𝟬𝟭𝟰. what's up, your majesty?

"WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU?" Jason seized Aera's wrist before she could get any further. "We're in a forest infested with monsters. Starting a fire here will get us killed."

Aera violently yanked her arm away. "Freezing to death will do the job faster."

"We won't freeze to death," Jason told her irritably.

"Speak for yourself," she grumbled, hugging herself and shuddering. Now that they had reached shelter from the snowstorm, Jason finally noticed how pink her cheeks, nose, and eyes had turned from the cold. Not to mention she was wearing a mini skirt and a thin blouse in nearly subzero weather. Jason had three layers on and he could still feel the cold lingering on his skin. It was a mystery how she hadn't frozen over like one of the ice soldiers chasing after them.

As if hearing his silent censure, Aera gave him a pink glare of her eyes from the rock she was sitting on. "Oh, would you relax, Man vs. Wild? Your anxiety is giving me stress wrinkles. No monster's gonna find us in this storm."

For once, Jason hoped she was right. They were stranded, snowed into some cave in the middle of the mountains. Jason had never seen a snowstorm this thick before. It was unnatural, just like everything else that had happened this week: the surge in monster attacks, the ambushes, the missing demigods...

If those ice soldiers came back again, they'd be forced to fight. Jason wasn't too fond of the idea of trusting her to have his back.

Foolishly ignoring the risk of being discovered, Aera ignored his advice, bent over, and started trying to make a fire again. For someone who was supposed to be a prisoner, she was obnoxiously impertinent...and a complete pain in Jason's―

"There's more than one way to approach a situation, you know," she stated in a matter-of-fact voice. "Are all Romans this narrow-minded?"

"Are all Greeks this negligent?" Jason watched with immense disdain as she rubbed the branches together with little force. "You won't be able to start a fire that way. You're not making enough friction."

"No, what's negligent is your ugly little bedsheet dress," she retorted, not even looking up from her bed of wood or reconstructing her tactic. "It's completely soaked. You look like a wet ghost. Are you not going to take it off?"

"It's nothing," Jason insisted through gritted teeth. He sat down on the opposite wall of the cave in his drenched clothing. He was wearing an undershirt, a sweatshirt, and his toga (what Aera probably meant by "ugly little bedsheet dress"). The ice cold wetness of his clothes was starting to tingle his skin but he had endured much worse. Jason usually didn't care what others thought of him, but it was slanderous how much derision she held toward his attire. She had to understand it was a symbol of honor and respect. "A true Roman never sheds his loyalties, no matter the hardship."

Aera rolled her eyes. "Well, I just threw up in my mouth."

Jason shook his head, crossing his arms. "You wouldn't get it."

"Oh, excuse me," she said sarcastically. "The ways of the barbarians are often lost on me."

The hairs on Jason's arm stood up the way it did right before he charged a group of monsters. "We aren't barbarians."

"Then why do you dress like one?"

"You—" Jason choked at a total loss for words. He had been raised by wolves and trained into the perfect soldier. Still, never had he ever been insulted so brutally and without remorse. "Why do you act like that?"

The architect of his misery tilted her head at him, amused. "Like what, dare I ask?"

"Like..." Jason observed her. Even though her clothes were tattered at the seams and her hair frizzy, she radiated an aura of power that gave Jason the impression if he was uncareful and got too close, it would devour him whole. Aera had the timeless beauty of divinity, with captivating brown eyes and glowing skin. The longer he stared at her, the more Jason wanted to do something completely uncharacteristic and completely uncalled for, like kneel at her feet and worship her.

"Like a false god," he said.

"And if I am a god?" she mused in a dark and ominous voice. "How should I punish you for your disobedience then?" Aera's deep brown eyes seemed to glow unnaturally in the dim sunlight covered by the snowstorm. Jason could feel his heart start to race, his skin breaking out in sweat despite his cold wet clothes. "Should I take your heart...and eat it?" She lifted an arm and closed her fingers in a tight fist. Jason's heart felt like it was being squeezed by a vice. He gasped for air.

Then she unfurled her fingers and stuck her tongue out. It was like an enormous weighted blanket had been lifted off his body. Jason swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to even his breathing. He touched his neck gingerly, at the vital point where the She-Wolf had always trained him to guard. Aera had hit him where he was most vulnerable without even touching him or drawing a weapon. What kind of power...

"What did you do?" he demanded.

"Spare your life," Aera said casually, boredly almost, turning back to her little fire. "You're welcome."

Jason shot to his feet. In a flash, he flipped his coin, summoned his golden sword, and lowered it right at her neck. His chest heaved, still painful from whatever trick she had pulled on him. "You're my prisoner. Keep your evil powers off me or I'll keep you in check myself."

Aera was crazy enough to laugh. It was a strange, foreign sound to Jason's ears, like a song sung in a different language. "Put the sword down, you idiot," she said, still sitting and going at it with the firewood. For whatever wild reason, she appeared completely unfazed at the blade grazing the side of her neck. "As far as I'm concerned, this snowstorm has us both as prisoners. So, unless you'd like one more problem to worry about in this 'forest infested with monsters', sit down and behave, won't you? Your ever-changing good cop, bad cop act is wearing me out." To make matters worse, Aera yawned. "I still need to brush my hair after this, you know? Just all the...frost and icy wind and straight hair...ugh, so not a pretty combo."

