So first of all I would like to say that I'm SO SO SORRY for dropping this story for such a long time again. I could try to explain my reasons for taking so long, but mostly pjo/hoo just hasn't been inspiring me the way it used to. Also, I've been reading a lot of REALLY GOOD fics and books lately, which has 1.) affected my writing style so much that it was hard to write this story in the right style and 2.) made all of my writing feel totally inadequate. That makes it kind of hard to work on a story that I REALLY WANT TO DO JUSTICE because I love Reyna so much. :/

I also put off writing this for a while because last chapters are so hard, and then this turned out not to be the last chapter after all? idk anymore I am just so sorry.

On the other hand, thank you all so much for reviewing and letting me know that you still love and care about this story! It would probably still be unfinished without your lovely encouraging words. Honestly, I have a feeling that a lot of the guest reviews were by the same person, but I'm so surprised that someone actually cares about this story enough to write a review every couple of months asking me to continue that I really don't mind. (And I could complain about the rude tone in some of the reviews I received, but I know that it has been wayyyy too long since I updated, so I can't really blame you for getting impatient.)

Anyway, I apologize again for the ridiculously long hiatus, and I hope this long chapter and the promise that I'll write every day this week to try and get the next one written makes up for it! (But please don't rant at me about my updating again because I've heard it enough, all right? Thanks.)

I hope you enjoy this update! Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: I don't own HoO.

Empty Promises

"How much farther?" Reyna called to Bea, who was leading the line of pegasi.

"Well, we're almost at the outskirts of the battleground, so it shouldn't be too far now!"

"I still don't like this," Hylla muttered, gripping onto Reyna's armor more tightly. She'd insisted on sitting behind her sister so she could catch her if she fell off—even though Reyna kept insisting that she was perfectly capable of riding her own pegasus, thank you very much. "We're playing right into Circe's hands."

Reyna patted Hylla's knee. "Don't worry, sis. We beat a shipload of pirates. I think we can handle one sorcer—holy Styx."

Reyna wasn't sure what she had expected to find when they arrived at the battleground, but it wasn't this. Circe had a pack of wolves and a pride of lions circling around her, protecting her from any fighter who tried to get close. Scarier than the wolves and the lions, however, were the massive boars with tusks as long as Reyna's arms that lunged into the surrounding fray of battle, forcing demigods and legacies alike to keep their distance. Every once in a while, a boar would break free from the circle and give chase to a demigod. Most of the demigods managed to injure the boars and get away, but the rest . . . well, Reyna knew their screams would haunt her nightmares.

"I don't get it!" Hylla yelled, twisting around Reyna to get a better view of the battle. "Why aren't they trying to kill the animals? All of those demigods together could take them easily."

Reyna shook her head. "Don't you remember anything from our time at Circe's island? Circe couldn't conjure animals out of thin air."

Hylla inhaled sharply. "You don't mean—"

"You know exactly what I mean," Reyna answered. "I'll bet you a thousand denarii that those animals used to be demigods. Legacies. Hunters. Amazons. Our people."

Reyna was sure Circe was too far away to hear, but as soon as she finished speaking, the sorceress's head whipped around to face them. When she saw Scipio, she laughed, dark eyes flashing in the sunlight. "Reyna Concessi, you came! Of course you came. You're too good to let your legionnaires get hurt, aren't you?"

Reyna growled and tugged her dagger out of its sheath. "Why did you curse them, Circe? I thought this fight was supposed to be between you and me."

"Oh, I don't want to fight you, darling," Circe said. "But you're right, this is between you and me. That's exactly why I needed these"—she glanced at them disdainfully—"animals . . . to prevent your friends from interfering in our discussion."

Out of the corners of her eyes, Reyna saw Jason and Bea change course to flank Scipio. She tilted her head toward Bea ever so slightly. "The cure I've ever seen for Circe's animal magic is something Mercu—Hermes—gave Annabeth several years ago. They're called Hermes's Multivitamins, I believe."

Bea furrowed her eyebrows. "And you're telling me this because—"

"Your girlfriend is a legacy of Mercury, isn't she?"

