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Katherine Hatherleigh was a variable Annabeth had never accounted for.
Everything had been perfect… until she learned she existed.
When Percy disappeared, Annabeth hadn’t even thought about the other girl who’d vanished under the same circumstances. She only vaguely remembered Grover mentioning that he’d brought in a demigoddess, and that the girl had faded at the exact same moment—probably along with Percy.
Maybe, in hindsight, that had been a mistake. She should’ve paid more attention to that small—but actually huge—detail, but her mind had been a complete mess, desperate for answers, her heart torn apart by worry and the pain of not knowing what had happened. It hurt to think that if she hadn’t asked for a break, all that time apart might have…
But none of that mattered anymore. She had finally reached New Rome, and Percy was here. They were about to see each other again, and she could finally tell him that asking for distance had been a mistake. Six months had been enough time to reflect and understand what she truly wanted: to be with him. Whatever she had felt for Luke had been nothing more than a childish crush born from idealization.
A sea of demigods, hastily gathered, parted to let her through as she crossed the forum. Some looked tense; others, nervous. Several were bandaged from the recent monster attack, but none were armed. None attacked.
Entire families had gathered to watch the newcomers. Annabeth saw couples with babies, children clinging to their parents’ legs, even a few elderly people dressed in a mix of Roman tunics and modern clothing. Were they demigods? Annabeth suspected so, but she had never seen anything like this. At Camp Half-Blood, most demigods were teenagers. If they survived long enough to finish high school, they had two options: remain as counselors or leave and try to survive in the mortal world. Here, though, there was an entire multigenerational community.
At the back of the crowd, Annabeth spotted Tyson the Cyclops and Percy’s hellhound, Mrs. O’Leary—both part of Camp Half-Blood’s first scouting party to reach Camp Jupiter. They looked ecstatic. Tyson was waving and grinning, wearing a banner with the letters SPQR like a gigantic bib.
Annabeth took in how beautiful the city was: the smell of bakeries, bubbling fountains, flowers blooming in the gardens. And the architecture—gods, the architecture! Golden marble columns, dazzling mosaics, towering arches, rows of charming townhouses.
Ahead of her, the demigods stepped aside for a girl in Roman armor and a purple cloak. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders. Her eyes were as black as obsidian.
Reyna.
Jason had described her perfectly. And even if he hadn’t, Annabeth would’ve recognized her as the leader. Her armor was decorated with medals, and she moved with such confidence that the other demigods stepped back and lowered their gazes.
Annabeth noticed something else in her face—in the firmness of her mouth and the deliberate way she lifted her chin, as if ready to take on any challenge. Reyna was forcing a mask of courage while suppressing a mix of hope, worry, and fear she couldn’t show in public. Annabeth knew that expression. She saw it every time she looked in the mirror.
The two girls regarded each other. Annabeth’s friends fanned out at her sides. The Romans murmured Jason’s name, staring at him in awe.
Then another person emerged from the crowd, and Annabeth’s gaze locked onto her.
Percy smiled at her—that crooked, troublemaker grin that had annoyed her for years but had eventually become endearing. His sea-green eyes were just as beautiful as she remembered. His dark hair was swept to one side, as if he’d just come back from a walk on the beach. He was even more handsome than he’d been six months ago: tanner, taller, leaner, more muscular.
Annabeth was so stunned she couldn’t move. She had the feeling that if she got any closer, every molecule in her body might burst into flames. She had been secretly infatuated with Percy since they were twelve, though it had taken her ages to admit that to herself. And even though her feelings had been a mess after the war, she knew she was in love; she just needed… time to think.
During their separation, Annabeth’s emotions had shifted. They had become painfully intense, as if she’d been forced to stop taking a life-saving medicine. She couldn’t tell which was more unbearable: living with that horrible absence or being with him again.
Praetor Reyna straightened. With visible reluctance, she turned toward Jason.
“Jason Grace, my former comrade…” She pronounced the word comrade as if it were dangerous. “Welcome home. With your friends…”
Annabeth didn’t mean to, but she surged forward. Percy ran toward her at the same moment. The crowd tensed. A few people even reached instinctively for swords they weren’t carrying.
Percy wrapped his arms around her, and for a moment nothing else mattered. An asteroid could have slammed into Earth and wiped out all life, and Annabeth wouldn’t have cared.
Percy smelled like ocean air and something purely him.
Seaweed Brain, she thought, dazed.
Percy pulled back, scanning her face.
“Gods, I never thought that—”
Annabeth grabbed his wrist and flipped him over her shoulder. Percy hit the stone pavement with a thud. The Romans shouted. Several rushed forward, but Reyna barked:
“Stop! Stand down!”
Annabeth planted her knee on Percy’s chest. She pressed her forearm to his throat. She didn’t care what the Romans thought. A hot knot of anger burst in her chest—a mass of worry and bitterness she’d been carrying since the previous fall.
“If you ever leave me again,” she said, her eyes stinging, “I swear on all the gods…”
Percy actually had the nerve to laugh. And suddenly, the knot of boiling emotions melted inside Annabeth.
“Consider me warned,” Percy said. “I missed you too.”
Annabeth stood and helped him up. She desperately wanted to kiss him but managed to hold herself back.
Jason cleared his throat.
“Well… I’m glad to be back.”
He introduced Reyna to Piper, who looked a bit annoyed she hadn’t gotten the chance to deliver the lines she’d rehearsed, and then to Leo, who smiled and flashed the peace sign.
“And this is Annabeth,” Jason said. “She doesn’t usually go around doing judo throws.”
Reyna’s eyes gleamed.
“Are you sure you’re not Roman, Annabeth? Or an Amazon?”
Annabeth wasn’t sure whether that was a compliment, but she offered her hand.
“I only attack Percy like that,” she promised. “Nice to meet you.”
Reyna shook her hand firmly.
“It seems we have a lot to discuss. Centurions!”
A few Roman campers hurried forward—apparently the highest-ranking officers. Two kids appeared at Percy’s sides, the same ones Annabeth had seen earlier walking with him so comfortably. The stocky Asian boy with the military haircut looked about fifteen. He had the cuddly charm of an oversized panda. The girl was smaller, around thirteen, with amber eyes, chocolate-brown skin, and long curly hair. She carried her cavalry helmet under her arm.
