Chapter Eleven
he sun is sinking over the horizon when a knock comes at my door theT next evening. Mag has already helped me dress in a floor-length gown of golden silk draped to hide the angles of my still-gaunt frame. I almost look voluptuous thanks to the way she’s stuffed me into this thing.
Once again, she’s covered my scar with makeup, so it’s nearly invisible.
I’m still not sure how I feel about that. I haven’t been sleeping well, and there are dark circles under my eyes that she’s also hidden away. It’s so quiet here at night compared to the prison, where I was used to being surrounded by the sounds and smells of the other inmates. I miss Tristan and Willow so much it makes my heart cramp, and without them I toss and turn, the nightmares of the past twelve years poisoning my dreams.
A Fae male enters the room, pushing a cart laden with bottles, scissors, combs, and pins. His white-blond hair is styled into an artful coif that doesn’t
budge an inch as he stomps towards where Mag is dabbing streaks of golden dust onto my cheeks at the dressing table.
“Callias,” she breathes, clearly relieved by his entrance. “Finally. I sent for you days ago.”
The male sidelines her with a glare, his eyes a brilliant shade of violet. “I am Aphelion’s most coveted stylist. You think you can just snap your fingers and I’ll come? I have a list of clients as long as my cock.” He holds his hand up against his mouth and says to me in a conspiratorial whisper, “And believe
me, that is very long, sweetheart.”
Mag lets out a sound of indignation and slaps him on the back of his head while I smother my snort.
“This is a Tribute,” Mag says, gesturing to me. “Who desperately needs you. Surely you understood what it meant when I said this was an emergency? Don’t make me go to your mother. I’ve known you since you were in diapers, young man.”
Callias’s nostrils flare as he rubs his head and bestows Mag with a dark glare. “Well, I’m here now.” He flicks his head, but nothing moves on his perfectly gelled hairdo. Mag doesn’t seem to have dislodged a single hair with her slap, either. “Tell me what we’re working with.”
His attention turns to me and his face falls before his lip curls. I’m getting so used to curled lips and wrinkled noses and prolonged once-overs, I see them when I close my eyes. I throw up a hand before he can speak. “I know.
I’m vile. I’m disgusting. I’m an Umbra rat. I’m beyond hope. I’ve heard it all.
Can we save the insults and get on with it?”
At that, Callias blinks his bright purple eyes, a slow smile stretching across his face. “Well, well, you’re going to make things interesting around here,
aren’t you?” He moves behind me, where he catches my gaze in the mirror. “I think you’re already my favorite Tribute.”
I can’t help the smile that surfaces at his approval. Something tells me Callias, Aphelion’s-most-coveted-stylist-with-a-very-long-cock, doesn’t impress easily.
“But this hair,” he says, picking up my ragged ends and running them through his fingers. “We must do something about this immediately.”
“Can you fix it?” Mag asks in a whisper, as if they’re discussing cutting off
my leg.
“Of course I can fix it,” he snaps. “But it won’t be easy. My cart.”
To my surprise, Mag dashes across the room and wheels over Callias’s cart, stopping it next to me. He rummages around in the contents, procuring a golden comb and a pair of shiny scissors. Without another word, he sets to work, chattering away as he gossips about a hundred people I’ve never heard of and will probably never meet. From the way he’s talking, I presume they must all live in the Sun Palace or be part of the nobility.
“…and Gemma claims the captain doffed her in the pantry, but I’ve heard a rumor it was actually Gemma and Irving.” He snorts. “Amateur. When you’ve juggled two females and one male all at once, then come and talk to
me.”
“You mean Gabriel?” I ask, incredulous, as his scissors snip away.
Callias pauses. “On a first-name basis with the captain, are we?” I see his eyebrow go up.
“And the king,” I add, and that makes Callias’s smile widen.
“Well done, Umbra rat.” He winks, and I smile again, not minding the way he says it.
Mag makes a sound of impatience and rolls her eyes. “If you two would
stop flirting? Someone from the king’s retinue will be here any minute.” She wrings her hands, looking at the door.
“Yes, yes, I’m done,” Callias says. He smooths my hair back and I have no idea what kind of magic he possesses, but I look like a completely different woman. He’s cleaned up my ends and made my hair shine like starlight reflecting off a dark surface. Somehow, he’s made it look longer and less blunted. I touch it and turn my head left and right.
“You’re amazing,” I say in wonder.
