean, now you know Sally's the dead Queen so, I won't address the Amazon thing. But I do think she wouldn't be the type to seek revenge.
Joy72: Thank you for reading!
Guest: Your wish is my command; voila, an update! :)