“Och,” he says with humor gleaming in his eyes. “Take it easy, Siren.”
I frown at the use of such a violent name. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea. When he starts walking again, I jog alongside him. He is easily three heads taller than me.
“So, in the ancient days, the Merfolk used to give up their voices to follow their lovers on land. I can’t say I know exactly what those relationships looked like, but I know that they used to use the walls of their home to write their messages. I think a few of them are still preserved in one of King Hades’ museums.”
Get to the point!I want to yell at the Daemon. Is he so arrogant that he is content to converse with himself? Or maybe he is just being polite. It is honestly hard to tell.
Without finding another solution, I grab his elbow, and he stops. When he looks at me, he appears confused. I mimic writing in the air vigorously.
The confusion persists. He’s like a giant gulper shark. My hands fist and rest on my hips as I consider stealing his phone from his overly tight shorts. I can make out their outline from here. Erik would never wear shorts so casually in public.
I shake my head, pushing thoughts of that traitor away.
“Oh!” he says at last. “You need something to write with.”
I nod as a laugh fills the air and grates against my patience. Todd says, “I was considering carving some symbols into one of the older buildings.”
I just stare back at him.
He continues, “That’s why I told you that story.”
My hand flies up and smacks loudly against my forehead before I can stop it. I try to apologize with flailing gestures, but he smiles and passes me the phone.
Thank you, and sorry.
My hands are clumsy and sweaty, making my typing take a veritable eternity.
I need to get into King Hades’ tower.
As he reads, his expression tightens, and he pockets the phone. “Nope.”
Then he’s walking once again.
His bluntness startles me, and I’m back to jogging at his side.
“Sorry, legs. I can’t let somerandonear the King. Who do you think you are?” he asks. His voice is much more guarded. At this point, I am close to running. I want to shout at him and tell him exactly who I am and what he can do to himself for talking to me like that.
But he is simply too fast. He disappears into the thick, motley crowd of beings ahead of us, and I am left behind panting.
The worst part is that he is right. I have no birthright power, no token or seal from my family and no voice. Who in their right mind would let me near a king looking the way that I do?
Defeat bubbles up inside me, and I follow my short shadow. Hours pass, and the clouds darken as night falls. The violet darkness mixes with the neon lights, and a coldness chills me to my bones. My clothes are barely dry, and I have no place to sleep.
My stomach growls, and the reality of my desperate situation crashes over me. I am useless. I am lost. I am unwanted.
If Erik were here, he could vouch for me.
The unbidden thought gets pushed far down under all of my other feelings. Erik betrayed me. He is dead to me. The only person who can save me now is myself.
After hours of walking down narrow streets, open air caresses my skin and causes it to pebble.
I look up to find an enormous square. My eyes widen as I look to the middle of the open space and see the expansive statue depicting the gods with the King’s Tower in the back. The massive obsidian building comes to a point which is shrouded by clouds. Black, crystal windows add to the architectural beauty of the place, but no light shines through. Even in the darkness, it draws the eye.
It is ominous and radiates pure, deadly power.
Please, gods. Do whatever mystical stuff you do… give him a nudge to come and find me.
No response comes. Serious effort goes into tearing my eyes away from the tower, and I only make it a short distance before my gaze returns to the statue. Even in the evening, the city is bustling with life. I move forward with an inconspicuous crowd and head to the sculpture. The closer I get, the more I am impressed with the white rock that seems to glow from within.