“I know,” Callias says with a nonchalant air. “There’s a reason I am the most coveted stylist in Aphelion.” He picks up a small glass jar full of tiny capsules and hands it to me. “Take one of these a day. It’ll help your hair grow faster. I can’t bring it all back at once, but within a few weeks, it should be a respectable length.”
“Really?” I ask, taking the pills and opening the bottle. They’re transparent, with tiny flecks of gold suspended inside. “That’s incredible.” I swallow one down.
“Just a bit of beauty magic.” He shrugs, though I can tell he’s pleased by my reaction. When I stand, he snags my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting my face so it catches the light.
“I’ll see what I can do about this. Those healers have no finesse. Slap a bandage on and call it done. It’s barbaric.”
I shake my head, pulling my face away and covering my cheek with one hand while the other clutches the golden locket hanging around my neck.
“No. I don’t want you to do that.”
This scar is a reminder of the two most important people in my life. I received it trying to protect Willow from the warden’s anger. I’d stepped in front of her to shield her just as he was about to strike, and he caught me
instead. He was so angry he beat me bloody until Tristan intervened and then Kelava turned his wrath on him instead.
It took three other guards to get him off Tristan and we were both in the infirmary for weeks. When I got out, this scar, several broken ribs, and countless bruises remained. It probably seems silly to anyone else, but this scar is a reminder of what I’m here to do and what I’ll lose if I don’t win a place at the Sun King’s side.
Tristan and Willow are the only things that matter.
Callias must see something in my expression, because he gives me a grim nod and doesn’t argue. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
“Thank you,” I reply.
His answering smile is crooked. “Good luck with the king. Something tells me he’s going to have his hands full with you.”
Mag shoos him out of the room just before a pair of guards arrive, dressed head to toe in golden armor. Next strides in Gabriel, who gives me an assessing sweep, his wings rustling.
“Looking a little more presentable, are we?” he says, and I narrow my eyes. “Let’s hope you can pretend you’re the lady you’re trying to impersonate.”
“You’re such an ass,” I say, stepping into my slippers.
“I’ve been called worse, Tribute.” He jerks his chin towards the door.
“Let’s go. You’re going to be late.”
“Zerra, you’re so bossy,” I snap, following him out of the room. We make our way through more winding halls. The sun has almost set, and the palace
seems even more lively than it does during the day. We pass numerous rooms where people are drinking and laughing while music floats through the corridors.
In another room, couples dance, their feet as light as air as they spin about the room. Past another door, I glimpse some of the other Tributes and I come
to a stop, watching them. They’re gathered in the corner of a salon as they observe a trio of performers. A juggler, a fire breather, and a Fae who’s bending herself into curves that don’t seem possible or natural.
Apricia catches me looking, her glare hard as she whispers to a Tribute with pale skin, white-blonde hair, and icy blue eyes. The second Tribute gives me a shy look and then smiles. It’s not especially big or welcoming, but
at least it isn’t a scowl. Perhaps I can find at least one ally in this group.
When Apricia notices, she bats the Fae on the arm and she turns away.
“What are they doing?” I ask Gabriel. Even though they’ve all been terrible, a part of me wishes I was in there too. This environment seems far less intimidating than where I’m currently headed. Nerves bunch in my throat as I think of the Sun King and his radiant smile. What am I going to say to him?
“They’re enjoying their evening and would gladly give their left eye to trade places with you.” Gabriel’s words are pointed.
I look over at him. “Right. Of course. Let’s go.” He nods and continues leading me through the palace until we arrive before a set of the tallest,
widest doors I’ve ever seen. They could fit several carts through and accommodate a giant with ease. They gleam in polished gold, the emblem of the Sun King emblazoned across them.
A pair of guards wave us through and if I thought the palace was grand, it nearly pales compared to the opulence of the king’s apartments. Gold and
gemstones and silver and pearls cover every surface. As we walk through the space, the thick golden carpet muffles my footsteps. Gabriel leads me into an
enormous semicircular room with a window that stretches the entire length of the wall and looks over the sea.
The setting sun paints the water in hues of pink and orange, and every time I think I’ve witnessed the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, I find yet another to surpass it. I wonder if I’ll ever get over this sensation of seeing everything as if for the very first time. I’ve barely lived. My entire life has been experienced on the edge of nothing.
“Lor,” comes a smooth voice as I enter. The Sun King is resplendent, if
casual, in brown pants and a white shirt open at the collar. He’s beautiful. He could be wearing the drab grey uniform of Nostraza and still be dazzling.
