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To his right, reports and maps were strewn across a low table. To his left, a marble altar was<br />
heaped with fruit and gold <strong>of</strong>ferings, no doubt for <strong>the</strong> gods. But to Reyna it looked like an altar to<br />
Octavian himself.<br />
At his side, <strong>the</strong> legion’s eagle bearer, Jacob, stood at attention, sweating in his lion-skin cloak as<br />
he held <strong>the</strong> staff with <strong>the</strong> golden eagle standard <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> Twelfth.<br />
Octavian was in <strong>the</strong> midst <strong>of</strong> an audience. At <strong>the</strong> base <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> stairs knelt a boy in jeans and a<br />
rumpled hoodie. Octavian’s fellow centurion <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> First Cohort, Mike Kahale, stood to one side with<br />
his arms crossed, glowering with obvious displeasure.<br />
‘Well, now.’ Octavian scanned a piece <strong>of</strong> parchment. ‘I see here you are a legacy, a descendant <strong>of</strong><br />
Orcus.’<br />
The boy in <strong>the</strong> hoodie looked up, and Reyna caught her breath. Bryce Lawrence. She recognized<br />
his mop <strong>of</strong> brown hair, his broken nose, his cruel green eyes and smug, twisted smile.<br />
‘Yes, my lord,’ Bryce said.<br />
‘Oh, I’m not a lord.’ Octavian’s eyes crinkled. ‘Just a centurion, an augur and a humble priest<br />
doing his best to serve <strong>the</strong> gods. I understand you were dismissed from <strong>the</strong> legion for … ah,<br />
disciplinary problems.’<br />
Reyna tried to shout, but she couldn’t make a sound. Octavian knew perfectly well why Bryce had<br />
been kicked out. Much like his godly forefa<strong>the</strong>r, Orcus, <strong>the</strong> underworld god <strong>of</strong> punishment, Bryce was<br />
completely remorseless. The little psychopath had survived his trials with Lupa just fine, but as soon<br />
as he arrived at Camp Jupiter he had proved to be untrainable. He had tried to set a cat on fire for fun.<br />
He had stabbed a horse and sent it stampeding through <strong>the</strong> Forum. He was even suspected <strong>of</strong><br />
sabotaging a siege engine and getting his own centurion killed during <strong>the</strong> war games.<br />
If Reyna had been able to prove it, Bryce’s punishment would’ve been death. But because <strong>the</strong><br />
evidence was circumstantial, and because Bryce’s family was rich and powerful with lots <strong>of</strong><br />
influence in New Rome, he’d got away with <strong>the</strong> lighter sentence <strong>of</strong> banishment.<br />
‘Yes, Pontifex,’ Bryce said slowly. ‘But, if I may, those charges were unproven. I am a loyal<br />
Roman.’<br />
Mike Kahale looked like he was doing his best not to throw up.<br />
Octavian smiled. ‘I believe in second chances. You’ve responded to my call for recruits. You have<br />
<strong>the</strong> proper credentials and letters <strong>of</strong> recommendation. Do you pledge to follow my orders and serve<br />
<strong>the</strong> legion?’<br />
‘Absolutely,’ said Bryce.<br />
‘Then you are reinstated in probatio,’ Octavian said, ‘until you have proven yourself in combat.’<br />
He gestured at Mike, who reached in his pouch and fished out a lead probatio tablet on a lea<strong>the</strong>r<br />
cord. He hung <strong>the</strong> cord around Bryce’s neck.<br />
‘Report to <strong>the</strong> Fifth Cohort,’ Octavian said. ‘They could use some new <strong>blood</strong>, some fresh<br />
perspective. If your centurion Dakota has any problem with that, tell him to talk to me.’<br />
Bryce smiled like he’d just been handed a sharp knife. ‘My pleasure.’<br />
‘And, Bryce.’ Octavian’s face looked almost ghoulish under his white mantle – his eyes too<br />
piercing, his cheeks too gaunt, his lips too thin and colourless. ‘However much money, power and