Annabeth noticed, from their body language, that they were close to Percy. They stood protectively at his sides, as if they’d been through many adventures together. She suppressed a flicker of jealousy. Was it possible that this girl…? No. Whatever bond the three shared, it wasn’t that kind.
Annabeth had spent her whole life learning to read people; it was a survival skill. If she had to guess, she’d say the big Asian guy was the girl’s boyfriend—but she suspected they hadn’t been together long.
What she didn’t understand was why the girl kept staring. She kept frowning toward Leo and Piper, as if she recognized one of them and the memory hurt.
Meanwhile, Reyna was giving orders to her officers.
“…tell the legion to stand down. Dakota, notify the kitchen spirits—tell them to prepare a welcoming feast. And you, Octavian…”
“You’re going to let these intruders into the camp?” A tall boy with straight blond hair elbowed his way forward. “Reyna, the security risks—”
“We are not taking them into the camp, Octavian,” Reyna shot back, giving him a sharp look. “We’ll dine here, in the forum.”
“Oh, much better,” Octavian muttered.
He seemed to be the only one who didn’t treat Reyna like a superior, despite being pale, scrawny, and—for some reason—wearing three stuffed teddy bears clipped to his belt.
“You want us to relax under the shadow of their ship.”
“They are our guests,” Reyna said, enunciating every word. “We will welcome them and speak with them. As the camp’s augur, you should offer a sacrifice to thank the gods for bringing Jason home safely.”
“Great idea,” Percy cut in. “Go burn your teddy bears, Octavian.”
Reyna looked like she was trying not to smile.
“You all know your orders. Go.”
The officers dispersed. Octavian shot Percy a look of pure hatred, then cast a wary glance at Annabeth before storming off.
Percy took Annabeth’s hand.
“Don’t worry about Octavian. Most Romans are good people—Frank, Hazel, Reyna. They treated me and M… and Katherine pretty well.”
“Katherine?” she repeated, noticing the way he said her name—softer… and the faint spark in his eyes.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “We’ll be fine.”
Annabeth felt a shiver creep up her neck, like someone had pressed a cold cloth against it. It wasn’t just this girl, Katherine. It was also that she heard that whispering laughter again, as if the presence had followed her from the ship.
She looked up at the Argo II. Its massive bronze hull gleamed in the sunlight. A part of her wanted to grab Percy right then, drag him aboard, and sail away while they still could. She still felt something was terribly wrong—but she wasn’t about to risk losing Percy again. Not ever.
“We’ll be fine,” she repeated, trying to believe it.
“Great,” Reyna said. She turned to Jason, and Annabeth could’ve sworn there was a hungry gleam in her eyes. “Let’s talk and meet properly.”
“Wait.” Percy scanned the area until his gaze landed on his new Roman friends. “Where’s Kate?”
The boy looked around again. The girl with golden eyes suddenly grew nervous.
“She went to run an errand…”
“An errand?” Percy narrowed his eyes.
Annabeth knew Percy like the back of her hand. She knew when he was happy, sad, thoughtful. And that look… that look was wary. He was clearly uncomfortable with this Katherine not being at his side.
Her heart tightened at the possible implications. Who exactly was this Katherine to Percy?
“Who…?”
“Gwen,” the girl answered, though she didn’t sound entirely convinced.
Percy seemed to catch that.
“All right. I’ll go find her…”
Annabeth felt his grip on her hand loosen, and a cold sensation—like melting ice—crept from her fingers up into her chest.
“No!” the girl blurted, then cleared her throat. “She’ll be back soon. It’s just a moment.”
Percy nodded after a beat, reluctantly. It was painfully obvious he didn’t like the idea. And Annabeth liked it even less.
Who was Katherine?
Annabeth wished she had an appetite, because the Romans knew how to feast.
Couches and low tables had been moved into the forum until it looked like a furniture showroom. The Romans reclined in groups of ten or twenty, talking and laughing while wind spirits—aurae—whirled overhead, carrying an endless assortment of pizzas, sandwiches, fries, cold drinks, and freshly baked cookies.
Purple ghosts—lares—wandered through the crowd, dressed in togas and legionnaire armor. Near the banquet, satyrs (no—fauns, Annabeth corrected herself) trotted from table to table, begging for food and spare change. Out in the nearby fields, the war elephant was playing with Mrs. O’Leary, and children darted about playing tag around the statues of Terminus that marked the city’s boundary.
The whole scene felt so familiar and yet so strange it made Annabeth dizzy. All she wanted was to be with Percy… preferably alone. But she knew she had to wait. If their quest was going to succeed, they needed these Romans, which meant getting to know them and building good relationships.
Reyna and several of her officers (including Octavian, the blond boy who had just returned from burning a stuffed bear as an offering to the gods) were seated with Annabeth and her crew. Percy sat with them, along with his two new friends, Frank and Hazel. And still, there wasn’t a single trace of that Katherine.
As a whirlwind of dishes settled onto the table, Percy leaned in and whispered,
“I want to show you New Rome. This place is amazing.”
Annabeth should have been happy. Percy was holding her hand and, for now, all his attention was on her; he even seemed excited to show her around. Yet a wave of resentment rose in her throat.
How could Percy speak with such enthusiasm about this place?
And Camp Half-Blood… his camp, his home?
She tried not to look at the new marks on Percy’s forearm: a tattoo of the letters SPQR, just like Jason’s. At Camp Half-Blood, demigods received bead necklaces to mark their years of training. Here, the Romans branded your skin with fire, as if they were saying: You belong to us. Forever.
She swallowed down several cutting remarks.
“Okay.”
“I’ve been thinking,” he said nervously. “I had an idea…”
She cut herself off when she seemed to get distracted by something among the other couches.
When Annabeth followed his gaze, she finally got a look at the variable.
And the variable was—much to her deep irritation—gorgeous.
