The Battle of the Labyrinth by Rick Riordan Page A

around my heart. Her eyes shined with power. Leave these heroes to me . That didn’t sound good. For a second, I almost wished we could’ve taken our chances with Janus. But then the woman smiled.
    “You must be hungry,” she said. “Sit with me and talk.”
    She waved her hand, and the old Roman fountain began to flow. Jets of clear water sprayed into the air. A marble table appeared, laden with platters of sandwiches and pitchers of lemonade.
    “Who…who are you?” I asked.
    “I am Hera.” The woman smiled. “Queen of Heaven.”

    * * *

    I’d seen Hera once before at a Council of the Gods, but I hadn’t paid much attention to her. At the time I’d been surrounded by a bunch of other gods who were debating whether or not to kill me.
    I didn’t remember her looking so normal. Of course, gods are usually twenty feet tall when they’re on Olympus, so that makes them look a lot less normal. But now, Hera looked like a regular mom.
    She served us sandwiches and poured lemonade.
    “Grover, dear,” she said, “use your napkin. Don’t eat it.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” Grover said.
    “Tyson, you’re wasting away. Would you like another peanut butter sandwich?”
    Tyson stifled a belch. “Yes, nice lady.”
    “Queen Hera,” Annabeth said. “I can’t believe it. What are you doing in the Labyrinth?”
    Hera smiled. She flicked one finger and Annabeth’s hair combed itself. All the dirt and grime disappeared from her face.
    “I came to see you, naturally,” the goddess said.
    Grover and I exchanged nervous looks. Usually when the gods come looking for you, it’s not out of the goodness of their hearts. It’s because they want something.
    Still, that didn’t keep me from chowing down on turkey-and-Swiss sandwiches and chips and lemonade. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was. Tyson was inhaling one peanut butter sandwich after another, and Grover was loving the lemonade, crunching the Styrofoam cup like an ice-cream cone.
    “I didn’t think—” Annabeth faltered. “Well, I didn’t think you liked heroes.”
    Hera smiled indulgently. “Because of that little spat I had with Hercules?
    Honestly, I got so much bad press because of one disagreement.”
    “Didn’t you try to kill him, like, a lot of times?” Annabeth asked. Hera waved her hand dismissively. “Water under the bridge, my dear. Besides, he was one of my loving husband’s children by another woman. My patience wore thin, I’ll admit it. But Zeus and I have had some excellent marriage counseling sessions since then. We’ve aired our feelings and come to an understanding—especially after that last little incident.”
    “You mean when he sired Thalia?” I guessed, but immediately wished I hadn’t. As soon as I said the name of our friend, the half-blood daughter of Zeus, Hera’s eyes turned toward me frostily.
    “Percy Jackson, isn’t it? One of Poseidon’s…children.” I got the feeling she was thinking of another word besides children . “As I recall, I voted to let you live at the winter solstice. I hope I voted correctly.”
    She turned back to Annabeth with a sunny smile. “At any rate, I certainly bear you no ill will, my girl. I appreciate the difficulty of your quest. Especially when you have troublemakers like Janus to deal with.”
    Annabeth lowered her gaze. “Why was he here? He was driving me crazy.”
    “Trying to,” Hera agreed. “You must understand, the minor gods like Janus have always been frustrated by the small parts they play in the universe. Some, I fear, have little love for Olympus, and could easily be swayed to support the rise of my father.”
    “Your father?” I said. “Oh, right.”
    I’d forgotten that Kronos was Hera’s dad, too, along with being the father to Zeus, Poseidon, and all the eldest Olympians. I guess that made Kronos my grandfather, but that thought was so weird I put it out of my mind.
    “We must watch the minor gods,” Hera said. “Janus. Hecate. Morpheus. They give lip