𝐎𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒༄ • Jᴀsᴏɴ Gʀᴀᴄᴇ

Chapter 34

Percy was the first to recover. "I know!" he said with feigned enthusiasm. "How about you take Ella to get some fresh air? You and Mrs. O'Leary—"

"Hold on." Octavian gripped one of his teddy bears, strangling it with shaking hands. His eyes fixed on Ella. "What was that she said? It sounded like —"

"Ella reads a lot," Frank blurted out. "We found her at a library."

"Yes!" Hazel said. "Probably just something she read in a book."

"Books," Ella muttered helpfully. "Ella likes books."  Now that she'd said her piece, the harpy seemed more relaxed. She sat cross-legged on Mrs. O'Leary's back, preening her wings.

"That was a prophecy," Octavian insisted. "It sounded like a prophecy."

No one answered.

Freya wasn't exactly sure what was going on, but she understood that Percy was on the verge of big trouble. She forced a laugh. "Really, Octavian? Maybe harpies are different here, on the Roman side. Ours have just enough intelligence to clean cabins and cook lunches. Do yours usually foretell the future? Do you consult them for your auguries?"

Her words had the intended effect. The Roman officers laughed nervously. Some sized up Ella, then looked at Octavian and snorted. The idea of a chicken lady issuing prophecies was apparently just as ridiculous to Romans as it was to Greeks.

"I, uh..." Octavian dropped his teddy bear. "No, but—"

"She's just spouting lines from some book," Annabeth said, helping along the ruse. "like Hazel suggested. Besides, we already have a real prophecy to worry about." She turned to Tyson. "Percy's right. Why don't you take Ella and Mrs. O'Leary and shadow-travel somewhere for a while. Is Ella okay with that?"

"'Large dogs are good,'" Ella said. "Old Yeller, 1957, screenplay by Fred Gipson and William Tunberg."

"Great!" Percy said. "We'll Iris-message you guys when we're done and catch up with you later."

The Romans looked at Reyna, waiting for her ruling. Everyone seemed to hold their breaths. Reyna had an excellent poker face. She studied Ella, but Freya couldn't guess what she was thinking.

"Fine," the praetor said at last. "Go."

"Yay!" Tyson went around the couches and gave everyone a big hug—even Octavian, who didn't look happy about it. Then he climbed on Mrs. O'Leary's back with Ella, and the hellhound bounded out of the forum. They dove straight into a shadow on the Senate House wall and disappeared.

"Well." Reyna set down her uneaten apple. "Octavian is right about one thing. We must gain the senate's approval before we let any of our legionnaires go on a quest—especially one as dangerous as you're suggesting."

"This whole thing smells of treachery," Octavian grumbled. "That trireme is not a ship of peace!"

"Come aboard, man," Leo offered. "I'll give you a tour. You can steer the boat, and if you're really good I'll give you a little paper captain's hat to wear."

Freya snorted.

Octavian's nostrils flared. "How dare you—"

"It's a good idea," Reyna said. "Octavian, go with him. See the ship. We'll convene a senate meeting in one hour."

"But..." Octavian stopped. Apparently he could tell from Reyna's expression that further arguing would not be good for his health. "Fine."

"Uh, Reyna," Jason said, "if you don't mind, I'd like to show Freya around before the senate meeting. She's never seen New Rome."