The Tower of Nero (The Trials of Apollo #5) - Rick Riordan Page 0,63

Imperial Household stepped forward and drew swords. I didn’t notice the Germani sneaking up behind us until two burly giants gripped my arms. Two more took hold of Meg. Gunther and a friend grabbed hold of Luguselwa with such gusto her crutches clattered to the floor. Fully healed, Luguselwa doubtless would have given them a good fight, but in her current condition there was no contest. They pushed her down, prostrate, in front of the emperor, ignoring her screams and the creaking of her leg braces.

“Stop it!” Meg thrashed, but her captors outweighed her by several hundred pounds. I kicked my Germani in the shins to no avail. I might as well have been kicking a forest bull.

Nero’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “You see, children,” he told his adopted eleven, “if you ever decide to depose me, you’ll have to do much better than this. Honestly, I’m disappointed.”

He twirled some whiskers in his chin beard, probably because he didn’t have a proper villain’s moustache. “Let’s see if I have this right, Apollo. You surrender yourself to get inside my tower, hoping this convinces me not to burn the city, while also making me lower my guard. Meanwhile, your little army of demigods musters at Camp Half-Blood.…” He smiled cruelly. “Yes, I have it on good authority they are preparing to march. So exciting! Then, when they attack, Luguselwa frees you from your cell, and together, in all the confusion, you somehow manage to kill me. Is that about it?”

My heart clawed at my chest like a troglodyte at a rock wall. If Camp Half-Blood was truly on the march, that meant Rachel might have gotten to the surface and contacted them. Which meant Will and Nico might also still be alive, and still with the troglodytes. Or Nero could be lying. Or he could know more than he was letting on. In any case, Luguselwa was exposed, which meant she couldn’t free us or help us destroy the emperor’s fasces. Whether or not Nico and the trogs managed their sabotage, our friends from camp would be charging to their own slaughter. Oh, and also, I would die.

Nero laughed with delight. “There it is!” He pointed to my face. “The expression someone makes when they realize their life is over. You can’t fake that. So beautifully honest! And you’re right, of course.”

“Nero, don’t!” Meg yelled. “F-Father!”

The word seemed to hurt her, like she was coughing up a chunk of glass.

Nero pouted and spread his arms, as if he would welcome Meg into his loving embrace if it weren’t for the two large goons holding her in place. “Oh, my dear sweet daughter. I am so sorry you decided to be part of this. I wish I could spare you from the pain that is to come. But you know very well…you should never anger the Beast.”

Meg wailed and tried to bite one of her guards. I wished I had her ferocity. Absolute terror had turned my limbs to putty.

“Cassius,” Nero called, “come forward, Son.”

The youngest demigod hurried to the dais. He couldn’t have been more than eight years old.

Nero patted his cheek. “There’s a good boy. Go and collect your sister’s gold rings, will you? I hope you will put them to better use than she did.”

After a moment’s hesitation, as if translating these instructions from Neroese, Cassius jogged over to Meg. He carefully avoided her eyes as he worked the rings from her middle fingers.

“Cass.” Meg was weeping now. “Don’t. Don’t listen to him.”

The little boy blushed, but he kept working silently at the rings. He had pink stains around his lips from something he’d been drinking—juice, soda. His fluffy blond hair reminded me…No. No, I refused to think it. Argh. Too late! Curse my imagination! He reminded me of a young Jason Grace.

When he had tugged both rings free, Cassius hurried back to his stepfather.

“Good, good,” Nero said, with a hint of impatience. “Put them on. You’ve trained with scimitars, have you not?”

Cassius nodded, fumbling to comply.

Nero smiled at me, rather like the emcee of a show. Thank you for your patience. We’re experiencing technical difficulties.

“You know, Apollo,” he said, “there is one saying I like from the Christians. How does it go? If your hands offend you, cut them off.…Something like that.” He looked down at Lu. “Oh, Lu, I’m afraid your hands have offended me. Cassius, do the honors.”

Luguselwa struggled and screamed as the guards stretched her arms in front of her, but she was weak and