Percy's POV:

When morning comes the next day, a series of shuffles and slams makes me bolt awake, sitting up in my bed. I expect to see a monster, Ethan Nakamura, or even Kronos himself, but it's just my butlers bustling in my closet. They look more harried than usual and pull down my clothes with abandon.

"What's going on?"

In the closet, the men freeze. They bow, hands full of cotton and linen. As I come closer, I realize they're standing over a set of leather trunks. "Are we going somewhere?"

"Orders, my lord," one says, his eyes lowered. "We only know what we're told."

"Of course. Well, I'm just going to get dressed then." I reach for the nearest outfit, intending to do something for myself for once, but the butlers beat me to it.

Five minutes later, they have me painted and ready, dressed in another one of those stiff suits. I'd much prefer my training suit over everything else, but it's apparently not "proper" to wear the thing outside of sessions. If you ask me, this rule is stupid, so is the whole house color dress code thing, but since when has my opinion ever mattered? Anyways, once my butlers were finished, I was ready to be shoved out into the world of flesh-eating piranhas. Sorry, I meant highly educated and privileged Silvers.

"Lucas?" I ask the empty hallway, half expecting him to pop out from an alcove.

But Lucas is nowhere to be found, so I head off to Protocol, expecting him to cross my path. When he doesn't, a trill of fear ripples through me, Lucas was one of the few people I liked in this crystal prison. Did something happen to him?

My thoughts are interrupted when the supreme lord of annoying fake half-brothers in the flesh steps into my path, his lips quirked into an amused smile. Oh gods, what now?

"You're up early." Then he leans in, speaking in a low whisper. "Especially for having such a late night."

"I don't know what you mean." I try for an innocent tone. Annabeth and I spent hours in my room last night, processing the events that happened at the parting ball. However, I genuinely don't know if that's what Istvan's referring to.

"The prisoners are gone. All three of them, disappeared into thin air." Of course they are, and of course I'm the one who gets blamed for it.

I put a hand to my heart, letting myself look shocked for the cameras. "By my colors! A few Reds escaped from us? That seems impossible."

"It does indeed." No, it most certainly does not. Though the amused and victorious smirk remains, his eyes darken slightly. "Of course, that brings everything into question. The power outages caused by fried circuits, the failing security systems, a troop of Sentinels with blank spots across their memories, not to mention the puddles of water on the dungeon floors." He stares pointedly at me.

I turn to face him, returning his sharp, accusatory glance. "There were power outages?" Istvan nods. "Huh. Remind me again why you think I had anything to do with this. Because last I checked, controlling electricity is not my ability."

"I believe I mentioned that there were puddles of water on the dungeon floors."

"Yes, I heard you the first time. But that still doesn't mean I had anything to do with helping the prisoners escape," I say, still not seeing the logic behind his accusation. "It could've been a leak in the pipes."

"Well, brother, correct me if I'm wrong, but controlling water is your ability." Is he serious? Does he not realize how much of a hypocrite he's being right now?

"Yes, it is. But, need I remind you, brother, that controlling water is also your ability." Istvan stands there, gaping like a fish out of water, unsure of how to respond. "How do I know that you didn't help the prisoners escape and are simply blaming me as a cover story?"

That seems to snap him out of his daze. "You dare accuse me of treason!" The humidity in the air around us seems to increase with each word that comes out of his mouth.

"No, of course not. I simply thought we were stating things that weren't true," I say, maintaining a mask void of any emotion.

This does nothing to calm the raging storm in his eyes, but he backs down a little, shaking his head in confusion. "Well, whoever did this did it well." For the first time since I've met Istvan, I look past his arrogance, and what I see surprises me. Fear. He's afraid of the Scarlet Guard. "We may never find them. People have been fleeing since last night. They think the Hall is no longer safe."

"After last night, they're probably right." There's a moment of awkward silence between us before I speak again. "I should get going."

Istvan grunts in reply, walking in the opposite direction of me. "Your Highness." I turn to see him greet Annabeth, who's walking towards us.

"Lord Istvan," she says coldly, walking straight past him.

He hesitates before speaking again. "Your Highness, I was wondering if by any chance you've seen my servant, Sterling Luna?"

Finally, Annabeth turns to look at him. "Yes, actually, I saw her this morning. She's been reassigned."

Istvan stares at her, confused. "I never requested that–"

"No, but I did," Annabeth says firmly, leaving out any room for discussion. The two stared at each other intensely, having an unspoken argument. Eventually, Istvan gives in, stalking down the hall with his bubble of humidity following him.

Annabeth and I stand there for a while, watching him as he disappears around a corner. "Well, someone's moody today," Annabeth mutters.

