Wild ― Piper McLean

―vii. father winter gets a makeover

VERONA THOUGHT SHE WAS COLD BEFORE, but stepping into the throne room was like stepping into a walk-in freezer. She could see her breath form clouds in front of her, and any remnants of warmth she'd managed to hold onto disappeared in one violent shiver. High above she could see ribbons of colored light—the aurora borealis—pulsed along the ceiling. A layer of snow covered the floor, so Verona had to watch her step. All around them were life-size ice sculpture warriors—some in Greek armor, some medieval, some in modern military fatigues—all frozen in various attack positions.

At least, Verona thought they were sculptures. Then Jason tried to step between two and they moved with surprising speed, their joints cracking and spraying ice crystals as they crossed their javelins to block his path. 

From the far end of the hall, a man's voice rang out in a language that sounded like French. The room was so long and frosty that Verona couldn't see the end, but whatever the man said, it made the ice guards uncross their javelins. 

"It's fine," Khione said. "My father has ordered them not to kill you just yet."

"How nice of him," Verona muttered under her breath.  

Zethes prodded Jason in the back with his sword. "Keep moving, Jason Junior."

"Please don't call me that," Jason complained. 

"My father is not a patient man," Zethes warned, "and the beautiful Piper, sadly, is losing her magic hairdo, and the pretty Verona looks much less pretty shivering like one of those tiny, angry puppies." 

"Sorry, not all of us are children of Winter, you Journey reject," Verona grumbled. 

Luckily, he seemed to miss the insult. They kept walking, the mist parting to reveal a man on an ice throne. He was sturdily built, dressed in a stylish white suit that seemed woven from snow. Dark purple wings spread out from his back, icicles dangling from his hair and shaggy beard.

"Bienvenu," the king said. "Je suis Boreas le Roi. Et vous?"

Khione went to speak, but Piper stepped forward and curtsied. "Votre Majesté," she said, "je suis Piper McLean. Et c'est Jason, fils de Zeus, et Verona, fille de Feronia." 

Verona blinked, equal parts awed and confused. 

The king smiled with pleasant surprise. "Vous parlez français? Très bien!"

"Piper, you speak French?" Jason asked. 

Piper frowned. "No. Why?"

"You just spoke French," Verona said. 

Piper blinked. "I did?" The king said something else, and Piper nodded. "Oui, Votre Majesté."

The king laughed and clapped his hands in delight. He said a few more sentences, then waved dismissively at Khione.

The goddess of snow looked miffed. "The king says—"

"He says I'm a daughter of Aphrodite," Piper interrupted, "so naturally I can speak French, which is the language of love. I had no idea. His Majesty says Khione won't have to translate now."

Behind them, Zethes snorted, and Khione shot him a murderous look. She bowed stiffly to her father and took a step back. 

The king sized Jason up as the boy in question bowed respectfully. "Your Majesty, I'm Jason Grace. Thank you for, um, not killing us. May I ask... why does a Greek god speak French?"  

Piper translated. After listening to his response, she said, "He speaks the language of his host country. He says all gods do this. Most Greek gods speak English, as they now reside in the United States, but Boreas was never welcomed in their realm. His domain was always far to the north. These days he likes Quebec, so he speaks French."