Hey, gang! Whew, it was rough getting this together over the past few days, but I really wanted to update this week before my trip tomorrow. I do like this chapter, though. It's a heck of a lot more eventful than the last one.

Thanks bunches for the great response so far! For a while I was worried that the Leyna following was kind of dying, but I'm glad to see there are still a few serious fans. I can't get enough of this ship, personally.

Enjoy!

Then it comes crawling up after / Begs me to ask her what I already know

This can't be happening…

Reyna closed her eyes and took a slow breath, grinding her teeth in frustration. She'd counted the votes, and she'd recounted them, and she'd recounted them again and again. But each time yielded the exact same result. And why wouldn't they? Counting wasn't a skill. She couldn't have possibly messed up. But that certainly wasn't to say that, for perhaps the first time ever, she really wished she had.

The past two weeks running Camp Jupiter by herself had been relatively stress-free. Sure, there was a little more planning and organizing to do with the Feast of Fortuna coming up, but many of the Cohort centurions had stepped up to assist her wherever needed (possibly to gain her favor in the upcoming ballot, she had an inkling, but regardless she was thankful for the extra hands). Preparations had run smoothly and the feast itself had gone off without a hitch. It had been exactly the relaxing, fun sort of atmosphere the camp needed to lift their spirits after Jason's departure, and it was great to see everyone smiling and laughing together. Throughout the celebration, legionnaires had submitted their votes for the praetor promotion to the council, and now, many hours after the festivities had ended, Reyna was tasked with tallying the results. Sure, she could have had someone else do it. But she wanted to be the first to know the outcome. And besides, the night had grown dark and late by the time she finished (especially considering her insistence on a total of three recounts), and undoubtedly most of the rest of the legion had long since turned in for the night. It wouldn't be considerate of her to ask this dedication of anyone but herself.

Dropping the last ballot in the largest pile on her desk, Reyna sat back in her seat and rubbed her tired eyes. Part of her wondered if maybe she'd fallen asleep while counting and the outcome she was staring at was in fact nothing but a bad dream, a result of something strange she'd eaten at the feast maybe. That alternative was so momentarily enticing that she actually pinched herself on the hand as a test to see if she was truly awake, which of course only served to assure her that she was.

She opened her eyes and let them rest on the second largest pile of small, gold markers in front of her, the collection of coins all bearing the number nine. They'd used a number system in the ballot, with each number one through ten indicating one of the centurions of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata. The numbered coin each person submitted stood for their vote for the praetor promotion. Reyna had thought the process straightforward and simple, but now for some reason the pile of coins branded with the number nine—Frank's number—seemed to glare at her in resentment, like it was her fault the stack wasn't higher. She knew that wasn't true—she had no control over the vote, after all. It had been completely fair. But when she looked at the largest pile of coins on her desk, all of which bore the number one, it too seemed to have taken on a human sort of countenance and was staring at her smugly, as if it had known all along that this would be the outcome. Just looking at those numbers made her stomach turn in disappointment and dread, because it meant that the worst-case scenario was about to become a reality.

Octavian had won the vote. He was her new fellow praetor.

Though she wouldn't put it past him, Reyna didn't suspect any foul play on the augur's part. The total number of votes in the ballot was completely rational. He must have been able to garner enough supporters, fair and square. Not that that wholly surprised her, if she was honest. Octavian had a gift with words the like of which she'd never seen anywhere else. He always claimed, of course, to have the legion's best interests at heart. But Reyna, who really did have the legion's best interests at heart, knew the difference between selfless and selfish crusades for power. She reminded herself that Octavian's appointment to praetor would, at most, place him on an equal plane with her—no longer under her authority, but neither would he be above it. Neither could do anything crucial without first consulting the other. That was how joint leadership worked, after all. For years, Reyna and Jason had mastered the sort of teamwork necessary to oversee Camp Jupiter, the city of New Rome included, and she knew the sort of push and pull that were necessary for a working, functional partnership. What worried her was how that would change with Octavian in the other high seat. Jason and Octavian were… in a word, different. Very different. It would definitely be rocky at first, Reyna knew, given her already-strained relationship with the augur. But she was more than capable of putting her personal feelings aside for the good of her camp. It was one of the traits she prided herself on, in fact.