She had delicate, harmonious features; long hair, golden with reddish highlights that shimmered in the sunlight; radiant skin dusted with freckles across her cheeks; and a charming smile as she greeted legionnaires on her way by, walking with an elegant, effortless stride.
She looked like a literal doll. And Annabeth instantly hated her.
Percy was looking at her as if she’d hung the stars in the sky, though a spark of impatience flickered across his face every time the girl stopped to chat with anyone who caught her attention—especially if it was a boy.
Bitterness exploded in Annabeth’s chest when Percy finally managed to catch the girl’s attention. The moment their eyes met, Percy seemed to center his entire world on… Katherine.
“How kind of you to join us, Kitty!” Percy’s smile dripped sarcasm as he pointed to the open seat on his other side.
Annabeth felt a tight, uncomfortable pull in her stomach at the nickname. Kitty. He said it with a familiarity that scraped at her nerves.
The girl’s eyes met Annabeth’s for barely a heartbeat. They were striking, but Annabeth couldn’t determine the exact color; maybe they were as indeterminate as Piper’s.
“I got lost on the way to Rome,” the girl said in a pleasant voice with a faint Italian accent. She sat down with irritating grace. “Sorry for the delay, praetor. You can punish me later.”
The way she pronounced praetor, and the way she looked at Percy while she said it, ignited something sharp and hard in Annabeth’s chest. She saw Percy blush, and irritation tightened beneath her skin like a coiled spring.
That girl is a danger, murmured a soft voice in her mind, sliding through her thoughts like a cold thread. Much too close to Percy.
“So—what did you pick for us to eat?”
Without waiting for an answer, Katherine picked up one of the utensils in front of her—the fork—speared one of Percy’s potatoes, and brought it to her lips.
“You can eat my dinner, Kitty. No need to ask first,” Percy said, perfectly unbothered by her stealing from his plate.
“Thanks, Percy,” she replied cheerfully. “It’s nice to know you’re so considerate. After all, it’s the least you can do after stealing my strawberries and cream.”
Percy let out a low, exasperated groan.
“How long are you going to keep holding that against me? I only ate two or three.”
“Two or three fewer for me,” she said, pointing at him with the fork—where another potato she’d swiped was now impaled.
As Annabeth watched the interaction, a conclusion hit her like a hurricane: her plans, her expectations, everything she had imagined wavered all at once.
That playful way of arguing… the way Percy looked at Katherine… how his attention seemed to narrow entirely around her…
It was far too similar to how he had looked at Annabeth just six months ago.
But why? How could things have changed so much in so little time?
She’s the reason, the voice whispered again. She’s clouding his senses. He just needs to remember me.
Annabeth pressed her lips together as the girl’s eyes met hers again. They were a charming shade of blue that seemed to shift darker and lighter, until the color faded completely into another tone—one reminiscent of the ocean… of Percy’s own eyes.
The girl didn’t seem the least bit bothered by Annabeth; on the contrary, she acted as if Annabeth were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
And it was honestly pathetic how all it took was one look from that girl—one silly joke, one particular smile—for Percy to turn into a drooling idiot, desperate for even the smallest scrap of her attention.
He didn’t even seem bothered that she was flirting with Leo with those same smiles.
And that was what finally solidified the decision tightening in Annabeth’s chest.
She might have caught Percy’s attention, sure. But Annabeth was here, and she wasn’t going to let Katherine keep doing it. They just needed time away from the girl; after all, it wasn’t possible that he had stopped loving her so quickly. Knowing that, in reality, Percy and Katherine had only spent two months together made her feel a little more secure.
So she forced herself to focus on what truly mattered: the mission. Katherine was just an annoyance she had to endure for a few minutes.
But even that fragile certainty began to falter when, after Annabeth pointed out the obvious—that there were seven demigods and Katherine wasn’t one of them—Percy protested, getting angry with her as if Annabeth were the one being unreasonable; not him, who seemed to be letting his damned hormones make decisions for him instead of his brain.
Seaweed Brain, definitely, she thought, furious.
“All right, I think that—”
Annabeth didn’t let him continue. She knew that expression—pretending to feel sorry to make Percy think Annabeth was being petty.
“She can’t come,” she cut in. Katherine’s eyes flashed with annoyance, and Annabeth felt a spark of satisfaction.
Katherine will never fool me with those manipulative tricks, she thought.
However, Annabeth was wrong to think it would only last a few minutes. It would last days.
Katherine had somehow managed to be in the right place at the right time, slipping aboard the ship before Annabeth could stop her. And she couldn’t, even if she wanted to, ask her to get off: that girl was just as much in danger as any of them.
Too convenient, whispered a small voice. It almost seems… calculated rather than coincidence.
It was a fleeting thought, but Annabeth was startled by how much venom it carried.
She shook her head. No. That was her jealousy twisting her mind. Maybe the stress of the Mark of Athena and the argument with her mother were dragging the worst out of her.
Really?
Katherine, at first glance, seemed carefree—overly flirtatious, even—but she hadn’t exactly been bad. She simply needed to understand that Percy and Annabeth had a history, and that no matter how hard she tried, she wouldn’t be able to interfere. A relationship built on shared battles, moments of comfort, years of trust… wasn’t going to crumble because of a girl Percy had met due to unfortunate circumstances.
However, that first meeting of the Seven—with her included as a guest—opened Annabeth’s eyes to the reality of the girl whose full name, as Percy had told her, was Katherine Hatherleigh.
“Guys, how are we going to organize ourselves? We only have eight cabins, not nine,” Piper pointed out, and everyone looked at Katherine.
“Well, maybe we should’ve listened to Hera,” Leo muttered. “She said we needed an extra cabin, just in case… Annabeth—”
Annabeth shot him a withering look.
It was true. Hera had said that sometimes unexpected events would arise, forcing the demigods to be cautious. She had suggested they keep an extra cabin.
Annabeth felt disgust prickle beneath her skin as Leo relayed the message. She hated the idea of following the queen of the gods’ advice, but she had to think rationally. Surely Hera had meant they needed to bring an adult—someone who could guide them.
That was the logical explanation. Annabeth never would’ve believed that the extra cabin would end up being for a demigod who wasn’t part of the Prophecy of Seven.