Bea's eyes widened. "How did you know that we were dating—"

"Your whole cohort knows, Bea," Reyna said, flashing a smile in spite of the awful situation they were in. "I was bound to find out eventually. That's not important now. Just go find her. Get her to talk to her grandfather. The Greek Stoll brothers can probably help too. I don't care what you have to do to make it happen, but get as many jars of multivitamins as you can and bring them back here. With a little luck, we can use them to save these people."

Bea nodded. "You can count on me, Praetor." Then she was gone.

"You should probably go with her, Grace. If she does her job, she'll have a Styx-load of vitamin bottles to carry."

"Her girlfriend can help her," Jason shot back. "I'm staying right here."

"Jason, Circe hates men. If you're here, she'll try to—"

"Screw that. I'm staying."

Reyna blew air out between her lips and rolled her shoulders. If Jason was going to be an idiot, there wasn't much she could do to stop him. "All right, Circe," she said instead. "Now that I'm here, where's Annabeth Chase?"

"Oh, don't worry. She's safe. At least, I think she's safe. It depends on how buried she is within the pack." Circe spread her arms wide. "She's one of the lionesses, if you're really curious."

Without thinking, Reyna nudged Scipio forward and dove for Circe. Only Hylla's muttered warning forced Reyna to pull back. "So you're turning girls into animals too?" Reyna yelled, struggling to keep her voice steady. "I thought you only did that to men. You were just 'revealing their true natures' or whatever nonsense you're spouting these days."

Circe's hands clenched into fists, but her expression didn't waver. "Annabeth didn't give me a choice, dear. I had hoped that she would join me, but unfortunately, that wasn't an option. She was being far too obstinate, insisting that my treatment of men was 'wrong' somehow. Can you believe that? I had to stop her from interfering, obviously."

Reyna nearly dive-bombed Circe again, but wariness kept her still. She wasn't sure what would happen if she hurt Circe while the sorceress was keeping all these cursed demigods under her control, and Reyna didn't really want to find out. She just had to keep Circe talking until Bea got back. "But I don't understand how turning her into an animal helped," Reyna said, slowing inching Scipio closer to Circe. Jason followed a few wingspans behind her. Without turning around, Reyna knew he had his hand on the hilt of his gladius. "I mean, those pirates were mad at you even as guinea pigs. How come Annabeth didn't turn around and attack you in lion form?"

"Ah, Medea helped with that," Circe bragged. "Your allies may have killed her in December, but she gave Gaea plenty of potions before she died again. One of which"—she pulled a gold vial out of a pocket in her dress—"imitates mind control." She shrugged. "Only on less developed minds, though, which is why I had to turn all of them into animals first. But I must say, they still make deadly weapons, do they not?"

As soon as Circe finished her sentence, three wolves lunged out of the circle and gave chase to a pair of legionnaires. Reyna growled low in her throat. "Hylla, I think you should dismount now."

Hylla stiffened. "No, Reyna, I—"

"You're needed on the ground," Reyna said matter-of-factly. "You can help them fend off the animals—the demigods—whatever they are without killing them. I trust you."

"But Reyna—"

"Do I have to spell it out for you? I don't need you to be here. I'm just talking, okay? You're the one who's going to have to get her hands dirty. Besides, Jason's still up here to back me up."

"But—"

"Hylla, what reason could you possibly have for staying on Scipio with me?"

Hylla shrugged halfheartedly, knowing that she was losing the argument. "You might get dizzy, pass out, and fall off."

"I'm not going to fall off!" When Hylla didn't budge, Reyna sighed. "Scipio won't let me fall off, okay? Even if I do 'get dizzy and pass out', which I won't. Now will you please go help those terrified legionnaires while I distract a sorceress?"

Reyna felt Hylla's hesitation by the tenseness of her hands, which were clutching fistfuls of Reyna's t-shirt even though Hylla could balance just fine on her own. Then, slowly, her fingers relaxed. "Fine," she grumbled. "But if you let this witch kill you, I swear to all the gods—"

"If I have to fight her, then you can come join me," Reyna said impatiently. "Now go!"

"I'm going, I'm going!"