With a yawn, Reyna jotted the final tally down on a sheet of paper and stood, stretching her stiff arms and pushing back her shoulders. She would make the official announcement in the morning, as she was expected to, but the time for worrying over it was done. What she needed now were just a few hours of peaceful rest, the last she could take while the Twelfth Legion was still fully safe in her hands.

-0-0-0-

Knock, knock.

Two short raps on the wooden door of Reyna's office gave away the visitor immediately. She took a steadying breath and cracked her neck, stifling a yawn. A mere three hours of sleep or not, she would not allow herself to appear tired and weak. Not today of all days.

"Come in," she said casually, effortless regality in her voice from its many years of practiced solidity. She straightened her back as the door opened to reveal her expected guest, and incidentally her soon-to-be-partner. "I assume you can guess why I've called you here this morning," she went on simply.

Judging by Octavian's smile, he had no doubts on the subject of the meeting. Blue eyes glittering with shadowy sparks, he said, "Would I be correct in predicting that it has something to do with last night's ballot?"

"I tallied the lots myself," Reyna explained, "and let me be the first to wish you congratulations. You received the most votes, so the promotion is yours, if you'll have it."

Octavian's smirk widened a hint and he clasped his hands behind his back, his chin lifting as though he enjoyed looking down at Reyna. She fought the urge to stand in an effort to decrease their height margin. "Well, that's certainly a pleasant surprise," he responded in a tone that indicated a distinct lack of said surprise. "Thank you, Reyna. I would be honored to serve alongside you."

Reyna nodded, her face an expressionless mask. "Good. The official announcement and inauguration will be made at eleven this morning at the Senate Hall. Make sure you're on time, and try not to spread the word before then. I don't want any unnecessary distractions."

"Of course," Octavian agreed with a light inclination of his head. He placed a hand on the doorknob and Reyna waved her hand, signaling his dismissal, and to her slight surprise he left her office without another word.

Well, that could've gone worse… she thought with a slight frown, studying the oaken door as though expecting it to open again any second. But she had to remind herself that this was only the beginning. After the inauguration, that was when the real challenge would begin.

-0-0-0-

Reyna studied Octavian out of the corner of her eye during the ceremony a few hours later, watching for any hint of some hidden agenda he might be concealing. But to her slight frustration, he was perfectly still and solid throughout the entire proceeding. Not even the smallest smirk she'd come to equate with his facial features turned up his lips.

In fact, she had to admit that he cut a rather impressive figure, which she wasn't entirely sure she'd thought possible before. He was twenty-three years old and just over seventy-four inches in height, barely a fraction of an inch taller than Jason. Thin and lanky but possessing perfect posture, his back straight and his shoulders stiff. His straw-colored hair was touched with beige lowlights and cut in an intentionally uneven fashion, so it brushed his forehead and his ears without getting in his way. He no longer dressed in oversized clothing like he used to, which had the odd effect of making him look somehow older and healthier. Today he wore a white Oxford shirt tucked neatly into black jeans, and had foregone a traditional armored breastplate in favor of polished golden bracers and greaves. A golden gladius was belted on one side of his waist, a sheathed dagger to the other—both more for show than because they were needed. If Reyna was just meeting him, she would think him the picture of Roman authority, and when he knelt to allow her to fasten the violet praetor's cloak around his shoulders, she couldn't help thinking it actually suited him.

As he stood and took a bow to resounding applause, Reyna caught herself quickly. If even she was laid low by Octavian's charm, the legion wouldn't stand a chance.

It wasn't lawfully required for newly-appointed praetors to give any sort of speech, but it was generally expected, and in Octavian's case perhaps even more so. So once he was officially sworn in, Reyna took a step back to allow him the floor, so to speak. And it was with an eagerness clear to only a few that he took it.

