𝐎𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒༄ • Jᴀsᴏɴ Gʀᴀᴄᴇ

Chapter 10

If the entry had been cold, the throne room was like a meat locker.

Mist hung in the air. Freya shivered, and her breath came out in long curls of smoke. Along the walls, purple tapestries showed scenes of snowy forests, barren mountains, and glaciers. High above, ribbons of colored light—the aurora borealis—pulsed along the ceiling. A layer of snow covered the floor, so they had to step carefully. All around the room 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.

At least Freya thought they were sculptures. Then she tried to step between two Greek spearmen, and they moved with surprising speed, their joints cracking and spraying ice crystals as they crossed their javelins to block her path.

From the far end of the hall, a man's voice rang out in a language that sounded like French. The room was so long and misty, Freya couldn't see the other end; but whatever the man said, the ice guards uncrossed their javelins.

"It's fine," Khione said. "My father has ordered them not to kill you just yet. "

"Super," Jason said.

Zethes prodded him in the back with his sword. "Keep moving, Jason Junior. "

"Please don't call me that. "

"My father is not a patient man," Zethes warned, "and the beautiful Piper, sadly, is losing her magic hairdo very fast. Later, perhaps, I can lend her something from my wide assortment of hair products. "

"Thanks," Piper grumbled.

"Gods, men are so shallow." Freya whispered to Piper.

"You're telling me."

They kept walking, and the mist parted to reveal a man on an ice throne. He was sturdily built, dressed in a stylish white suit that seemed woven from snow, with dark purple wings that spread out to either side. His long hair and shaggy beard were encrusted with icicles, so Freya couldn't tell if his hair was gray or just white with frost. His arched eyebrows made him look 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. Freya hoped so.

"Bienvenu," the king said. "Je suis Boreas le Roi. Et vous?"

Khione the snow goddess was about to speak, but Piper stepped forward and curtsied.

"Votre Majesté," she said, " je suis Piper McLean. Et c'est Jason, fils de Zeus, et Freya Jackson fille de Poseidon."

Freya cast a look at Jason, and his face was just as confused as hers.

The king smiled with pleasant surprise. "Vous parlez français? Très bien!"

"Piper, you speak French?" Jason asked.

"You could of at least told us, that way we wouldn't have had to rely on princess frosty over here." Freya expected them to laugh, and although Jason managed a weak smile, Piper looked puzzled.

She frowned. "I don't speak French. Why?"

"You just did, like, three seconds ago." Said Freya.

Piper blinked. "I did?"

The king said something else, and Piper nodded. "Oui, Votre Majesté. "

The king laughed and clapped his hands, obviously delighted. He said a few more sentences then swept his hand toward his daughter as if shooing her away. Khione looked miffed. "The king says—"

"He says I'm a daughter of Aphrodite," Piper interrupted coldly, "so naturally I can speak French, which is the language of love. I had no idea. His Majesty says Khione won't have to translate now. "