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Not since Julius Caesar had a Roman officer risen so rapidly and brightly. That wasn’t a comparison I would have shared with Frank, though, given what happened to my man Julius.
Their former augur, my descendant Octavian, had died in the battle against Gaia. (Which I had a hard time feeling sad about, but that’s another story.)
honestly, who needs nine books to finish a series?
self-awareness from riordan over here
“How do we get in?” I hoped the answer would be Gosh darn it, we can’t.
Meet the new Tarquin Same as the old Tarquin, but With a lot less flesh
Last I’d checked, the Camp Jupiter “navy” consisted of some old triremes they only used for mock naval battles in the Colosseum, and one rowboat they kept docked in Alameda.
THEY'RE GONNA BRING IN THE BOY
update: i was wrong
Over the last few months, I had drastically scaled back my expectations. At this point, okay meant still able to walk and breathe.
Meg said. “Like me. I’m weaponizing the unicorns.” “You’re—Wait, what?” “Later.” Meg skipped across the field toward a large riding ring, where the First Cohort and a herd of unicorns were staring suspiciously at one another.
“I don’t have a sight pin,” said Marcus. “It’s the little circle thingie right there.” Lavinia showed him. “I have a sight pin,” Marcus corrected himself.
I wondered if this was how mortal teachers felt after a full day of classes. If so, I didn’t see how they managed. I hoped they were richly compensated with gold, diamonds, and rare spices.
The nature spirits looked scared, apprehensive, and angry—but mostly tired of being angry. I’d seen that look a lot among dryads in these latter days of human civilization.
“I know what rhetorical means.” I made a mental note to double-check the word’s definition with Socrates the next time I was in Greece. Then I remembered Socrates was dead.
Meg studied my face. “You whole?” I almost wanted to laugh. Where had she picked up that expression?
I must have slept for decades. “H-how long was I out?” I croaked. “Roughly three seconds,” she said.
One guy in the back, who must not have been paying attention for the last week said, “Tarquin?”
“Welcome to Cyclops Books and Prophecies and Also an Orange Cat.”
I also did not like the fact that our new prophecy’s rhyme scheme had been invented to describe a descent into hell.
