by G. Bailey
“Oh, you are a pain,” she replies in a huff before walking over to dad. Killian sidles up to me and slides his arm around my waist, a gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed by everyone else in the room - especially Seth, who looks like he’s just had a bucket of cold water dumped over his head.
His shoulders stiffen and he sets his jaw before coldly saying, “We shouldn’t be late to dinner.” Without another word, he turns on his heel and storms off in the direction of the front door, pulling it open and stalking out of the apartment. I glance at Killian, who shrugs his shoulders, and then over at Mum and Dad, who have been watching the whole exchange.
“Young love, hey?” I hear dad whisper to mum as we awkwardly follow them out of the apartment. I would be lying if I said it wasn’t a little embarrassing to have this emotional drama playing out right in front of my family, but there’s no avoiding it, it seems; better to just run with it and deal with my parents’ reactions later.
Killian’s arm remains around my waist as he shuts the door behind us, leaving us to navigate the winding corridors of the palace. It’s eerily silent in the towering halls - even more so than usual, it seems. No doubt the higher gods are reeling from the aftermath of my survival of the maze; I’m guessing they weren’t expecting me to succeed - or at the very least, not expecting Mads to survive. I feel a little surge of satisfaction knowing that I proved them wrong, but the game isn’t over yet. That was just one battle, and there are plenty more ahead before I can say I won the war.
None of us speaks as we head down the hall and into the flourishing courtyard before crossing over to the massive doors leading to the other side of the palace. Was it intentional that Xur put us as far away from them as possible? Probably. The guy’s pettiness knows no bounds.
We stop in front of the doors, waiting as two golden armour-clad guards pull them open to let us in. We find ourselves in a small entrance hall, with a winding set of stairs descending into the bowels of the palace. Honestly, I have no idea how anyone manages to keep all the rooms in this place straight.
Mum and Dad go first, which is for the best; I don’t want them to see how difficult it is for me to go down the stairs. Killian keeps his arm firmly around my waist, doing his best to support me as we make our slow way down, but that doesn’t make it much easier. It feels like every step is a complete mission and a half, sending a jolt of pain up my side and into my shoulder with every movement. It takes us a few painful minutes to make it all the way down, and I have to grit my teeth in determination. The pain in my ribs is the worst - Mum’s elixir must be wearing off by now, and I’m still not far enough along in the healing process, it seems.
“I can see you’re in pain,” Killian whispers in my ear. You’re not very good at hiding it.”
I shoot him a warning look as I take another slow step downward. “Shh, mum will only freak out if she hears you,” I remind him, eyeing my mum ahead of us on the stairs. If she’s noticed my situation, she hasn’t given any indication, which is just as well.
“Your mum isn’t the only one who worries about you,” Killian reminds me, and I pause to give him a long look, letting out a sigh before resuming my descent. The problem with love, I’m realising, is that the worry goes both ways.
I’m damn near out of breath by the time we get to the bottom step, and I have to sag against Killian for a moment, resting my head on his arm as I recover from the trauma of going down the stairs. I make sure to keep my game face on when I straighten up, though - as best I can, anyway - and force myself to hold my head high as we walk into the dining hall right behind my parents.
It seems the gods have relocated downstairs for their meals, after their little altercation with my folks that Mads told me about. Either that, or they knew that going down the stairs would be painful, and they deliberately had dinner served here tonight as a way of torturing me. Even still, one thing is clear: this isn’t nearly as nice of a dining room as the one upstairs. It’s gigantic, but instead of frescos on the walls, they are covered with ominous black paint and blood red trim. In the middle of the room stretches a fourteen seat wooden table, complete with wooden chairs that don’t look at all comfy. There are no windows in the room; instead, a large fireplace towers in the back, flanked by two tall statues of stars - one in each corner. The one on the left is black, and the one on the right is red - it seems they’ve changed the color scheme down here to something more appropriate for an evil lair - and they almost seem to give off a little glow.
