Page 50 of The Court of the Dead (The Nico di Angelo Adventures #2)

H azel was exhausted.

She plopped down on the nearest bench, her breathing labored, and wiped the sweat from her brow. “I need a break,” she wheezed.

Asterion knelt and scooped up a twisted chunk of Celestial bronze Hazel had just summoned from the earth.

“Please rest, my friend,” he said. “I will get this to the drakons.”

He lumbered off, and Hazel let relief wash over her. Ever since Naomi Solace had left, Hazel had been conjuring precious metals to be melted down by the baby drakon—who, fortunately, could breathe fire—and then fashioned into weapons and tools by a collective of Cyclopes and telkhines.

As far as Hazel knew, this was the first time Cyclopes and telkhines had ever collaborated, since usually they were rivals in the niche market of magical blacksmiths.

Even without a proper forge, they’d already produced some amazing things.

The Laistrygonian giants were presently using iron shovels tipped with emerald blades to try digging underneath the boundary wall.

So far they’d been unsuccessful, but at least it had given everyone something to focus on.

It had gotten them working together rather than staying in their isolated groups and thinking about who they would have to kill and eat once the food ran out.

On the downside, the food was running out.

The increased activity burned more calories and oxygen, and additional mythics kept arriving.

Hazel just hoped that the prison didn’t have a floor, or that the walls didn’t extend all the way down to the Underworld.

That seemed like the sort of cruel joke Pirithous would play.

Quinoa fluttered up to her, holding a small bowl made of sapphire. “I got you some water,” he said. Then, in a quieter voice: “There isn’t much left. We’re down to one working fountain now.”

That was not great news. She was tempted to tell Quinoa to save the water, but she didn’t want to rebuff his kindness. Also, she was thirsty. “Thank you, my friend.”

She drank it down in a few gulps. A dull ache settled in behind her eyes. She’d been pushing herself a little too hard, but she had to. No one else could do what she could. She wanted to feel useful, to prove to the others that she was here to help.

Still, most of the mythics had avoided her. She was the only demigod in this enclosure, and aside from her friends, they all viewed her with suspicion. She couldn’t blame them. Demigods like her had been hunting and killing their kind for millennia.

So she summoned gem after gem, chunk after chunk of metal ore, hoping she could begin to win them over.

She handed the empty bowl back to Quinoa. “How’s it going out there?”

“We have forged many shovels and trowels,” he said. “Now we’re working on knives and spears for those who wish to wield them.”

Hazel frowned. It didn’t seem like a great idea to arm a bunch of suspicious mythics who were so close to turning on one another. Then again, she was the only one who had arrived here with a sword, so maybe it wasn’t her place to judge.

“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” she said. “Our main goal is to get out of here.”

“Hmph.” The karpos scowled. “My main goal is to bring some emerald trowels back to the kindergartners so we can start our classroom garden. But I guess getting out of here works, too.” Quinoa grumbled to himself as he wandered off.

Had Hazel done something wrong? She wasn’t sure—Quinoa was naturally grumpy, so maybe he was just being himself. She lay flat on the bench as her heart rate ramped up.

Calm down , she told herself. He’s not mad at you. And you’ll figure this out .

She stared up through the leaves of the sycamore above her.

If she just concentrated on the clear blue winter sky, she could almost convince herself she wasn’t trapped inside an invisible cage.

She might think this was one of the most beautiful days of her life.

Beyond the boundary, people were going in and out of the museums, or jogging by, or walking their dogs. It all looked so normal .

Nothing about Hazel’s life had been normal. What must it be like, she wondered, to not have to think about vengeful judges from the Underworld, or how you were going to save your friends and possibly the entire world?

Exhaustion pressed against her consciousness. She wanted to doze off, but her mind buzzed with anxiety. She didn’t like feeling trapped like this. She wished she had some demigod power that could shatter the boundary.

She was so deep in thought that she didn’t notice Asterion until his shadow fell over her face.

“Do you need a nap?” he asked. “I can watch over you.”

Hazel sat up. “Thanks, Asterion. I do, but…I don’t know if I could sleep. My mind is racing at a thousand miles an hour.”

He nodded. “I am familiar with this feeling. I spent much of my time inside the Labyrinth wrestling with my thoughts.”

She grimaced. “I hadn’t even considered that. Here I am, freaking out over being confined for twenty-four hours, and you experienced a lifetime of this.”

Asterion sat on the ground in front of the bench so they were eye to eye with each other. “Do not denigrate or minimize your experience, Hazel. Being stuck like this…it is always distressing, no matter the duration.”

Her mind dredged up an unwelcome memory. “You’re right. The last time I felt so trapped…it was right before I died.”