Reyna nodded, swooped down, and let Hylla hop onto the earth. Hylla timmediately whipped her sword out of its sheath and ran off after the wolves.

"I was hoping those wolves would make her leave," Circe said with some satisfaction. "I think it's always easier for a little sister to make her own decisions without an overprotective big sister getting in the way, don't you?"

Reyna's thumb fiddled with the fraying leather at the end of her dagger's hilt. "Decisions? What sort of decisions?"

"Easy decisions," Circe promised, her arms still open wide and inviting. "Stop fighting this pointless war, Reyna darling. Come join me instead."

Reyna raised her eyebrows. "Are you serious? A couple years in the Fields of Punishment must have rattled your brains—because there in no way in hell I'm going to team up with the creature who turned my friend into a lion."

"Oh, why not?" Circe asked. "You of all people know how horrible men can be. Annabeth Chase and Percy Jackson made sure of that. How can you stand to be around men every day when so many men tried to do all manner of horrible things to you? I know you still have scars from those times, Reyna Concessi. Let this pointless war go. Let a woman rule the world for once. Things will be better."

Reyna's hands shook with anger. "How dare you," she said. "How dare you pretend to care about me."

"But I do care," Circe promised. "I have taken care of you since you were five, Reyna dear, and I would have continued to take care of you if the pirates hadn't been released. I could take care of you again." She reached toward Reyna, palms open. "I never wanted you to have to see the world as it truly is, ugly and horrifying, but you have. You've seen the truth about men firsthand now—not just through the stories I told you when you were nine. Wouldn't the world be a better place if we helped Gaea take over? No men to tear us down or act like the pigs they are—except the few that will be needed for procreation, perhaps. Women will stand strong and rule the world, Reyna, and it will be glorious. I know you're already strong, Reyna dear. Wouldn't you like to be strong with me?"

Reyna's mind flashed back to all the times men had hurt her. For an instant, her back stung with the pain of a hundred whippings . . . but she also remembered throwing up on a sandy beach surrounded by tall grasses, her mind reeling with the screams she'd heard after Hylla tossed a match onto that ship. "I'm not interested in killing any more men," she growled. "I really prefer saving their lives instead."

"Don't be silly, Reyna. Don't you remember how good it feels to take down people who oppose you? I heard stories about you while I was in the Underworld. I know you became centurion by defeating a boy named Raisinger. Didn't you enjoy that?"

I always hate playing any kind of war game in the rain, and this is no exception. It's even worse because it's deathball, and the more "paint" in these deathballs that comes in contact with our skin, the more painful the injury, and when rain is soaking our skin and mixing in with the paint, that stuff gets everywhere. And unfortunately, rain does nothing to dilute the properties of this gods-awful paint.

"Oh, Styx," I hiss, skidding in the mud to avoid fire from the Second Cohort. I shoot a spray of paint bullets back at them and crash into Dakota, grabbing his pants leg and pulling him behind our makeshift cover along with me. "Gods, Dakota, how are we losing this game? We have three cohorts on our side!"

"Yeah, but everyone in the Third Cohort stayed in a clump because they believed all that strategic BS about safety in numbers, and the First Cohort found them and took them all as war game prisoners."

"Wait. Are you serious?"

"Yeah, didn't you hear the cheers? The First gloated about it for a solid five minutes."

"No, I missed that," I frown. "Guess I was too busy blasting half of the Second with poison balls."

At that, a smirk spreads over Dakota's face. "Poison balls, huh?"

I shrug. "Fire balls fizz to nothing in five seconds flat in this rain, and acid balls are just cruel, especially in the rain. When that stuff covers your skin . . ."

Dakota raises his eyebrows. "Reyna Concessi, are you taking it easy on our opponents?"

"Gods, no. I'm just not that cruel and sadistic—"

A howling scream echoes through the forest, and we freeze. "What was that?"

My finger twitches on the trigger of my deathball gun. "Did a monster get into camp? Is that even possible?"

"It's not unheard of," he says grimly. "We'd better go—"

There's another scream, and I jump to my feet and race towards the sound, praying the Second Cohort doesn't try to shoot me as soon as I leave cover. Fortunately, they seem as shocked by the noise as I am. No one challenges my race through the forest.

