She frowned. “Which part?”
“All of it.” I tilted my head back, unable to look at her. It took away from the simple pleasure of talking to her, knowing that a voyeur lurked behind her eyes. A creepy entity observing everything we said.
“Does some of it involve me?” she pressed.
Are you really the one talking? I kept doubting every word she said, wondering if Lux was playing puppeteer.
I shrugged. “Some of your choices, maybe.”
Her expression frosted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re the smartest person I know, up there with Melody and Astrid. But after everything you’ve heard about me and Erebus, you just ignored common sense completely,” I whispered, keeping my voice low so the others wouldn’t hear.
“I’m not explaining myself to you again. Like you, I didn’t have a choice.” Ryann sank against the wall, looking wounded.
“No, our little spy wanted you to think you didn’t have a choice. There’s a difference.” I realized I was shooting the messenger. It was Lux I was really pissed off at. “Sorry… I don’t know why I’m picking a fight. I’m not angry at you—I could never be angry at you. I’m just annoyed with the situation. Annoyed by the gremlin in your head.”
She softened slightly. “Well, the gremlin isn’t here now. I am. And it’s not the same situation you’re in. Once the gremlin has what it wants, it’ll let me go.”
Where have I heard that before? Bitter anguish swelled inside me, directed wholly at these Children of Chaos.
My head snapped toward the door as keys jangled. I guessed the key thing was for show, intended to freak out prisoners, since this entire prison was smothered in magical runes. Three Atlantean guards in full silver armor entered with trays of strange-looking food and set them on the floor. There were pewter pitchers, too, which I hoped had water in them. My throat had gone as dry as the Sahara.
“Nourishment,” one of the guards said simply. “Eat.” We all stared at them, but they made no move to leave.
“You’re going to watch us?” I said, getting to my feet.
The second guard nodded. “You are not permitted to keep these wares. When you finish, we will take them away. And we would not want you to choke. Her Highness insisted we make sure you do not.”
I shrugged and went to investigate, sitting cross-legged in front of the goods like a schoolkid. The others joined me, with Huntress padding over to the food and taking a cautious sniff. She whined in the back of her throat.
“Not good, Huntress?” Nash looked to his Familiar for culinary critique.
The dog sneezed, thankfully turning her head away from the food. Oof, that bad?
I glanced down at the array. None of it looked familiar, and it definitely didn’t resemble prison food. Instead, we had what looked like slivers of plump, fanned-out seaweed, strips of something that reminded me of dried mummy remains, and spiny urchin shells filled with white stuff swimming in a clear soup, among other Atlantean delicacies. It didn’t exactly get the tummy rumbling.
“What is this stuff?” I poked the mummified strips.
“Dehydrated hairy frogfish,” the guard replied.
I snorted. “Hey, they put Davin on the menu!”
Even Erebus chuckled at that. Ah, validation at last. Although, he hadn’t moved to partake in our feast. Instead, he kept to the far side of the room and said nothing. Meanwhile, Nash went in for a taste of soup. Everyone held their breath as he warily lifted the spoon to his mouth, as if expecting it to grow tentacles or something.
“You know what… it’s not half bad.” Nash smiled and went in for another spoonful. I didn’t know if he was messing with us, trying to act like it was Michelin-star stuff when it’d probably make us all hurl, but I was a little intrigued. I laid a piece of seaweed on the tip of my tongue and squeezed my eyes shut before chowing down.
My eyes shot open a moment later. “Gordon Ramsay’s anger management therapist, this stuff is delicious!” I looked at the guard. “What is it?”
“Slices of marinated colossal squidweed,” he answered.
I chuckled, despite everything. “Ah, guys, why did you have to take Davin to the palace? You’ve robbed me of my best stand-up gig!”
In all seriousness, I’d never tasted anything so good—which just went to show that looking weird as hell didn’t keep something from being insanely tasty. Take me, for example.
Melody gingerly tried the same dish Nash was devouring, then hummed with appreciation.
“Did your taste buds get scrambled in the whirlpool?” Luke scrunched up his face, a dried strip of meat sticking out of his mouth.
“Maybe you need a more gourmet palate to enjoy the finer things in life,” I retorted.
One of the guards smirked. “The dry-cured snaggletooth can be hard to stomach at first, but most develop a liking for it.”
“You’re just making these names up.” I eyed the guard. “A snaggletooth? A hairy frogfish? Colossal squidweed? Don’t get me wrong, I admire the creativity, but these can’t be real.”
Melody nodded. “Actually, they are. There are many unusual species in the deepest parts of the oceans, and those who discovered them gave them equally unusual names. For example, there are coffinfish, vampire squid, gulper eels, and even a creature called the black swallower.”
Laughter erupted from me. Everyone stared in concern, but I didn’t care. This was too damn funny. We were in Atlantis, which wasn’t supposed to exist, dining on crazily named sea grub as if we were at a five-star Japanese restaurant. How anyone could sit here and not laugh was beyond me.
The guards exchanged a look, then their apparent leader spoke. “Is he all right?”
“It’s been a long few weeks,” Ryann replied for me. I was glad it was her. I was so glad. But I worried, too—why was Lux staying under? Was she still waiting to see how far Erebus would go? What would be the moment of total displeasure, the snapping point she’d mentioned?
“Correction. It’s been a long year.” I wiped my eyes, trying to regain some semblance of sanity.
Melody raised a meek hand. “Excuse me, sirs. I wonder if you could tell me what’s happening in Atlantis? King Ovid mentioned preparations, but we don’t know why, or what it means for Atlantis. I’m just curious.”
Very smart, Winchester. She was using their confusion at my laughter to get them to talk. They didn’t seem as prickly as our previous guards; they were more like Atlantean delivery boys, here to bring us this bizarre spread.
The leader of the trio sighed. “Preparations are indeed being made, as our esteemed majesties—the king and queen—are nearing their Death Days.”
“Yes, that was the word King Ovid used. A Death Day. What is that?” Melody asked. She gave off waves of trustworthiness with her sweet, innocent eyes, and the guards seemed to buy it.
“It is the day that an Atlantean’s five hundred years of life come to an end. It is a cause for celebration, though there is always some sorrow, especially when royalty are the ones having their Death Days,” the guard explained. “The king and the queen are nearing theirs. The queen shall die first and the king second.”