When Eden came to consciousness, everything was unbearably bright. Near-white light stabbed through the cracks of her eyelids, effectively disorienting her. It was strange to wake up to so much sunlight. Her room at the Lakehouse only had a window that let in the setting sun’s glow, so this was just plain confusing.

Peeling her eyes open further did not help to clarify much. She did not recognize the room. The bed. The ceiling. The floor—

Wait. Marble.

The palace.

Atlas.

Eden sprang up, but her left arm jolted her to a halt. Wide eyed, she looked over to her wrist.

She was handcuffed to the head of the bed.

Somehow, Atlas’s audacity didn’t immediately register. She just stared at the restraint in pure disbelief, rotating her wrist slowly and listening to the metal clink cheerfully, as if to say ‘good morning'.

‘How… How dare he!?’ Was Eden’s first rational thought. She surged onto her stomach, batting the pillows aside and yanking at the cuff that was clipped around the decorative wooden bedpost. The stake was too thick though – and what was more – after only a moment of struggle she realized something else.

She was not wearing her cloak. She was not wearing anything she recognized. No, just a simple white sleeping gown that bared her arms and legs and face to the world.

The realization sent her into a full-blown rage. What had he done with her cloak? What had he done to her while she slept?

As if to prove to his treachery, she twisted her torso – searching for the slightest twinge of pain. But there was none. No ache in her chest or soreness between her legs. Even the tiny stinging cuts from the glass she had rolled through were gone. If anything, she felt better than usual.

The thought only made her angrier.

Deciding she wasn’t going to stay in the palace one second longer, she looked around the room for something heavy to bash against the handcuff chain. The room was so sparsely decorated though that she immediately dismissed the idea. There was an armoire, a table with chairs, a rug; nothing of immediate help and all of it position too far away for her to reach anyway. Maybe he had done that on purpose.

Eden inspected the metal cuff around her wrist. It was clasped on fairly tight, but a bit of lubricant might allow her to squirm free.

Already knowing that there were no oil lamps in the room to abuse, she sank her teeth into her wrist just above the cuff, not even feeling the pain as adrenaline spurred her escape. She bent and tensed her wrist, willing more blood to seep beneath her binds. Already, it felt marginally looser.

A quiet knock had her freezing in place. Her first reaction was to look towards the door, but it was still closed. When she looked towards the window, she was more than surprised and less than pleased at who she saw.

Through the glass doors and crouching on the balcony was one of the twins, the morning air ruffling his platinum blond hair. The moment he signed to her, she could deduce which one the two boys it was.

“Do you need assistance?” Calm asked, lowering his arms between his knees. The pose always struck Eden as very cat-like.

Though she only really had one hand, she managed to sign back somewhat coherently. “Why here?”

“Thetan sent me. Do you need assistance?”

Though her situation really suggested otherwise, the thought of another member having to step in again was unbearable. “No. Under control,” she lied.

Less abrasive than his brother, Saisal simply tilted his head to the left. He always seemed to tilt it a little too far, like he was trying to find sense in her answer by looking at her from a different angle.

“Are you sure? Thetan was concerned when you didn’t come home last night. What should I tell him?”

This was why she preferred Saisal to Keon. Calm was gentler – willing to hear out her answer before tattling. Once, she had heard him flat out lie to Thetan on Rose’s behalf, knowing full well that to lie to Thetan risked the most severe of punishments. Eden couldn’t recall what the fib had been about, but Thetan never found out. Eden never forgot the gesture.

“Tell him I fine,” Eden signed, wincing at her patchwork sentences. “Tell him king attacked last night—I fight. Protect him. Protect mission target. Soon return Lakehouse with report—”

A strange rattling from the door had her quickly signing something very different. “Someone come! Go!”

Not needing to be told twice, he swung down from the balcony and out of view.

The door to her prison opened, and in stepped Atlas carrying what appeared to be trays of food. When he saw her he actually had the nerve to smile a little, until he noticed the gash on her wrist and his gaze became more serious.

Kicking the door shut with his heel, he wandered over to the table in the corner and placed the trays down with a small sigh. Then he turned to her and asked, “What are you doing?”

Eden said nothing, and decided from that point on that that was how it was going to stay.

