If she had known the kitchen was so close, she might not have protested so much. After only a minute, they were rounding a corner and descending down a flight of stone steps that had such a gentle decline even Atlas could handle it.

The staircase led right into the kitchen. There was not even a swinging door. Eden supposed this was to make it as easy as possible on the cooks.

Not there were any at this time of night.

The kitchen was made primarily of stone – the walls, ovens and floors all decorated with the beige, comforting cobblestone pattern she was familiar with. There were some hints of wood, such as the main table and cutting boards and buckets. She hoped the buckets were for water, but truthfully she hadn’t seen any sign of a bathroom yet.

Atlas wove his way through the kitchen with an air of familiarity, lightly touching one of the copper pots hanging over the table so that it clanged gently into its brethren and there was a tandem of metallic complaints.

Eden didn’t keep on his heels. Instead she wandered around the other side of the table, observing the wine shelf, the spices, the windows that were left open to their views of and moon. There were a couple huge boiler pots that looked to be recently used. Probably for making copious amounts of soup and punch for the party that Atlas still wasn’t at. She could smell… something sweet wafting from them as she went by. Obviously left to be cleaned the next day.

Strange… the scent seemed somehow familiar. Somehow unpleasant. But she couldn’t place where or why.

“Hey, catch,” Atlas said, throwing something small and shiny her way. She caught it without so much as a blink, but the sharp coldness against her palm was surprising.

Eden smiled faintly and looked at the chunk in her hand. “You have an ice box.”

“Of course.”

Of course. Like having an ice box was the most normal thing when in fact it was anything but. Nobody had an ice box. Not even the Lakehouse. Ice was too hard to keep solid when their climate was so warm.

Eden wandered over to investigate, helplessly intrigued. Atlas had the lid open, but most of the trunk seemed to be buried in the ground where it remained colder longer.

“How do you maintain this?” she asked, leaning back against the stone island behind her. It was cluttered to the corners with jars, jugs and shakers. She didn’t really know where the cooks actually cut or flayed anything.

Atlas replied as he shuffled through the ice chunks, looking for something. “It’s one of the few things I use my magic to preserve. It helps keep the fish longer… and this.”

He freed a small, transparent box from the ice and stood up with it. She peered inside almost greedily.

Chocolates.

She would have to keep this part from Rosie… or perhaps bait the Lotus into trying harder if she knew that one of these was on the line. Quite a few were missing, but Eden didn’t suppose Rose would have trouble getting to this point with him next. Not with all the information she had gathered on the king tonight. There would probably still be a few left.

Atlas cracked the lid and removed one of the small balls of chocolate. He extended it to her. “Here,” he said softly. “Thank you for being so truthful. I’m glad we met.”

Eden didn’t touch him. Just let him drop it into her palm while she stared into his eyes, searching for this ‘gladness’ he spoke of.

She saw many things buried in him, but that wasn’t one of them. He seemed all too tired to be glad. Too frustrated. Too doubtful. Too done with all of this nonsense.

“You don’t seem it,” Eden said truthfully.

A small smile in response. A softening in the nether of his eyes. “I’m disappointed that I can’t know you more.”

She immediately shook her head and looked away. “It can’t be helped.”

“I know.” He gestured to the chocolate. “Eat that. It’s going to melt.”

Figuring that this was probably the politest way say thank you for the small gift, she grasped the chocolate between two fingers and lifted it to her mouth.

Then stopped just shy of her lips.

In disbelief.

This chocolate was laced with mangradora – a minor memory loss narcotic with a strong soporific effect. She knew that smell like the back of her hand.

Why?

Because Thetan had trained her so. Because Thetan considered the loss of memory to be a loss of information, of judgement, of value. Eden clearly remembered how blurry the forefront of her twelfth year had been. That was when he decided to teach her about poisons. He slipped this drug into her food again and again, until every day was a hollow, hazy, mess. Until she learned to recognize what that gaping hole inside her mind meant. It was a space where knowledge should have been, but wasn’t.

Thetan hated failure, so Eden hated herself for not to being able to detect the drug. That hate spawned a relentless need to perfect herself.

Mangradora was child’s play now.

She took the vile treat away from her mouth, and noted how Atlas subtly straightened.

