Then I shook my head. Concentrate.

 

The throne rumbled. A wave of gale-force anger slammed into my mind:

 

WHO DARES—

 

The voice stopped abruptly. The anger retreated, which was a good thing, because

just those two words had almost blasted my mind to shreds.

 

Percy. My father's voice was still angry but more controlled. What — exactly —

are you doing on my throne?

 

"I'm sorry, Father," I said. "I needed to get your attention."

 

This was a very dangerous thing to do. Even for you. If I hadn't looked before I

blasted, you would now be a puddle of seawater.

 

"I'm sorry," I said again. "Listen, things are rough up here."

 

I told him what was happening. Then I told him my plan.

 

His voice was silent for a long time.

 

Percy, what you ask is impossible. My palace —