The little girl smiled. "Tha nk you. As tender of the flame, I get a share of

every sacrifice, you know."

 

"I recognize you now," I said. "The first time I came to camp, you were sitting

by the fire, in the middle of the commons area."

 

"You did not stop to talk," the girl recalled sadly. "Alas, most never do. Nico

talked to me. He was the first in many years. Everyone rushes about. No time for

visiting family."

 

"You're Hestia," I said. "Goddess of the Hearth."

 

She nodded.

 

Okay ... so she looked eight years old. I didn't ask. I'd learned that gods

could look any way they pleased.

 

"My lady," Nico asked, "why aren't you with the other Olympians, fighting

Typhon?"

 

"I'm not much for fighting." Her red eyes flickered. I realized they weren't

just reflecting the flames.

 

They were filled with flames — but not like Ares's eyes. Hestia's eyes were warm

and cozy.