‘Run,’ Eden thought, seeing her chance and taking it.

Twisting her expression into something secretly savage, she lunged with her knife. A quick swipe downwards had him reeling backward to avoid, reflexes surprisingly swift, though she had no intention of actually harming him. She scurried to fill his spot on the arch of the roof as he descended the other side. She longed to look over her shoulder for Rose, but the action would only give evidence that she had not come alone. She just hoped – if Roselle was seeing this – that she had enough sense to keep quiet and not direct any more eyes onto her.

With one leg straight and one leg casually bent to balance on the incline, the man in front of her did not seem afraid. His eyes were so fierce and focused that she actually noticed the bags underneath them, contrasting harshly with the electricity in his gaze.

The knife obviously had not scared him, because he was still trying to talk to her. “Stop. Who are y—”

Eden took off before he finished, sheathing her knife along the way. She was nobody. She had be trained to remain nobody. In a few more seconds she would be gone. She just cursed herself inside and out for being seen in the first place.

Finding the place along the stairwell where she had first climbed up, she threw herself over edge of the roof, swinging and twisting at the same time. Just as her feet came to clatter against the white fencing and stop her body from banging into it, her hands found purchase.

But just as she was about to scuttle down, the king grabbed her by the forearms. He was much faster than expected, and much stronger too, hauling her upward even as she twisted and kicked mid-air like a bird caught in netting.

“Stop — I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. Eden could hear the strain in his voice.

‘Good,’ she thought. ‘Makes my job easier.’

The moment he dragged her back onto stable feet, she wrenched her arms away as hard as she could, jarring him enough to break his hold. But instead of retreating at this point, she launched herself forward by the balls of her feet, planting her palms together against his chest and shoving him back with a quick jolt.

As expected, he staggered, thrown completely off balance. His arm flung wide in an attempt to stabilize himself, and that’s when Eden grabbed the exposed limb. She clasped the swinging hand in both of hers and twisted his palm over his elbow and away from his body.

It was one of the most simple subdues, but it had the desired effect. The king went down on one knee. Eden knew it was the only position that felt remotely like she wasn’t about to break his arm.

Keeping pressure on the awkward twist of his wrist, she stared down at him from beneath the drape of her hood.

He was a beautiful male specimen to be sure; skin lightly gold from the sun, a deep shade of red to his hair – like mahogany. Those unnerving storm-like eyes embedded in a heavy brow that was any sculptors dream. Mighty high cheekbones. Straight nose. Strong jaw. Heavy shoulders. Rough hands. Dirt under his nails.

All this meant something about who he was, and yet, she couldn’t stop staring at the bags under his eyes, and the deep almost purplish discoloration that accompanied them. The king looked tired – no – he looked downright drowned in exhaustion. She also noticed that although he did indeed have strong shoulders, they slouched as if under great weight. His waist was too thin. He was wasting away. Maybe that was the only reason she had been able to subdue him.

Twisting his hand until a small crease appeared between his brow, Eden said, “You will not follow. Do you understand?”

“You’re attending my gathering,” he replied, his voice a soft medium. “I take an interest in my guests.”

“I’m not an attendee,” Eden clarified, “or else I would have been down there.” She cocked her head to indicate the ruckus below.

The king shifted in his kneel a little bit, and Eden got the sudden, uncomfortable feeling that he was letting her hold him down, that she wasn’t really in control of him at all. It was only because of this instinct that she pushed hurriedly away and drew her knife instead.

Rubbing his wrist, he rose calmly to his feet. “Why aren’t you attending? It was an open invitation to all citizens.”

“It was an optional invitation.”

For some reason, he just barked a short laugh, closed his eyes and pinched at the bridge of his nose. Eden just stared, because that’s what she did when she didn’t understand.

“I didn’t consider that people might not want to attend,” he said, almost to himself.

Eden felt disdain flicker at the back of her consciousness. He was exceedingly egotistical. Noted. “That was presumptuous of you,” she said tonelessly.

“You're right. I’ll make sure it’s not optional next time.”

Eden bristled underneath her cloak. “For someone who’s so concerned with attendance, you’re a little late yourself. You should go.”

There was a pause. The king just stared at her, and it was only because she was staring back that she realized he was shocked. He folded his arms across his chest and gazed at her hooded face for so long that she actually had to fight back the urge to swallow.

Eventually he regained the use of his tongue. “Did you just dismiss me?”

“I paraphrased what my knives said.”

That got a laugh out of him, and it made Eden uncomfortable. Never in her life had she been ‘the funny one’. Sometimes wry. Sometimes sarcastic. Sometimes brutal enough to drag a nervous chuckle out of someone. But funny? No.

After suppressing his soft laughter, the king started toward her unexpectedly. “Please—”

Eden darted back, knife pointed at his face.

He stopped, seeming to realize he was startling her, and raised his hands up on either side of him in a show of peace. He started again, eyes serious, words slower. “I just want to talk. Who are you? Why aren’t you down there with the rest of them?”

A cropped, raspy laugh tore out of her throat by accident. Her? Down there? In a gown looking like a jellyfish, talking to people she didn’t have a thing in common with? It sounded like her perfect nightmare.