Jason had no words. She was this close to death and she was worried about how her hair looked? Her insolence shocked him to no end. How could someone hold so little regard for the world that they just laughed at the face of death?

One more stroke and suddenly a spark burst a small fire to life between them. Aera shrieked in delight like a witch about to boil him alive in her bubbling cauldron. "What were you saying, caveman? Maybe instead of mansplaining, you should just stick to holding onto your laundry—oops, loyalties."

Heaving a tremendous sigh, Jason moved his sword off her shoulder as she continued unapologetically insulting him from every angle. She had been doing that since he found her on that mountaintop, hovered over the dead body of a demigod with her knife drawn...

Coming back to his senses, Jason touched his gold dog tag in thought, head racing. He needed a plan fast. The army of ice soldiers pursuing them were ruthless, but Aera was even more dangerous: a lone half-blood armed with the inhumane control over a person's heart, tricks that messed with his head, and so much disrespect it astonished Jason how the heavens hadn't struck her down yet. Jason knew nothing about Aera—where she came from or what her motive really was—but she was learning too much about them at an alarming rate.

Jason needed to get her back to camp before he was compromised. Or he might just do the least honorable thing. And that would be unforgivable.

‧₊˚♡

Jason traced his fingers over the rim of the dog tag. Daylight was fading by the time they reached Quebec. Luckily, there hadn't been any incidents on the way (though based on the way Aera had been murderously side-eyeing him the whole ride, Jason wasn't too confident about later).

Quebec City was on a giant hill overlooking a river. The surrounding plains were dusted with snow, but the city itself glowed with warmth in the winter sunset. Its buildings huddled together inside high walls resembling a medieval town. At the center was a castle—at least Jason assumed it was a castle—with massive red brick walls and a square tower with a green gabled roof.

"Somebody tell me that's Quebec and not Santa's workshop," Leo said.

"That's Santa's workshop," Aera taunted.

"And you're at the top of the naughty list, Aera," Piper quipped.

"At least I'm on top of something," Aera snapped, giving Jason another side-ways glance. "And not a bottom who only follows the rules."

Jason chose to ignore her. Arguing with her was a waste of his energy. He needed to preserve his strength for what lied ahead. At least that's what he told himself to keep himself from sympathizing with Ethan Nakamura...

"Well, that is Quebec City," Piper continued briskly, peeking over her shoulder as if scared of them. "One of the oldest cities in North America. Founded around sixteen hundred or so?"

"Yawn!" Aera commented loudly.

"Huh, really?" Leo asked, "Your dad do a movie about that too?"

Piper turned sharply back at him. "I read sometimes, okay? Just because Aphrodite claimed me doesn't mean I have to be an airhead."

"Mm-hmm!" Aera encouraged, surprisingly supportive. "Nerds can be hot, too. You just have to lean into your strengths, Pippy."

"Pippy?" Piper exclaimed in disbelief.

"Okay, tough crowd!" Leo surrendered. "So, since 'you're leaning into your strengths', Pippy, what's that castle?"

"A hotel, I think," Piper answered. "And don't call me that. Either of you."

"Aw, Pippy," Aera continued bullying her, "you don't like that nickname, Pippy?"

Leo laughed, teaming up with Aera to gang up on her. "Yeah, no way, Pippy."

"I will hurt both of you," Piper threatened.

As they got closer, Jason quickly saw that she was right. The grand entrance was bustling with doormen, valets, and porters taking bags. Sleek black luxury cars idled in the drive. People in elegant suits and winter cloaks hurried to get out of the cold...were those giant birds flying towards them?

"The North Wind is staying in a hotel?" Leo asked in disbelief. "Weird, but okay." He turned back to look at Jason. "So, how you wanna make our grand entrance, bro? Fireball? Lightning strike? Fashion show?"

"I was thinking we knock," Jason suggested.

"They'll never see that one coming," Aera mocked.

Jason was about to retort until he realized those bird things were coming closer.

"Heads up, guys!" Jason interrupted. Now that they were near, he could see those two angry winged figures with nasty-looking swords were definitely not birds. "We've got company!"

"Ugh, you've got to work on your catchphrases, Jason," Aera stressed, rolling her eyes. "That was so cheesy."

"Later," Jason said, hoping she'd be serious for once. "I don't like this. They look like storm spirits."

"So you with wings?" she suggested. What the?

Jason couldn't understand her at all. "How do I look like—"

Festus didn't like the angel guys either. He swooped to an abrupt halt in midair that nearly threw Jason off the end. Jason steadied himself at the back of the dragon. Talons bared, Festus' wings beated heavily. The dragon made a rumbling sound in his throat that gave Jason the alarming impression he was getting ready to blow fire.

"Steady, boy," Leo muttered, patting the dragon's head.

"Psst, Piper," Aera whispered, somehow treating this like a normal day. "Don't those ugly guys look like Jason?"

Jason frowned. "Knock it off already."

"I'll knock you off—"

"Guys, shut up!" Piper hissed restrainedly.

Jason felt compelled to listen. Not just because Piper's voice made him want to seal his mouth shut but because when the angels got closer, he could see they were much more solid than the venti they had encountered on the sky deck. They appeared to be regular teenagers except for their frost white hair and feathery purple wings. Their bronze swords were jagged at the tips, like sharpened icicles. Their faces were similar enough that they might've been brothers, but not twins.

