IV. REYNA
Most demigods would have quavered and fell, if they ever faced the daunting task of leading the Legion alone. Some would have led for a few days, perhaps. Others, a few weeks at most. Eventually, they would all fall— because the pressure to lead New Rome was great. Every single move was watched. Ever motive questioned.
Lies and rumors. War and peace. Hidden friends and open enemies. It was difficult enough to lead with a partner to share the burden with. Leading alone was near impossible.
But Reyna was not like most demigods.
The weight of Rome rested across her shoulders like an imperial gold breastplate—heavy, bright, and impossible to remove. Morning light fell in precise shafts through the tall windows of the principia, illuminating the polished marble floor where her dogs, Aurum and Argentum, lay at attention. The metallic animals seemed to sense her unease, their ruby eyes tracking her as she paced.
Six months.
Six months since Jason had vanished. Six months of maintaining order alone, of pretending that everything wasn't balanced on the edge of chaos. Six months of feeling the ground beneath New Rome shift like sand.
"You're wearing a path in the floor again," Hazel Levesque observed from where she sat on one of the visitor chairs, her gold eyes reflecting the sunlight. Reyna stopped pacing and straightened her purple praetor's cloak. "The senate meeting yesterday—"
"Was a disaster," Hazel finished for her. "Octavian is getting bolder."
"He smells weakness," Reyna said, her voice flat. "And he's not wrong. The legion needs two praetors."
She moved to the window, gazing out at the orderly layout of the camp. Cohorts drilling in the Field of Mars. The bathhouse steaming in the morning chill. Three demigods walking towards the principia. Temples gleaming white in the forum. Order and discipline, maintained through sheer force of will. Her will.
Hazel's arrival several months ago had been unexpected—a daughter of Pluto appearing at the camp borders, escorted by the wolf goddess and speaking of debts to be repaid. The legion had been suspicious, as they were of all outsiders, but Reyna had recognized something in the girl. She knew what it was like to carry secrets. Which was why she had vouched for Hazel personally, a decision that had raised eyebrows among the centurions. But she had learned long ago that sometimes authority existed precisely to be exercised in defiance of popular opinion.
"The cohorts are getting restless," Reyna said, turning back to face Hazel. "Without Jason to balance me—"
She didn't finish the thought. She didn't need to. Hazel understood the dynamic that had made their leadership work: Jason's natural charm and openness complementing her discipline and reserve. In simple terms: good cop, bad cop.
"You're doing what needs to be done," Hazel said. "But Reyna—"
Whatever Hazel was about to say was swallowed up when the air between them shimmered like the air over a furnace. Reyna stiffened, her hand moving instinctively to her sword. Aurum and Argentum rose to their feet, mechanical joints whirring softly.
The shimmer coalesced into the form of a woman so beautiful it was almost painful to look at her. Her features seemed to shift subtly from moment to moment.
Venus.
Reyna felt her jaw clench, an instinctive reaction she immediately tried to suppress. Gods noticed everything, and Venus, despite her reputation, noticed more than most. One did not show disrespect to the divine, no matter how justified it might feel.
"Praetor Reyna," the goddess purred, her voice like honey dripping from a silver spoon. "Always so serious. Always so… controlled."
There was laughter in the goddess's eyes, the kind that suggested she was enjoying a private joke at Reyna's expense. Reyna stood at attention, her face carefully blank. "Lady Venus," she said, inclining her head just enough. "To what do we owe the honor?"
Venus smiled. "Can't a goddess visit her favorite little warmongers without an agenda?"
Reyna said nothing. The gods always had agendas.
Venus sighed dramatically, moving around the room with the fluid grace of a dancer. "You Romans. So suspicious. So… rigid." Her fingers trailed along the edge of a map spread across the central table. "I've come with good news, if you can believe it."
"We are honored by your attention," Reyna replied automatically.
The goddess laughed, a sound like wind chimes in a summer breeze. "There it is! That simmering anger you try so hard to hide." She glanced at Hazel, who was watching the exchange with wide eyes. "She's quite good at it, isn't she? The stoic praetor, never betraying what she truly feels."
Reyna's fingers twitched, but she kept her hands steady at her sides. "What news do you bring, Lady Venus?"
"Impatient too," Venus mused, but then her expression shifted, becoming almost businesslike. "Two demigods. You'll meet them soon. Both will help you with matters of the heart—which is, of course, the only reason I'm interested."
A cold feeling settled in Reyna's stomach. "I respectfully decline any assistance with… personal matters. Camp Jupiter requires my full attention."
Venus's smile dimmed, her eyes turning sharp. "Did I say you had a choice, praetor?"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Reyna felt Hazel shift uncomfortably beside her. Reyna felt like she'd overstepped a boundary she wasn't even aware about. She took a deep breath. "I have no wish to follow Jason's path," she began carefully, "allowing personal feelings to interfere with duty."
