Wild ― Piper McLean

―xix. the song of the false eight

DECEMBER 17TH, 1986

VERONA SAT DOWN NEXT TO LAWRENCE, accepting the thermos of coffee he handed her with a smile. "Don't tell Jordan, but you're my favorite person."

"Pretty sure you told her that last week when she gave you a piggyback to the roof of the barracks," Lawrence said.

Verona stared at him. "You weren't supposed to hear that."

He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. It was rare that he ever wasn't.

Auggie walked into the main tent, glasses askew and hair a complete mess, and Lawrence's smile turned soft, like the sky at sunrise.

Verona pretended to gag. "If you don't ask him out when we get back to camp, I'm asking him out for you."

Lawrence hushed her frantically, despite the fact that Auggie was emersed in a conversation with Michael and Logan by now. "If I ask him out, that means you have to either tell Stacy how you feel or never talk about her again."

"Not fair!" Verona complained, glancing briefly at the daughter of Tempestas to make sure she hadn't overheard. She was still busy sewing up a cut in her jacket from their run-in with dracaenae the day before, so Verona was in the clear. "Those are two completely different situations. Stacy's straight."

"Uh, are we completely sure about that?" Lawrence asked. "Because she's had a poster of Princess Leia next to her bed since Return of the Jedi premiered."

"She just really likes Star Wars," Verona posited.

"She hates sci-fi."

Verona rolled her eyes. "I'm not saying anything until I know she likes girls."

"C'mon, you'd be doing her a favor," Lawrence said, leaning back in his chair. "Even if she doesn't like you back, knowing she has options might be what she needs to finally dump Varus. Gods know she could do so much better."

"Anyone could do better than him," Verona mumbled. "I still don't get how he won the stupid election."

"Sexism," Lawrence said plainly. "It's literally the only way he could have beaten Jordan. She was more qualified than him when she was twelve."

Verona sighed. "Believe me, I know." Lawrence was right—if Jordan had been born a boy, she would've won the election by a landslide and a half. She'd been elected as centurion at eleven, for gods' sake—the youngest one in the camp's history, and one of the best. Verona couldn't think of a single person better suited to be their praetor.

At least Michael's co-praetor was looking to retire next year and was already planning to support Jordan's campaign. She'd hate working with Michael, but at least she'd be able to actually make some decent changes to the legion. Camp Jupiter would never truly deserve her, but she was a loyal Roman through and through. She'd put the legion first, no matter how much it disregarded and disrespected her.

Hopefully when they got back, having a world-saving quest under their belts would help Verona and Jordan get the legion to stop depending on men like Michael to do the leading. Hell, maybe they could even get Stacy on board. Dating Varus should come with some advantages.

"Where is Jordan, anyway?" Lawrence asked.

Verona shrugged. "She wasn't in the tent when I woke up," she said. "I thought she'd be here, actually."

"Maybe she went to check on the perimeter patrol," Lawrence guessed. "You know how particular she gets on quests."

"Or maybe she needed a break from Varus," Verona suggested. "After their fight yesterday, I'd need some time to cool off."