Either way, she had to accept she’d been wrong. She just wished Hera hadn’t been the one who turned out to be right.
“There were seven demigods,” she said, her voice tight. “I didn’t think Hera was serious when the prophecy was clear. I didn’t think there could be… unexpected variables.”
For the first time, Katherine’s mask of false cheer and carefree ease cracked.
She rose with graceful composure and offered Annabeth a smile of poisonous politeness.
“Don’t worry, I don’t mind sharing. I’ve done plenty of that on this trip; I’m sure there won’t be any problems, given the circumstances.”
Annabeth disliked the mocking lilt in her voice, as if Katherine knew something Annabeth didn’t.
Annabeth stood as well, matching her smile. They could both play this game.
“I’m sure Hazel won’t have a problem with that.”
Katherine’s mocking smile widened, grating on Annabeth’s nerves, as she nodded like she was humoring a tantrum-throwing child.
Gods, this girl was unbearable.
Annabeth glanced toward Hazel, who nodded, looking slightly nervous.
Hazel was very sweet. Annabeth wondered how she could possibly be friends with someone like Katherine.
Katherine was an expert in manipulation and deceit, Annabeth concluded.
“Then I’ll head to the cabin. Leo already told me where it is,” Katherine said as she walked toward the door. Right before leaving, she turned back and gave Annabeth a look of feigned compassion. “And really, Annabeth… don’t worry. Even daughters of wisdom can make simple mistakes out of pride.”
Annabeth clenched her fists, a knot of anger tightening in her chest like a choking hand.
“Good night, everyone.”
That comment was far too accurate. As if she knew.
Her eyes shifted to Percy, who looked like he wished the ship’s floor would open up and swallow him whole.
“How…?” she asked, her voice tight with anger. “How could you tell her…?”
She couldn’t think straight.
She shot to her feet, furious, and stormed off with the sole intention of locking herself in her room.
Percy caught up to her at the door, wedging his shoulder in to keep her from slamming it shut and slipping inside after her.
“Get out!”
“Annabeth, I didn’t tell her anything!” he exclaimed, raising his hands. “Listen to me—she didn’t mean to be—”
“Didn’t mean to?” A hysterical laugh burst from her lips. “Are you seriously going to tell me there was no malice in what she said? You can’t be that blind!”
“What you said to her wasn’t very nice either!” he shot back, frowning.
He’s brainwashed, she thought. It was the only logical explanation.
“Percy, we’re seven demigods. When she mentioned the extra cabin, I thought she meant the coach—an adult.” She forced herself to lower her voice. She had to be smart. “I didn’t think that… Katherine… would’ve been kidnapped and end up on the quest.”
Percy opened and closed his mouth.
“I’ll talk to her,” he said. “I just… I think there’s been a huge misunderstanding. A mistake.”
Yes, the mistake had been not throwing that girl off the ship, Annabeth wanted to say, but she didn’t want to give Katherine more ammunition to play the victim.
“I want to be alone, Percy. I need to think.”
“Annabeth…”
“Please go.”
After hesitating for a few moments, he left, visibly upset. Ironically, something about that actually calmed her.
Percy hated seeing her upset and never hesitated to confront whoever had caused it. And judging by his expression, Katherine was in for a well-deserved reprimand.
She was glad that hadn’t changed—not for a pretty face and a bit of flirting.
But that relief didn’t last. Somehow, once again, Katherine had managed to charm Percy all over again. And no matter how much Annabeth pointed things out, he didn’t seem to notice. He only gave her that tired look, as if she were the one acting paranoid.
She’s bewitched him.
Six months ago, he wouldn’t have questioned her observations, but Katherine had him so enthralled he couldn’t see the girl’s flaws.
But Annabeth wasn’t going to give up.
She knocked on Percy’s door that night, but the fact that he took so long to open it unsettled her.
Was he hiding something from her?
“What took you so long?” Annabeth asked the moment she heard the click of the door locking behind him.
“Uh, I wasn’t… uh, dressed.”
Feeling a bad premonition, Annabeth let her gaze sweep across the room until it landed on the closet.
“Annabeth,” Percy shifted his attention to him. He looked… pretty nervous. “What are you doing sneaking into my cabin? What if Coach Hedge catches us?”
Annabeth rolled her eyes and huffed.
“Percy, you’ll be seventeen in two months. You can’t keep worrying about getting in trouble with Coach Hedge.”
“Have you seen his baseball bat?”
“Besides, Seaweed Brain, I just wanted us to take a walk. We haven’t had any time to really talk. I want to show you something—my favorite spot on the ship.”
Time alone that, of course, wouldn’t be interrupted because he got distracted looking for Katherine.
Percy seemed hesitant, when before he would’ve agreed without a second thought.
“Can I, you know, brush my teeth first?”
“You’d better,” she said, trying not to show that those few seconds had actually hurt. “And while you’re at it, brush your hair too.”
They walked as cautiously as possible through the corridors. Annabeth led him past the engine room.
“How does this thing even work?” Percy asked.
“No idea,” Annabeth replied. “And I’m the only one besides Leo who can operate it.”
“Very reassuring.”
“It should be. It’s only threatened to explode once.”
“I hope you’re joking.”
She smiled.
“Come on.”
They made their way past the supply rooms and the armory. At the stern of the ship, they stopped before a pair of double wooden doors that opened into a large stable. The place smelled of fresh hay and wool blankets. The left wall was lined with empty horse stalls like the ones used for pegasi at camp. The right wall held two empty cages big enough for large zoo animals.
Just like the first time she’d seen it, she couldn’t help smiling as a wave of nostalgia washed over her, taking her back to when she was twelve—her first quest with Percy. Their first truly honest conversation.
In the center of the floor lay a transparent panel of nearly two square meters. Far below, the nighttime landscape sped by: miles of dark countryside crisscrossed with roads glowing like threads in a net.
“A ship with a glass bottom?” Percy asked.
Annabeth grabbed a blanket from the nearest stall door and spread it over part of the glass floor.
“Sit with me.”