One was the size of an ox, clad in a bright red hockey jersey, baggy sweatpants, and black leather cleats. The guy clearly had been in too many fights, because both his eyes were black, and when he bared his teeth, several of them were missing.

The other guy looked like he'd stepped right off an old 80s rock album cover—only lamer. His ice-white hair was long and feathered behind his bumpy neck in a greasy mullet. He wore pointy-toed leather shoes, tight designer pants that were as scandalous as Aera riding a dragon in a dress, and a god-awful silk shirt with the top three buttons blown wide open.

Jason got the feeling he probably thought himself to be some kind of a groovy love god. Highly questionable, but who was Jason to judge when the biggest contender was sitting right in front of him in a royal purple ballgown and five-inch high heels?

The angels pulled up in front of Festus and hovered there menacingly, swords at the ready.

A guttural noise like a grunt came from the hockey ox. "No clearance."

"'Scuse me?" Leo demanded.

"You have no flight plan on file," explained the groovy love god.

"And you have no fashion sense on file," Aera retorted, sizing him up with clear distaste. "Your point?"

The groovy love god didn't seem to hear the contempt in her words or maybe he was just so full of himself, he didn't get it. "This is restricted airspace, pretty lady."

Already flirting with Aera? Jason thought to himself. This can't be good.

The ox flourished a gap-toothed grin. "Destroy them?"

The dragon began to hiss steam, as if getting ready to defend them. On instinct, Jason summoned his golden sword, but Leo cried out even faster, "Hold on! Let's have some manners here, boys. Can I at least find out who has the honor of destroying me?"

"I am Cal!" the ox grunted. He looked very proud of himself, like he'd devoted a long while to memorize that sentence.

"That's short for Calais," the love god elaborated. "Sadly, my brother cannot say words with more than two syllables—"

"Pizza! Hockey! Destroy!" Cal flexed his muscular arms.

"—which includes his own name," the love god finished.

"So, Jason, but illiterate," Aera, the bane of his existence, concluded. "Wait, can you even read? Or did they not teach you that in boring barbarian school?"

Jason clenched his jaw. "Do you get off on being annoying?"

"Yes, and being the hottest one wherever I go."

"Festus disagrees, hot stuff," Leo argued. Festus snorted out a tuft of steam as if in agreement.

Aera bent over to threaten the dragon, "I'll get you one day."

"I am Cal!" Cal pitched in, as if to remind them they were still there. "This is Zethes! My brother!"

"Wow," Leo said, obviously acting smart again. "That was almost three sentences, man! Way to go."

Cal grunted again, pleased with himself.

"Stupid buffoon," his brother grumbled. "They make fun of you. But no matter. I am Zethes, which is short for Zethes. And the lady there—" He winked at Piper, but the wink was more like a facial seizure. "She can call me anything she likes. Perhaps she would like to have dinner with a famous demigod before we must destroy you?"

"Ew, as if!" Aera exasperated, protectively pulling Piper closer toward her. "Piper is so out of your league!"

Piper leaned on Aera's chest and made a sound like gagging on a cough drop. "I liked it better when you were the only one getting hit on."

"Oh, it is no problem." Zethes wiggled his eyebrows in a motion that reminded Jason of hairy caterpillars wriggling on a log. "Either pretty lady will suffice. I can show you both a great time. We are a very romantic people, we Boreads."

"Wait, Boreads?" Jason cut in before they could lose sight of their mission again. "Do you mean, like, the sons of Boreas?"

"This all sounds so cheesy," Aera muttered under her breath.

"Ah, so you've heard of us!" Zethes looked just as pleased as his brother when Leo had "praised" him. "We are our father's gatekeepers. So you understand, we cannot have unauthorized people flying in his airspace on creaky dragons, scaring the silly mortal peoples."

He pointed below, and Jason noticed that the mortals were starting to take notice. Several were pointing up—not with alarm—more with confusion and annoyance, like the dragon was a traffic helicopter flying too low.

Meanwhile, Aera was waving and blowing kisses to random people below like she was on a flashy float in a New Years Parade.

"Which is sadly why, unless this is an emergency landing," Zethes concluded, brushing his hair out of his acne-covered face, "we will have to destroy you painfully."

"Destroy!" Cal agreed, with a little more enthusiasm than Jason thought necessary.

"Wait!" Piper said, sitting back up. "This is an emergency landing."

"Awww!" Cal cried out in disappointment.

Zethes studied Piper, which of course he'd already been doing. "How does this pretty girl decide this is an emergency, then?"

Piper cast a nervous glance at Aera, who obviously wasn't paying attention. Jason nudged her leg with his foot.

Halfway through an air kiss, Aera jerked like she had just been kicked awake in the middle of a class. "What?" she asked bemusedly. "Huh? Are we going to Starbucks now?"

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. Why even bother with her?

"Yeah, so, um!" Piper started making stuff up on the spot when she realized Aera wasn't going to offer any help. "We have to see Boreas. It's totally urgent! Please?"

Piper forced a bright smile, which Jason figured must've been killing her; but she still had that blessing of Aphrodite thing going on, and she looked great. Something about her voice, too—Jason found himself believing every word. He nodded enthusiastically, supporting her every sentence.

Jason leaned forward with a clenched smile. "Do something," he whispered to Aera.

"Like what?" she murmured back with a sour face.