"I owe all of you my gratitude," he began with a smile, a thin and brittle sort of warmth in his voice. "It was your faith and support that put me here today, and I swear I will do everything in my power to make sure this decision is one we can all benefit from. I'm sure we can all agree that… a void was incited by the departure of Jason Grace, who was and will be historically hailed as one of the Twelfth Legion's most… inspiring leaders."

Reyna felt her eyebrows twitch in a frown before she quickly reigned in her expression. Something bothered her about his use of the word 'inspiring' over the many others he could have chosen.

"I fear no one will be able to adequately replace a son of the almighty Jupiter Optimus Maximus himself. But perhaps this change will present itself not as a transition back to the past, but a transition to the future. I may not be any son of Jupiter, but I can promise you this—Camp Jupiter is and will always be my home, just as it was Jason's. And I vow to heal this void of regret and unite us Romans as one, so that the loss of a beloved leader may be forever forgotten. I am confident, too, that Reyna shares this sentiment." At this, he turned and smiled at Reyna, and she politely inclined her head in response. "I know she and I will work cooperatively and tirelessly to better our camp, to ensure that we achieve the honor and the glory that we of the Roman Twelfth Legion Fulminata claim as birthright. Thank you all, again. I promise I will do this legion proud."

Octavian bowed his head and applause raged once more among the stands. Reyna brought her hands together in kind and did her best to keep a neutral countenance, though inside she was full of doubts. She didn't like Octavian's speech—not in the slightest. His talk of 'transition to the future' made her worry for what he had planned, and that wasn't even to mention how badly he was clearly trying to make Jason look for leaving. 'Camp Jupiter will always be my home, just as it was Jason's.' Was. And so the 'loss of a leader may be forever forgotten', well, to most of the people present it would seem as though he was simply encouraging them to move on and not to regret Jason's departure. But Reyna had a feeling it wasn't just the feeling of loss that he wanted them to forget.

And then he had to go and mention her, had to ensure everyone that there was no reason the two of them wouldn't get along just fine and agree on every detail. Reyna knew there was a trap in there somewhere, but she wasn't quite as skilled with wordplay as her new fellow praetor so for the time being she found no way to respond except to stand beside Octavian and give a forced smile of her own.

Everything's a game with him, she told herself as people began filing out of the Senate House. Just remember that, and I won't get tripped up so easily.

"Inspiring speech," she said nonchalantly as the two of them exited last of all. It was early afternoon now, and the sun had begun its return journey across the clear California sky above their heads. "I have to say I share your optimism. I think we'll make a good team."

I HOPE we'll make a good team…

"On that subject," Octavian began in a casual sort of tone, squinting up at the sun. "What do you say to dinner with me tonight, here in the city?"

"Dinner?" Reyna repeated, tripped up by the seemingly random offer. He looked down at her and nodded, a light smile on his face and an eyebrow ticking upward. "You mean like… a date?"

"Sure. You and I are going to be working closely together—hopefully for quite a while. How about we take some time to get to know each other?"

This is some kind of trick, Reyna thought, looking thoughtful to cover her confliction. Another move on the chess board. He's putting me in check. Well, two can play at that game.

So she smiled back and gave a carefree shrug of her shoulders. "Alright. Got anywhere in mind?"

-0-0-0-

To Reyna's slight surprise, her 'date' with Octavian was actually pleasant. It wasn't anything spectacular, but she didn't have a miserable time, either, which in her mind was a major plus. Mostly they discussed business; she filled him in on her day-to-day duties and the general layout of the principia, many areas of which were only accessible to praetors. He would move the next day into the west-end apartment, which until recently had belonged to Jason, and similarly the west office would be his for use as well. He listened to her explanations and asked appropriate questions, which Reyna found refreshing, as she'd grown used to his hidden disapproval of her and Jason's regime over the past few years. She didn't kid herself into thinking he'd changed completely, but maybe this joint praetorship wouldn't be quite as nightmarish as she'd first believed. No matter his true intentions, as long as he remained cordial and was willing to work with her, she could deal with whatever mutterings he did when she turned her back.

