𝙇𝙚𝙤 𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙥𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚. 𝘽𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 Piper deemed it fit to nudge him awake, Bronte had already ingested several hundred milligrams of caffeine in the form of those little pills the camp store always kept stocked. Piper and Jason had watched her crunch on the powdery pills nervously, and Piper had eventually confiscated her pill bottle. Whatever. She'd get it back eventually. It's not like she'd be sleeping anytime soon.

Leo blinked away at Piper's nudging, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"We're here," Piper said.

Leo took in the city below them, still groggy from sleep.

The city sat on a cliff overlooking a river. The ground around it was dusted with snow, but the city itself flowed with warmth. Buildings crowded together inside high walls like a medieval town, way older than any place than Bronte had seen before. In the center was a castle-looking building which seemed somewhat out of place.

"Tell me that's Quebec and not Santa's workshop," Leo said.

"Yeah, Quebec City," Piper confirmed. "One of the oldest cities in North America. Founded around sixteen hundred or so?"

"And it haven't been destroyed yet?" Bronte whistled. "Impressive."

"Yeah," Piper nodded. "It—"

"Five minutes."

"What?"

"Maybe ten," Bronte hummed. "You know, because of the size."

"What?" Jason asked.

"Just a rough estimate for how long it'd take me," Bronte replied. "To destroy it, I mean."

"No way," Leo laughed.

"Way. It'd be easy."

"Heads up, guys," Jason said, sounding very, very tired. "We've got company."

Bronte looked below and saw what Jason meant. Rising from the top of the tower were two winged figures—angry angels with nasty-looking swords.

Festus didn't like the angel guys. He swooped to a halt in midair, wings beating and talons bared, and made a rumbling sound in his throat that was definitely not a good sign.

"Steady boy," Leo murmured. 

Bronte wrinkled her nose and shook her head. She turned to face Jason, who's hand was in his pocket. "Let's fight them. Can we fight them?"

"They look like storm spirits," Jason said. "I don't like this."

"I don't hear a no!" She turned back around to glare at them some more and saw that Jason . . . wasn't entirely correct.

The two things flying toward Festus were much more solid that venti. They looked like regular teenagers except for their icy white hair and feathery purple wings. Their bronze swords were jagged, like icicles, and looked very sharp. Their faces looked similar enough that they might've been brothers, but they definitely weren't twins.

She didn't remember venti having such bad fashion, either.

One non-venti was the size of an ox, with a bright red hockey jersey, baggy sweatpants, and black leather cleats. The guy had been in a couple fights recently, because both his eyes were black and when he bared his teeth, several of them were missing. That bit might actually be the hockey, though.

The other guy looked . . . even worse, if that was possible. His ice-white hair was long and feathered into a mullet, which Bronte definitely had opinions about. (Her main opinion on mullets was this: they only look good on people who aren't men.) He wore pointy-toes leather shoes, designer pants that were way to tight, and a gods-awful silk shirt with the top three buttons open. It gave Bronte way too much of a view into his chest hair (or lack thereof? Did he shave it?) Maybe he thought he looked like a groovy love god, from the 80s rock scene, but the guy couldn't have weighed more than ninety pounds, and he had a bad case of acne.

He looks like an incel, Bronte's mind supplied unhelpfully. 

The angels pulled up in front of the dragon and hovered there, swords at the ready.

"No clearance," hockey ox grunted. 

"'Scuse me?" Leo said.

"You have no flight plan on file," explained the incel. In addition to all his other shortcomings, he had a French accent so bad, Bronte was sure it was fake. "This is a restricted airspace."

"Destroy them?" The ox showed off his gummy smile.

The dragon began to steam, ready to defend them. Jason summoned his golden sword. Bronte grinned wildly. The sky began to cloud over, snowing lightly. 

The angels looked up, shocked, and then back at Bronte. The pimply one looked furious. "Daughter of Aeolus-"

"Hold on!" Leo cried. "Let's have some manners here, boys. Can I at least find out who has the honor of destroying me?"

"Come on," Bronte muttered. She put the storm away. For later. 

"I am Cal," the ox grunted. He looked proud of himself, like he'd taken a long time to memorize that sentence. 

"That's short for Calais," the other one said. "Sadly, my brother cannot say words with more than two syllables-"

"Ah, hockey brain injury?" Bronte asked. She nodded like that made total sense.

"Pizza! Hockey! Destroy!"