It takes a few minutes to track down the source of the screams, but eventually I find it—and almost drop my gun in shock. "Raisinger? What the hell are you doing?"

Raisinger lifts his eyebrows. "Winning these war games for once. These cohorts treat us like trash, Concessi. Don't you want to prove them wrong?"

Meanwhile, at his feet, a girl from the Second is crying and clutching her face. When I kneel down and remove her hand, I barely catch a glimpse of red, blistering skin before the rain hits her face and she screams again. I gasp, pull off my helmet, and use it to shield her face from the rain. Then I whirl on Raisinger. "You used an acid ball in the rain? And on her face? What the hell, Raisinger, that could scar her permanently!"

"Not if she tells me her centurions' war strategies," he says smugly, unfazed. "I told her I'd take her to the medics as soon as she told me."

"WHAT THE HELL, RAISINGER?" I shout again, not caring that cursing is frowned upon in the legion. "This isn't supposed to be life or death!"

He just shrugs. SHRUGS. "She's as pathetic as the others," he snarls. "None of them can handle a little acid, but none of them will tell me a damn thing either."

"We don't," the girl cries, "know anything! We only know the part of the strategy that we're involved in, and you've obviously derailed that already. Just"—a sob catches in her throat—"give us some nectar. Please."

"See what I said?" Raisinger says, spitting on the ground. "Pathetic."

At that, I drop my gun and launch myself forward. He barely has time to hold up his gun before I'm knocking it out of his hands and kicking him onto the ground. "How many legionnaires did you shoot with your acid balls?" I growl, pinning him with my forearm across his throat.

"Ten, probably," he says. "But why do you care so much? We're on the same side, Reyna."

"No, we're not," I say with disgust. "I'm on the side of Rome, on the side of protecting my fellow legionnaires. Sure, war games are supposed to be dangerous, but they're not meant to be deadly. This is not how Romans act."

He scoffs. "You obviously haven't been in New Rome long enough, Concessi. This is exactly how Romans act. We'll do whatever it takes to get to the top. And that includes attacking our allies!" At that, he reaches out and grabs his gun—Styx, I should have kicked it away when I had the chance. Before I can react, he slams the handle into the side of my face, and I topple over, ears ringing. I tell myself that the rain's the reason that my vision's going fuzzy, but I know better.

"Give it up," he says, and suddenly my vision focuses just enough to see the deathball gun pointed at my nose. "Let me keep interrogating them. We could win for once, Reyna!"

"If you have to resort to torture to get what you want," I say, "it's not a victory at all."

I roll to the side, avoiding the acid ball that blasts out of his gun and burns the grass where I had lain. Then I hop to my feet, gripping my dagger and wishing that I hadn't dropped my gun—and have to immediately duck again to avoid another ball. "You're wasting your ammo," I warn him, spinning to the side and darting close enough to slash his arm before retreating. "Let's make a deal, Raisinger. Take my gun, and I'll let you get back in the war games. It doesn't have any acid balls in it, but it has plenty of poison ones. Rescue the Third. Make the First pay for taking them prisoner, but make them pay in a way that won't leave permanent scarring. You can still lead our cohorts to victory."

He narrows his eyes. "You can't tell me what to do," he says. "I'm your centurion! I outrank you!"

"Well," I say, "maybe you shouldn't be centurion anymore."

"Wha—"

"Answer me," I snap. "Will you take the deal or not? My gun's right there."

"And what will you do if I have your gun?"

"First I'll take the legionnaires you scarred to the medics," I frown. "If I get there fast enough, maybe they'll avoid permanent damage. And then," I add, "I don't need a gun to be an asset to our cohort."

The sound of his laugh makes me shiver. "You've got a big mouth for a legionnaire that's only been here for a few months. Maybe it's time I put you in your place."

