The Mark of Athena (The Heroes of Olympus, #3)

by Rick Riordan

Without warning, Hera had plucked up Percy Jackson, Annabeth’s boyfriend, wiped his memory, and sent him to the Roman camp. In exchange, the Greeks had gotten Jason. None of that was Jason’s fault; but every time Annabeth saw him, she remembered how much she missed Percy.

Annabeth scanned the faces and…oh, gods. She saw him.

Percy looked so at ease, so happy.

Annabeth’s heart did a gymnastics routine.

But Percy was down there…he was so close. She had to reach him.

She’d secretly had a crush on him since they were twelve years old.

Last summer, she’d fallen for him hard. They’d been a happy couple for four months—and then he’d disappeared.

During their separation, something had happened to Annabeth’s feelings. They’d grown painfully intense—like she’d been forced to withdraw from a life-saving medication. Now she wasn’t sure which was more excruciating—...

Annabeth didn’t mean to, but she surged forward. Percy rushed toward her at the same time.

Percy threw his arms around her. They kissed, and for a moment nothing else mattered. An asteroid could have hit the planet and wiped out all life, and Annabeth wouldn’t have cared.

Seaweed Brain, she thought giddily. Percy pulled away and studied her face. “Gods, I never thought—”

“If you ever leave me again,” she said, her eyes stinging, “I swear to all the gods—”

She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong. And there was no way she would ever risk losing Percy again.

All she wanted to do was be with Percy—preferably alone.

Percy still didn’t look happy about it, but he took Annabeth’s hand. “As long as you’re my buddy, I’m good.”

“I’ll come back to you.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Promise.”

She leaned over and kissed him: a good, proper kiss without anyone watching—no

“I missed you, Percy.”

He didn’t say anything, but he grasped Annabeth’s hand weakly as if to say, Be right with you, as soon as the world stops spinning.

“Percy is everything to me.”

Annabeth kissed him. “Good luck, Seaweed Brain. Just come back to me, okay?” “I will,” he promised. “You do the same.”

Mostly she breathed in the sea air and thought about Percy. Gods forbid she ever had to break up with him. She’d never be able to visit the sea again without remembering her broken heart.

“Well, Annabeth could give you some idea. I once promised to make her love life interesting. And didn’t I?”

First there was Luke Castellan, her first crush, who had seen her only as a little sister; then he’d turned evil and decided he liked her—right before he died. Next came Percy, who was infuriating but sweet, yet he had seemed to be falling for another girl named Rachel, and then he almost died, several times. Finally Annabeth had gotten Percy to herself, only to have him vanish for six months and lose his memory.

Percy stood on the dock, holding Annabeth’s dagger.

“You dropped this,” he said, totally poker-faced. Annabeth threw her arms around him. “I love you!”

The fate of the world might depend on it. But part of him wanted to say: Forget the world. He didn’t want to be without her.

He couldn’t let anything happen to his friends. He wasn’t going to lose Annabeth—not again.

Athena had once told Percy his fatal flaw: he was supposedly too loyal to his friends. He couldn’t see the big picture. He would save a friend even if it meant destroying the world.

Then suddenly Percy was next to her, lacing his fingers in hers.

He turned her gently away from the pit and wrapped his arms around her. She buried her face in his chest and broke down in tears. “It’s okay,” he said. “We’re together.” He didn’t say you’re okay, or we’re alive. After all they’d been through over the last year, he knew the most important thing was that they were together. She loved him for saying that.

“The giants’ bane stands gold and pale,” Hazel quoted. “Won with pain from a woven jail.” She looked at Annabeth with admiration. “It was Arachne’s jail. You tricked her into weaving it.”

“Percy, let me go,” she croaked. “You can’t pull me up.” His face was white with effort. She could see in his eyes that he knew it was hopeless. “Never,” he said.

Percy tightened his grip on Annabeth’s wrist. His face was gaunt, scraped and bloody, his hair dusted with cobwebs, but when he locked eyes with her, she thought he had never looked more handsome. “We’re staying together,” he promised. “You’re not getting away from me. Never again.”

“As long as we’re together,” she said.

Then Percy let go of his tiny ledge, and together, holding hands, he and Annabeth fell into the endless darkness.