And so that was how it began. Octavian was vocal but polite and shared in Reyna's work equally, helping out where needed and leading tasks with an almost innate flair, like he'd been born for the job (which, in his eyes, undoubtedly, he was). And when they weren't busy, he'd ask Reyna to join him for various other activities—dinners (at which he'd always insist on paying), walks through the Garden of Bacchus, which he knew to be her favorite location in New Rome (she always had a difficult time filling the silence, but he of course did not), or sometimes training at the arena (these were her favorite, because she beat him every time). Throughout these so-called 'dates', Reyna realized that Octavian was slowly breaking through her physical barrier. He'd touch her arm or her shoulder or her knee, then he'd curl an arm around her or loosely hold her hand. His fingers would push a loose strand of hair behind her ear or his leg would brush against hers from across the table. She felt no such urge to return these gestures, but nor could she tell him to back off—part of her was acutely aware that he was testing her, trying to see how far she would go to keep up the appearance of their outward amity. Something about his eyes when he looked at her told her as much. She saw in them the same cold, calculative curiosity that was so indicative of his character, and it proved to her that every move he made was part of the game. He didn't have any real feelings for her, not anymore than she had for him. But still the game went on, and still she played.

And then, the night in the gardens when he kissed her and suggested their relationship become official, she was in check again. And every move but one would result in his victory.

-0-0-0-

No one was surprised by what appeared to be a romantic development between Reyna and Octavian. After all, it was natural for praetors to develop feelings for each other; she'd said so herself ages ago. Once, she'd even wondered if she and Jason might become something more than friends. But that was before Piper, and she saw now that it could never have happened. She didn't love Jason; never truly had. But nor, technically, did she love Octavian, even though by all appearances she was heading that way.

She supposed it didn't matter, though. As the days turned to weeks, she became certain that the whole thing was only a ploy, a way for Octavian to keep her loyal to him. That wasn't to say he had all the power, but Reyna knew that if she were to argue with him too fervently or decide to break off the charade, he would undoubtedly find a way to make it reflect negatively on her. He could even get her discharged, which was the last thing she would allow to happen. She would not hand him the entire legion on a silver platter. To her, keeping up an exaggerated relationship with her fellow praetor was worth the security of her camp.

But she was tested further in the second week of July when Octavian finally decided to recede his meek, cooperative act and make the first of what Reyna assumed to be a long list of 'suggestions'. Though that wasn't to say this particular idea didn't take her a bit by surprise.

"You… want to what?" she asked him as they stood in her office one afternoon, trying to keep the disbelief from her voice.

"I think we should build an aerial fleet of warships," Octavian repeated simply, as though there was nothing strange about this request. "Not unlike the ships our friends at Camp Half-Blood have at their disposal."

Camp Half-Blood… So that was what this was about. "Why?" she asked suspiciously.

"Because we have no real methods of air combat at the moment," he explained.

"Are you expecting an aerial assault?"

"No, no. It's more of a precaution, really. Think of the other camp—what if they were to need our help, and the fastest way we have to reach them is by land? We could miss out on valuable days. And then there's of course land preparation once we reach them—"

Reyna folded her arms with a frown. "They haven't had any problems they couldn't handle since the Giant War, and that was years ago."

"A lucky break, and you know it," Octavian pointed out. "Rarely do large groups of demigods go so long without trouble. Isn't the whole point of our alliance to be available to provide help in a crisis?"

Reyna chewed her lip and considered her fellow praetor's argument. It was a sound one, for sure, though she still wasn't completely convinced. She tried to think of what the downside would be to having an aerial fleet at their disposal, and unless Octavian was planning on leading a full-scale attack, which she doubted even he was stupid enough to try in the middle of an alliance, she couldn't find anything too suspicious.

Still, if Reyna remembered correctly, their Greek friends across the country only had two fully functional aerial warships. And yet Octavian wanted to build an entire fleet.

"How many ships were you thinking?" she inquired.

His eyes seemed to twinkle as he realized he was making headway. He turned and leaned back against Reyna's desk, looking thoughtful. "Well, a full-scale fleet would consist of about two hundred…"

"Two hundred?" Reyna repeated, aghast. "That's a hundred times as many as Camp Half-Blood has—"

"We also have quite a few more people than they do."