Atlas pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and sat down, looking her over intently. She looked back with as much venom as she could muster up – which was a lot – but Atlas… he looked extremely unwell. The morning light did his face no favors. The bags really were almost purple, and his cheeks were horribly gaunt. Sick. Deathly.

Seemingly noticing her outrage, he reached back to grab a tray of food and carefully placed it on the bed before her. “Are you hungry?”

She was extremely hungry, and stared at the tempting food for many moments. She didn’t eat much before missions of this caliber in case she had to run or was forced into doing or seeing something unpleasant that might make her stomach turn.

And though there was nothing visually unpleasant surrounding her, her stomach still did an odd flip. The soup was steaming hot and she smelled something unmistakable wafting towards her. Brambellberry. Poison.

Her foot shot out along the silk of the bed sheet, kicking the tray away. The clay bowl full of soup shattered loudly on the floor beyond the end of the bed, the tiny loaf of bread slid under the armoire and disappeared, the glass full of water sloshed partially onto the sheet and partially onto Atlas’s pants.

He stared at her with an amused expression before shrugging and collecting his own tray into his lap. “Suit yourself, Freckles. You can lead a horse to water…” he murmured, trailing off.

Eden stared at him in hatred as he ripped off a piece of his bun and dipped it in the soup. When he brought it to his mouth, her eyes were widening.

Wait. Why? Why could she still smell it – the brambellberry? Did he – Brontide, was it in his soup too? That didn’t make any sense! Why would he try to poison her, and then eat the poison himself?

Eden scooted forward and brought her leg up, only to slam her bare heel down on the edge of his tray. It bonged noisily, flipping off his lap and throwing the contents with it, the food scattering across the floor at his feet.

Atlas blinked slowly, obviously trying to process how to react. His elbows fell onto his knees, the piece of dipped bread still clamped between his fingers. “Don’t you think you’re being a little overdramatic?”

Eden stared into his face, sensing no lie, seeing no enmity towards her. He didn’t know.

He didn’t know.

She licked her lips and said, “It’s poisoned.”

A smile tugged at his lips. His eyes flicked to the left and back to her. He thought she was joking.

“I’m dead serious,” Eden pressed angrily.

The smile remained, but his brow furrowed as confusion set in. “I promise it’s not. Despite how your morning must have looked, I don’t want to hurt you—”

“No! Yours is also poisoned!”

He jerked back, the smile disappearing. “What?”

“I can smell it,” Eden explained. “Can’t you?”

Atlas looked down at the soup splashed at his feet. “I can’t smell anything. It smells as it usually does.”

Eden’s mouth fell open. “As it usually does? How long have you been eating the food here?”

“Since I’ve lived in the palace – a long time. You’ve got to be mistaken—”

“I’m not,” Eden said with finality. “I smelled this before when we were in the kitchen—”

“Mangradora barely has any smell—”

“It’s not mangradora. It’s brambellberry. There was some in a pot in your kitchen.”

He leaned heavily back in his chair, staring at her. Eden took a second to reach out as far as she could, and batted the bread from his fingertips.

“Can’t you tell how sweet it smells? How sweet it tastes?” she asked.

He flipped his palm up from the arm chair, trying to explain himself. “I like sweet things.”

Despite the almost impatient way he said it, Eden was glad he did. She abruptly understood how he had been unknowingly ingesting the poison for so long.

“You are being poisoned,” the Loon said. “You are slowly being murdered. Do you understand that?”

“Then why haven’t I died yet?” Atlas inquired heatedly. “If I’ve been eating this poison for so long, why haven’t I been put in the ground—” He froze mid-sentence, staring at her. She stared back, perplexed.

Atlas stood, apparently not knowing how else to react. “My magic. My magic has been sustaining me.”

“Is that possible?” Eden asked.

“It is. That must be why I feel so drained. All this time my power has been fighting to cure me, to heal me. I never have energy left for anything else. Last night—” He leaned down onto the bed, resting his hands in front of her, “I would have been a goner if it weren’t for you. I was exhausted. I didn’t even know if I’d wake up after healing your wounds.”

“You should not have done that,” Eden reprimanded. “You should save your strength.”