"Anything," Jason said through gritted teeth. "Unless you'd like to be destroyed painfully."

At Piper's intervention, Zethes picked at his silk shirt with uncertainty, probably to make sure it was still open wide enough for her to get a nice, clear, traumatizing view of. "Well...I hate to disappoint a lovely lady, but you see, my sister, she would have an avalanche if we allowed you—"

"OUR-DRAGON-IS-MALFUNCTIONING!" Aera suddenly shouted so quickly and so loudly one of Jason's ears popped and he almost lost his balance.

Festus shuddered helpfully, then turned his head and spilled gunk out of his ear, splattering a black Mercedes in the parking lot below with oil.

"Oh no!" Aera slapped her hand to her forehead like a damsel-in-distress with a shouting problem. "We are going to fall on those poor innocent rich people!" Aera aggressively pointed at herself and then down at the people below. "If only there were two big strong Boreads here to grant us an emergency landing, take us into their castle, and let us have an audience with their father! Ah!"

Then she fainted on Jason, who was still so startled by her outburst he fumbled and nearly dropped her off the dragon. Luckily, he caught both her arms in time or those "poor innocent rich people" would have had the world's most dramatic demigod touch down on them.

"No destroy?" Cal whimpered.

Jason had no idea what to say, or do. Aera was putting all her weight on him, probably just to bother him. When no one was looking, she brought her head up, copied Zethes' obnoxious wink, and fell back into his arms with her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth like a dead cartoon character. Leo was staring at Aera with a baffled expression like he couldn't decide whether he wanted to laugh or send her to a mental institute.

Piper recovered the fastest. She gasped, continuing the act, albeit a little unconvincingly. "Oh. My. Gods!" she said slowly like she was reading a hidden script. "She needs help!"

Zethes pondered the problem. Then he gave Piper another spasmodic wink. "Well, you are attractive. I mean, you're right. This pretty lady over here needs to lay down and rest—this could be an emergency."

"Destroy them later?" Cal offered, which was probably as close to friendly as he ever got.

"It will take some explaining," Zethes decided. "Father has not been kind to visitors lately. But, yes. Come, faulty dragon people. Bring your pretty fainting friend and follow us."

The Boreads sheathed their swords and pulled smaller weapons from their belts—or at least Jason had assumed they were weapons. Then the Boreads switched them on, and Jason realized they were flashlights with orange cones, like the ones traffic controller guys use on a runway. Cal and Zethes turned and swooped toward the hotel's tower.

Leo turned to them with a crooked grin. "I love these guys. Follow them?"

Piper stifled a laugh. "'We're going to fall on those poor innocent rich people?'"

Aera rolled her eyes and finally lifted herself off Jason. "It worked, didn't it?" She brushed off her arm. "Also, remind me to never have Jason as my spot."

Jason cocked his jaw. How was he supposed to know she was going to do that?

"A warning next time would be nice," he remarked.

Aera ignored him.

"At this rate," Leo snorted, "you're gonna put Piper's dad out of his job, hot stuff." Leo whistled. "Right on. Festus, after those flashlights!"

It didn't take long before Jason regretted their decision.  He worried that he'd led his friends right into a trap.

Immediately upon their arrival, Leo was forbidden to meet the king, even after he turned his dragon into the world's heaviest carry on bag. Apparently, he smelled of fire to the Boreads.

At first, Jason had been hesitant to leave him alone with Cal, but Aera kept playing into the helpless act that she ended up staying in the penthouse suite with them, sprawled out on a frozen couch and whining about a headache and something about cryotherapy being both good and bad for her skin.

Jason also couldn't shake the feeling that Aera was going to abandon them the first chance she got. Their conversation on the dragon and everything Ethan Nakamura had said only pointed to the conclusion that she cared more about herself than their quest and the gods.

As far as Jason knew, Aera was a capable fighter, but he couldn't expect anything. He wasn't the big fan of it, but the best option he had was to let her chum around in the penthouse suite with Leo and Cal and demand to be brought a warm towel for the cold.

Thankfully, Piper had kindly offered to go with Jason to speak to the king. Jason was grateful for Piper. He needed a friend, and he was glad she'd started losing the Aphrodite blessing. The makeup was fading. Her hair was slowly going back to its old choppy style with the little braids down the sides. It made her look more real, and more approachable. As far as Jason could see, if there was one daughter of Aphrodite who was dependable, it was Piper. Aera had too many vices.

Then they met Khione, the snow princess, who kept smiling creepily at Jason like he was part of her science fair project. If that wasn't intimidating enough, Zethes kept prodding Jason's back with his icicle spear, a subtle indication that he was growing eager to turn him into a popsicle.

When they finally made it to the throne room, Piper managed to appease Boreas by speaking French (which both Jason and Piper were unaware she could do). Jason started to have some hope...until Boreas mentioned crushing their puny mortal faces.

Boreas rose from his throne. He stepped down and furled his dark purple wings against his back. He was sturdily built, dressed in a stylish white suit that seemed woven from snow. His long hair and shaggy beard were coated in icicles, so Jason couldn't tell if his hair was actually gray or if it was just the frost. His high-arched eyebrows made him appear angry, but his eyes twinkled more warmly than his daughter's—as if he might have a sense of humor buried somewhere under that permafrost. Jason hoped so.

As he approached, Khione and Zethes bowed. Jason and Piper followed their example.