"Not that many more. Besides, where the hell would we even put two hundred warships?"

"I wasn't going to suggest an entire traditional fleet," Octavian said in a placating tone, holding up his hands. "You're right, we just don't have the room. I was thinking more along the lines of fifty or so." When Reyna quietly stared at the floor, offering no immediate reply, Octavian placed his hands gently on her biceps and said, "It's for the alliance, Reyna, think about it. What are we going to do if they need us?"

Reyna gave a submissive sigh, looking up into her boyfriend's icy blue eyes. "A dozen. That's as high as I can justify."

Octavian's thin eyebrows drew together for just a second, but he nodded curtly and agreed, "A dozen. For now."

For now? Reyna wondered warily, but she took the agreement she got. "We'll bring it up at the next Senate meeting and get the approval. Make sure you know what you're doing."

Octavian smiled in a way that only increased Reyna's worry. "Oh, I will."

-0-0-0-

Unsurprisingly, Octavian's proposal garnered an almost unanimous approval at the Senate meeting two days later. The only snag he didn't seem to anticipate was that their Vulcan descendants lacked the materials and the confidence to actually construct a small fleet of airships. At this, Reyna suggested that they enlist the help of their friends at Camp Half-Blood—after all, they'd built flying warships before and, as Octavian had so eloquently said, assistance in times of need was the whole point of an alliance. Octavian himself didn't seem incredibly happy with this proposal, but nor did he argue with it, so it as well received approval, and that same day Reyna composed a message to send to the centaur Chiron explaining their request. In another two days' time, she received a reply simply stating that they were on board with the project and would be sending a team of their best and brightest to help build the small fleet. Their arrival would be three days following.

So when Monday, July 20th rolled around, a Greek trireme with the words Argo III plated in bronze lettering on the stern touched down gently at the eastern edge of the Field of Mars, true to Chiron's words. And when Reyna and Octavian went out to greet its passengers, they found that a host of other legionnaires had already crowded in welcome.

"You must be Reyna," a strong, female voice said above the chatter, and Reyna twisted sideways to see a tall, muscular girl holding out a hand. Reyna took it, noting that the girl appeared to be maybe a year or two older than she was, with deep tan skin and frizzy brown hair tucked under an orange bandanna. The skin on her fingers was rough and calloused. "I'm Nyssa."

"Nice to meet you," Reyna answered as they shook hands. "This is Octavian, my fellow praetor. Are you in charge here?"

Nyssa shook her head, causing a few loose hairs to escape her bandanna. "No, I'm the number two. Head's our cabin leader—he's around here somewhere." She stood up straighter and peered over the heads of some nearby people, scanning the crowd. "Come on, this way."

Reyna noticed Octavian roll his eyes as Nyssa began to push between reuniting friends, indicating them both to follow her. They'd only made it a few steps before someone suddenly fell backward against Octavian, causing him to stumble with a growl of annoyance as he grabbed the person to steady them.

"Oh—sorry, Octavian," Hazel said at once, looking at the ground with a light flush as Octavian released her. "Wasn't paying attention." As Frank appeared behind her looking disgruntled, she glanced at Reyna with a worried sort of expression and said, "Hey, Reyna, have you been here a while? We were kind of hoping to find—Leo!" She changed direction mid-sentence as her eyes followed Nyssa and a bright smile lit her face. She pushed through the edge of the crowd to the base of the ship and promptly threw her arms around the person Nyssa was in conversation with. Despite the interruption, all the older woman did was shake her head with a wry smile and step backward.

As she and Octavian broke free of the crowd as well, Reyna put two and two together and recognized who exactly it was that was leading the Greek building team—and though she knew she shouldn't be surprised, there was still a small element of alarm.