The table is nearly full already by the time we arrive: on one side, I can see Storm, Peyton, Hugo, Damien, and Mads sitting side by side. On the other, the higher gods sit stiff and straight in their seats, their ethereal presence setting off a strange contrast between them and their “guests”. I stop dead in my tracks when I see that there is an empty seat between Xur and Eenta, setting my jaw and meeting Xur’s gaze. He gives me a monstrous grin before shifting his eyes to the other side and getting to his feet.
“I saved a seat for you, little niece,” Xur says.
“Thanks,” I reply defiantly, “but I think I’ll pass.”
Xur’s expression goes dark, and his eyes feel like they’re burning holes in me. “That wasn’t a request, niece,” he says coldly.
I look once over at Killian, who gives me a grim nod before following me over to the seat. Not bothering to disguise my hatred, I drop onto the chair, wincing a little at the pain in my side but still refusing to make eye contact with Xur. For his part, Killian chooses the seat on the other side of Xur, no doubt wanting to be as close to me as he can. I’m right opposite Storm, who looks less than impressed with everything. His galaxy-like eyes are burning with barely-contained anger, and I can see he’s struggling to control his temper.
Xur sniffs before turning to me as if none of the others are even here. “Congratulations on winning the first game. I was very impressed and proud,” he tells me, although there’s a hint of disdain in his voice.
“Enough to let us go free?” I ask. Fat chance of that happening, but it’s worth a shot.
The corner of Xur’s mouth twitches in a condescending smile. “You already know the answer to that question,” he is quick to reply. Well, I guess I wasn’t expecting anything less.
“Arsehole,” I mutter, turning away from him, and I’m startled when he grabs my hand in a sudden movement. He pins it to the table with a strength I wouldn’t have expected from him, putting enough pressure on it that it’s uncomfortable - bordering on painful.
“Niece,” he says, sounding like he’s struggling not to lose his cool, “we want to get to know you. Can’t we talk nicely for one meal?” I hate how he’s speaking to me, like I’m a little kid who’s acting up in a store instead of a hostage who’s being forced to risk her own life. Still, I realise I have no choice, and give him a pacified nod without meeting his eyes. Seemingly satisfied, Xur lets go of my hand, and at that moment Storm slams his fist onto the table, glaring at Xur like he would love nothing more than to chop him up into little pieces and serve him for dinner. I meet his eyes and give a subtle shake of my head - the last thing I want is his temper getting him killed.
“Honestly, though,” I say, slowly turning to face Xur, “there’s no way you’re going to get me to take your side, here. I know what you three are, and I don’t want anything to do with you lot - you have to know that by now.” I might as well start off with the truth.
“Come now,” Eenta croons, her overly-sweet voice grating on my ears, “we once made a terrible mistake. Surely that’s not enough for us to deserve-”
“And yet you aren’t apologising to Storm, who you wronged,” I snap, rounding on her, my anger suddenly threatening to bubble over. “You're Not apologising for Neritous, either. Do I need to remind you that he killed my mother and most of my family? He would have killed me too, if he’d had the chance. That isn’t what good people would feckin’ do.” I can feel my hands clenching into fists under the table.
“Karma,” Xur begins
warningly, but I don’t listen to him.
“You guys are nothing but gobshites who assume a meal could fix all of the past when it can’t,” I tell them. For a moment there is nothing but silence in the room - you could hear a pin drop. I never thought I’d ever be the party killer, but here we frickin’ are.
Eenta and Xur exchange a glance before she meets Storm’s eyes. “Fine,” she says sweetly, though her hands are clenched into tight fists. “We are sorry for locking you up, Storm.” Although her voice retains its childlike tone, I can see that she’s tense - for once, maybe the sweet appearance is cracking. It’s funny to see.
Storm leans forward in his seat, addressing Eenta with an edge of pleading to his voice. “Let Karma go, and there is a tiny chance of fixing things between us, Eenta. You followed your brothers and sister, but you were never the leader. That was Neritous. Xur and Gestune loved the pain, but I saw you didn’t. I know there is something good in your heart, but there is no chance if you follow them.” His expression is earnest, which surprises me because I wasn’t expecting it. I can see in his gaze that he isn’t expecting her to agree, but he can’t help but try anyway.