"I shall deign to speak your language," Boreas declared, "as Piper McLean has honored me in mine. Toujours, I have had a fondness for the children of Aphrodite. As for you, Jason Grace, my master Aeolus would not expect me to kill a son of Lord Zeus...without first hearing you out."

Jason's gold coin seemed to grow ten pounds in his pocket. If he were forced to fight, he didn't like his chances. Two seconds at least to summon his blade. Then he'd be facing a god, two of his children, and an army of freeze-dried warriors. They had to be diplomatic here at all costs.

"Aeolus is the master of the winds, right?" Jason asked, going for a more subtle approach. "Why would he want us dead?"

"You are demigods," Boreas said shortly, as if this explained everything. "Aeolus's job is to contain the winds, and demigods have always caused him many headaches. They ask him for favors. They unleash winds and cause chaos. But the final insult was the battle with Typhon last summer..."

Boreas waved his hand, and a large sheet of ice like a flat-screen TV materialized, hanging in the air. Images of a battle flickered across the surface—a giant cocooned in storm clouds, wading across a long river toward the Manhattan skyline. Tiny, glowing figures—the gods, Jason guessed—swarmed around him like angry wasps, pounding the monster with lightning and fire. Finally the river erupted in a massive whirlpool, and the smoky form sank beneath the waves and vanished.

"The storm giant, Typhon," Boreas explained stiffly. "The first time the gods defeated him, eons ago, he did not die quietly. His death released a host of storm spirits—wild winds that answer to no one. It was Aeolus's job to track them all down and imprison them in his fortress. The other gods—they did not help. They did not even apologize for the inconvenience. It took Aeolus centuries to track down all the storm spirits, and naturally this irritated him. Then, last summer, Typhon was defeated again—"

"And his death released another wave of venti," Jason deduced. "Which made Aeolus even angrier."

"C'est vrai," Boreas agreed. Jason didn't know what that meant but it couldn't mean Aeolus was a happy camper.

"But, Your Majesty," Piper interjected, "the gods had no choice but to battle Typhon. He was going to destroy Olympus! Besides, why punish demigods for that?"

"I have heard an interesting rumor from my master Aeolus," Boreas relayed, stroking his icicle-ridden beard. "It is said that it was a demigod who released the storm giant, Typhon."

"A demigod?" Jason mused.

"Mere speculation," Zethes chimed in. He puffed out his chest. "I used to be a demigod, and even I don't have the strength to do that."

"Right," Jason agreed anxiously.

The king shrugged. "It is a rumor. But plainly spoken, Aeolus cannot take out his anger on the gods. They are his bosses, and very powerful. So he gets even with the demigods who helped them in the war. He issued orders to us: demigods who come to us for aid are no longer to be tolerated. We are to crush your little mortal faces."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Jason thought time itself had frozen for a second there.

"That sounds...extreme," he ventured carefully. "But you're not going to crush our faces yet, right? You're going to listen to us first, 'cause once you hear about our quest—"

"Yes, yes," the king agreed offhandedly. "You see, Aeolus also said that a son of Zeus might seek my aid, and if this happened, I should listen to you before destroying you, as you might—how did he put it?—make all our lives very interesting. I am only obligated to listen, however. After that, I am free to pass judgment as I see fit. But I will listen first. Khione wishes this also. It may be that we will not kill you."

Jason felt like he could almost breathe again. "Great. Thanks."

"Do not thank me." Boreas smiled coldly. "There are many ways you could make our lives interesting. Sometimes we keep demigods for our amusement, as you can see."

He gestured around the room to the various ice statues.

A strangled noise came from Piper. "You mean—they're all demigods? Frozen demigods? They're alive?"

"A thoughtful question," Boreas conceded, as if it had never occurred to him before. "They do not move unless they are obeying my orders. The rest of the time, they are merely frozen. Unless they were to melt, I suppose, which would be very messy."

Something about those ice statues really pushed Jason's instincts into overdrive. Two Greek spearmen had stood in his path on the way into the throne room and just looking at them had made his chest churn with this uncomfortable fluttery feeling—a similar feeling he had whenever Aera was around. Jason couldn't seem to figure out how the two were linked together and it was off putting.

Even more so when Khione slipped behind Jason and put her cold fingers to his neck. "My father gives me such lovely presents," she murmured in his ear. "You are so special. Join our court. Perhaps I'll let your friends go."

"What?" Zethes broke in. "If Khione gets this one, then I deserve the girl. Khione always gets more presents!"

"Now, now, children," Boreas ordered sternly. "Our guests will think you are spoiled! Besides, you move too fast. We have not even heard the demigod's story yet. Then we will decide what to do with them. Please, Jason Grace, entertain us."

Jason felt his brain shutting down the longer he stood in that meat locker throne room. He couldn't even look at Piper, in fear that he'd completely lose it. He'd gotten them into this, and now they were going die—or worse, they'd become amusements for Boreas's children and end up frozen forever in this throne room, slowly corroding from freezer burn.

Khione purred and stroked his neck. Jason never planned on it, but electricity sparked along his skin. There was loud pop, and Khione flew backward, skidding across the floor.

Zethes howled a laugh, hefting his spear. "That is good! I'm glad you did that, even though I will have to kill you now." He closed in on Jason and Piper.

