The Burning Maze (The Trials of Apollo, #3)

by Rick Riordan

OH, No, Thou Shalt Not, buzzed a voice in my head. My noble gesture was ruined when I realized I had, once again, drawn the Arrow of Dodona by mistake.

The arrow hummed angrily, KILLETH THYSELF WITH SOME OTHER PROJECTILE, KNAVE. OF COMMON MURDER WEAPONS, I AM NONE!

“Oh, I will,” Caligula promised. “Now, Lester, we both know you’re not going to—” He lunged with blinding speed, making a grab for the arrow. I’d been anticipating that. Before he could stop me, I cleverly plunged the arrow into my chest. Ha! That would teach Caligula to underestimate me!

VILLAINY! The Arrow of Dodona’s voice buzzed in my mind (and now also in my chest). THOU DIDST NOT JUST IMPALE ME HEREIN! O, VILE, MONSTROUS FLESH!

Incitatus trotted over. “Whoa, he really did it. That’s a horse of a different color.”

’TWAS ME, WITCH! the arrow intoned from within my rib cage. DOST THOU THINK I WOULD FAIN ALLOW MYSELF TO BE EMBEDDED IN THE DISGUSTING HEART OF LESTER? I DODGED AND WEAVED!

Medea snapped her fingers at the emperor. “Hand me the red vial.” Caligula scowled, clearly not used to playing surgical nurse. “I never rummage through a woman’s purse. Especially a sorceress’s.” I thought this was the surest sign yet that he was perfectly sane.

Caligula did not pretend to kill. He killed.

“Jason made a choice,” she said. “Same as you. Heroes have to be ready to sacrifice themselves.”

“But I might need the uku—” “I will practice my chords,” he insisted, and began strumming a suspended fourth.

Sometimes I really hated suspended fourths.

“Not really…” His expression said Yes, please, gods, we could use the help. “I just thought she should know what we were doing in case…” His expression said in case we combust into flames and are never heard from again.

Grover scratched his head. “Does anyone have a giant golden pen? I wish Percy were here.”

“Guys,” Grover said. “What’s the name of the last Roman king?” I thought. “Ta…hmm. I just had it, and now it’s gone. Ta-something.” “Taco?” Grover said helpfully. “Why would a Roman king be named Taco?” “I don’t know.” Grover rubbed his stomach. “Because I’m hungry?” Curse the satyr. Now all I could think of was tacos. Then

Very few people look as good in tights as Spider-Man. Meg was certainly not one of them.

I wondered, not for the first time, why we Greek deities had never created a god of family therapy. We certainly could have used one. Or perhaps we had one before I was born, and she quit. Or Kronos swallowed her whole.

“Hello, my dears.” Medea smiled. “You see, there doesn’t have to be an end to the prophecy, because you’re all going to die now anyway!”

The agony almost made me pass out, and the smell…oh, gods, I did not enjoy the smell of deep-fried Lester.

I fell to my knees. “Meg, Grover—get the Sibyl out of here. Leave me!” Another brave, self-sacrificing gesture. I hope you’re keeping count.

I wasn’t even a god anymore. I was…Lester? Oh, perfect. That name I could remember.

Her clothes had once again been reduced to a collection of burned, shredded rags—all of which, in my opinion, made her look exactly like The Meg should look.

“We heard the call of nature!” cried the lead dryad. That had a different meaning for mortals, but I decided not to mention it.

Grover gulped. “But Crest said the main entrance would be a death trap! It was heavily guarded!” “Yeah, it was….” Piper pointed at the dryads. “Not anymore.”

“The ash is mighty,”

“The Meg’s weakling servant has saved nature! Hail to the Meg!”

On a Help, I’m Going to Die scale from one to ten, exiting the maze was a ten. But since everything else I’d done that week was a fifteen, it seemed like a piece of baklava.

Power makes good people uneasy rather than joyful or boastful. That’s why good people so rarely rise to power.

I have a feeling I’ll see you again before…Yeah.” Before I ascend into the heavens and regain my immortal throne? Before we all die in some miserable fashion at the hands of the Triumvirate? I wasn’t sure.

But from now on, I would be more than Lester. I would be more than an observer. I would be Apollo. I would remember.