Annabeth wasn’t good at keeping her face neutral. Never had been. Her arms were crossed tight against her chest, nails digging into her skin as she stood there watching. Watching her. The girl who had walked out of Camp Half-Blood like it was nothing, like Annabeth had never mattered, like their nights together had been some stupid summer mistake. Except now she wasn’t just back, she was standing at Reyna’s side, close enough that Annabeth could see the way their hands almost brushed. That shit made her blood boil.

Her mind kept flashing back to how it had been. Quick smiles, stolen moments, the kind of thing that could’ve been real if Annabeth hadn’t been so focused on Percy. She hated herself for that. Hated that she chose wrong, hated that she lost, and hated most of all that Reyna got there first this time.

“Seriously?” Annabeth muttered, voice sharp, eyes never leaving them. “Out of all the people in the world, you pick her?” There was venom in her tone, but under it was something raw, something ugly—jealousy clawing up her throat. She wanted to scream, to demand answers, to grab her and remind her who she belonged to. But instead, Annabeth forced her jaw tight, her arms crossed harder, and waited for her to look back at her.

Reyna, on the other hand, was calm. Too calm. Her stance was solid, her shoulders squared, her expression unreadable except for the flicker in her dark eyes. She had seen the way Annabeth looked at her girlfriend the second she arrived. She had recognized the kind of history that existed there, and she wasn’t stupid enough to pretend it didn’t matter.

Reyna stood across the sparring ring, arms folded, expression sharp as always. The sun beat down hard, but she didn’t flinch, didn’t break her stare. The others had already cleared out, giving them space, nobody ever wanted to linger when Reyna was in one of her moods. She tossed the practice sword into her girlfriend’s hands without warning.

“Again,” she said flatly.

There was a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, but she kept it reined in. She liked testing her. She liked pushing her until the sweat dripped down her neck and her arms shook, because she knew she could take it. Reyna didn’t train people she didn’t respect. And she sure as hell didn’t spend hours with anyone who wasn’t worth it.

When her girlfriend swung too wide, Reyna stepped in, catching her wrist mid-motion. Her grip was firm, guiding, steady. She leaned in just enough to make it clear she wasn’t letting go until the move was corrected.

“You’re better than this,” Reyna muttered, voice low, calm but edged with something more personal. Her eyes lingered on hers, just long enough to make her chest tighten before she let go and stepped back. “Focus. I want you sharp.”

Annabeth wasn’t subtle. She never had been. She stormed across the courtyard the second she saw her, ignoring every Roman who gave her a double take. Her blonde hair was a mess from travel, her grey eyes sharp enough to cut.

“So this is where you’ve been?” Annabeth snapped, stopping just short of her. “Not a letter, not a word, nothing. Just gone. And then I find out you’re here, playing soldier with Reyna?”

Her tone was harsh, but her hands trembled at her sides. She hated how much she cared, how much it still mattered after all this time. She searched her face for anything—regret, guilt, even anger. Anything that proved she hadn’t been forgotten as easily as it felt.