He knew she was right, but it was hard for him to restrain himself. He watched helplessly as the two skeletal guards thrust their double-pronged spears into Morpho’s chest.
Morpho let loose a terrible howl. Their body disintegrated from their sternum outward, flames reducing them to ash like they were made of flash paper.
Nico swallowed back a sob.
Morpho was gone.
As if that image hadn’t been horrible enough, the entire gallery broke out in thunderous applause, some hooting and pumping their fists as Morpho’s smoldering ashes floated down to the floor.
“We have to stop this,” Will said. “If they did this to our friends…”
Nico trembled with rage. He imagined Arielle, or poor little Quinoa, standing in this cavern, being jeered at, persecuted, and finally executed for daring to be different. And the demigods who promised to protect them had been nowhere in sight. Nico had failed the mythics. He had never felt so useless.
The gorgon-masked judge banged her gavel, trying to restore order.
“We should go,” said Nico through gritted teeth. “We can’t do this by ourselves. We’ll come back with the entire legion and—”
“Wipe this place off the map,” Hazel agreed, in a tone that made Nico glad she was on his side. “This iswrong.”
They started to rise, but the rest of the crowd was just finding their seats again, falling into silence. The demigods sat back down. They didn’t dare attract attention.
“Bring forth the next defendant!” ordered the middle judge.
“Wait until the crowd goes nuts again,” Will whispered. “Then I’ll stand up, and you two follow me….” Will’s voice faltered, his eyes fixed on the front of the courtroom. “Oh,no…”
Nico followed his gaze. The red-robed guards were prodding the next defendant forward, herded in shackles and chains before the judges’ bench. But this defendant Nico knew.
It was Asterion.
Nico thought he was going to be sick. He watched the guards fasten Asterion’s chains to an iron ring on the floor. Apparently, the judges hadn’t been worried about Morpho the telkhine attacking them, but a seven-foot-tall bull-man was another matter.
Asterion stood tall and regal, like the Minoan prince he was. If the shackles bothered him, he did not show it. The spectators whispered and gawked at his gleaming horns, his powerful musculature, or maybe just the stitchwork on his blue kilt. Clearly, the monsters saw him as a celebrity.
Hazel touched Nico’s knee. “Change of plans.”
“Agreed,” he whispered.
Will nodded. “We have to get him out of here.”
“I have an idea,” Hazel said. “Let me—”
She was interrupted by the judge’s gavel. Fake Hades loomed over Asterion. Nico could almost feel the gloating that radiated from him.
“The Minotaur!” Fake Hades said, with great satisfaction. “Your trial begins now.”
“I do not go by that title anymore,” said the bull-man. “Address me by my name—Asterion—or do not address me at all.”
The judge hesitated. Perhaps he’d been expecting more howling and thrashing, and less dignified insistence on proper titles. Fake Hades huddled with his fellow judges, and then faced the accused again.
“We will grant you this request,Asterion.” He said the name like it was one of the defendant’s offenses. “You are here before the court to stand trial for your crimes. My colleague will now read from your official record.”
Gorgon Face unfurled a second scroll, which looked much, much longer than Morpho’s had been.
She cleared her throat. “You have been—”
“And who are you?” asked Asterion.
The judge stopped. Nico expected her to pick up her quill and writeinterrupting figures of authority, but something about Asterion’s composed demeanor seemed to unbalance her. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”