Rage. Undiluted rage flooded through her. If she had lost even just an hour of this night, Thetan’s punishment would have been unimaginable, a beating that took her to the brink of death if she was lucky. She couldn’t afford to die. Rosie needed her.

“Here is a better idea,” she hissed, backing up quickly, “Why don’t you eat this?”

She grabbed hold of the spice rack and yanked, sending the shelf and its contents crashing down on top of the king.

He roared a word that sounded suspiciously like ‘wait’ but Eden had seen and heard enough. She fled from the kitchen with all the speed and nimbleness her training had afforded her.

He just tried to wipe her memory. Why? Why bother? What had she witnessed in the last hour to deserve such a thing?

"‘We have to hurry. We don’t have a lot of time."

That’s what he had said to her. Now it made sense. A small dose of mangradora such as was present in the chocolates could only wipe up to an hour of her memory.

Had she seen something in that span of time that he didn’t want her to remember?

Too bad. She was keeping every shred of information she had gathered.

The window she had entered the palace from swung into view as she rounded the corner. There wasn’t enough time to find the actual entrance – which was likely barred anyway. She would have to go back the way she came. It was the only option.

Streamlining her run in preparation for the jump, she bolted down the hallway towards the window with all the power and focus that she could gather. Ignored the heavy footfalls coming from behind. Ignored everything except her balance and movement.

Her foot successfully found the sill and she leapt, soaring over the gap between the aerial walkway and the window and somersaulting once she hit the roof. Able to get up instantly thanks to the roll, she frantically scanned for Rosie as she ran. The buzz of the party was such a contrast to the quiet of the palace halls. For a moment she felt dizzy from it.

No. So many people. Colors. Chaos. This was so bad. Eden lifted her fingers to her mouth and let out a shrieking whistle.

Mercifully, her partner’s resounding whistle warbled back only a few seconds later. Eden did a one-eighty and followed it.

There she was – leaning against a column and mercifully alone. The moment Roselle saw Eden on the roof, she straightened and signed, “What the hell? What happened to y—”

“He’s chasing me,” Eden signed quickly. “I’m coming down.”

To hell with people seeing her. She had to escape.

“Use the table,” Roselle suggested. She pointed.

Eden obeyed, running back towards the window in order to get close to the buffet table. It would still be one hell of a drop.

Unfortunately, all the hesitation and nervous weaving she had just done allowed Atlas to catch up. He didn’t jump through the window – he soared. Like a sudden up draft just happened to catch him.

But although his jump looked effortless, his landing was all stagger. Magic couldn’t help him with his exhaustion, it seemed.

Eden pulled to a hasty halt a few feet from him.

The king straightened slowly, and managed to look menacing even with his beautiful clothing covered in paprika. When his gaze connected with hers, she saw an intensity that she could never compete with. Not quite rage – more like passion. It was the most alive she had seen him yet.

That didn’t bode well for her.

“Curiosity, if you get to know my secrets…” Atlas said while he aimed a palm at her, “then I want to know yours.”

Eden didn’t know what to expect from that outstretched hand, so she crossed her arms in front of her face. A sad attempt to protect herself.

From what turned out to be nothing more than a gentle puff of wind. Only strong enough to knock her hood down.

Eden felt like she was knocked flat on her ass. But it was too late. By the time a sharp gasp of realization left her lips, he had seen everything with clarity. Her dark hair. Her dark eyes. Her freckles, thick eyebrows and pale skin. The scars that were smattered across her cheeks and forehead.

Horror-struck, Eden lurched into a roll and promptly rolled right off the roof. She landed on the table below with a bang; vibrating food and glassware for half a second, and forcing cries of surprise from guests nearby.

Pain screamed up her legs from the impact, but Eden white-knuckled any complaints and pressed forward, hopping off the table and starting a mad dash into the crowd. But where was she supposed to go? She couldn’t expose the Lotus by going to her.

Shouts of glee roared up at her back, and even though she knew it was Atlas, she risked a glance over her shoulder. He landed in the courtyard safely by way of wind, but each morsel of magic was visibly taking its toll on him. The king faltered into a kneel and people – women mostly – immediately and excitedly began to crowd in on him.

Unfortunately, the king only had eyes for her. Again, their gazes met. Eden nearly growled and began to bulldoze through the crowd. She had to escape to keep her information safe. After an hour – even if he force-fed her mangradora – these memories would not wane. She had learned too much to lose it all now.

