A 1

Annabeth said nothing. She knew very little about the Roman goddess. She wished she had
studied up, but Latin never came as easily to her as Greek. Down below, the hull of the Argo II
gleamed as it floated over the forum, like some massive bronze party balloon.
“When the Romans go to war,” Reyna continued, “we first visit the Temple of Bellona. Inside is a
symbolic patch of ground that represents enemy soil. We throw a spear into that ground, indicating
that we are now at war. You see, Romans have always believed that offense is the best defense. In
ancient times, whenever our ancestors felt threatened by their neighbors, they would invade to protect
themselves.”
“They conquered everyone around them,” Annabeth said. “Carthage, the Gauls—”
“And the Greeks.” Reyna let that comment hang. “My point, Annabeth, is that it isn’t Rome’s
nature to cooperate with other powers. Every time Greek and Roman demigods have met, we’ve
fought. Conflicts between our two sides have started some of the most horrible wars in human
history—especially civil wars.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Annabeth said. “We’ve got to work together, or Gaea will destroy
us both.”
“I agree,” Reyna said. “But is cooperation possible? What if Juno’s plan is flawed? Even goddesses
can make mistakes.”
Annabeth waited for Reyna to get struck by lightning or turned into a peacock. Nothing
happened.
Unfortunately, Annabeth shared Reyna’s doubts. Hera did make mistakes. Annabeth had had
nothing but trouble from that overbearing goddess, and she’d never forgive Hera for taking Percy
away, even if it was for a noble cause.
“I don’t trust the goddess,” Annabeth admitted. “But I do trust my friends. This isn’t a trick,
Reyna. We can work together.”