I’m still alive! Well, obviously.

It wasn’t easy telling the praetors about the ancile, Elon, Mimi, and the messages, not with those dogs staring at me hungrily, Reyna’s lips getting tighter and tighter, and Frank looking embarrassed and murmuring, “I never even noticed those shields in Dad’s temple. Never heard of the ancile legend, either.” I got through it, though. Thought I was home free. Then Frank leaned over the desk and asked one question: “Does anyone else know about this?”

My throat closed up with fear. No way was I going to pull Janice and Blaise into this. Or Mamurius, for that matter. I already felt terrible for throwing Elon under the chariot. I mean, sure, the faun has an annoying habit of referring to himself in the third person, and his weakness for trash has brought us to the brink of destruction. Put those things aside, though, and he’s just a scared little kid with a soda-tab necklace.

When I hesitated, Frank repeated his question. I had to choose then: rope my friends into this mess with me, or lie and die.

Reyna saved me. Even as I write those words, I still can’t believe it. But she did. She held up her hand to signal me to stay quiet, then called out, “Bring them in!”

Praetorian guards led Janice and Blaise inside. Mamurius drifted in after them. Frank explained that the three had come to him when they heard I had been confined to my bunk. (Word gets around fast about that sort of stuff, apparently.) They’d told him all they knew before I got there. They’d also outlined the plan I had proposed for dealing with Mimi and getting the ancile back.

While Frank was talking, Reyna studied me. And continued to study me after he finished. Then, to my astonishment, she smiled. “Your loyalty to your friends is admirable, Claudia. Your forthright truthfulness, too, though it’s a little late in coming.”

She sat back and steepled her fingers. “Now then. About your plan to deal with Mimi…I have one change to make to it.” She nodded toward Frank. “Instead of endangering Aquila, Frank will fly you and your supplies to the landfill. Agreed?”

The idea of boarding Air Praetor wasn’t hugely appealing—it still isn’t—but I was in no position to argue, and she was in no mood to debate. “Agreed.”

So now I’m back in my bunk yet again. My fellow legionnaires are whispering about me, because they think I’m still in trouble. But I’m just waiting for nightfall and praying that the first part of my plan is going off without a hitch.

Because we have just one shot to get this right. If we fail, the ancile is history…and so are Camp Jupiter, New Rome, and all ancient Roman creatures great and small. If we succeed, though, we’ll get in, get out, and be back in time for breakfast.

For the sake of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata, I hope it’s not oatmeal.