She hadn't actually seen Leo Valdez in years, but as he and Jason were pretty close, his name had come up with relative frequency. From what she heard, it sounded as though he hadn't changed much from the skinny, hyperactive teenager she'd first met during the Giant War five years ago. But now she could see that that wasn't entirely correct. His black hair was longer and had straightened out a bit, so it curled at the ends around his dark, narrow eyes and in front of his pointed ears. He was still lithe and about two inches short of six feet, but she could clearly see muscle definition beneath his white T-shirt that hadn't been there when he was younger—undoubtedly a side-effect of his (constant, to hear Jason tell it) forge work. He wasn't bulky—in fact, standing next to Frank still seemed to dwarf him a bit. But when Reyna compared him to… say, Octavian, for example, well… That was a different story.

"I'm so glad you're here!" Hazel was saying as Leo returned her embrace and actually lifted her off the ground. "We didn't see you at first so we thought you might've skipped out…"

"And miss a chance to hang out with my favorite Roman couple and build an entire aerial war fleet?" Leo responded with his trademark jester grin (at least that didn't seem to have changed) as Hazel let go of him. "Do you guys know me at all?"

As Hazel chuckled, Frank stepped up beside her and said with a wry smile, "Unfortunately, we do."

"Nice to see you, too, Zhang." Undeterred, Leo hugged Frank as well without hesitation, and the son of Mars didn't hold out for more than half a second. "So, discover any new and exciting animal species lately?"

Frank lifted an eyebrow. "Yeah, actually, I was recently reacquainted with one I like to call the 'pygmy fire-monkey'."

"Oh, ha, ha," Leo said sarcastically, though he didn't look particularly offended.

Reyna cleared her throat loudly before they could launch into some big irrelevant discussion (not that she didn't sympathize with reunions between friends, but there would be plenty of time for that later). All eyes turned her way and Leo actually smiled at her—a genuine smile, unlike the chilly, insincere ones she'd grown accustomed to from Octavian. Oddly, it made her think of Jason. Shaking that aside, she nodded and said in her default, business-like tone, "Leo Valdez."

In a slight mockery of said business-like tone, Leo replied, "Reyna Ramírez-Arellano."

Reyna faltered a bit at his flawless pronunciation of her last name. That wasn't something she heard often; most people had trouble with it. She had to remind herself that he, like her, was of Latin-American descent.

Her hesitation, however brief, gave Octavian invitation to step forward and say stiffly, "So you're in charge of this… team."

The look in Leo's eyes sharpened just barely as he glanced at Octavian, seeming not to miss the way he'd said 'team' like it meant something different from its dictionary definition. "Yeah. I got the designs and core execution of two custom-built, military-grade triremes under my belt, so I think that makes me qualified." His tone was conversational, carefully devoid of any venom, but still Reyna could sense that Octavian took it as a sort of challenge.

"Thank you for answering our request," she cut in before her fellow praetor could respond. She didn't want any wedges driven between her camp and their Greek relatives before the project even began. "It was from your ships that Octavian got the idea for a fleet in the first place, so we have no doubt you'll be able to help us out."

She noticed Octavian's jaw tighten out of the corner of her eye and though, Huh. Maybe I'm getting a hang of this verbal battle thing. Spending time with him has its advantages after all.

"That's what we're here for," Leo agreed, friendly expression back in place. He thumped Nyssa on the back and she gave a stiff smile in agreement.

"So how many people did you bring?" Reyna asked.

Glancing over her shoulder, Nyssa answered, "Fifteen, including the two of us. Which will be more than enough. Building and engineering are what children of Hephaestus do best."

"Our Vulcan descendants, too, will be more than willing to lend a few extra hands," Reyna said. "But for now, let's have someone show you where you'll be staying. We've cleared out a section of the barracks for the time being, and I'm sure you'd all like to get settled. Also, we'll be holding a welcome feast in the mess hall this evening, so don't worry about getting started on anything just yet."

"Awesome, I could always do with a good feast." Leo snapped his fingers and pointed at Nyssa. "Let's get everybody rounded up. Just unload the necessities, we'll leave the good stuff for now."

"Right," his half-sister agreed.

Looking back at Reyna, Leo said, "Guessing you've got the usual important praetor stuff to get back to, so have at it, we're set here. Catch up with you later." He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows, an unreadable look in his dark eyes as they very quickly glanced Reyna up and down. Tongue strangely dry all of a sudden, Reyna nodded and remained silent as Leo patted Hazel on the shoulder as a short goodbye and, with Nyssa, jogged off to gather the rest of their crew.

