The Tower of Nero (The Trials of Apollo #5) - Rick Riordan Page 0,62

which made her an enemy of everyone else in her loving adopted family of sociopaths.

“But, you, Lester,” Nero continued. “No…I can’t believe you’ve turned so noble. We can’t change thousands of years of our nature so quickly, can we? You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t think it would serve…you.”

He pointed at my sternum. I could almost feel the pressure of his fingertip.

I tried to look agitated, which wasn’t hard. “Do you want me to surrender or not?”

Nero smiled at Luguselwa, then at Meg.

“You know, Apollo,” he said lazily, “it’s fascinating how bad acts can be good, and vice versa. You remember my mother, Agrippina? Terrible woman. Always trying to rule for me, telling me what to do. I had to kill her in the end. Well, not me personally, of course. I had my man Anicetus do it.” He gave me a little shrug, like, Mothers, am I right? “Anyway, matricide was one of the worst crimes for a Roman. Yet after I killed her, the people loved me even more! I’d stood up for myself, shown my independence. I became a hero to the common man! Then there were all those stories about me burning Christians alive.…”

I wasn’t sure where Nero was going with all this. We’d been talking about my surrender. Now he was telling me about his mother and his Christian-burning parties. I just wanted to get thrown in a cell with Meg, preferably un-tortured, so Lu could come by later and release us and help us destroy the whole tower. Was that too much to ask? But when an emperor starts talking about himself, you just have to roll with it. You could be there for a while.

“You’re claiming those Christian-burning stories weren’t true?” I asked.

He laughed. “Of course they were true. The Christians were terrorists, out to undermine traditional Roman values. Oh, they claimed to be a religion of peace, but they fooled no one. The point is, real Romans loved me for taking a hard line. After I died…Did you know this? After I died, the commoners rioted. They refused to believe I was dead. There was a wave of rebellions, and every rebel leader claimed to be me reborn.” He got a dreamy look in his eyes. “I was beloved. My so-called bad acts made me wildly popular, while my good acts, like pardoning my enemies, bringing the empire peace and stability…those things just made me look soft and got me killed. This time, I will do things differently. I will bring back traditional Roman values. I will stop worrying about good and evil. The people who survive the transition…they will love me like a father.”

He gestured to his line of adopted children, all of whom knew enough to keep their expressions carefully neutral.

That old metaphorical skink was trying to claw its way back up my throat. The fact that Nero—a man who had killed his own mother—was talking about defending traditional Roman values…that was just about the most Roman thing I could imagine. And the idea that he wanted to play Daddy to the entire world made my guts churn. I pictured my friends from Camp Half-Blood forced to stand in rows behind the emperor’s servants. I thought of Meg falling back into line with the rest of the Imperial Household.

She would be the twelfth, I realized. Twelve foster children to Nero, like the twelve Olympians. That couldn’t be a coincidence. Nero was raising them as young gods-in-training to take over his nightmarish new world. That made Nero the new Kronos, the all-powerful father who could either shower his children with blessings or devour them as he wished. I had badly underestimated Nero’s megalomania.

“Where was I?” Nero mused, coming back from his pleasant thoughts of massacre.

“The villain monologue,” I said.

“Ah, now I remember! Good and bad acts. You, Apollo, are here to surrender, sacrificing yourself to save the city. Seems like a good act! That’s exactly why I suspect it’s bad. Luguselwa!”

The Gaul didn’t strike me as someone who flinched easily, but when Nero yelled her name, her leg braces squeaked. “My lord?”

“What was the plan?” Nero asked.

Frost formed in my lungs.

Lu did her best to look confused. “My lord?”

“The plan,” he snapped. “You let these two go on purpose. They turn themselves in just before my ultimatum deadline. What were you hoping to gain when you betrayed me?”

“My lord, no. I—”

“Seize them!”

The throne-room choreography suddenly became clear. Everyone played their parts beautifully. The servants backed away. The demigods of the