The Lost Hero (Jason Grace x OC)

8

I didn't want to leave Leo, but I was starting to think that hanging out with Cal the hockey jock might be the least dangerous option in this place.
As we climbed the icy staircase, Zethes stayed behind us, his blade drawn. The guy might've looked like a disco era reject, but there was nothing funny about his sword. I figured one hit from that thing would probably turn me into a popsicle.
Then there was the ice princess. Every once in a while she'd turn and give us a smile, but there was no warmth in her expression. She regarded Jason like he was an especially interesting science specimen—one she couldn't wait to dissect.
If these were Boreas's kids, I wasn't sure I wanted to meet Boreas. Annabeth had told us Boreas was the friendliest of the wind gods. Apparently that meant he didn't kill heroes quite as fast as the others did.
I was snapped out of my thoughts when Jason took my hand. He looked really nervous.
"It'll be fine," I promised. "Just a talk, right?"
He looked at me gratefully.
At the top of the stairs, the ice princess looked back and noticed us holding hands. Her smile faded. Suddenly our hands turned ice cold—burning cold. I let go, and my fingers were smoking with frost. So were Jason's.
"Warmth and affection is not a good idea here," the princess advised. "especially when I am your best chance of staying alive. Please, this way."
Me and Jason shared a surprised glance. Zethes poked me in the back with his icicle sword, and we followed the princess down a massive hallway decked in frosty tapestries.
Jason had zoned out. He was staring intensely at the ice princesses back, like he wanted to burn a hole through her.
"Hey." I bumped my shoulder with his. "You still with me?"
"Yeah . . . yeah, sorry."
At the end of the hallway we found ourselves in front of a set of oaken doors carved with a map of the world. In each corner was a man's bearded face, blowing wind. I was pretty sure I'd seen maps like this before. But in this version, all the wind guys were Winter, blowing ice and snow from every corner of the world.
The princess turned. "This is the throne room," she said. "Be on your best behavior, Jason Grace. My father can be . . . chilly. I will translate for you, and try to encourage him to hear you out. I do hope he spares you. We could have such fun."
"Um, okay," Jason managed. "But really, we're just here for a little talk. We'll be leaving right afterward."
The girl smiled. "I love heroes. So blissfully ignorant."
I rested my hand on my dagger. "Well, how about you enlighten us? You say you're going to translate for us, and we don't even know who you are. What's your name?"
The girl sniffed with distaste. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you don't recognize me. Even in the ancient times the Greeks did not know me well. Their island homes were too warm, too far from my domain. I am Khione, daughter of Boreas, goddess of snow."
She stirred the air with her finger, and a miniature blizzard swirled around her, with big, fluffy flakes as soft as cotton.
"Now, come," Khione said. The oaken doors blew open, and cold blue light spilled out of the room. "Hopefully you will survive your little talk."

~

If the entry hall had been cold, the throne room was like a meat locker.
Mist hung in the air. I shivered, and my breath steamed. 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 I 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 I thought they were sculptures. Then I 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 our 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, I 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."
"Oh, great." I muttered. "Fantastic."
Zethes prodded Jason in the back with his sword. "Keep moving, Jason Junior."
"Please don't call me that." Jason said.
"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.
We 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 I 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. For our sake, I 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 Kendal, fille de Poseidon."
The king smiled with pleasant surprise. "Vous parlez français? Très bien!"
"Piper, you speak French?" I asked.
Piper frowned. "No. Why?"
"You just spoke French."
Piper blinked. "I did?"
The king said something else, and Piper nodded. "Oni, 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, "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."
Behind them, Zethes snorted, and Khione shot him a murderous look. She bowed stifly to her father and took a step back.
The king sized up Jason, and Jason must have decided it would be a good idea to bow. "Your Majesty, I'm Jason Grace. Thank you for, um, not killing us. May I ask . . . why does a Greek god speak French?"
Piper had another exchange with the king.
"He speaks the language of his host country," Piper translated. "He says all gods do this. Most Greek gods speak English, as they now reside in the United States, but Boreas was never welcomed in their realm. His domain was always far to the north. These days he likes Quebec, so he speaks French."
The king said something else, and Piper turned pale. "The king says . . ." She faltered. "He says—"
"Oh, allow me," Khione said. "My father says he has orders to kill you. Did I not mention that earlier?"
I tensed. The king was still smiling amiably, like he'd just delivered great news.
"Kill us?" Jason said. "Why?"
"Because," the king said, in heavily accented English, "my lord Acolus has commanded it."
Boreas rose. He stepped down from his throne and furled his wings against his back. As he approached, Khione and Zethes bowed. The three of us followed their example.
"I shall deign to speak your language," Boreas said, "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."
"Aeolus is the master of the winds, right?" Jason asked. "Why would he want us dead?"
"You are demigods," Boreas said, as if this explained everything. "Acolus'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 sheet of ice like a flat-screen TV appeared in the air. Images of a battle flickered across the surface—a giant wrapped in storm clouds, wading across river toward the Manhattan skyline. Tiny, glowing figures—the gods, I 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 disappeared.
"The storm giant, Typhon," Boreas explained. "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 answered 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 guessed. "Which made Aeolus even angrier."
"C'est vrai," Boreas agreed.
"But, Your Majesty," Piper said, "the gods had no choice but to battle Typhon. He was going to destroy Olympus! Besides, why punish demigods for that?"
The king shrugged. "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.
"That sounds . . . extreme," Jason ventured. "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. "You see, Acolus 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 let out a relieved breath. "Great. Thanks."
"Do not thank me." Boreas smiled. "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.
I made a strangled noise. "You mean—they're all demigods? Frozen demigods? They're alive?"
"An interesting 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."
Khione stepped behind Jason and put her cold fingers on his neck. "My father gives me such lovely presents," she said to him. "Join our court. Perhaps I'll let your friends go."
"What?" Zethes broke in. "If Khione gets this one, then I deserve the girls. Khione always gets more presents!"
"Now, children," Boreas said sternly. "Our guests will think you are spoiled! Besides, you moved 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 froze. Khione purred and stroked his neck.  Electricity sparked along Jason's skin. There was a loud pop, and Khione flew backward, skidding across the floor.
Zethes laughed. "That is good! I'm glad you did that, even though I have to kill you now."
For a moment, Khione was too stunned to react. Then the air around her began to swirl with a micro-blizzard. "You dare—"
"Stop," Jason ordered, and Khione froze. "You're not going to kill us. And you're not going to keep us. Were on a quest for the queen of the gods herself, so unless you want Hera busting down your doors, you're going to let us go."
He sounded so confident, so calm, that it had to be forced. I had faith in Jason, but he had to be at least a little worried.
But it got their attention. Khione's blizzard swirled to a stop. Zethes lowered his sword. They both looked uncertainly at their father.
"Hmm," Boreas said. His eyes twinkled, but I couldn't tell if it was with anger or amusement. "A son of Zeus, favored by Hera? This is definitely a first. Tell us your story."