But what was she going to do? Exposing Rosie wasn’t an option.

Or perhaps… it was the perfect option. The grand entrance that the Lotus had wanted.

It would have to do.

Eden unsheathed a knife, and the crowd helpfully parted to reveal Rosie waiting in their midst. Tall enough that she could easily see what was going on, she gave Eden a look that clearly said ‘I’m lost’.

Even though she was burdened with her knife, Eden managed to sign to her partner. “I’m going to cut you. Be strong.”

Roselle didn’t even bat an eye. “Thetan will punish you—”

“I know.”

There was no more room for debate. Eden closed the distance to her partner in three more strides and lunged with her knife – dragging the blade’s edge skillfully along Rosie’s hip, tearing through expensive fabric and expensive skin alike.

Roselle cried out and Eden couldn’t tell if the noise was real or fake, but either way, her stomach writhed with guilt.

Her partner stumbled away and clutched at the wound with one hand, then fell dramatically to the ground and caught herself with the other. Somehow she still managed to look beautiful – managed to make her dress flare out and arrange her legs to show them off. Perfect.

Atlas pushed through the crowd then, and Eden had to do a bit of acting herself. This time she looked at him, and then back to Rosie. Like she was interrupted in an attack, like she was debating on finishing the job.

“W-Why did you do that to me?” Rosie asked, her voice wavering with the perfect amount of fright. “I… I’m feeling faint…”

The lotus pried her hand away from the wound, and Eden appraised how skillfully she managed to angle it so that Atlas could see the blood.

And there was no mistaking that he did see it, because he turned to Eden with rage beyond reason in his eyes.

Eden lifted her chin and pointed mockingly to him. “Someone has a soft heart,” she said. “I’ll be sure to remember that.”

The Loon turned to flee from him, and dashed for the courtyard gates. People all but flung themselves out of her way now, so her escape should have been easy.

It wasn’t.

“Close the gates,” Atlas roared over the crowd. “Don’t let her leave!”

Eden swore at that, hearing the telling noise of the courtyard gates creaking and then clanging shut. She adjusted course, darting to the left and towards the garden gate instead. If she absolutely had to climb it, so be it.

Bang, bang, bang. Her feet sang against the metal bars of the gate as she sprinted up it. A simple wall run was all that was necessary, and the horizontal bar that ran along the top was within reach. She latched onto it with both hands and awkwardly pulled herself up. The wickedly spiked design at the top was nothing to sneeze at. She had to be careful.

Except she had no time to be careful.

What were a few more scars?

Looking over her shoulder, she saw Atlas was still following her. He was about to break through the edge of the crowd.

Eden stood on the horizontal bar and cast one leg over the thorn bush of metal spikes, then the other, only lightly holding herself balanced with her fingers. This was it, she was almost in the clear.

But as she more firmly grasped one of the vicious spikes in order to climb down, her hand slipped without warning and she all but plummeted the rest of the way.

Managing to land gracelessly, Eden immediately knew her mistake. The spikes at the top of the gate were coated with something. Her palm was stinging within moments, but not with heat from a normal wound. No, an icy sensation was flooding through her hand.

She could barely move it.

Poison.

Shit. Could this night get any worse?

A reverberating bang sounded behind her. Eden clutched her hand into a fist and turned to look at Atlas. He was staring through the bars at her. His breaths sounded as if they were being shredded in his throat, and he was barely able to stand.

“Curiosity…” He managed to whisper. “Don’t go.”

Eden glared, and since her hood was down now, he got the full force of it. “You’ll never see me again,” she spat.

“What I did back there – I’m sorry. I had no choice.”

“You always have a choice,” Eden bit back angrily.

“No,” Atlas said, shaking his head but not breaking eye contact. “I never do.”

Not understanding, she backed away.

“Keep my secret,” Atlas pressed. “Keep it close.”

Eden didn’t have time to figure out what he was talking about. Not with the poison making its steady way through her arm. She had to return to the Lakehouse immediately.

“You better help that girl,” Eden replied, nodding back to where Rosie was. “Try not to pass out.”

She turned on her heel and bolted into the darkness of the night, but looked back once more at Atlas. Trapped behind those iron bars with the courtesans and stalkers and power-hungry predators hovering at his back, she could only think of one word to describe him.

Doomed.