"Hm," Octavian muttered so only Reyna could hear as the people around them began to disperse. "I hope he plans to take this seriously. I'd hate to see it all blow up in our faces."

Reyna frowned, picking up on his subtle reminder of the first time they'd met Leo Valdez, the summer of the Giant War when he'd been inadvertently responsible for destroying half of New Rome. She thought of pointing out that he'd been possessed by some spirit at the time and was in no control of his actions, and also that, as Octavian well knew, Leo had gone on to be instrumental in the battle against the Earth Mother herself at the end of the war. But she knew her fellow praetor well enough to loath starting an argument with him. And besides, she trusted their Greek allies. She had no expectations of any sort of disaster taking place.

"We'll just have to see how things go," she settled for saying in response. Simple and noncommittal. The safest way to speak with her sort-of boyfriend. "Come on. We've got work to do before the feast tonight."

Thankfully, he took her lead and let the topic drop there.

-0-0-0-

The feast was actually an enjoyable event, a good way for Reyna to relax after so many hurried preparations over the past few days. Their fifteen Greek guests brought a noticeable amount of energy to the atmosphere (not that feasts were particularly quiet affairs in the first place, but still there was a definite difference), which was a welcome addition. Reyna tried to make her rounds and meet everyone, hoping that she would remember all the names. Sometimes Octavian joined her, but for the most part he kept to his own group of friends, for which Reyna was admittedly a little relieved. It was easier to be amiable when she didn't have to count every word she let slip from her mouth.

"So how's our favorite war goddess doing these days?" Leo asked her when she bumped into him halfway through the evening.

Reyna quirked an eyebrow. "Are you talking about me or my mother?"

The corner of Leo's mouth turned up in a kind of meld of a smirk and a grin. "Why don't you tell me?"

Was he hitting on her? Well, it would appear that part of him hadn't changed either. Somehow, though, with their being older than when they'd last met, Reyna found it didn't annoy her as much as amuse her anymore, and she couldn't help a small smile and a shake of her head.

"Seriously, though," he went on, taking a step closer to be heard above the din of chatter around them. "How you been? Jason would kill me if I didn't ask—he's been worried about you ever since tall, pale, and jerk-some won the praetor vote last month."

Reyna's smile faded to a slight frown. "He told you about that?"

"What, was it a secret?" Leo asked with a sly expression, eyebrows jumping.

"No, no. It's just…" Honestly, she was just surprised she'd come up in conversation at Camp Half-Blood at all. Not that she really should have been, she realized—she and Jason had been (Still are, she had to remind herself) best friends. "It doesn't matter," she said instead of addressing her thoughts. "I've been fine, really. Octavian is… more helpful than I expected him to be. Things are going pretty well here."

"I told him you'd be okay—girl like you must take care of herself pretty well. But you know him, he's a worrier." Leo rolled his eyes as Reyna paused her thinking to replay those sentences in her mind.

"A 'girl like me'?" she repeated dryly. What was he getting at?

"Yeah," he said with a shrug. His eyes swept over her again and for some reason she wished she was wearing armor. "Like I said. War goddess."

Reyna still didn't know if he was referring to her or to her immortal mother, Bellona, but before she could decide whether to ask or just let the comment go, a hand touched her waist and a voice near her ear said, "There you are," before a pair of chilly lips kissed her lightly on the cheek.

"Hi," she said in short greeting, turning to smile at Octavian as he retracted his arm in favor of sliding his hand into hers, lacing her fingers and sending an unpleasant chill up her left arm. When she looked back at Leo, she noticed that his sly grin had vanished and his forehead was creased in a frown, his eyes aimed at Reyna and Octavian's interlocked hands.

"You guys are…" he said vaguely. Then he blinked and took a casual step backward—away from Reyna—his characteristic smile returning. "—Not gonna regret calling us in on this," he finished his sentence, as though that was what he'd been planning to say all along. "Trust me, you got the best in the business here."