“I’m so glad you’re here.”
He approaches and kisses the back of my hand while my thumping heart tries to kill me. “Your Majesty,” I croak, and he raises a chastising brow.
“Atlas,” I correct. “Thank you for inviting me. It’s an honor.” I think. The king is so extraordinary, I’m sure this is supposed to be an honor, but I still have so many questions about why I’m really here.
“The pleasure is all mine. Please have a seat.” He walks to the table and pulls out a chair before addressing Gabriel. “Thank you for bringing her. I’ll call for you when we’re done.”
Gabriel hesitates, looking between me and the king as if he can’t decide which one of us to scold. “Behave,” he says to neither of us in particular.
Atlas lets out a low chuckle as I settle into my seat, and he pushes in the chair. While he takes a seat at the corner from me, Gabriel’s footsteps fade out of the room.
It’s then several servants emerge from a doorway, bearing large tureens and platters of food. They place everything before us, someone filling my
glass with sparkling wine. The array of food is dizzying. I don’t know what most of it is—all I know is that it’s fresh and colorful and smells incredible.
A servant places several heaping portions of food on my plate. Roasted chicken and potatoes and some concoction of leaves and nuts and dried fruit smothered in a creamy dressing. Before me sits a basket of fluffy white bread with soft butter and a dozen other things for which I have no name.
“Please eat,” Atlas says, and I hesitate for only a fraction of a second before digging in. The moment a bite of chicken touches my tongue, I groan.
It tastes so good, this feels like magic. How is it possible for anything to taste like this? “Do you like it?”
“Like it?” I say. “This is beyond anything I’ve ever eaten.”
Atlas looks around the room at the servants stationed along the perimeter.
“Leave us,” he commands, and a moment later, we find ourselves alone.
“What was it like in Nostraza?” he asks, catching me off guard. This wasn’t the topic of conversation I was expecting this evening. “I take it by the way you’re devouring that bread, they didn’t feed you very well.”
My face heats at his comment. I’m such an animal. I’m sure the other Tributes only nibble at their food and pretend they’re stuffed after just a few bites.
“I’m sorry,” I say through a mouthful. Now that I’ve been getting sustainable amounts of food, it feels like my body is trying to make up for lost time, a constant ache of hunger gnawing inside my stomach.
“Don’t be sorry,” Atlas says, his smile gentle. “Please. I’m happy I can provide this for you. And that you’re out of that place.”
“But you’re going to send me back if I lose,” I say. “That’s what Gabriel told me.”
Atlas furrows his brows, his expression turning serious. “Unfortunately,
that is the agreement we have with The Aurora.”
“Agreement?”
Atlas sighs and sits back, taking a languid sip from his wine. “It’s complicated.”
“Well, I think I have a right to know, since this concerns me and my welfare.” I’ve stopped eating, my hands sitting in my lap, gripping the soft silk of my gown.
Atlas leans forward, resting on his elbows, getting so close I can smell his
warm cinnamon scent. I want to bury my nose in his throat and inhale every drop like this food.
“You do deserve to know, Lor, but this is a secret that can never leave this room. The only people in all of Aphelion who know the real truth about the Final Tribute are myself and the kings who came before me. And soon, you.”
I can’t help but feel like he’s trying to dance around a secret he doesn’t want to reveal. I wait, doing my best not to be dazzled by his very existence and focus on what’s important. Mostly answers about what, in Zerra’s name, I’m doing here.
“How much do you know about the Sun Queen Trials?” Atlas asks, studying me.
“Nothing. Until a few days ago, I’d never heard of such a thing. I’ve spent half my life behind the walls of that prison. I know very little about Ouranos at all. I know we’re south of The Aurora, but that’s mostly it.”
Atlas looks me up and down and then opens his mouth to speak. “A long time ago, a very long time ago, Aphelion and The Aurora came to an
agreement. I won’t bore you with the details of how it came about, but essentially, The Aurora was granted one mortal Tribute in the Sun Queen Trials. And vice versa.”
“Why?”
“A balance of power,” Atlas says. “The Aurora and Aphelion are the two
strongest realms in Ouranos. As a check, both realms agreed that whenever the Trials took place, there would be the opportunity for one of their own to become queen.”
I frown, trying to follow the chain of what he’s laying out for me.
“That seems very complicated,” I say. “Why would they do that?”