Venus's expression darkened, storm clouds gathering in her perfect features. "Jason Grace was many things, but lacking in courage was not one of them. Consider that before you dismiss my gifts."
The rebuke stung, all the more because Reyna couldn't dispute it. Whatever else had happened between them, it was true. In the end, Jason had never been a coward, at least, when it came to his heart. "I'll… consider your words," Reyna conceded stiffly.
The goddess's mood shifted again. "That's all I ask." Her smile returned, dazzling and dangerous. "Try not to kill this one, would you? He has an important role to play."
Before Reyna could ask which 'one' Venus was referring to, the goddess dissolved into a cloud of perfumed mist. The pressure in the room dropped. And Reyna collapsed into a nearby chair.
Hazel let out a breath she'd been holding. "That was—"
"Typical," Reyna finished, her voice tight. She got up and moved back to the window.
"What did she mean about not killing someone?" Hazel asked after a moment.
Reyna shook her head. "Gods never speak plainly. It's beneath them." The bitterness in her voice surprised even her.
"She mentioned Jason," Hazel said carefully, approaching a subject that was tacitly understood to be forbidden. "Something about courage?"
"It doesn't matter." Reyna's tone made it clear the topic was closed. "What matters is the curse."
"What curse?"
Reyna bit back a cuss. She had forgotten that she wasn't supposed to tell the others about it. Rome operated on a strict need-to-know basis, and her personal concerns were nobody's need to know.
"It's too late now," Hazel interrupted as if reading her thoughts. "I know there's something. Tell me."
Reyna sighed, settling back behind her table. Aurum and Argentum whined, sensing her mood. She absently petted their heads.
"The Great Stirring," she began, naming what they both knew to be true. "Woke a lot of things up. Old powers, old grudges. Old curses— this one in particular by a witch. Circe."
"And this curse in question?"
"Essentially, the Praetors were cursed to turn into stone if they ever fell in love," Reyna replied. With a Greek demigod, she added in her mind.
"But this curse was only reawakened after the Great Stirring, yeah?"
Reyna nodded.
"And Jason's disappearance has to do something with this curse?"
Reyna nodded.
"So Jason's in love," Hazel intoned. "But not with you. And he left Camp because of that."
Reyna nodded.
"But why haven't the gods dealt with it themselves?" Hazel asked, voicing the question that had been gnawing at Reyna. "Circe was loyal to them, technically. This curse is a relic of their wars."
"The gods have their reasons," Reyna said, the standard Roman response to I don't bloody know. But even to her own ears, it sounded hollow. The truth was, she didn't know. And that uncertainty, more than anything else, was what troubled her. She thought she'd left all that behind. Puerto Rico. Circe. Blackbeard. New Rome was supposed to give her stability. Something she could rely on. Not…this.
Hazel seemed to sense her discomfort. "We'll figure it out," she said with a conviction that Reyna envied. "We always do."
Before Reyna could respond, a sharp knock sounded at the principia door. Aurum and Argentum growled softly, but Reyna silenced them with a gesture.
"Enter," she called, her voice automatically shifting into what the legion called her praetor tone.
The door opened to reveal a tall young man in the armor of a centurion. His wavy hair was combed back to reveal concerned eyes. Reyna felt a tight breath escape her chest.
Cassius Hardy, now the primus pilus of the Second Cohort. Even though they couldn't hang out as much, Reyna had made sure her oldest friend here at Camp had at least been recognized for his deeds in the battle against the Titans.
"Praetor," he said, straightening. "May I have a moment of your time?"
Reyna nodded, gesturing him in. "Centurion Hardy. You're up early."
Cassius stepped inside, acknowledging Hazel with a polite nod that she returned. Unlike many in the legion, Cassius had never shown any discomfort around the daughter of Pluto. Reyna hadn't exactly had the time to figure out why.
"I apologize for the intrusion," he said, "but there's a scheduling conflict between the First and Second Cohorts for use of the training grounds this afternoon. Octavian insists the First has priority due to their upcoming war games assessment, but we've had this time slot reserved for weeks."
A mundane problem, the kind that would normally be resolved between centurions without involving a praetor. The fact that Cassius had brought it to her suggested there was more to it.
"Octavian has been pushing boundaries lately," Reyna observed, moving to the schedule board mounted on the wall. "Testing how much he can get away with."
Cassius's expression remained neutral, but she caught the flash of confirmation in his eyes. "He seems to think that with Jason gone, certain… protocols are open to interpretation."
Reyna studied the schedule, though she already knew what it would show. The First Cohort, once Jason's cohort, had been increasingly assertive in recent weeks. Small challenges to authority, nothing outright enough to justify disciplinary action, but a pattern nonetheless.