"Yep." We stand there for a bit, unsure of what to say now. "So, what's with the teacher look?" I ask in an attempt to break the awkward silence, motioning to the white blouse and pink mini skirt that was paired with a pink blazer. The outfit was complemented by a pair of white, steel toe, teacher style heels, and a pair of pearl dangle earrings. The only thing keeping the outfit from looking entirely like a teacher's was her unstyled hair, which framed her face in a halo of golden curls.

"Shut up, Seaweed Brain," she says playfully.

"What? It looks like something a teacher would wear," I protest. "And the lack of a tiara makes it even teachery."

"That's not a word," she says, smiling and shaking her head.

"It is now," I say stubbornly. Annabeth just rolls her eyes. "How long do we have left here?"

"We leave this afternoon. Most of the court is leaving before that, but we have to take the boat. Keep some tradition in all this madness." At least we're not taking a plane.

When I was little, I used to sit by the East bank of the Capital River and watch the big, fancy boats pass, heading to the western side of the city. Gabe would laugh at me for wanting to catch a glimpse of the king. I didn't realize then it was just part of the pageant, another display just like the arena fights, to show exactly how low we were in the grand scheme of the world. Now I'm going to be part of it again, this time standing on the other side.

"At least you'll get to visit your mom a bit when you have time to sneak out of the palace," she adds optimistically.

We're interrupted by a loud crash from a nearby passage, the one leading to Cal's room. Annabeth reacts first, moving to the edge of the hall and peering down the passage that the sound came from. I follow close behind her.

"Is everything alright, Cal?" I call out, worried about what I see.

In response, Cal steps out into the hallway, his fists clenched, like he's trying to keep his own hands in check. Gone is the bloodstained uniform, replaced by what looks like Ptolemus's armor, though Cal's has a reddish tint.

"Will you be leaving with your legion?" Annabeth asks. It's obvious he isn't, judging by the livid anger in his eyes.

Cal heaves a breath. "The Shadow Legion isn't going anywhere. Father will not allow it. Not now. It's too dangerous, and I'm too valuable."

"You know he's right." Annabeth puts a hand on his brother's shoulder, trying to calm him. I remember watching Cal do the same thing to Maven a few times, but now the crown is on a different head. "You are the heir. He can't afford to lose you too."

"I'm a soldier," Cal spits, shrugging away from his sister's touch. "I can't just sit by and let others fight for me. I won't do it."

He sounds like a child whining for a toy. I don't know why he wants to go to the war front so badly, I would gratefully accept a break from going on quests for the gods if the opportunity was ever presented to me. I don't speak though, letting the diplomatic Wise Girl talk for me. She always knows what to say.

"Find another cause. Build another cycle, double your training, drill your men, prepare yourself for when the danger passes. Cal, you can do a thousand other things, and none of them end with you being killed in some kind of ambush!" she says, glaring up at her brother. Then she smirks, trying to lighten the mood. "You never change, Cal. You just can't sit still."

After a moment of harsh silence, Cal breaks into a weak smile. "Never." His eyes flick to me, but I turn my head, pretending to examine a painting on the wall.

"Nice armor," I say, intending for it to sound casual, but instead it comes out as a sneer. "It will go well with your collection."

He looks confused but quickly recovers. His smile is gone now, replaced by narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw. He taps at his armor; it sounds like claws on stone. "This was a gift from Ptolemus. I seem to share a common cause with my betrothed's brother."

Annabeth eyes the armor warily. "What do you mean?"

"Ptolemus commands the officers in the capital. Together with me and my legion, we might be able to do something of use, even within the city."

Cold fear steals into my heart. "And what is that, exactly?" I hear myself ask.

"I'm a good hunter. He's a good killer." Cal takes a step backward, walking away from us.

I can feel him slipping down not just the hall but a dark and twisted path. I've seen how that path can affect people, and it makes me afraid for him. No, not for him. Of him. And that's worse than all my other terrors and nightmares.

"Between the two of us, we'll root out the Scarlet Guard. We'll end this rebellion once and for all."

A/N:

Hey guys, sorry for the late update, I've been swamped with homework (online school has been very difficult with my A.D.D.). I would've uploaded this update on election day, but I accidentally popped the right lens of my glasses out of the frame and I had to wait 'till mid-afternoon on Tuesday to get them back.

So, what do you guys think? Will Sally be spared from Cal's need to "do something helpful"? Also, any ideas for a novella title or any ideas for short stories to include in the novella?

Anyway, hope your lives are going well. For all my American readers, hopefully, our country doesn't burn to the ground...

I have my AP Physics 2 class next, and, since they'll probably talk about stuff not related to physics for over half an hour, so I might start writing the next chapter.

XOXO, HamiltonFanGirl1508