Atlas shrugs. “I can’t claim to know what the kings and queens of
thousands of years ago were thinking. But the agreement is binding and the Final Tribute has secretly come from each other’s home for as long as
memory.”
“Why secretly?”
Atlas smiles as though my string of questions amuses him.
“First off, it’s a secret because the people of Aphelion would not be happy if their new queen came from the north. Even though it’s never actually happened, the fallout would be unpleasant.”
“By never happened, you mean the Final Tribute has died every time.”
Atlas presses his lips together and nods. “Yes.”
“And I suppose those were all ‘accidents’? Is the Final Tribute
conveniently disposed of? Surely you don’t want someone from The Aurora ruling as your queen, either?”
Atlas regards me carefully. “In theory, I don’t, but I’m forbidden from interfering with the Trials. There are emissaries from The Aurora keeping a close eye on the proceedings. You asked why my ancestors did this, and
while I can’t be certain, I suspect their reasons have to do with ego and pride.
If the Final Tribute were to ascend, it would be enough to know one of their own sat on their rival’s throne. It was never meant as a way to infiltrate the
other’s court, but rather to serve as a symbol that no one’s power in Ouranos is absolute.”
“Why are you rivals with The Aurora?”
“Aphelion and The Aurora are two opposing sides, Lor. The warm light of day and the cold lights of the night. Our power works against one another, and we’ve always battled for dominance. It’s just how things have always been.”
Atlas picks up his fork and pulls off a piece of chicken from the roasted
thigh on his plate. I watch as he puts it into his mouth, mesmerized by the way his throat bobs on his swallow. His eyes never stray from me, his clear blue gaze intense as a wild storm.
“The Sun Mirror will ultimately decide our next queen,” he continues, gravity in his tone. “She will then ascend and become Imperial Fae. And I will gain full and unlimited access to my magic.” He pops a piece of bread in
his mouth.
“What do you mean?”
“That’s the point of the Trials. My power depends on forming two halves into a whole. While I am currently in possession of considerable magic as High Fae, this union serves to complete the maturing of that power,
multiplying it and bestowing it on both rulers to wield. Every court is in possession of an Artefact that determines the ascension of their respective rulers.” He pauses. “In The Aurora, it is a torch,” he says before I have the chance to ask the question already perched on my tongue.
The heaviness of that information falls between us like a stone. Magic.
Gabriel had said if I won, the magic of an Imperial Fae would be mine. High Fae magic would be one thing, but Imperial magic would give me more power than I’ve ever thought possible.
“What kind of magic do you have?”
Atlas smiles and takes a sip of wine. “I can control light. Illusions are my
specialty.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, intensely curious.
He sits back and waves a hand. Suddenly, we’re sitting on the ocean floor, surrounded by blue water, tendrils of seaweed, and schools of colorful fish. I gasp. “This is incredible. It looks so real.”
Atlas shrugs. “It can be surprisingly useful.”
I stand up, noting how there’s even sand at my feet, swirling as I step through it. I reach out, and my hand goes through the mirage, the illusion sparkling with points of light where I’ve touched it. If I look carefully, I can see more of them shimmering around us. They’re the only hint the image isn’t real.
Atlas laughs at my wonderment before he waves a hand and the sea melts away, leaving me once again in his dining room. I hold my hand to my chest and look at him.
“It doesn’t scare you that The Aurora might have a claim on your crown?”
I ask, returning to the thread of our previous conversation. “Despite what you say about it being only a symbol?”
Atlas takes another sip of his wine and gives me a skeptical look as I return to my seat. “I trust that if the Sun Mirror chooses you, it will be because your intentions towards me and my court are pure. That you will fight for what will become your new home.”
“I have no loyalty to The Aurora,” I say with resentment, not sure why I’m
telling him this. But I owe The Aurora nothing. It isn’t my home, and it took everything from me. If given the chance, I’d crush the entire kingdom to dust.
Atlas’s mouth tips up into a satisfied smile. “Then all the more reason I
don’t need to worry.”
He studies me over the rim of his glass, his bright aqua eyes boring into
me. There’s a look so raw and open, I feel stripped down to my skin. “I also maintain the possibly foolish hope that I will fall in love with my queen and that she, too, will fall in love with me. A Fae’s life can be very long, and longer still if they’re bound to someone they don’t love.”