“I have no interest,” Eden replied shortly. Gods, why was she even replying in the first place? Jumping down and breaking her ankle would be less painful than this.

The king’s eyes narrowed, sweeping down along her form and then back up for a reason she didn’t understand. If he was trying to get a read on her, the black cloak would make it damn near impossible. Anything he could gather beyond the cloak were traits that were hand-picked by Thetan himself – specifically to shield her from being labeled if she ever was seen, or at the very least, jumble their perception; perfect posture despite all the crawling and slinking around in the darkness, average height despite her posture, impeccable balance despite her height.

Eden endured his fruitless scrutiny in silence, and attempted to come up with a new escape route. Just jumping down was an option, but she would no doubt injure herself in the process, along with rousing the guests below to her — their — presence.

So maybe just knocking him out would be the best option. That could be easily accomplished with the heel of her knife, but she would have to make sure he didn’t fall. Nobody knew what would happen to his magic should he die. If he did under her watch, Thetan would kill her. Not figuratively. Literally. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea.

His voice split through her calculative thoughts. “You have no interest in what, exactly?” he asked.

Strangely enough, Eden understood the undertone of this question. Lifting her knife, she aimed the point at him challengingly. “I have no interest in you.”

Expecting a flash of surprise or perhaps even hurt to contort the arrogant man’s features, Eden was concerned to see neither. Instead, something akin to a smirk lifted the edge of his lips. Eden’s mind accelerated into overdrive; spinning through all the possible reasons like a wheel.

Why was he smiling? She had just blatantly insulted him.

No. Upon further inspection, it wasn’t a smug smile. It was a Thetan smile. The kind of small smile he gave when he was absolutely certain of something. A certain smile. Yes. That’s exactly what it was.

But certain of what?

“I am Atlas,” the man offered, touching a hand to his detailed golden breastplate. The design looked like two feathers sweeping over his shoulders, connected down the middle of his chest by a single spine. Lavish.

Noted.

“I know who you are,” Eden gritted out.

“Then you know it would be unwise to run from me.”

A little bit of panic made her next words quieter. “Depends on how fast I run, really.”

“If you run,” he warned her with lifted eyebrows, “I’ll make a scene. I’ll call the guards. Everyone will see you.”

‘Shit,’ Eden thought.

“I’m guessing you don’t want that,” Atlas said, “or else you wouldn’t be up here.”

“You guessed correctly,” she replied, a little bit of venom seeping into her voice, but she wasn’t done yet. “I can’t help but notice, however, that you’re up here too. Maybe I’m the one who should cause a commotion. These people have been dying to glimpse you. ”

“A truce then,” he suggested, but it wasn’t a suggestion in the slightest – it was a command. She knew this tactic from Thetan.

“What do you want?” Eden ventured to ask. “Sweet nothings whispered in your ear? Compliments? Someone to warm your bed? I should warn you... you’ll get none of this from me.”

From me, she thought. Wasn’t it ironic? The very person who was actually skilled in giving a man what they wanted was below in the courtyard, helpless to intervene. If only they could switch places. If only.

His words were unexpected. “I believe you,” he said softly, “and you don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve said that. Since I’ve meant it.”

Her lips parted in confusion. She never expected this – someone sensitive. Caring. Calculative. Practiced in tongue and movement. Perhaps even the tiniest bit wild, for he prowled over the rooftops like it was his true domain, and he had no love for the life below.

Truly, her mistake was expecting someone like Rosie, when instead she got someone like herself. But how was she to have known? She fed herself with rumors, eased her mind with rumors… and the rumors implied that he liked whoring and drinking and hardly ever used his magic for anything significant.

Except for now, apparently. He’d have no problems using it to subdue her, and while she had built up and immunity to many different kinds of poison and pain… resisting magic was a foreign concept.

What if he intended to take advantage of her? Or even worse… pry information out of her? If that ever happened – if he managed to get anything about the Lakehouse or the others – Thetan would discard her. She would be a liability. He’d send the other duos to kill her quietly. A young replacement would be found within days, a child to become the next Loon without her tutelage. Brontide, help that poor soul.

But what if king Atlas’s intentions weren’t quite so… despicable? What if he truly just wanted to talk? She couldn't fathom about what, and the thought of idle chat made her cringe a little because she had never seen the need, but this was a strange and timely opportunity.

To learn.

“You’ll take us somewhere quiet,” Eden announced. “If I sense even one unwanted presence next to yourself, I’ll vanish. You can count on it.”

“Agreed,” he said, softly. The small smile lingered on his lips and despite the confident ease of his posture, her gut said the smile wasn’t meant to be arrogant. In fact, it seemed rather gentle.

‘Great,’ she thought sourly, wrapping steel around herself. Arrogance, conceit, and anger were easy to deal with or exploit, but compassion... if it didn’t startle you into lowering your guard, then it pierced right through. It was the hardest trait to deal with, because it was the most powerful, and for Eden… the most frustrating.

“Shall we?” Atlas suggested when she didn’t reply, turning aside and extending a hand her way. It was more or less a command that she pass in front of him. It was just politely disguised by manners.