Blood drips from his arm, mixing in with the rain on the ground, tingeing the grass red. I watch that blood, and I watch his eyes, and in that instant, I know that he's not going to take the deal. I whirl around to grab my gun and even the odds—but as I lean down, I hear a click, and a bang, and a shout of warning, and pain sprouts between my shoulder blades. Then another click, and another bang, and fresh pain billows across my lower back, forcing me to the ground. "When you heard this idiot girl screaming, you should have walked in the other direction," he shouts over the pounding rain. "Instead, you've just given me two guns to use to decimate the other side. But hey, think of it this way, Concessi. Tonight, you'll get to stand there, smiling, as our team wins the war games. A little acid won't matter so much then, will it?"

I'm about to answer when I hear pounding footsteps, and a familiar pair of sneakers skids to a stop in front of me, splattering my face with mud. Dakota's finally caught up with me. "Reyna?" he says uncertainly. "Raisinger? What's going on—" At this point, I think he notices the distinctive, murky blue acid stain on my back because he steps back. His gun's still down at his side, but I can see it shaking.

"What are you doing, Raisinger?" he shouts. "Why'd you hit Reyna with acid?"

"I was trying to get information, and she got in my way," Raisinger replies. It's killing me not to be able to see his expression, to see how close he is to shooting Dakota too. My back hurts, but it feels like nothing compared to the hydra venom from all those months ago. Now that was debilitating pain. As it is, I'm able to sit up with only a few muttered curse words. Dakota and Raisinger are too busy glaring at each other to notice my movements.

"She's IN YOUR COHORT, Raisinger," Dakota yells. "You're SUPPOSED to be ON THE SAME SIDE!"

"Tell her that!" Raisinger raises his gun and points it at Dakota's chest. "It's like I said! She was trying to stop me from using acid balls to get information—information that could help us win the war games! Don't tell me you're going to do the same thing."

Dakota's wild eyes flick from Raisinger to the girl on the ground and back, and his mouth curls into a grimace. "No wonder Reyna tried to stop you!" he screams. "That's messed-up, Raisinger!"

"No wonder we never win war games," he snarls. "Everyone on my team is too . . . damn . . . soft!"

His finger twitches on the trigger, and my mind has two distinct thoughts.

1. Save Dakota.

2. Save the legionnaires that Raisinger's already hurt.

Before Raisinger can shoot my friend in the chest, I tackle him from the side.

"REYNA?" Dakota screams. "What are you doing? He already hurt you once, you can't—"

"Get everyone to the medics, Kota!" I yell, hearing the roughness in my voice and knowing that it's because of the raging pain in my back. "Make sure they're treated immediately!"

"But Reyna—"

"Don't worry about me!" I land a punch on Raisinger's jaw before he shoves me off of him, sending me sliding across the mud. The coolness actually feels good on my steaming skin, but I can only imagine how much muck is caked in my wound now. These acid burns are definitely going to get infected.

"REYNA—"

"Go!" I force myself to my feet and dive for Raisinger's gun, closing my fingers around it just before he shoots me again. I tilt it away from my face and growl, "Seriously, Kota, get out of here! I can handle this!"

There's a few moments of relative silence, filled with the sounds of pounding rain and Raisinger's grunting as he tries to center his gun on me again. Then, "I can't believe you" comes out of Dakota's mouth. I hear sloshing mud and smile slightly, knowing that he's getting that Second Cohort-er to safety, and he'll help the rest of the injured legionnaires too. After that, I can focus on fighting Raisinger.

I don't know how long we wrestle in the mud, both struggling to gain the upper hand. I think Raisinger knows that if we were both at full health and fighting on a sunny day, I'd beat him for sure . . . but my injury takes its toll on my reflexes, and he weighs so much more than me that it's easier for him to retain traction in the mud, and the tip of his gun slowly but surely inches its way in my direction, and I'm starting to wonder if I should just give up and let him shoot me again when someone rushes out of the woods and yanks Raisinger off of me.

"Deathball's over, Raisinger," the person announces. "We already lost! Put down your gun and come get cleaned up!"

"Like hell I will!" Raisinger roars, and he takes aim at the new arrival, not caring that she's changed out of her armor because the games have ended, not caring that she's in our cohort—and I might have been willing to let him shoot me, but I'm not about to let him shoot her. I drag myself off the ground and leap towards him. The sound of a gunshot is a distant echo as I grab hold of his gun and wrench it out of his hands. Taking advantage of his surprise, I hold the gun like a baseball bat and crack it against the side of his head. He crumples to his knees.