For a moment, Khione was too stunned to react. Then the chilly air around her began to swirl in a micro-blizzard. She rose, trembling with anger. "How dare—"

The doors to the throne room suddenly burst open. The commotion got the full attention of the Boreads. Khione's blizzard swirled to a stop. Zethes lowered his spear. They both turned curiously to the entrance. The force of the doors slamming open sent a gust of wind so powerful it blew back all the frosty mist.

In the clear of the air, Aera stood on the other side of the doorway.

"Hey, you guys!" She waved excitedly at Piper and Jason then strutted through the entrance.

"What the..." Piper uttered, voicing Jason's exact thoughts.

As she got closer, Jason realized that Aera had changed clothing. During their brief audience with the king, Aera had somehow traded her purple ballgown for an ice blue dress of an even fluffier and longer length. It was mid-sleeve length and the ends of the dress flowed behind her like a wedding dress, brushing against the floor in a foot long spread. There were tiny shards of ice encrusted on various pieces of the fabric so that the dress itself shined like crystals.

In her new outfit, Aera looked elegant and regal, like a princess arriving to court. She must have put on makeup too because now her busted lip was cleaned up and practically invisible. And was Jason hallucinating or was there a gentle draft blowing back her shiny locks of voluminous hair like some kind of shampoo commercial?

"What's up, Your Majesty?" Aera asked casually when she approached, head held high. "The doors were locked. So I let myself in."

"Ha-ha," Piper chuckled nervously, elbowing her. "That's a funny joke, Aera. Bow."

Aera blinked.

"Aera," Jason tried, palms getting sweaty. "He's the king. You should show him some—"

"The guards." Boreas frowned slightly down at Aera, like she was a piece of food stuck in his beard. "Where are the guards?"

"They were being annoying," Aera complained, sniffing with distaste, "so I misbehaved a little."

Right then, a frozen cavalryman came charging through the doorway with a spatha. As if running into a glass door, the sculpture hit the threshold and dropped immediately to the ground, shattering into a thousand pieces.

To Jason's horror, Aera smiled proudly like she was showing off the newest shiny thing she bought at the mall. "You might want to put that one in the freezer for a couple days."

"And Calais?" Zethes demanded. "Where is my brother?"

"He's cool," Aera said breezily, waving a hand. Zethes gripped his spear. "No, seriously. He's playing hockey with a puck Leo pulled out of his toolbox."

"Is that my dress?" Khione seethed.

"Looks better on me, doesn't it?" Aera did a debonair twirl and the dress tinkled with the glassy sound of clattering ice. "Oh, by the way, somebody's chambers are melting. I believe it was a...freak accident with some candles and a fire-breathing dragon?"

Somewhere beside him, Jason heard Piper choke back a laugh. Jason could hardly breathe.

Khione's eyes flared dangerously. "You dare—"

"Kidding!" Aera said brightly. "About the candles. It's OK. This place is long overdue for some redecorating." She glanced around, judging the place. "Maybe take some inspiration from Elsa's castle. Her castle is way cooler."

Khione balled her hands into fists. "You little—"

"Enough," Boreas boomed. "What is the meaning of this? Who are you?"

Aera stared blankly at Jason. It took him a second to register she was waiting for him to introduce her.

"This is Aera Kim, Your Majesty," Jason said, hoping not to get freeze-dried. "Daughter of Aphrodite," he added, praying the god's apparent fondness for the children of Aphrodite would overrule Aera's blatant disrespect.

"Daughter of Aphrodite, you say?" Boreas mused.

"She means no disrespect, Your Majesty," Jason explained quickly, a bead of sweat rolling down his neck. "She is just, uh, playing."

"Playing?" Khione huffed. "She has infiltrated our castle, set fire to one of our rooms, and raided my wardrobe! She dares to disrespect us gods? Father, freeze her now!"

"Aera Kim..." Boreas hummed calmly, still seeming deep in thought. "The Thorn of the Gods? The heavens have yet to strike you down?"

Uh oh, Jason immediately thought. This was not going to end well. For any of them.

"Not yet," Aera said with a sing-song voice and a cryptic smile. "But it's only Monday."

A strange sparkle twinkled in Boreas' eyes. "I heard you schemed with the mortal lover of Eurus to keep the east wind blowing in your favor, earning your title as the thorn that pricks the hearts of the gods. The unpredictable winds from the east were a small nuisance. But in combination with the storm spirits, it set back the Olympians in their strife with Typhon...as did your invasion of their capital."

"Well, I can't take all the credit," Aera said humbly, though she looked extremely puffed up about it. "Penelope's work was commendable. It was only my ploy that gave her the opportunity to court a god. The god of the east wind hasn't adored a mortal this much in centuries." She glanced out the icy window. "Have you noticed that the trees rotted especially quick this autumn? Eurus must have been devastated when he discovered her treachery."

"And the mortal boy Ares sought after who extorted secrets of all the Olympians' combat styles and strategies without even putting up a fight..." Boreas continued. "Was that also of your design?"

Aera brushed her hair back pompously. "OK, that one I will take credit for. I studied that information for months. Did you know Athena pivots slightly to the right when she thrusts her spear, leaving a small opening the size of a dime at her heart? If only Typhon had taken my advice..." Aera sighed pitifully. "But I guess it's true that The Bane of Olympus answers to no one."

Folding his wings, Boreas sat back down in his throne. He put his arms back and Jason couldn't tell if he was offended or impressed.

