was following. Her words came out hot and fast, as if she’d been holding them in for a long time. “And that meeting with Venus. That really messed me up. No demigod will heal your heart. What was that supposed to mean? Then finally, you came along.”
“Do we have to review that part again? I am quite embarrassed enough.”
“But you showed me. When you proposed dating…” She took a deep breath, her body shaking with silent giggles. “Oh, gods. I saw how ridiculous I’d been. How ridiculous the whole situation was. That’s what healed my heart—being able to laugh at myself again, at my stupid ideas about destiny. That allowed me to break free—just like Frank broke free of his firewood. I don’t need another person to heal my heart. I don’t need a partner…at least, not until and unless I’m ready on my own terms. I don’t need to be force-shipped with anyone or wear anybody else’s label. For the first time in a long time, I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. So thank you.”
“You’re welcome?”
She laughed. “Don’t you see, though? Venus put you up to the job. She tricked you into it, because she knew you are the only one in the cosmos with an ego big enough to handle the rejection. I could laugh in your face, and you would heal.”
“Hmph.” I suspected she was right about Venus manipulating me. I wasn’t so sure the goddess cared whether or not I would heal, though. “So what does this mean for you, exactly? What’s next for Praetor Reyna?”
Even as I asked the question, I realized I knew the answer.
“Come along to the Senate House,” she said. “We’ve got a few surprises in store.”
Life is uncertain
Accept presents, and always
Eat your birthday cake
MY FIRST SURPRISE: A front-row seat.
Meg and I were given places of honor next to the senior senators, and the most important citizens of New Rome, and those demigods with accessibility needs. When Meg saw me, she patted the bench next to her, as if there were any other place to sit. The chamber was absolutely packed. Somehow, it was reassuring to see everyone together, even if the populace was much reduced and the sea of white bandages could have caused snow blindness.
Reyna limped into the chamber right behind me. The entire assembly came to its feet. They waited in respectful silence as she made her way to her praetor’s seat next to Frank, who nodded at his colleague.
Once she was seated, everyone else followed suit.
Reyna gestured at Frank like, Let the fun begin.
“So,” Frank addressed the audience, “I call to order this extraordinary meeting of the people of New Rome and the Twelfth Legion. First item on the agenda: a formal thank-you to all. We survived by a team effort. We’ve dealt a huge blow to our enemies. Tarquin is dead—really dead at last. Two out of three emperors of the Triumvirate have been destroyed, along with their fleet and their troops. This was done at great cost. But you all acted like true Romans. We live to see another day!”
There was applause, some nods, and a few cheers of “Yes!” and “Another day!” One guy in the back, who must not have been paying attention for the last week said, “Tarquin?”
“Second,” Frank said, “I want to reassure you that I’m alive and well.” He patted his chest as if to prove it. “My fate is no longer tied to a piece of wood, which is nice. And if you would all please forget that you saw me in my underwear, I’d appreciate it.”
That got some laughs. Who knew Frank could be funny on purpose?
“Now…” His expression turned serious. “It’s our duty to inform you of some personnel changes. Reyna?”
He watched her quizzically, as if wondering whether she would really go through with it.
“Thank you, Frank.” She pulled herself to her feet. Again, everyone in the assembly who could stand did.
“Guys. Please.” She gestured for us to be seated. “This is hard enough.”
When we were all settled, she scanned the faces in the crowd: a lot of anxious, sad expressions. I suspected many people knew what was coming.
“I’ve been praetor a long time,” Reyna said. “It’s been an honor to serve the legion. We’ve been through some rough times together. Some…interesting years.”
A bit of nervous laughter. Interesting was the perfect curse word.
“But it’s time for me to step down,” she continued. “So I am resigning my post as praetor.”
A moan of disbelief