"This is what happens when you torture fellow legionnaires for something as trivial as a war games victory," I say. "Now get up and get back to the barracks, or I might show you just how painful acid bullets can be."

Circe watched Reyna, a slow smile twisting her features. "You remember," she said. "I know you remember how you felt—the desperation as you were fighting, the triumph as you held that gun to his head. You could have all that again."

Reyna's hands shook. "That was a paintball gun," she snapped, "and I didn't pull the trigger."

"But you would have," Circe said, her voice rising with glee until it soared across the battlefield. "And you could have. Come on, Reyna. You were always too good for this sorry legion. Join me and taste victory once again!"

"Oh, I've already had my share of Victory. In fact, I've had a personal encounter with her. And I think it's only fair to let you know that she's on my side. So . . ." Reyna's eyes widened. She twisted her fingers into Scipio's mane and stared at Circe. "That's why you want me to join you all of a sudden! You know about what happened with Victoria, and you think that if I join you, I can ensure that Gaea wins!"

"Very clever, Reyna. Now don't you see—"

But Reyna was already grinning. "And if you're stooping this low—if you're trying something as far-fetched as this—then that means that you're losing right now. That Frank's information is solid and we can use it to win."

"Reyna dear—"

"I'm not going to join you, and neither is Victoria. You're going to lose, Circe. Give up and let my friends go free."

Circe raised her hands, eyes like hurricanes, and for a second, Reyna thought she would disintegrate her then and there. Instead, she flicked her fingers to the sides. "If that's really how you feel," she said, "I guess I'll just have to kill everyone myself."

Reyna tensed, preparing for the boars and lions and wolves to leave Circe's side and lunge into battle. They were her friends and legionnaires, and they were going to kill her other friends and legionnaires unless they were killed first, and no matter what happened she would lose people she cared about. Reyna felt an ache that spread from her throat to her stomach. She wondered if she could handle another loss after Kinzie. But then . . . but then the boars and lions and wolves didn't move.

Instead, a gryphon dropped out of the sky, grabbed Jason Grace, and threw him onto the ground. Reyna heard a crack that snapped her heart in two, and her vision went red.

Raisinger takes one look at the gun and hobbles off, muttering under his breath. Only then do I remember the echoing gunshot from before. Only then do I look down and see the blue dye spreading across my stomach. Only then do I look up and see the worry in my fellow legionnaire's eyes.

"You—Reyna, you—"

"Don't worry, Emily," I hiss, resisting the urge to touch my injuries. If I do, the acid will just spread to my hands. "It's not that bad."

"But your stomach—and your back—"

"I can make it to the infirmary," I insist. Then a rush of pain overtakes me, and I almost fall. "Well, I . . . I can make it if you help me."

Emily looks shocked—whether it's because I say I can make it or because I asked for her help, I'll never know for certain—but she lunges forward and grabs my arm anyway, supporting me as we stumble out of the clearing. I make it about twenty steps, still clinging onto the gun in case Raisinger decides to come back, before Dakota and Jason appear on the path. Both of them wear furrowed eyebrows and tilted-down mouths that showcase a mixture of anger and concern. As soon as they see me, Jason rushes forward and takes the gun away before slinging my other arm around his shoulder.

"What the actual hell, Reyna?" Jason growls, even though cursing is frowned upon in the legion and his eyes are widening as he notices the blue bath of metaphorical fire that I've been submerged in. Dakota shoves ambrosia into my mouth while my best friend panics."Dakota told me that things were bad, but only after he'd gotten all the other legionnaires here, and when I got ready to run after you I was stopped and told that I had to fulfill some centurion nonsense first, but I came as fast as I could and I . . . Seriously, Reyna, what the actual hell?"

"It's . . . not so bad." I lie to him just like I lied to Emily, watching the forest spin around me and feeling the words tangle in my mouth. "Just a few more scars, really. You know it's nothing compared to what else has happened to my back."