"Oh, totally, man! I get it!"

"It, unfortunately, includes his own name," he finished, ignoring Bronte.

"I am Cal," Cal repeated. "And this is Zethes! My brother!"

"Wow," Leo said. "That was almost three sentences, man! Way to go!"

Cal grunted, obviously pleased with himself.

"Stupid buffoon," his brother grumbled. "They make sun of you. But no matter. I am Zethes, which is short for Zethes. And the ladies there--" He winked in their general direction, but the wink was more like a facial seizure. "They can call me anything they like. Perhaps one- or both- would like to have dinner with a famous demigod before we destroy you?"

Piper made a sound like gagging on a cough drop. Bronte sputtered for a moment before asking: "Are you a pedophile?"

Piper regained her composure. "That is . . . a truly horrifying offer."

"It is no problem." Zethes wiggled his eyebrows. "We are a very romantic people, we Boreads."

"Boreads?" Jason cut in. "Do you mean, like, the sons of Boreas?"

"You know these clowns?" Bronte murmured under her breath.

 "Ah, so you've heard of us!" Zethes looked pleased. "We are our father's gatekeepers. So you understand, we cannot have unauthorized people flying in his airspace on creaky dragons, scaring the silly mortal peoples. "

He pointed below, and Bronte saw that the mortals were starting to take notice. Several were pointing up—not with alarm, yet—more with confusion and annoyance, like the dragon was a traffic helicopter flying too low. The mist could only prevent the panic for so long once mortals noticed the danger. Eventually they'd see something they didn't like and call in the national guard or something.

"Which is sadly why, unless this is an emergency landing," Zethes said, brushing his hair out of his acne-covered face, "we will have to destroy you painfully."

"No thanks!" Bronte said cheerfully, giving him a thumbs up.

"Destroy!" Cal agreed, with a little more enthusiasm than Leo thought necessary.

"Wait!" Piper said. "This is an emergency landing. "

"Awww!" Cal looked so disappointed, Leo almost felt sorry for him.

Zethes studied Piper, which of course he'd already been doing. "How does the pretty girl decide this is an emergency, then?"

"We have to see Boreas. It's totally urgent! Please?" She forced a smile, which Bronte figured must've been killing her (who'd want to smile at this creep?); but she still had that blessing of Aphrodite thing going on, and she looked great. Something about her voice, too—Bronte found himself believing every word, just like at the campfire. Jason was nodding, looking absolutely convinced.

Zethes picked at his silk shirt, probably making sure it was still open wide enough. "Well ... I hate to disappoint a lovely lady, but you see, my sister, she would have an avalanche if we allowed you—"

"And our dragon is malfunctioning!" Piper added. "It could crash any minute!"

Festus shuddered helpfully, then turned his head and spilled gunk out of his ear, splattering a black Mercedes in the parking lot below. Good dragon.

"No destroy?" Cal whimpered.

Zethes pondered the problem. Then he gave Piper another spasmodic wink. "Well, you are pretty. I mean, you're right. A malfunctioning dragon—this could be an emergency. "

"Destroy them later?" Cal offered, which was probably as close to friendly as he ever got.

Bronte shrugged, feigning calm. "I don't know, man, my schedule is a bit full--"

"It will take some explaining," Zethes decided. "Father has not been kind to visitors lately. But, yes. Come, faulty dragon people. Follow us."

The Boreads sheathed their swords and pulled smaller weapons from their belts—or at least Bronte thought they were weapons. Then the Boreads switched them on, and she realized they were flashlights with orange cones, like the ones traffic controller guys use on a runway. Cal and Zethes turned and swooped toward the hotel's tower.

Leo turned to his friends. "I love these guys. Follow them?"

"Yeah!" Bronte smiled. Even if this didn't turn out, they'd get a good fight. 

Jason and Piper didn't look as eager.

"I guess," Jason decided. "We're here now. But I wonder why Boreas hasn't been kind to visitors."

"Pfft, he just hasn't met us. " Leo whistled. "Festus, after those flashlights!"

As they got closer, Bronte worried they'd crash into the tower. The Boreads made right for the green gabled peak and didn't slow down. Then a section of the slanted roof slid open, revealing an entrance easily wide enough for Festus. The top and bottom were lined with icicles like jagged teeth.

"This cannot be good," Jason muttered, but Leo spurred the dragon downward, and they swooped in after the Boreads.