They settled onto the blanket as if they were having a picnic, watching the world streak by beneath them.
“Leo built the stables so the pegasi could come and go easily,” Annabeth explained. “He just didn’t realize pegasi prefer to roam free, so the stables are always empty.”
“What do you mean, ‘come and go easily’?” Percy asked. “Wouldn’t they have to go down two flights of stairs?”
Annabeth tapped the glass with her knuckles.
“These are bay doors—like on a bomber.”
Percy swallowed hard.
“You’re telling me we’re sitting on bay doors? What if they opened?”
“I guess we’d die in the fall. But they won’t open. Almost certainly.”
“Great.”
Annabeth laughed.
“Do you know why I like being here? It’s not just because of the view. What does this place remind you of?”
Percy looked around—the cages and stalls, the bronze celestial lamp hanging from a beam. Then his eyes lit up in recognition.
“The zoo truck,” he said. “The one we took to get to Las Vegas.”
Annabeth gave him a radiant smile.
“That was ages ago,” Percy said. “We were exhausted, determined to cross the country to find that stupid bolt, stuck in a truck with a bunch of mistreated animals. How can you be nostalgic about that?”
“Because it was the first time you and I really talked, Seaweed Brain. I told you about my family and…”
She removed her camp necklace, the one strung with her father’s college ring and a clay bead for every year she’d spent at Camp Half-Blood.
“And it reminds me how long we’ve known each other,” she went on softly. “We were twelve, Percy. Can you believe that?”
“No.”
Annabeth lifted her gaze and looked at his face.
“I missed you, Percy.”
“I missed you too, Wise Girl.”
Unfortunately, not enough, whispered a part of her mind. Not when he was with Katherine.
“What happened to you, Percy?”
He shifted uneasily.
“I’ve told you everything…”
“Not about… Katherine,” she said.
It wasn’t that she enjoyed hearing him talk about her—she absolutely didn’t—but she needed to know who that girl was in Percy’s mind. How deeply he’d been influenced by her.
“Kate… Kate is great.” His expression softened, and Annabeth felt a knot tighten in her chest. “She’s… like you see her…”
“Carefree?”
“No,” he said quickly. “Or at least, not entirely. She’s… free, you know? It’s not that nothing worries her—it’s that she doesn’t let those things rule her life. And the way she lives… it’s contagious. She doesn’t expect anything from you; she just… lets you be whatever you want…”
Gods, she knew this was going to hurt, but she had never imagined it would hurt this much.
His eyes were shining, his shoulders relaxed, his smile genuine.
He really was falling in love with her.
Really… had she really lost her chance?
Yes, she’d noticed he hadn’t been sure what to think when she asked for space, as if he didn’t understand why she needed to clear her mind—but that was exactly why she needed it. They had survived a war together: emotions running high, Luke had died, and he had apparently developed feelings for Annabeth…
It was all too much.
But she had never imagined that decision would end up ruining everything.
Because the problem wasn’t time. It was Katherine.
She clenched her fists.
“Annabeth…” Percy finally stopped rambling about the thousand wonders of Katherine Hatherleigh. “I think we should head back up.”
Stop him.
“You looked worried when I arrived,” she interrupted. “Do you want to tell me why?”
He hesitated for a moment, but soon told her about his dreams. She, in turn, told him about her encounter with her mother.
“Annabeth, I really think it’s time to—”
Stop him.
“I visited Sally during those months…”
She couldn’t control it. Every time he tried to leave, she said something else.
Until drowsiness overtook them both.
The next day, things seemed to improve—at least where Percy was concerned. Percy and Katherine had parted ways. She hadn’t wanted to accept it, but in the end, Annabeth had always been at the top of the list of people Percy cared about.
Katherine tried to look composed in the kitchen, pretending she was above Annabeth, but it was clear that what had happened had shaken her enough to let him go.
It really was pure chance that Annabeth happened to be talking with Piper when they heard Percy’s cabin door open and Katherine step out—sad, but resolute.
“For now, we should stick to talking only when it’s about the mission,” she said without looking directly at him before walking away.
As she turned into the hallway, her gaze briefly collided with Annabeth’s. For a second, Katherine’s eyes flashed with anger, but then they slid into indifference.
“Katie…”
At last, it was over, a part of her sighed in relief. Katherine Hatherleigh had left Percy. No more manipulation, no more pulling him away from Annabeth.
Finally, things were starting to fall back into place.
And yes, Percy was hurting, but Annabeth would make sure he understood it was for the best.
A faint smile curved her lips—right as Percy looked at her.
Never, in her entire life, had Percy given her a look like that: pure contempt, as if Annabeth had committed the worst betrayal imaginable.
She shuddered.
Then he turned and slammed the door shut.
Why did he look at me… why did he look at me like that? Doesn’t he see that Katherine isn’t good for him? That she distracts him from what matters? That because of her, we were drifting apart?
She couldn’t stand waiting even half an hour, despite Piper’s pleas to give him space.
She knocked on the door.
It certainly wasn’t what she expected.
“If anyone started all of this, it was me. I kissed her. I asked her out.”
Annabeth’s heart shattered the moment he finished saying those words.
Percy looked at her, regretful… but not regretful about what he’d said—only because he hated seeing her hurt.
Wow. There was no point in lamenting it. And yet she did. She wished she had never decided to take time to think. She should’ve thrown herself in completely. Maybe things would’ve been different.
“I’m not asking you to be her friend,” Percy said gently. “But… at least try to be neutral. She hasn’t done anything wrong.”
Gods… objectively, he was right. When Katherine met Percy, he had been free. It wasn’t her fault for seizing the chance Annabeth had let slip.
But Annabeth couldn’t help blaming her—because it was easier. Because accepting that she had pushed Percy toward that outcome meant admitting her own responsibility. She had never imagined that, no matter how loyal Percy was, he could fall in love with someone else… least of all with the one person who had been at his side during a time as hard as losing almost all of his memories.
At the very least, she would try to keep her problems with Katherine away from Percy.
“I’ll try,” she murmured.