“She loved you, and you rejected her,” Xur says before Eenta can say a word. I glance at her, stunned when I see how she is looking at Storm. There’s vulnerability in her expression - longing, regret... and something more. Maybe she didn’t just love the man that brought her up, I realise with a start as I watch her stare him down. Maybe she wanted more than that.
“I love you all as my family. Nothing more,” Storm is clear to say.
“Not like you love little Karma, I take it,” Eenta coldly says, placing her hand on mine, and I pull it away. “I didn’t know you liked redheads. I could have changed my hair a long time ago if you wished it.”
“You never loved me, Eenta. It was teenage affection gone wrong,” Storm growls at her, but he keeps his eyes on me. Watching my reaction, because I can see I’m all he really cares about in this room. I’ve known it since the moment he came for me.
“Are we ever going to eat?” Seth coldly asks, interrupting the argument.
“Of course!” Xur says and picks up his glass. He taps a spoon against the side, making a ringing noise. The doors soon open with waiters carrying in plates of food. The waiters pour us glasses of sparkling champagne, I would guess. No matter how nice the roast dinner they have served us looks, sitting with the higher gods, having a family argument, has well and truly put me off my food.
“What is that dirty animal doing in here!” Xur shouts as Michael runs head first into the room. In one jump, he leaps onto the table, crashing into the food and skidding all the way until he is in front of me. I can’t help but laugh as mum tries to drag him off the table, a few carrots and peas dropping out of his mouth.
“This is Michael. He is part of our family, and he isn’t dirty one bit. You did invite everyone,” I sweetly tell Xur, crossing my arms as he pushes his chair out.
“This is ridiculous. What kind of animals are you all to let him do that?!” Xur growls, pushing his chair back.
“Didn’t you just say we are family. A family usually isn’t all roses and sunshine, Xur. Sometimes it’s a food-crazy, talking goat and a niece that hates you,” I reply to him. He doesn’t answer me, storming out of the room with Eenta and Gestune following after him.
“Does it help that I really like your family?” Killian asks as I pat Michael’s head. All my family, including Mads, Seth and Storm are laughing and smiling at this point.
“I think they all really like you, too,” I reply to Killian, which is the closest I can get to admitting my current feelings for him. It’s enough to make Killian grin, and that smile is worth the world.
13
“Mrs. Kismet, I have to say, you make the best breakfast,” Storm declares, leaning back to assess the demolished remains of the bacon, egg, and sausage breakfast my mum gave him. For all her flightiness, Mum takes visitors - invited or otherwise - very seriously, to the point where not providing food for any newcomers to her home is practically sacrilege. Never mind the fact that this is an apartment in a castle on an island in the middle of nowhere - she wasn’t about to see him go hungry… especially, I would suspect, after the way she’s seen him looking at me.
I ended up padding into the common area later than normal, utterly exhausted from yesterday’s game. It had been a hell of a task getting out of bed this morning - not because my injuries still hurt (on the contrary, overnight the pain seemed to fade to nothing more than a few muscle aches), but because I was mentally drained. But nothing - not even broken bones - was going to keep Karma Kismet away from food for long, and the smell of breakfast eventually lured me into the kitchen.
Mads said Seth bought Mum a few bags of shopping to cook with so we wouldn’t have to have another awkward meal with the higher gods, which suits me just fine; the less I see of those feckers, the better. If Seth wasn’t able to find a shop in the settlements around the island, he must have teleported back to the mainland to get the groceries, something I envy him a little: if I could transport myself as far away from here as possible, I would do it in a heartbeat. But even Seth is aware that there’s no escaping our situation with portals; even if the twins did manage to hold one open long enough to get everyone through without being noticed by the guards, the higher gods would track us down. I’ve become their obsession, it seems, and I’m not naive enough to think they won’t turn the world upside down in order to find me if I try to escape. There’s only one way out of here, and that’s by playing by their rules - whether I like it or not.