"You play a dangerous game," the god of the north wind asserted, "interfering with the love goddess' plans."

"The love goddess plays a dangerous game," Aera countered, "having those plans."

Boreas paused with thought. "Your mother has led many wonderful lovers to me, all of whom I have cherished dearly. Never would I have imagined that love could be used for such malevolent purpose."

Aera scoffed. "You clearly don't know Aphrodite."

Jason's chest felt like it was about to combust. She was going to get them all killed.

"Uh, Your Majesty," Jason said. "What she means is—"

"Tell me why you are here," Boreas commanded, reclining into his throne and folding his legs together. Fortunately, he seemed to not find Aera offensive, but rather entertaining. "And do not spare me any details. If the winds of fate have brought Aera Kim to my doorstep, you must come with an interesting story."

"But, Father!" Khione protested.

Boreas held up a hand to silence her. "Go on," he told Aera.

Aera looked at Piper and Jason for support. Piper smiled while Jason nodded, hoping she would slow down on her god-hating agenda before they were all smited. Of course, expecting Aera to be civil when it came to the gods was just wishful thinking.

With several digressions, including a five-minute rant about the obstacles of not having a filter in the sink for clean water to wash her face with and way too many unsubtle jabs towards the gods, Aera told Boreas the whole story, from the Grand Canyon to the prophecy. The whole time Jason had his hand stuffed in his pocket with his coin, just in case Aera went a little too far and unleashed a wave of wrath from their godly hosts.

"...so yeah," Aera concluded, finally wrapping up her verbal journey of insulting every god and their mothers, "as you can see, I'm stuck in a hideous dilemma, being dragged along without a proper skincare fridge for this stupid quest to rescue an even more stupid cow—"

"All we ask," Piper interjected (thankfully), "is for guidance. As Aera mentioned, these storm spirits attacked us, and they're working for some evil mistress. If we find them, maybe we can find Queen Hera."

The king stroked the icicles in his beard. Out the windows, night had fallen, and the only light came from the aurora borealis overhead, washing everything in ribbons of red, green, and blue.

"I know of these storm spirits," Boreas confided after a moment. "I know where they are kept, and of the prisoner they took."

"You mean Coach Hedge?" Jason asked. "He's alive?"

Boreas waved aside the question. "For now. But the one who controls these storm winds...it would be madness to oppose her. You would be better staying here as frozen statues."

"Yeah, no thanks," Aera retorted.

"Hera's in trouble," Jason said before she could cause them to lose their momentum. "In three days she's going to be—I don't know—consumed, destroyed, something. And a giant is going to rise."

"Yes," Boreas agreed. Was it Jason's imagination, or did he shoot Khione an angry look? "Many horrible things are waking. Even my children do not tell me all the news they should. The Great Stirring of monsters that began with Kronos—your father Zeus foolishly believed it would end when the Titans were defeated."

"Loser," Aera mumbled with a smug grin. Piper smacked Aera's arm.

"But just as it was before," Boreas continued, not seeming to hear from where he sat, "so it is now. The final battle is yet to come, and the one who will wake is more terrible than any Titan. Storm spirits—these are only beginning. The earth has many more horrors to yield up. When monsters no longer stay in Tartarus, and souls are no longer confined to Hades...Olympus has good reason to fear even more than they did last summer."

"So this earth thing that's stealing all my thunder from last summer," Aera grumped. "You'll help us keep its dirt off me?"

Boreas scowled. "I did not say that."

"Please, Your Majesty," Piper implored. Everyone's eyes turned toward her. She had to be scared out of her mind, but she looked beautiful and confident—and it had nothing to do with the blessing of Aphrodite. She looked herself again, in day-old traveling clothes with choppy hair and no makeup. But she almost glowed with warmth in that cold throne room. Jason knew Aera could feel it too because she finally shut up. "If you tell us where the storm spirits are, we can capture them and bring them to Aeolus. You'd look good in front of your boss. Aeolus might pardon us and the other demigods. We could even rescue Gleeson Hedge. Everyone wins."

"She's pretty," Zethes mumbled. "I mean, she's right."

"Oh, enough of this already!" Khione exclaimed, turning red again. "That one is also a child of Aphrodite with conniving aims." Khione sent a harsh glare at Piper and then Aera. "Father, need I remind you Aera Kim is a notorious traitor. She has insulted us enough. The Olympian Council will reward us handsomely when we get rid of her. We do not need to bother ourselves with the trivial affairs of the demigods."

Boreas considered this. Aera exchanged a look with Jason. She still stood with an arrogant air of ease but the fire in her eyes sent him a clear message: brace yourself.

"Before you do all that though," Aera said breezily, "you might want to look out the window first." She pointed out the frosted glass. "You see those little moving dots going up the stairs into this building? Those are the owners of this hotel. Their family has managed this stretch of land for generations since the city was built. It's because of their efforts and The Mist's that you all get to indulge in such..." Aera pursed her lips in disgust at the icicles embedded on the ceiling. "...pointy luxuries, such as this castle."

Khione scoffed, a huff of frosty air coming out of her mouth. "Not only have you slandered our name, now you are trying to school the rulers of this domain about their own home? Do you have a death wish?"

