held the staff with the golden eagle standard of the Twelfth.
Octavian was in the midst of an audience. At the base of the stairs knelt a boy in jeans and a rumpled hoodie. Octavian’s fellow centurion of the First Cohort, Mike Kahale, stood to one side with his arms crossed, glowering with obvious displeasure.
‘Well, now.’ Octavian scanned a piece of parchment. ‘I see here you are a legacy, a descendant of Orcus .’
The boy in the hoodie looked up, and Reyna caught her breath.
Bryce Lawrence.
She recognized his mop of brown hair, his broken nose, his cruel green eyes and smug, twisted smile.
‘Yes, my lord,’ Bryce said.
‘Oh, I’m not a
lord
.’ Octavian’s eyes crinkled. ‘Just a centurion, an augur and a humble priest doing his best toserve the gods. I understand you were dismissed from the legion for … ah, disciplinary problems.’
Reyna tried to shout, but she couldn’t make a sound. Octavian knew perfectly well why Bryce had been kicked out. Much like his godly forefather, Orcus, the underworld god of punishment, Bryce was completely remorseless. The little psychopath had survived his trials with Lupa just fine, but as soon as he arrived at Camp Jupiter he had proved to be untrainable. He had tried to set a cat on fire for fun. He had stabbed a horse and sent it stampeding through the Forum. He was even suspected of sabotaging a siege engine and getting his own centurion killed during the war games.
If Reyna had been able to prove it, Bryce’s punishment would’ve been death. But because the evidence was circumstantial, and because Bryce’s family was rich and powerful with lots of influence in New Rome, he’d got away with the lighter sentence of banishment.
‘Yes, Pontifex,’ Bryce said slowly. ‘But, if I may, those charges were unproven. I am a loyal Roman.’
Mike Kahale looked like he was doing his best not to throw up.
Octavian smiled. ‘I believe in second chances. You’ve responded to my call for recruits. You have the proper credentials and letters of recommendation. Do you pledge to follow my orders and serve the legion?’
‘Absolutely,’ said Bryce.
‘Then you are reinstated
in probatio
,’ Octavian said, ‘until you have proven yourself in combat.’
He gestured at Mike, who reached in his pouch and fished out a lead
probatio
tablet on a leather cord. He hung the cord around Bryce’s neck.
‘Report to the Fifth Cohort,’ Octavian said. ‘They could use some new blood, some fresh perspective. If your centurion Dakota has any problem with that, tell him to talk to me.’
Bryce smiled like he’d just been handed a sharp knife. ‘My pleasure.’
‘And, Bryce.’ Octavian’s face looked almost ghoulish under his white mantle – his eyes too piercing, his cheeks too gaunt, his lips too thin and colourless. ‘However much money, power and prestige the Lawrence family carries in the legion, remember that
my
family carries more. I am
personally
sponsoring you, as I am sponsoring all the other new recruits. Follow my orders, and you’ll advance quickly. Soon I may have a little job for you – a chance to prove your worth. But cross me and I will not be as lenient as Reyna. Do you understand?’
Bryce’s smile faded. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he changed his mind. He nodded.
‘Good,’ Octavian said. ‘Also, get a haircut. You look like one of those
Graecus
scum. Dismissed.’
After Bryce left, Mike Kahale shook his head. ‘That makes two dozen now.’
‘It’s good news, my friend,’ Octavian assured him. ‘We need the extra manpower.’
‘Murderers. Thieves. Traitors.’
‘Loyal demigods,’ Octavian said, ‘who owe their position to
me
.’
Mike scowled. Until Reyna had met him, she’d never understood why people called biceps
guns
, but Mike’s arms were as thick as bazooka barrels. He had broad features, a toasted-almond complexion, onyx hair and proud dark eyes, like the old Hawaiian kings. She wasn’t sure how a
Octavian was in the midst of an audience. At the base of the stairs knelt a boy in jeans and a rumpled hoodie. Octavian’s fellow centurion of the First Cohort, Mike Kahale, stood to one side with his arms crossed, glowering with obvious displeasure.
‘Well, now.’ Octavian scanned a piece of parchment. ‘I see here you are a legacy, a descendant of Orcus .’
The boy in the hoodie looked up, and Reyna caught her breath.
Bryce Lawrence.
She recognized his mop of brown hair, his broken nose, his cruel green eyes and smug, twisted smile.
‘Yes, my lord,’ Bryce said.
‘Oh, I’m not a
lord
.’ Octavian’s eyes crinkled. ‘Just a centurion, an augur and a humble priest doing his best toserve the gods. I understand you were dismissed from the legion for … ah, disciplinary problems.’
Reyna tried to shout, but she couldn’t make a sound. Octavian knew perfectly well why Bryce had been kicked out. Much like his godly forefather, Orcus, the underworld god of punishment, Bryce was completely remorseless. The little psychopath had survived his trials with Lupa just fine, but as soon as he arrived at Camp Jupiter he had proved to be untrainable. He had tried to set a cat on fire for fun. He had stabbed a horse and sent it stampeding through the Forum. He was even suspected of sabotaging a siege engine and getting his own centurion killed during the war games.
If Reyna had been able to prove it, Bryce’s punishment would’ve been death. But because the evidence was circumstantial, and because Bryce’s family was rich and powerful with lots of influence in New Rome, he’d got away with the lighter sentence of banishment.
‘Yes, Pontifex,’ Bryce said slowly. ‘But, if I may, those charges were unproven. I am a loyal Roman.’
Mike Kahale looked like he was doing his best not to throw up.
Octavian smiled. ‘I believe in second chances. You’ve responded to my call for recruits. You have the proper credentials and letters of recommendation. Do you pledge to follow my orders and serve the legion?’
‘Absolutely,’ said Bryce.
‘Then you are reinstated
in probatio
,’ Octavian said, ‘until you have proven yourself in combat.’
He gestured at Mike, who reached in his pouch and fished out a lead
probatio
tablet on a leather cord. He hung the cord around Bryce’s neck.
‘Report to the Fifth Cohort,’ Octavian said. ‘They could use some new blood, some fresh perspective. If your centurion Dakota has any problem with that, tell him to talk to me.’
Bryce smiled like he’d just been handed a sharp knife. ‘My pleasure.’
‘And, Bryce.’ Octavian’s face looked almost ghoulish under his white mantle – his eyes too piercing, his cheeks too gaunt, his lips too thin and colourless. ‘However much money, power and prestige the Lawrence family carries in the legion, remember that
my
family carries more. I am
personally
sponsoring you, as I am sponsoring all the other new recruits. Follow my orders, and you’ll advance quickly. Soon I may have a little job for you – a chance to prove your worth. But cross me and I will not be as lenient as Reyna. Do you understand?’
Bryce’s smile faded. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he changed his mind. He nodded.
‘Good,’ Octavian said. ‘Also, get a haircut. You look like one of those
Graecus
scum. Dismissed.’
After Bryce left, Mike Kahale shook his head. ‘That makes two dozen now.’
‘It’s good news, my friend,’ Octavian assured him. ‘We need the extra manpower.’
‘Murderers. Thieves. Traitors.’
‘Loyal demigods,’ Octavian said, ‘who owe their position to
me
.’
Mike scowled. Until Reyna had met him, she’d never understood why people called biceps
guns
, but Mike’s arms were as thick as bazooka barrels. He had broad features, a toasted-almond complexion, onyx hair and proud dark eyes, like the old Hawaiian kings. She wasn’t sure how a
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