Interestingly enough, there doesn’t seem to be a second game today. At least, that’s what we can assume, as the island has been quiet - almost eerily so - since dawn. We haven’t seen hide nor hair of Xur and the others since last night’s dinner fiasco, which suits me just fine - gods know I need a chance to recover after the maze game. The idea that there are several more equally-dangerous tasks ahead of me isn’t lost on me, and I don’t like to think about what they have in store for me next. It feels like a pall of nervous anticipation has fallen over the apartment, and everyone is waiting with bated breath for whatever supernatural temper tantrum Xur decides to throw this time. Still, even a few hours of respite in the morning is something to be cherished.
“A growing man like you needs a good breakfast,” Mum replies, sweeping over to the table to clear away Storm’s dishes before he can even move to help her. She turns to me, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. “Did you not cook for him in the prison, Karma?” Her voice is half-scolding and half-teasing. “You cannot let your boyfriend starve.”
I cough, nearly choking on the bacon in my mouth. Mads pounds me on the back a couple of times as I take a swig of orange juice before finally managing to get a hold of myself. As much as I appreciate Mum’s efforts - and her seeming approval of him - hearing the word “boyfriend” in relation to Storm catches me off guard. It makes it sound like we have the most normal relationship in the world, like we’re not victims of circumstance who found each other… and like I don’t also have two other potential suitors living in the same space.
Mum is smiling coyly, her eyebrow cocked as I take another sip of my juice. She’s friggin’ messing with me for her own amusement, I realise with a start, shooting her a glare from across the table. I should have know this food would come with a big feckin’ price.
“You’ve seen my cooking, Mum,” I tell her flatly. “Would you want me serving that to my… to Storm?”
Mum laughs. “Peanut butter and toast is about all you can manage, that’s true.”
“Actually,” Storm interjects, wiping his lips with a napkin and leaning forward in his seat, I love to cook. “It’s relaxing - and a useful hobby to develop when you’re trapped inside for hundreds of years. Karma didn’t have to cook often when we were in there.” He hesitates for a moment before giving Mum a beaming smile. “We never did have meat often in the prison, so this meal is special to me.
Thank you, Mrs. Kismet.” The sincerity in his voice is almost too much for me, and I can see that he’s charming the daylights out of my mum. At this rate, she will be declaring him her fourth son before we even make it off this island.
Mum nods approvingly. “Storm, you are always welcome here for a meal,” she practically sighs.
Easy, Mum, I think at her dryly. If you break out the adoption papers now, you won’t be able to have him as a son-in-law. The thought catches me off-guard, making me blush a little, but I do my best to pay it no mind - Storm certainly knows how to charm the Kismet women… and every other woman on earth, it seems. For a moment, my mind reluctantly returns to his interaction with Eenta over dinner last night: the regret on both their faces, the hint of jealousy under her honey-sweet exterior… but then I remember the way he looked at me, like I was his entire universe, and that’s enough to quell the uneasiness in my stomach.
Storm suddenly slides out of his seat, stretching before coming to stand beside me as I pass Mum my empty plate. Putting his hand on my shoulder, he says, “I want to take you somewhere,” and there’s just enough romance in his voice to leave me intrigued. I follow his lead, standing up and pushing my seat in as I give him a quizzical look.
“What did you have in mind?” I ask, putting a hand on my waist and tilting my head to one side.
“It’s a surprise,” Storm replies, and there’s a gleam in his eyes that makes my stomach do a flip-flop. I remain silent as he extends his hand to me, no doubt knowing I won’t say no to a surprise. I slide my hand into his, and he smirks at me before turning back to my mum. She is watching us with a knowing look on her face, one that would irk me a little if I wasn’t so keen on going with Storm.
“Have a good day, you two,” she says, crossing her arms as she holds a tea towel. She has the nerve to wink at me before turning away, and Storm lets out a heady chuckle when he sees my offended reaction.