The next day, she tried not to think about Percy and Katherine being alone together. And, of course, those thoughts refused to leave her in peace despite her efforts to focus on the quest.
The walk through the Battery had been calm. According to the markers, the beachside park was known as White Point Garden. The sea breeze carried away the stifling heat of the summer afternoon, and in the shade of the palmettos the air was pleasantly cool. The promenade was lined with old Civil War cannons and bronze statues of historical figures, which made Annabeth shudder. She remembered the statues in New York during the Titan War—how they had come to life thanks to Daedalus’s Command Sequence Twenty-Three. She wondered how many more statues across the country were actually automatons waiting to be activated.
Charleston Harbor gleamed under the sun. To the north and south, strips of land stretched out like arms around the bay, and at the harbor entrance, about a mile offshore, there was an island with a stone fort. Annabeth vaguely recalled that the fort had been important during the Civil War, but she didn’t spend much time dwelling on it. Not when breathing in the salty ocean air reminded her of her broken heart. She would never be able to look at the sea the same way again… at least not for a long time.
She felt relieved once they moved away from the waterfront and began walking deeper into the gardens.
The park wasn’t crowded. Annabeth imagined most locals were on vacation or hiding away for an afternoon nap.
They wandered down South Battery Street, flanked by four-story colonial mansions. The brick walls were covered in ivy; the façades adorned with tall white columns like Roman temples. The gardens overflowed with rosebushes, honeysuckle, and blooming bougainvillea. It looked as if Demeter had set a timer decades ago for all the plants to grow and then forgotten to come back and check on them.
“It reminds me a little of New Rome,” Hazel said. “The big mansions and gardens. The columns and arches.”
Annabeth nodded. She remembered reading that before the Civil War, the American South had often been compared to ancient Rome. For a time, Southern society had been known for its grand architecture, its sense of honor, its code of chivalry. And on the darker side, it had been defined by slavery.
Rome had slaves, some Southerners had argued, so why shouldn’t we?
Annabeth shivered.
She loved the architecture—the houses and gardens were beautiful, very Roman. But she wondered why beautiful things always seemed wrapped in sinister history. Or was it the other way around? Maybe a sinister history was required to build beautiful things, to mask darker truths.
She shook her head. Percy wouldn’t tolerate her getting this philosophical. Whenever she tried to talk to him about things like that, his eyes glazed over.
Quickly, she tried to push the thought of him out of her mind.
The other girls weren’t talking much, which didn’t help Annabeth distract herself. Piper kept scanning the area, as if expecting an ambush. She’d said she’d seen this park in a vision from her dagger, but hadn’t given details. Annabeth assumed it scared her. After all, the last time Piper had tried to interpret a vision from her knife, Percy and Jason had nearly killed each other in Kansas.
Hazel also seemed on edge. Maybe she was just taking in the surroundings, or maybe she was worried about her brother. In less than four days, if they didn’t find him and free him, Nico would die.
Annabeth felt the weight of that countdown pressing on her too. Nico di Angelo had always given her mixed feelings. She suspected he had been in love with her ever since she and the others rescued him and his older sister, Bianca, from that military school in Maine; but Annabeth had never felt even the faintest attraction toward Nico. He was too young and too brooding. There was something dark about him that unsettled her.
Even so, she felt responsible for him. When they’d first met, neither of them had known about his half sister Hazel. Back then, Bianca had been Nico’s only living relative. When she died, Nico became a homeless orphan, condemned to wander the world alone. Annabeth understood that part of his life all too well.
She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she could’ve walked the park forever, but Piper grabbed her arm.
“There.”
She pointed across the harbor. About a hundred meters from shore, a gleaming white figure floated above the water. At first, Annabeth thought it might be a buoy or a small boat catching the sunlight, but it was unmistakably glowing—and it moved far more smoothly than a boat, gliding in a straight line toward them. As it came closer, Annabeth saw it was the figure of a woman.
“The ghost,” she said.
“It’s not a ghost,” Hazel replied. “No spirit glows that brightly.”
Annabeth decided to believe her. She couldn’t imagine what it was like to be Hazel—dying so young, returning from the Underworld, knowing more about the dead than the living.
As if in a trance, Piper crossed the street toward the waterfront, narrowly avoiding a horse-drawn carriage.
“Piper!” Annabeth shouted.
“We should follow her,” Hazel said.
When Annabeth and Hazel caught up, the apparition was only a few meters away.
Piper stared at her with fury, as if the sight personally offended her.
“It’s her,” she murmured.
Annabeth squinted at the glowing figure, but the light was too intense to make out any details. Then the apparition floated up over the seawall and stopped in front of them.
The glow faded. Annabeth’s mouth fell open. The woman was breathtakingly beautiful—and strangely familiar. Her face was hard to describe: her features seemed to shift from one glamorous movie star to another. Her eyes sparkled playfully—sometimes green, sometimes blue, sometimes amber. Her hair flickered from long, straight blonde waves to dark chocolate curls.
Annabeth felt an immediate stab of envy. She had always wished for dark hair. She felt like no one took her seriously because she was blonde. She had to work twice as hard to be recognized as a strategist, an architect, a head counselor—anything connected to intelligence.
The woman wore a Southern beauty-queen gown, just as Jason had described: a low-cut pink silk bodice and a three-tiered white scalloped lace hoop skirt. Long white silk gloves covered her arms, and she held a fan of pink and white feathers against her chest.
Everything about her seemed designed to make Annabeth feel inadequate: the effortless elegance with which she carried the dress, the perfect yet subtle makeup, the innate feminine charm no man could possibly resist.
And the worst part… she looked irritatingly familiar.
Annabeth realized her envy was irrational. The woman was making her feel this way. She had experienced this before. She recognized her—though her face shifted constantly, becoming more beautiful with every passing second.
And she finally understood why she seemed familiar: she had seen many of these same expressions recently… in the eighth crew member.
“Aphrodite,” she said.
“Venus?” Hazel asked, astonished.
“Mom,” Piper said flatly.
“Girls!”
The goddess opened her arms as if expecting a group hug. None of the three demigods moved. Hazel even backed into a palmetto.