"Yes and no." Aera sniffed. "I did a bit of sight-seeing earlier and guess who I bumped into? The current heiress of the hotel. Turns out, I know her. Her name's Florence. My dad did some work on her when she visited LA a couple years ago. She wanted cheek bones like Angelina Jolie."

"Father, may I silence this silly girl already?" Khione asked impatiently.

Boreas himself was starting to look bored and a little fed up. "What is the point of this?" he asked Aera.

"The point is," Aera said, putting her hands behind her back in a stately manner and walking forward a few paces, "the future of this hotel rests on her shoulder. Unfortunately for you all, Florence started attending a private Christian university last fall. She only believes in one God now. Now, I'm no smartie-pants but, I'm pretty sure the laws of this universe don't allow gods of different faiths to co-exist in the same time or place. It contradicts the very rules of nature, meaning if someone were to lure her here with a $3,000 room service request, manipulate The Mist, and allow Florence to see that the patrons of the penthouse suite are Greek gods..."

"We would be shut out of our home," Khione finished breathily. Her previously red cheeks paled in horror. It was the first time Jason had seen the snow goddess nervous.

Aera shrugged, somehow still complacent. "What's a king without his castle?"

No one moved, Aera's words sinking in. Then in a burst of anger, Khione growled and surged forward.

Jason made his move in an instant. He stepped between them just in time and summoned his gold sword to block her from Aera. It took everything in him to not fall back from the stinging cold of the micro-blizzard swirling around her. All the while, Aera remained unflinching.

"You may be the immortals who rule this domain," Aera continued relentlessly, sweeping her eyes away from Khione like she was a piece of trash on the sidewalk, "but I have the ichor of the ancient royal Protogenoi in my veins. I'm the direct descendant of Ouranos, the literal personification of the sky. I was born by the original goddess who's even older than Zeus. I've battled beings twice as powerful as you three combined and have come out victorious every time. How? Because you gods are all so full of it. Your immortality relies entirely on the beliefs of the mortals. Without their faith, you would fade into nothing."

"What are you doing?" Khione shouted at Zethes, who had been standing off to the side as if he didn't know what to do. "Get her!"

At his sister's heed, Zethes slashed his ice spear. Aera ducked. With impossible speed, she summoned a bronze knife and spun behind him. Zethes moved to guard his back. Their weapons clashed as Jason tried to hold Khione off.

"Please calm down," Piper was saying behind him, but her voice was shaking too much to have any effect on Khione. "This is just a misunderstanding..."

"I am a goddess!" Khione shrieked. "You cannot charmspeak me, girl! I will have your—"

She was cut off by the jarring sound of a spear clattering to the ground. Jason couldn't afford to turn and look until the goddess did. He almost wished he didn't. The buttons on Zethes' shirt had all been ripped off to display an even more horrifying view of his bare chest. Aera's hand was squeezing the bare skin just above his heart. Zethes' face was completely purple. Clawing at his throat, he gasped violently as if choking on his own blood.

Aera let go of him. Zethes fell at her feet on his knees, throwing up gold ichor all over the floor. Khione was so stunned she hissed and backed away from Jason and Piper.

Aera lifted her head methodically. Jason fought the urge to run when he saw the terrifyingly cruel expression on her face.

"You're no god, Boreas." Aera said, looking him square in the eye. "You're a lowly servant squatting over a bite-size piece of frozen land nobody else wanted, waiting for your masters to acknowledge you. They never will, by the way. Zeus detests the cold. And Canada. You have no real power."

The temperature in the room seemed to plummet at least another ten degrees. It turned so cold the icy air burned Jason's lungs with every breath he took. Boreas' face still looked reserved and stoic, but he was gripping the arm of his throne so tight, his knuckles were white.

"What did you say?" he asked, chillingly calm.

His army of frozen warriors began to stir. Spraying ice crystals, their joints creaked with the sound of cracking ice as they animated to life. Within moments, they surrounded the group, armed and dangerous. Jason counted at least fifteen of them. All around them stood life-size ice sculpture warriors—some in Greek armor, some medieval, some in modern camouflage—all frozen in various attack positions, swords raised, guns locked and loaded.

Jason could feel the god's rage gradually building up like a giant snowball rolling up a snow-capped mountain. Eventually, there'd be an avalanche that bulldozed everything in his path.

Even heavily outnumbered, Aera still somehow had the guts to keep taunting him without fear.

"You better think twice before you make me your enemy, Santa Claus." She had on a smile so sinister, it racked Jason's body with another wave of chills. "I've made the world's most ferocious and bloodthirsty creatures bend to my will. Echidna, the mother of all monsters, was my mentor. I led the rebellion that was the closest this universe has ever come to destroying the gods. I figured out how to use a demigod's strength to release Typhon, who almost brought the Olympians to their well-deserved end. My army and I charged Mount Olympus and ransacked the place. Months have gone by and they still haven't rebuilt my damage. The Titans have never cared about any half-blood in history. They made me their lieutenant. They respected me. Even Kronos himself saw me fit enough to become his vessel."

For a second, Jason swore he saw the slightest hint of fear creep onto Boreas' face. Jason gripped his sword. Next to him, Piper drew her dagger. They put their backs toward Aera, facing the army around them. Jason had tried to prevent it, but it couldn't be helped. There was only one way they were going to get out of this one alive now and it was knives out.

"So if it's a fight you want," Aera said, kicking Zethes' spear into the air and catching it with perfect poise, "let me show you what it really means to be a god."