“My thinking was that if I was going to die, I should use my remaining strength for something important.” His eyes softened. “You seemed important.”

“I can look after myself,” she insisted. “A few broken ribs would not have killed me.”

Atlas turned to sit on the edge of the bed. “It was more severe than that. Any more impromptu movements and you would have punctured a lung. The fact that you passed out is a testament to your injury. I know it must have been extremely painful, so I apologize. I tried to rip the bandage off quickly… so to speak.”

“Okay,” she said, unsure, before forcing out, “Thanks I guess.”

“No, it’s I who should be thanking you. You’ve saved me twice in the span of twelve hours.”

“You’re not saved yet,” Eden explained pointedly. “If you’ve been eating this food for so long, you’re no doubt conditioned to the taste. You need real food.”

“What do you suggest?” Atlas asked, leaning back onto his hand. “I can’t go out into the city without being… noticed,” he finished the statement with a barely concealed wince.

“Just take me to the kitchen,” Eden said briskly. “I will deal with it.”

There was a momentary pause. “But if I unchain you, you could run off whenever you like.”

She stared at him, confused. “Yeah, so? What does that matter to you?”

He smiled, and looked sincerely pleased, like her answer was somehow funny.

“What?” she asked, irritated.

“Nothing really,” he said, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a small key. “It’s just that I’ve said similar things to women before.” He leaned over her to insert the key into the cuffs. Eden flattened herself onto the mattress below him, glaring hard. “In positions not unlike how we are now, and yet you ask,” there was a click and her hand came free, “like you couldn’t care less about my answer.”

“I’m not here to bait you into liking me,” Eden said with a frown. “I explained this already. And I don’t care to know what nonsense you whisper in the ears of your women or what games you play at night, so you can save all that. I’m here for one thing and one thing only – to see you choose someone suitable enough to help wield your power.”

“You could be waiting a while,” Atlas remarked, pushing himself back. “I am pickier than most.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Eden grumbled. “But enough about that. I want my clothes – my cloak. I’m not leaving without it.”

Atlas crossed his arms, and didn’t give her much space as she stood up from the bed. She got the feeling that he was expecting her to bolt away, and was positioning himself to prevent it. “Your clothes were covered in blood. I had the servants wash them, and now they’re hanging out to dry. I’ll return them to you later.”

“Did you undress me yourself?”

Bewildered, there was actual offense in his tone when he said, “Of course not! Who do you think I am, to strip a woman while she’s helpless?”

Eden looked away nonchalantly, but was inwardly relieved. “You are the sum of the rumors that dovetail you, Majesty. It’s the affliction of your crown, but it’s been the most recent years that have tarnished your reputation the most. In the streets they call you Miracle-monger, whore, drunkard, the hermit king. You’ve been selfish with your magic...”

She looked at him and saw a deep-set grief in his eyes.

“And now I understand why,” Eden offered quietly, before she could think better of it. His gaze shot up to latch onto hers, his desperation clear.

“You are dying in every sense of the word. Whether it’s being attacked at night, or while you eat or by your reputation… your struggles are clear and your choices even more so. Your magic has gotten you this far, but without proper protection, your health will continue to decline. I can’t have that. It puts my own goals in jeopardy, you see.”

There was a moment of silence. She could feel him assessing her.

“I will see you through this mess,” Eden promised. “In exchange, once you are better, you will actually court these women. Perhaps get to know a few before you cast them aside like chattel. You will give them a fair chance.”

That was the best groundwork she could lay down for Rose in this predicament.

“Well I can’t refuse that,” Atlas replied. A little bit of mirth returned to his eyes. “I will do my best.”

“Good, I’m glad that is settled.” She looked to the door. “Please bring me something to cover myself. Anything will do at this point.”

“I think the bed gown becomes you, Freckles.”

Eden didn’t react to what she supposed could only be sarcasm. Instead, she sat down on the edge of the bed and rested her hands on her knees. “I will wait here until you return. Then we will begin to unravel the nature of your decline.”

“You don’t waste one second, do you?”

“Never. Even seconds are precious.”

As Atlas let himself out into the hall, she heard him laugh gently. “I couldn’t agree more.”