“I’m so glad you came,” Aphrodite said. “Though… I would’ve loved to see my other daughter, Katherine, as well.”
She glanced around, as if expecting her to pop out from behind a tree like some dramatic surprise. She didn’t—and Aphrodite clearly wasn’t pleased. Annabeth, however, wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not.
“A war is coming,” the goddess continued, less bubbly now. Piper seemed to catch the shift too, because she tried to hide a wince. “Blood will be shed—it’s inevitable. There is only one thing to do.”
“Um… and what would that be?” Annabeth ventured.
“Have tea and chat, of course. Come along!”
Aphrodite knew how to make tea.
She led them to the park’s central pavilion: a gazebo with white columns, where a table had been set with cutlery, porcelain teacups, and—of course—a steaming teapot whose fragrance shifted as easily as Aphrodite’s appearance: sometimes cinnamon, other times jasmine, other times mint. There were plates of scones, cookies, and muffins, fresh butter, and jam. Annabeth assumed it all had to be terribly fattening… unless, of course, you were the immortal goddess of love.
Aphrodite sat—or rather, held court—on a wicker chair. She poured tea and served pastries without spilling a drop, maintaining flawless posture the entire time and wearing a dazzling smile. The longer Annabeth sat there, the more she hated her.
“My adorable girls,” the goddess said. “I simply adore Charleston! How many weddings I’ve attended in this very gazebo… it brings tears to my eyes. And the elegant dances of the Old South… ah, they were exquisite. Many of these mansions still have statues of me in their gardens, though back then they called me Venus.”
“So which are you now?” Annabeth asked. “Venus or Aphrodite?”
The goddess took a sip of tea. Her eyes sparkled mischievously.
“Annabeth Chase, you’ve grown into a very pretty young woman. But you really should do something with your hair. And you, Hazel Levesque—those clothes…”
“My clothes?”
Hazel looked down at her wrinkled jeans, not so much embarrassed as puzzled, as if she couldn’t imagine what could possibly be wrong with them.
“Mom!” Piper protested. “You’re embarrassing me.”
“Well, I don’t see why,” the goddess replied. “Just because you don’t appreciate my fashion advice, Piper, doesn’t mean the others have to feel the same. Kate, I’m sure, would appreciate it. Did you know she keeps an impeccable beauty routine schedule? Every three weeks she goes to the hair salon, every two weeks to get her manicure, and every month for a pedicure. And that habit she picked up in the North—alternating heat and cold—keeps her skin looking spectacular.”
Piper made a face like she’d bitten into a lemon, her jaw tightening as she stared into her teacup. Annabeth noticed her fingers closing around the handle with more force than necessary.
Annabeth couldn’t blame her. It probably wasn’t Aphrodite’s intention, but no child liked being compared to a sibling who received all the praise—especially when your mother was a goddess and the chances to see her were few and far between.
Aphrodite studied Annabeth and Hazel thoughtfully.
“I could give each of you a quick makeover. Perhaps some silk ball gowns like mine…”
“Mom!”
“All right,” Aphrodite sighed. “To answer your question, Annabeth, I am both Aphrodite and Venus. Unlike my fellow Olympians, shifts from one culture to another don’t unsettle me in the same way. The Romans gave me more responsibilities and new titles—mother of heroes, patron of marriage, symbol of good fortune—but none of that contradicted who I am. It only added nuance. In fact, I like to think I haven’t aged a day!”
Her smile didn’t fade, but a hint of seriousness entered her expression.
“After all, love is love, whether you’re Greek or Roman. This civil war doesn’t affect me as much as it does the others. Love knows how to adapt. And so do I.”
Wonderful, Annabeth thought. Her own mother, the most sensible goddess on Olympus, had ended up as a cruel, scatterbrained head trapped in a subway station. And of all the gods who might help them, the only ones who didn’t seem affected by the Greek–Roman schism were Aphrodite, Nemesis, and Dionysus. Love, revenge, wine. Very helpful.
Hazel nibbled on a sugar cookie.
“We’re not at war yet, my lady.”
“Oh, dear Hazel,” Aphrodite said, folding her fan. “You’re very optimistic, but you have some heartbreaking days ahead of you. Of course war is coming. Love and war always go hand in hand. They are the peaks of human emotion! Good and evil, beauty and ugliness.”
She smiled at Annabeth, as if she knew exactly what Annabeth had been thinking about the Old South.
Hazel set her cookie down. A few crumbs clung to her chin, and Annabeth liked that she either didn’t notice them or simply didn’t care.
“What do you mean by ‘heartbreaking days’?”
The goddess laughed as if Hazel were an adorable puppy.
“Well, Annabeth could give you a hint.”
Annabeth nearly snapped the handle off her teacup. For years, her heart had been broken. First there was Luke Castellan, her first love, who had only ever seen her as a little sister; then he had turned bad and developed feelings for Annabeth… just before he died. Then there was Percy—infuriating but sweet—who had seemed to fall in love with another girl named Rachel and had nearly died several times. And finally, Annabeth had lost her chance because of one damn decision, and because during those six months when Percy had been kidnapped with his memory wiped, he had met the stunning Katherine Hatherleigh—who, incidentally, was the daughter of the goddess sitting right in front of her.
Who was to say Aphrodite hadn’t pulled a few strings to favor her daughter? After all, Annabeth had already seen that she had a soft spot for her.
“Interesting is a gentle way of putting it,” Annabeth said.
“Well, I can’t take credit for all your troubles,” the goddess replied. Her gaze darkened as she looked at Annabeth, as if she once again suspected the direction of her thoughts. “But I do love the twists in a love story—and the more surprising they are, the better.”
Maybe it was Annabeth’s imagination, but there was a certain tension in her words. A forced brightness, though Annabeth couldn’t quite tell what caused it. She didn’t seem to be lying, but she didn’t seem entirely truthful either.
“You’re all such stories—I mean, such extraordinary girls. You make me so proud!”
“Mother, is there any reason you’re here?” Piper asked impatiently.
“Hm? You mean aside from the tea? I come here often. I love the view, the food, the atmosphere—you can smell romance and suffering in the air, can’t you? Centuries of romance and suffering.”
