Shoving my hands into the pocket of my hoodie, I hunkered down as the wind whipped through the campus. Only in the afternoon did it feel like the middle of May to me.

I neared the area where the half-blood had been hanged and there was a sit-in of about two dozen halfs. No one spoke, and as I lingered in the back for a couple of moments, more and more Guards appeared, keeping a watchful eye.

As far as I knew, no suspects had been found, and the half-blood’s murder went unpunished. I didn’t know if they’d ever find out who did it. I started to sit down, but the girl next to me stiffened and then rose. She walked to the other side and then sat down.

What the . . . ?

I froze, caught between standing and sitting. Several halfs in the back of the group were checking me out. My gaze flickered over the group, and I had the distinct feeling that I wasn’t welcome. I could’ve been overreacting, but I straightened and started walking again. Word of what I was had definitely traveled to every nook and cranny. I’d kind of thought, stupidly so, that being a demigod would make me cool. Like, everyone would want to get to know me, because I would want to get to know a demigod.

Nope.

No one approached me.

Reaching the wrought-iron fence of the garden, I unhooked the gate and stepped inside, closing it behind me. Immediately, the humidity smacked into me. I unzipped my hoodie and shrugged it off, draping it over my arm as I walked deeper in the garden.

The place was stunning and downright magical.

Purple wolfsbane was vibrant and plenty, climbing the inside walls. Leafy vines wrapped themselves around smaller statues of the gods. I still had a hard time figuring out who was who. Unless it was Artemis. I knew who she was, because of the bow gripped in her stone hand.

Bright orange poppies were everywhere, crowding the engraved walkways, and so many flowers I’d never seen before, in every color the human eye could decipher. There were trees, small almond ones and larger breeds, giving the interior privacy and creating its own little world inside the iron fence.

I passed a caretaker who was grooming multi-colored roses, the kind I’d never seen outside of this garden. Some were red and yellow. Other petals were ombré, red fading into pink. Crazy. I wanted to pluck several of the blossoms and take them back to the room, but the ancient-looking caretaker looked like she’d cut me if that happened.