They landed in what must have been the penthouse suite; but the place had been hit by a flash freeze. The entry hall had vaulted ceilings forty feet high, huge draped windows, and lush oriental carpets. A staircase at the back of the room led up to another equally massive hall, and more corridors branched off to the left and right. But the ice made the room's beauty a little frightening. When Bronte slid off the dragon, the carpet crunched under her feet. A fine layer of frost covered the furniture. The curtains didn't budge because they were frozen solid, and the ice-coated windows let in weird watery light from the sunset. Even the ceiling was furry with icicles. As for the stairs, Leo was sure he'd slip and break his neck if he tried to climb them.

"Guys," Leo said, "fix the thermostat in here, and I would totally move in. "

"Not me. " Jason looked uneasily at the staircase. "Something feels wrong. Something up there..."

Bronte shrugged. "I mean, yeah, I'm kind of getting weird monster vibes, but man, this place is cool."

Festus shuddered and snorted flames. Frost started to form on his scales.

"No, no, no. " Zethes marched over, though how he could walk in those pointy leather shoes, Bronte had no idea. "The dragon must be deactivated. We can't have fire in here. The heat ruins my hair. "

Festus growled and spun his drill-bit teeth.

"'S'okay, boy. " Leo turned to Zethes. "The dragon's a little touchy about the whole deactivation concept. But I've got a better solution. "

"Destroy?" Cal suggested.

"No, man. You gotta stop with the destroy talk. Just wait. "

"Leo," Piper said nervously, "what are you—"

"Watch and learn, beauty queen. When I was repairing Festus last night, I found all kinds of buttons. Some, you do not want to know what they do. But others ... Ah, here we go. "

Leo hooked his fingers behind the dragon's left foreleg. He pulled a switch, and the dragon shuddered from head to toe. Everyone backed away as Festus folded like origami. His bronze plating stacked together. His neck and tail contracted into his body. His wings collapsed and his trunk compacted until he was a rectangular metal wedge the size of a suitcase.

Leo tried to lift it, but it barely budged. That dragon, folding into such a small space . . . it should have been impossible, and super-duper heavy. "Um ... yeah. Hold on. I think—aha. "

He pushed another button. A handle flipped up on the top, and wheels clicked out on the bottom.

"Ta-da!" he announced. "The world's heaviest carry-on bag!"

"Dude!" Bronte cried. "That's sick!"

"That's impossible," Jason said. "Something that big couldn't—"

"Stop!" Zethes ordered. He and Cal both drew their swords and glared at Leo.

Leo raised his hands. "Okay ... what'd I do? Stay calm, guys. If it bothers you that much, I don't have to take the dragon as carry-on—"

"Who are you?" Zethes shoved the point of his sword against Leo's chest.

"A child of the South Wind, spying on us?"

"What? No!" Leo said. "Son of Hephaestus. Friendly blacksmith, no harm to anyone!"

Cal growled. He put his face up to Leo's. "Smell fire," he said. "Fire is bad. "

"Oh. Yeah, well ... my clothes are kind of singed, and I've been working with oil, and—"

"No!" Zethes pushed Leo back at sword point. "We can smell fire, demigod. We assumed it was from the creaky dragon, but now the dragon is a suitcase. And I still smell fire ... on you."

Bronte pulled out her knife. Even if this was their domain, no crusty white man names Zethes, of all things, was going to threaten her questmates. "Put the sword down."

Jason already had his gold coin in his hand. He stepped forward, his eyes on Zethes. "Look, there's been a mistake. Leo isn't a fire guy. Tell them, Leo. Tell them you're not a fire guy."

Bronte didn't allow her face to show anything other than anger and determination. She didn't know why Leo didn't want her telling anybody else about his fire, but she wasn't going to break his trust. 

"Um ..." Leo started.

"It's my fire," Bronte blurted out. "Daughter of Aeolus. Yup, my fire-"

Zethes waved her off. "No, we know the stench of your wild-fire. His is different. New. He-"

"Zethes?" Piper tried her dazzling smile again, though she looked a little too nervous and cold to pull it off. "We're all friends here. Put down your swords and let's talk. "

"The girl is pretty," Zethes admitted, "and of course she cannot help being attracted to my amazingness; but sadly, I cannot romance her at this time. " He poked his sword point farther into Leo's chest, and Bronte could see the frost spreading across his shirt. 

"Destroy him now?" Cal asked his brother.