"The Second Cohort retains its scheduled time," she declared, making a notation on the board. "The First can use the auxiliary field if they need additional practice."
Cassius nodded, visibly relieved. "Thank you, Praetor. I'll inform Octavian."
"I'll inform him myself," Reyna said, her tone making it clear this wasn't open to discussion. "During the senior officers' meeting this afternoon. Perhaps he can explain why he thought he could simply push the schedules without informing anyone."
"Yes, Praetor." Cassius hesitated, then added, "There's talk among the centurions. About the deadline for Jason's return."
Six months. The traditional grace period for a missing praetor before the legion elected a replacement. A deadline that was fast approaching.
"I'm aware," Reyna said shortly.
Cassius nodded again, knowing better than to press the issue. "If there's nothing else…?"
"That will be all, Centurion."
He bowed again and departed, closing the door softly behind him.
Hazel watched him go with a thoughtful expression. "You two used to be close," she observed once he was out of earshot. "Before you became praetor."
Reyna moved back to the window, her reflection pale and indistinct in the glass. "That was a long time ago."
"Not that long," Hazel countered gently. "You haven't spent time with anyone outside of official duties in months."
"Keeping Rome standing is time-consuming," Reyna said, the excuse sounding weak even to her own ears.
"You always made time for Jason," Hazel pointed out. "Before… whatever happened between you two. Before he disappeared."
Reyna didn't know what to say. She was saved from having to respond by the arrival of Felix, one of the guards stationed outside the principia.
"Praetor," he said, snapping to attention in the doorway. "Frank Zhang has returned from border patrol. He's brought a new recruit with him. A demigod."
Reyna's spine straightened automatically. "Send them in."
Felix hesitated. "There's something else, Praetor. The newcomer… he crossed the Little Tiber."
"I would expect so," Reyna said impatiently. "It's the standard approach to camp."
"Yes, Praetor, but…" Felix looked distinctly uncomfortable. "He walked straight through it."
Reyna and Hazel exchanged a quick glance. Just who was this demigod? Reyna wondered, a cold premonition settling over her. Causing a stir before he arrived. Power over water. Finding his way where he wasn't supposed to be.
Reyna could venture a guess as to who it was. She hoped she was wrong.
Before Felix could announce them, the doors of the principia swung open wider, revealing Frank Zhang's bulk, and beside him, a lean young man with windswept black hair and sea-green eyes that scanned the room.
"Praetor Reyna," Frank said, his voice formal but with an undercurrent of nervousness. "May I present Percy Jackson."
"Sup," said Percy Jackson. "Nice to meet you."
Reyna knew what it was like to be around a child of the Big Three.
Hazel's aura was more muted, like dusty attic full of precious metals. You knew it was powerful, but at the same time it just wanted to be left alone. Jason, on the other hand, felt like a river of electricity. It was fickle, and kept moving. But you knew it could kill you.
Percy was nothing like that. The power was wild and chaotic. Warm and deep. Like the ocean.
Reyna knew this power. She'd sworn to kill it, for all the wrong it had done to her. Just then, she felt something shift in the air. Venus's warning echoed in her mind: Try not to kill this one.
The demigod met her gaze directly. Reyna waited for him to be surprised. Flinch. React. Anything to show that he recognized her.
There was nothing. But then again, she had expected that. He might not recognize her. But she recognized him.
"Percy Jackson," she repeated. "Son of…?"
"Neptune," he replied, his voice steady despite the obvious fatigue in his stance.
Aurum and Argentum circled the newcomer, sniffing suspiciously. Reyna had to give him credit— Jackson didn't flinch, watching the metal dogs with mild interest rather than fear. "They're smaller than Lupa's wolves," he commented.
"You crossed the Little Tiber," Reyna continued, her voice deliberately neutral. "Did it speak to you, perhaps?"
Percy shrugged. "We had a chat. Brief. I was kind of in the middle of feeling like my skin was being peeled off, so I kept it short."
Hazel raised a brow. Frank made a choked sound. Reyna found herself oddly appreciative of the honesty. No pretense, no attempt to curry favor. Just straightforward truth, regardless of how it might be received.
That kind of honesty was dangerous here.
"Percy Jackson," she said again. "You've arrived at a critical time for Camp Jupiter. The question is, are you here to help us, or to make things worse?"
His eyes met hers, green as the depths of the sea and just as unfathomable. "I was hoping you could tell me."
In that moment, Reyna felt like she had finally reached the end of the line. The rope had shattered. And now she was falling.
Either salvation or destruction, walking in on worn sneakers and a tattered orange t-shirt. Venus had told her he would be the one to help her. But Reyna knew from experience that she would rather figure things out on her own. She didn't need a Greek to help her, anyway.
"Interesting," she said finally. "Perhaps we shall find out sooner than you think."