"We'll see about that," Octavian said simply, looking a little smug at the change in Leo's body language. "We Roman legionnaires are known for our building as well, as you may know, so we'll be holding you to high standards. Another thing you should know, I'm not easily impressed."

Leo's eyes darkened as his smile sharpened back into a smirk. "I've impressed gods. I think I can handle one fourth-generation legacy."

Octavian's chest swelled as he breathed in threateningly, but Reyna quickly grabbed his arm and said, "We should eat. We've been milling around for hours. Come on."

To her relief, her boyfriend turned to her and smiled. "Okay," he agreed. After one last chilly glance at Leo (Reyna forced herself specifically not to look his way), he pulled her away through the crowd and toward the praetors' table.

For a while after, Reyna allowed herself to relax and go back to enjoying the evening, thinking that she'd succeeded in reigning Octavian in for the time being. But she realized she was wrong when, as they finished their dinner and started on dessert, he stood from their table and called for everyone's attention.

"I want to formally welcome our Greek relatives to Camp Jupiter," he said in his usual authoritative tone, a smile on his face and his palms turned upward. "I think I can speak for all of us when I say I hope your time here proves to be mutually beneficial and enjoyable." There was a half-hearted response of applause and affirmation as Octavian paused, and Reyna recognized the satisfaction on his face. "In honor of your arrival, it's been decided that a friendly war game event will take place tomorrow afternoon in the Field of Mars."

Reyna had to hurry to mask the surprise on her face. Decided? Then why was this the first she was hearing about it?

Over the sounds of general excitement, Octavian continued, "We hope that these games will help to foster a sense of camaraderie that, with luck, will flourish throughout the duration of your stay here. Through battle is one of the chief ways in which we as Roman legionnaires strengthen the bond of our loyalty and teamwork, and we would want no less than for our allies from across the country to experience the same."

Reyna swore Octavian's eyes had focused on Leo, who was standing with some friends around a table nearby, throughout most of his mini-speech. She hadn't the slightest idea what he was planning—or if he was planning anything at all—but she made a mental note to keep her attention focused on the two of them in the future.

When Octavian sat back down, Reyna leaned toward him and said in an undertone, "War games?"

He turned to her and his eyebrows angled. "You don't agree? I can retract the announcement—"

"No," she said quickly, reaching out to touch his arm as he leaned forward to rise from his chair. The legionnaires had seemed in favor of the idea, and the last thing she wanted to do was force anyone to choose sides between her and her fellow praetor. "No, it's fine. It'll be good for everyone. Only… Next time, I'd appreciate it if you ran it by me before sharing. We're partners here, remember."

Octavian smiled, his eyes remaining steady and cool. "Of course. Sorry for surprising you." He leaned forward and gave Reyna a brief kiss that was probably meant to be apologetic. She replied with a small smile in return, having decided long ago not to drive herself crazy pondering her boyfriend's ulterior motives.

When Octavian returned his attention to his plate, Reyna's eyes flitted sideways to the crowd of people standing nearby, locking with Leo's for an instant so short she almost missed it. He looked away when someone said something to him, prompting him to grin and give a response Reyna couldn't hear over the clamor. But her gaze stayed glued to the spot as he lifted a hand and a tiny tongue of orange flame danced around his fingers, making the people around him laugh. She became acutely aware then of Octavian's hand on her back, and the slivered shards of ice it seemed to draw across her skin, even through her cloak and T-shirt. For the first time, she found herself wondering what it would be like to be touched by someone warmer.

Quickly Reyna tore her eyes from the crowd and looked down, forcing the unsuspected flush from creeping any farther up her neck. She was losing herself. Spending so much time with Octavian was having stranger effects on her than she'd expected. But it was nothing she couldn't handle.

At least… she hoped not.

"I am by nature a dealer in words, and words are the most powerful drug known to humanity."
—Rudyard Kipling

Alright, so we're sort of rolling now, right? Next chapter will be said war games, which I haven't written yet so I don't know if it'll be up next week or not, but I'm gonna try. Hopefully I have time to make it good enough :D

Review for me? Pretty please? Love you guys! Later days!

-oMM