I'm banking on the fact that Dakota and Emily will assume that I'm talking about hydra venom—after all, the stories of the quest I never asked to join have spread through the entire legion by now—but Jason knows what I mean. His eyes narrow. "You're not supposed to get scars during a war game. Especially not from someone in your cohort."

"Look on the bright side," I say. "You guys did want me to 'take down' Raisinger, didn't you? I'm pretty sure those were your exact words."

"Not like this!" Dakota bursts out—but before either of them can get in another word, we arrive at the infirmary. Dakota explains the situation as best he can, and by the time he's done, the medics are pushing them out so they can deal with my injuries. The marks of acid are still branded on my body, but I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips. I know that Dakota and Jason are waiting just outside. I know that Bobby will probably come over too, in a few minutes. And I know that as soon as I'm mostly healed and walking out of the infirmary, they'll bombard me with three different lectures about how what I did was stupid.

I wouldn't expect anything less from my three favorite idiots.

By the time Reyna regained some semblance of sense, she was standing in front of Jason with three unconscious boars at her feet, and she had a sneaking suspicion that they weren't just sleeping. Her only-partially-healed leg was trembling from the strain of keeping her upright, and it was hard to breathe with only-partially-healed ribs, but it was worth it—because Circe looked furious, and Jason was getting to his feet.

"You okay?" she murmured, watching him draw his gladius out of the corner of her eye.

"I'm fine," he grumbled. "But you should be on Scipio."

"And you shouldn't be lying about being fine when you obviously have a broken arm, but here we are."

"Reyna—"

"Why would you do that?" Circe screeched, staring at Reyna with something like horror. "Why would you jump off of your pegasus and risk your life against my boars to save a man? No, worse than a man—a boy!"

"Because Jason Grace is my best friend," Reyna said, each word crisp and clear and formulated to punch Circe in the face. "And he would do the same for me."

"What?" she howled. "You are not the same Reyna that I taught!"

"That," Reyna said, shifting to take some of the weight off of her injured leg, "is what I've been trying to tell you this entire time."

Circe clenched her fists. "Destroy her. Destroy them both!"

"Reyna," Jason said. "Call Scipio, or I'll do it myself."

"But—"

"Do it."

"Jason—"

"You promised your sister that you wouldn't get off Scipio," he reminded her, leaping in front of her to meet the onslaught of demigods-turned-animals as he spoke. "If you get back on him now, she never has to know."

"Jason—"

"I can do this. Stay safe, Reyna."

She almost screamed. Reyna saw Jason, taking over the job of protector that she had held for so long, refusing to let her do the only thing she was good at, and she almost screamed in frustration. But then her leg howled at her, and she remembered her promise to Hylla, and she looked at the determination in Jason's eyes, and she called out Scipio's name and left Jason on the ground, even though it nearly killed her.

"Are you . . . running away?" Circe said, too shocked to even sound malicious. "Reyna Concessi, running away?"

Reyna reeled backwards, almost falling. She'd been called many things, but this accusation—coward—was more painful than any snake bite.

"You are," Circe said, and now there was horrible laughter in her voice. "I never thought I'd see—"

"I'm not running away," Reyna growled, regaining her balance and leaning forward against Scipio's neck. Fighting Circe on his back wouldn't be breaking her promise to Hylla, right? She'd still be on Scipio, and this fighting was totally necessary, right? "I'm just getting in a better position to kick your a—"

"Reyna! I got the vitamins!"

Out of all the things that might have happened in that moment, Bea's shout was probably the only one that could have kept Reyna from dive-bombing her former favorite teacher. She turned Scipio around and watched as Bea and her girlfriend zoomed towards her on their pegasi, arms full of vitamin bottles.

She grinned. "On second thought, Circe, you can wait. I think I'll save my friends first."

Circe tensed. "There's—there's no way you can feed my animals those vitamins," she stuttered. "There's no way you can get close enough to their mouths without getting your arms bitten off. They're still under my control—"

"Keep telling yourself that, Circe," Reyna smiled. "They won't be for much longer." With that, she sped forward to meet Bea.

Maybe Reyna would be able to do the one thing she was good at after all.