She didn’t share the story with many people, but she told Asterion about the cavern on Resurrection Island in Alaska, where Gaea had ordered her and her mother, Marie, to build a spire of gems that was supposed to give birth to Alcyoneus, Gaea’s oldest giant son.

Hazel had worked herself to exhaustion, summoning precious stones from the earth day after day.

“I felt so powerless,” she said. “I couldn’t break my mother out of Gaea’s spell. Eventually, I had to collapse the whole cavern and sacrifice my life to stop it all.”

Asterion rubbed his thumbs and forefingers, as if missing the feel of his knitting needles. “We have a lot more in common than I previously thought. I see my own anger and sadness in your story. And in feeling like a pawn of someone else.”

“I think that’s why what Pirithous is doing enrages me so much,” she said. “I’m being judged again !” Heat rushed to her face. “I hate this.”

“I do as well,” said Asterion.

She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them.

“You know, it just occurred to me how much I’ve been trying to prove to the world that I’m a good person.

Even a few minutes ago, before you came back, that’s what I was thinking about: how I could prove to all the mythics here that I’m good and on their side. ”

“But that is understandable. Many of them view demigods with suspicion.”

“It’s more than that, though. I think I’ve believed that I’m not a good person for a long time. You know, when I was a kid, I was made fun of all the time. By kids and adults.”

Asterion grunted. “Why?”

“I was judged for who my mother was, for what I looked like, for not knowing my father. It’s been the same thing over and over my whole life. So many people don’t seem to want to get to know who I really am. They decide who I am for me.”

She couldn’t help it anymore. Her body shook as she let loose a sob. Then she quickly wiped away the tears on her face and tried her best to hold back the rush of emotions she was feeling. “I can’t believe I’m crying in front of the former Minotaur,” she said.

Asterion laughed heartily. “I feel honored. Please do not resist expressing yourself. I have spent almost my whole life putting forth an image that was not true. I thought I did not have a choice.”

“I know what you mean. Even looking back, I’m not sure there was anything I could or would have done differently. And more time in the Underworld wouldn’t have changed that.”

He nodded. “You are not the only one who ruminates on their past. I still wonder if I am ‘good.’ If the things I do now can ever make up for what I did when I was the Minotaur.”

“But did you have any other choice back then?”

“Perhaps not,” he said. “I could have chosen death, I suppose, but that was not my inclination. I felt I still had something to offer the world.”

“You do!” said Hazel. “And I didn’t want to choose death either. But I also didn’t want to have to act like a monster to survive.”

“Your hand was forced ,” he said sharply. “But no longer. You and I…we are free.”

“Free? Even in this cage?”

Asterion shrugged. “I no longer have the responsibilities and expectations that come with being something that was created to terrify. I can pursue my passions. I can make friends. I can show other mythics that they are allowed to be something else.”

“And I love that for you!” Hazel said, laughing.

“I also recognize that this does not mean my journey is ‘done,’ so to speak. And I do not think you should view your own life that way either. We have the rest of our lives to choose our paths, to be in community with others, to spread joy and love. It is not fair, Hazel, to hold yourself to a standard that is impossible. We are not perfect, and we can never be perfect. As for this cage…I have been in many. And I believe all cages are meant for breaking. We will survive this.”

“Thank you for saying that,” she said. “Gods, now I want to get everyone out of here even more.”

“I do too. But for now…rest, Hazel Levesque. You have done amazing work, even if others do not see it. I see it. And I hope you know…you’ve made a friend for life in me.”

She reached out and took his hand. “I’m glad I let you into Camp Jupiter. You’re the best.”

Hazel lay back on the bench as she was overcome with lightheadedness. She focused on slowing her heart rate, but it was easier said than done. Her mind wouldn’t let go of the realization that was growing within her: the oxygen in this prison was running out.

Asterion remained at her side as she drifted in and out of consciousness. She wasn’t sure she ever fully fell asleep, but when she next opened her eyes, it was because she heard two voices. Asterion was standing now, talking in hushed tones with Arielle.

“Did you get any details?” Asterion asked the empousa.

“Not many,” Arielle admitted. “I was just sparring with a dracaena named Sssssandra, teaching them how to stab an enemy if we ever got the chance—which was very satisfying, by the way. And they said—”

Hazel sat up. “What’s going on?”

Arielle turned, her fiery hair guttering in the thinning air.

“Hazel. Sorry to wake you, but I thought you should hear this. One of our newest arrivals just told me something Pirithous was bragging about during their trial. I think I know how Pirithous has gotten all those minor deities on his side. And why he wants to make your father appear when the Mist breaks.”

Hazel groaned. “How much am I going to hate this?”

Arielle’s face twisted up. “Apparently, he has a secret weapon—something specifically designed to trap a god.”