The Tower of Nero (The Trials of Apollo, #5)

by Rick Riordan

Her driftwood-brown hair was tinseled with more gray than it was six months ago.

Sally smiled at her baby, then at Meg. “I love you, too, dear. Percy’s friends are always welcome.”

I found myself staring in amazement at Paul and Estelle, who struck me as even greater miracles than Percy’s graduation. Paul seemed like a caring husband, a loving father, a kind stepfather. In my own experience, such a creature was harder to find than an albino unicorn or three-winged griffin.

A “good cop” was still a cop…still a part of the mind game.

You know that meme with the honey bear and the caption honey, he gay? Yes, I created that. And in Ganymede’s case, it was hardly news.

My beautiful son, with his kind eyes, his healer’s hands, his sun-warm demeanor. Somehow, he had inherited all my best qualities and none of the worst.

After the horrors she’d suffered in Nero’s Imperial Household, she deserved some peace.

And through it all, he’d struggled with his upbringing as a conservative Catholic Italian male from the 1930s and finally learned to accept himself as a young gay man.

“Exactly.” Nico’s smile was a bit of winter sun breaking between snow flurries.

I had never met Mr. Dare, the real-estate mogul, but I felt I didn’t need to. I understood gods and their palaces. Mr. Dare was operating along the same principles: Look at me, look at my massive pad, spread word of my greatness. You may leave your burnt offerings on the welcome mat.

Rachel’s expression tightened. “Art can be made again. People can’t. Keep moving!”

Nico smirked. “Friends, meet my glow-in-the-dark boyfriend.”

And, like Will’s skill at healing, it was gentle, useful, and exactly what we needed in a pinch. “I’m so proud,” I said.

To be human is to move forward, to adapt, to believe in your ability to make things better. That is the only way to make the pain and sacrifice mean something.

I was given a New York Mets cap because, I was told, no one else wanted it. I found this insulting both to me and the franchise.

Will, my poor boy, had been given a lampshade. No respect for the light-bringers of the world.

sang of Jason, our fallen shareholder, with honesty and heartache, though I may have embellished the number of fine hats he wore.

The Christians were terrorists, out to undermine traditional Roman values. Oh, they claimed to be a religion of peace, but they fooled no one.

“Dangerous is part of the job description. Let me do this. You hang back until I draw them out. Then go find our girl. I’ll see you on the other side.”

I muttered a curse that would not have been appropriate for the ears of a youngster like Meg, except that Meg had taught me this particular curse.

“No one hits my boyfriend,” Will thundered. “And no one kills my dad!”

The demigods of the imperial family did not look pleased. They’d been about to give Meg the Julius-Caesar-in-the-Senate treatment, but at Nero’s command, they stayed their weapons.

In the space of an evening, the imperial children had gone from enemies to victims who needed help, and Camp Half-Blood was stepping up to the challenge.

All any of us could do was try, and hope that, in the end, the virtuous cycle would break the vicious one.

“We all have a duty to rescue each other, wouldn’t you say?”

Chiron chuckled. “A severed head. And a cat. Two different…uh, people. Acquaintances of mine from other pantheons.

And yet, along with humility, I’d learned something else: getting humiliated is only the beginning, not the end. Sometimes you need a second shot, and a third, and a fourth.

I knew who I was. I was her dummy.

Python could cuddle up against me, look out over the vast expanse of Chaos, mutter It’s beautiful, then evaporate into nothingness.

Perhaps that was what Styx had been trying to teach me: It wasn’t about how loudly you swore your oath, or what sacred words you used. It was about whether or not you meant it. And whether your promise was worth making.

But the rest had felt more like symbols of victory than laurels, and better commemorations of loss than hyacinths.

I hoped that wherever its spirit was, my friend the arrow was having a laugh worthy of a Shakespearean comedy.

After dinner, I got to visit with Leo Valdez, who had just straggled back home after a full day of community service. He was teaching homeless kids shop skills at a local shelter.

“Doing good, this one. He’s got potential.” “Thanks, Mom,” Leo said. Jo scoffed, but she looked pleased.

Reyna smiled at me. “Valdez grew up without his mom. Never learned these things. Now he’s got two great foster moms and a big sister who isn’t afraid to smack him when he gets out of line.”

For Frank Zhang, like the rest of us, the future was open for business.

Jason. He was the best of us.”

It would have been inconceivable to the old Apollo, but the idea of aging in this lovely desert tree house, watching Meg grow into a strong and powerful woman…that didn’t sound bad at all.

She threw her arms around me. “Thanks. You’ll still be my friend, too, right?” “As long as you’ll still be mine,” I said. She thought about this. “Yeah. I can do that.”

However, anytime you take aim and prepare to fire your best shot, anytime you seek to put your emotions into a song or poem, know that I am smiling on you. We are friends now. Call on me. I will be there for you.