She pointed toward a nearby mansion.
“Do you see that rooftop terrace? The night the Civil War began, we held a party there. The bombardment of Fort Sumter.”
“That’s right,” Annabeth recalled. “The island in the harbor. That’s where the first battle of the Civil War took place. The Confederates bombarded Union troops and took the fort.”
“What a party!” Aphrodite said. “A string quartet, all the men dressed in their elegant new officer uniforms. And the women’s dresses—you should’ve seen them! I danced with Ares… or was it Mars? I’m afraid I was a bit tipsy. And those beautiful flashes of light across the harbor, and the roar of the cannons—it gave the men the perfect excuse to put their arms around their frightened sweethearts!”
Annabeth’s tea had gone cold. She hadn’t eaten a bite, but she felt like she was going to be sick.
“You’re talking about the beginning of the bloodiest war in U.S. history. More than six hundred thousand people died—more Americans than in World War I and World War II combined.”
“And the refreshments!” Aphrodite went on. “Ah, they were divine. General Beauregard himself made an appearance. Utterly shameless. He was on his second wife by then, but you should have seen the way he looked at Lisbeth Cooper…”
“Mother!”
Piper tossed her scone to the pigeons.
“Yes, yes, I’m sorry,” the goddess said. “To summarize, I’m here to help you girls. I doubt you’ll be seeing much of Hera. Given her little errand, she’s not exactly welcome in the throne room. And the other gods are quite indisposed, as you know—torn between their Roman and Greek sides. Some more than others.” Aphrodite fixed her gaze on Annabeth. “I assume you’ve told your friends about your argument with your mother.”
Annabeth felt her cheeks burn. Hazel and Piper looked at her curiously.
“An argument?” Hazel asked.
“A disagreement,” Annabeth said. “It’s nothing.”
“Nothing!” the goddess exclaimed. “Well, what do you expect? Athena was the most Greek of all the goddesses. After all, she was the patron of Athens. When the Romans rose to power, they adopted Athena almost as a trend. They reshaped her into Minerva, goddess of arts and intellect. But the Romans already had other war gods better suited to their tastes—more distinctly Roman—like Bellona…”
“Reyna’s mother,” Piper murmured.
“Exactly,” the goddess agreed. “I had a lovely conversation with Reyna right here in the park some time ago. And of course, the Romans had Mars. And then Mithras, who wasn’t even truly Greek or Roman, but the legionnaires were absolutely mad for his cult. Personally, I always found him rude and dreadfully nouveau dieu. In any case, the Romans marginalized poor Athena. They stripped away almost all her military importance. The Greeks never forgave the Romans for that insult. Neither did Athena.”
Annabeth’s ears rang.
“The Mark of Athena,” she said. “It leads to a statue, doesn’t it? It leads to… the statue.”
Aphrodite smiled.
“You’re clever, like your mother. But you should know that your siblings—the children of Athena—have been searching for centuries. None have succeeded in reclaiming the statue. And in the meantime, they’ve kept alive the hostility between Greeks and Romans. Every civil war… so much bloodshed and suffering… has been orchestrated in large part by children of Athena.”
“That’s…”
Annabeth wanted to say impossible, but she remembered Athena’s bitter words in Grand Central Station and the hatred in her eyes.
“Romantic?” Aphrodite suggested. “Yes, I suppose.”
“But—” Annabeth tried to clear the confusion clouding her thoughts. “How does the Mark of Athena work? Is it a series of clues? A trail Athena left behind…?”
“Hm.” Aphrodite looked delicately bored. “I couldn’t say. I don’t believe Athena created the Mark consciously. If she knew where her statue was, she’d simply tell you. No… I suppose the Mark is more like a spiritual trail of breadcrumbs. A connection between the statue and the goddess’s children. The statue wants to be found—but it can only be freed by the most worthy.”
“And for thousands of years, no one has been able to do it,” Annabeth said.
“Wait,” Piper cut in. “What statue are we talking about?”
The goddess laughed.
“Oh, I’m sure Annabeth can fill you in. In any case, the clue you need is close—a map, left behind by children of Athena in 1861; a memory that will help guide you once you reach Rome. But as you rightly said, Annabeth Chase, no one has ever followed the Mark of Athena to the end. You’ll have to face your greatest fear—the fear of all Athena’s children. And even if you survive, what will you use your prize for? War, or peace?”
Annabeth was grateful for the tablecloth, because her legs were trembling beneath it.
“That map,” she said. “Where is it?”
“Girls!”
Hazel pointed at the sky.
Circling above the palmettos were two massive eagles. Higher still, a chariot drawn by pegasi was descending rapidly. Apparently, Leo’s idea of using Buford the table as a distraction hadn’t worked—at least, not for long.
Aphrodite spread butter on a muffin as if she had all the time in the world.
“Of course, the map is in Fort Sumter,” she said, gesturing toward the island across the harbor with her butter knife. “It seems the Romans have arrived to cut you off. If I were you, I’d hurry back to the ship. But first.”
She gently set the butter knife on a plate and extended her hand. The air shimmered, and with a soft flash, the goddess’s fingers closed around a small waist pouch.
It was quite beautiful. The leather was ivory-colored, and the front bore a delicate floral pattern embroidered in gold thread. Its clasps gleamed with polished silver.
“Piper, dear, this is for Katherine,” Aphrodite said with a radiant smile as she held out the pouch. Piper stared at it in disbelief, taking it almost automatically. “I would’ve loved for her to come. I haven’t seen her since she was a little girl—back when my dear Ben was still around…”
The goddess’s voice softened, stretching each syllable with nostalgia. She seemed to be gazing far away—specifically into the past—utterly unaware of the three girls sitting in front of her. That reverie perhaps explained why she didn’t notice Piper’s expression shift from disbelief to deep resentment.
“Mother…” Piper muttered, her voice sharp with coldness as she clenched the pouch in her fingers.
“Oh…” Aphrodite blinked, coming out of her reverie. She nodded solemnly. “You’re right, Piper. You must go. But before you do… would you like some tea cakes to take with you?”