Zethes nodded. "Sadly, I think—"

"No," Jason insisted. He sounded calm enough, but Bronte figured he was about two seconds away from flipping that coin and going into full gladiator mode. She'd be right behind him. "Leo's just a son of Hephaestus. He's no threat. Piper here is a daughter of Aphrodite. Bronte is the daughter of Aeolus. I'm the son of Zeus. We're on a peaceful ..."

Jason's voice faltered, because both Boreads had suddenly turned on him.

"What did you say?" Zethes demanded. "You are the son of Zeus?"

"Um ... yeah," Jason said. "That's a good thing, right? My name is Jason. "

Cal looked so surprised, he almost dropped his sword. "Can't be Jason," he said. "Doesn't look the same. "

Zethes stepped forward and squinted at Jason's face. "No, he is not our Jason. Our Jason was more stylish. Not as much as me—but stylish. Besides, our Jason died millennia ago. "

"Wait," Jason said. "Your Jason ... you mean the original Jason? The Golden Fleece guy?"

Bronte paused. Shit. There had been a couple of sons of Boreas on the Argo, hadn't there? But they couldn't be the same guys. They'd be dead, and not many people get offered immortality. She couldn't image Cal (or Zethes) doing anything particularly impressive.

"Of course," Zethes said. "We were his crewmates aboard his ship, the Argo, in the old times, when we were mortal demigods. Then we accepted immortality to serve our father, so I could look this good for all time, and my silly brother could enjoy pizza and hockey."

Well. She was wrong, apparently.

"Hockey!" Cal agreed.

"But Jason—our Jason—he died a mortal death," Zethes said. "You can't be him. "

"I'm not," Jason agreed.

"So, destroy?" Cal asked. Clearly the conversation was giving his two brain cells a serious workout.

"No," Zethes said regretfully. "If he is a son of Zeus, he could be the one we've been watching for."

"Watching for?" Leo asked. "You mean like in a good way: you'll shower him with fabulous prizes? Or watching for like in a bad way: he's in trouble?"

A girl's voice said, "That depends on my father's will. "

They turned to look up the staircase.  At the top stood a girl in a white silk dress. Her skin was unnaturally pale, the color of snow, but her hair was a lush mane of black, and her eyes were coffee brown. Bronte turned to Leo, probably to make some joke, but saw that his jaw was open and he looked starstruck. Wonderful.

She looked at Jason and Piper, and seemed to understand the situation immediately.

"Father will want to see the one called Jason," the girl said.

"Then it is him?" Zethes asked excitedly.

"We'll see," the girl said. "Zethes, bring our guests. "

Leo grabbed the handle of his bronze dragon suitcase. Bronte followed him, but did not sheath her knife. 

Before she could take a step, she froze them with a look. Not literally froze, but she might as well have.

"Not you, Leo Valdez," she said. "Or you, Bronte."

Leo looked absolutly crushed. Bronte was, too. She'd worked her ass off to get this quest, and she wasn't even allowed in?

"Why not?" Leo whined. 

"You cannot be in the presence of my father," the girl said. "Fire and ice—it would not be wise."

"What about me?" Bronte challenged. 

Khione snarled. "You impudent girl! Your father is a despicable man, and I expect you to be the same. No, the daughter of Aeolus will never step foot in my father's throne room, not until I am dead. You will wait here with the son of Hephaestus."

"We're going together," Jason insisted, putting his hand on Leo's shoulder, "or not at all."

The girl tilted her head, like she wasn't used to people refusing her orders. "They will not be harmed, Jason Grace, unless you make trouble. Calais, keep Leo Valdez and the girl here. Guard them, but do not kill them. "

Cal pouted. "Just a little?"

"No," the girl insisted. "And take care of his interesting suitcase, until Father passes judgment. "

Jason and Piper looked at Bronte and Leo, their expressions asking him a silent question: How do you want to play this?

Bronte was furious, but relieved. They were ready to fight for her. They wouldn't leave her alone with the hockey ox. She wanted to go for it. This was her quest too. But she knew she couldn't.

 "It's fine, guys," Leo said. "No sense causing trouble if we don't have to. You go ahead."

"Tell us everything when you get back!" 

"Listen to your friend," the pale girl said. "Leo Valdez and Bronte Moore will be perfectly safe. I wish I could say the same for you, son of Zeus. Now come, King Boreas is waiting. "