If I’d thought the idea of magic took the wind out of me, this one bats me clear across the sky. I swallow and stab a piece of potato with my fork just
for something else to focus on. Stuffing it in my mouth, I chew slowly as I wait for my heart to settle.
When I’ve regained my composure, I ask, “Why me?”
He shakes his head, resting an elbow on the table and his chin on his fist.
“Because the Final Tribute has always come from Nostraza, and you were the right age, I suppose. Rion didn’t share his reasons with me.”
“Rion?”
“The Aurora King,” Atlas answers, his expression going soft as he reaches out and pushes a lock of hair behind my ear. The brief touch of his fingers brushing my cheek draws goosebumps over my skin. “They really kept you in the dark about everything, didn’t they?”
The kindness in his words, the sympathy in his voice, makes tears flame behind my eyes. Even if they brought me here to die, no one has ever spoken to me this way. It breaks something loose inside, shaking me from the stranglehold of a life I thought I’d be trapped in forever. I was sure Nostraza would be the only existence I’d ever know.
But why did the Aurora King let me go after all this time? Why offer me this slim chance at freedom now? And why not send Willow instead? That seems like it would have been the safer choice for him. Nevertheless, I'm
grateful she's not the one here with her life and her dignity hanging in the balance.
“Please,” I whisper. “Can you get my friends out? Tristan and Willow?
They’re all I have. Gabriel said it doesn’t work that way, but you’re a king.”
Instead of answering, Atlas pushes back from the table and stands. He holds out his hand, and I glance at it before I slide mine in. He draws me to stand and then leads me through a set of doors to a balcony that looks over the ocean. The sun has set and the stars bloom brightly in the sky. Everything
about this place is so wondrous and surreal, I can’t believe I’ve had the opportunity to spend even a moment as part of it.
I inhale the sea air as it cleanses my lungs.
Atlas draws me to the railing, letting go of my hand and leaning on his elbows.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “But I can’t do that. Our agreement is for the Final Tribute only. If you fail, then you have to go back to Nostraza, or I risk a war.”
“And you can’t do that for a lowly prisoner,” I say, my voice wooden.
“Lor—”
I raise a hand. “It’s fine. Of course, I don’t expect you to go to war for me.
I’m just one mortal who means nothing to you. I’d never want that blood on my hands.”
He stands up straight, tipping my chin up with his finger so his gaze meets mine. “I’m sorry. I wish I could change this.”
“If I win…could we get them out?”
Atlas smiles then, his thumb sweeping over my jaw, the comforting gesture thawing the heavy block of emotion that always sits frozen in my chest. “We could definitely negotiate with Rion then.”
Before I let that tenuous hope dig in its claws, I remember the enormity of what I’m facing. I pull away and face the water, gripping the railing. “But the
Final Tribute has never won. So this is all entirely hypothetical.”
“Lor, there’s a first time for everything. I’ll do everything I can to protect you.”
“Why?” I ask. “So you can continue your feud with the Aurora King?”
He lets out a soft laugh. “Not at all. I said that’s how my ancestors felt, but it isn’t how I feel. I’m not interested in the ancient politics of Ouranos and
petty grudges that have existed so long no one can even remember what they’re about. I want to find someone who is worthy of that crown. I want to build a life with her and experience all the love and passion of a symbiotic union. I will protect all the Tributes. You’re here because of me, and if you get hurt, then it’s my shame to bear. I couldn’t live with that.”
I marvel at the male before me. “How can you be real?” The question slips out without my meaning to, and Atlas laughs. It comes from deep within his chest, a mellifluous sound that’s as warm as the tendrils wafting off melted chocolate. He’s radiant when he smiles, but like this, he’s incandescent.
His gaze meets mine, swirling pools of blue searing into me with a heat that curls deep in my stomach. Moonlight glints off the planes of his
cheekbones and the line of his jaw. His brown hair shimmers like it’s spun from copper. He touches my cheek, a finger tracing my scar with a careful touch. I brace myself, waiting for the inevitable comment about covering it up, but instead, his expression turns thoughtful.
“The Final Tribute has never survived, but that doesn’t mean it’s a rule of
the game. Perhaps the right one just hasn’t come along yet.”
He’s standing so close I can feel the whisper of his body against mine. I fail to resist the overwhelming urge to lean into him as I press myself against
the hard planes of his chest and the strong curves of his thighs. He dips his head and my breath goes ragged when he presses the gentlest kiss to the
corner of my mouth.
I’m a helpless minnow as he reels me in closer, an arm circling my waist and tightening against me. He’s all muscle and hard lines encased in warm skin. He shines so bright, it’s hard to believe Zerra didn’t build him from individual droplets of sunlight she was holding on to for safekeeping.
He tips my chin up again, his mouth now so close to mine, I feel the nips
of his breath against my lips. He tastes like berries and lemon and a hint of
the smoky wine he just drank.
“Lor—”
“Your Majesty,” a guard interrupts, cutting off Atlas’s next words. His white wings establish him as one of the other nine warders. Atlas arches an eyebrow that suggests he’s not happy about being disturbed, but he doesn’t drop his arm from my waist. If anything, he pulls me tighter.
“What is it, Jareth?” he asks in a clipped tone.
“You’re needed in the council room. The messenger you’ve been waiting for has arrived.” Jareth’s eyes flick to me for a fraction of a second before returning to the king. Atlas dips his head before Jareth retreats inside the
palace.
Atlas looks back at me, his fingers tracing the curve of my jaw. “I’m so sorry to cut our evening short. Lor, I would like to know you better. I hope we can do this again. It’s important to me you’re comfortable in my presence.
I meant every word I said tonight.”
The air in my chest twists into a snarl thanks to his overwhelming presence and the countless surprising revelations he’s shared. “Of course,” I say, trying
to sound in control of myself. “Thank you for dinner. It was something I’ll never forget.”
Atlas smiles and finally drops his hold, stepping away. I feel his absence, like it’s a physical thing sheared from my body. “I’ll send for Gabriel to walk you to your room.”
I lay a hand on Atlas’s arm, feeling the flex of muscle beneath his shirt.
“If it’s okay with you, I think I can make my own way back. Is it all right if I explore the palace? I’d love to go out to the beach. I’ve never seen the
ocean before.”
“I suppose that means you’ve never gone for a swim in the sea?” he asks, his smile patient, and I shake my head.
“You must think I’m such a fool. I have done so little and experienced almost nothing in this life. Compared to the other Tributes, I’m so ignorant and…uncultivated. You can put me in this beautiful gown, but you can’t hide what I am.” My words drop off at the end. The last thing I need is to draw attention to my differences, but something about Atlas makes me feel welcome and safe, and that he won’t judge me for anything I tell him.
He lowers his head and peers at me, meeting my eyes. “No. I can see the life you’ve lived in the depths of your eyes. You are no fool, and you are not
ignorant. Perhaps you didn’t learn how to waltz or play the piano, but those are things the rich do merely to fill their time. They aren’t important and they mean nothing. You’ve lived, Lor. You must have experienced so many terrible things in that prison.”
I suck in a breath, feeling my eyes burn again. It’s getting harder and
harder to hold back the tears I’ve kept leashed for so long. Here in this place with the sun on my face and the roar of the sea in my ears, I feel like I can let go of the reins that have bound my spirit for so long.
Now that my days are more than just cruel words and empty stomachs and sharp fists, my tears beg for the release I’ve never allowed. A key has been
turned on every door of my life and nothing will ever be the same again. I will never be the same again. If I’m returned to Nostraza, I fear for my ability to survive. In just a few days, Aphelion has scratched at the surface of the shell I’ve worn like a coffin.
“I’m so sorry again,” Atlas says. “I don’t want to cut you off, and I want to finish this conversation. Will you dine with me tomorrow?”
I blink, wiping the tear from the corner of my eye. “What about the other Tributes? They already hate me enough without me spending two nights in a row with you.”
Atlas frowns. “Right. I wasn’t thinking. I’ll find another way to devote some time to you then, so it doesn’t look like I’m playing favorites. Give me
a few days to figure something out.”
“Okay,” I whisper. “Thank you.”
I push away my questions about why Atlas is being so kind and why he wants to spend more time with me. I suppose he must harbor some measure of guilt for bringing me here, and there’s definitely pity. No matter what he says, he can use me to make a statement to his enemies, and I’d do well to
remember it. But the way he spoke to me and looked at me tonight doesn’t make me feel like I’m any of that.
“And of course, feel free to explore wherever you like,” he adds. “You’ll be safe anywhere within the palace walls.”
Jareth appears at the door again. “Your Majesty,” he says, impatience
threading his tone. “You’re needed now.”
“I’m coming,” Atlas says. “Good night, Lor.”
“Good night,” I say, and then the Sun King is gone.
