“Here,” Maya rose and pulled at it. The bow came undone and the strings fell to the side. Maya watched his hand, noticing that it looked a bit deformed, although she didn’t get a good look at it.
“Thanks,” Apollo said, pulling the neck of the apron over his head. Then he grabbed another mug from the counter and sat across from her. It had the same heart-shaped drizzle of chocolate syrup atop the whipped cream. “Go ahead and eat. It should be easier to talk when your body isn’t starving for nutrition.”
Maya picked up her fork, finally allowing herself to really enjoy the smell of a hot breakfast. She shoved her fork into some of the egg, then before taking a bite, she murmured, “Thank you, Mr. Blond. I really appreciate it.”
“It’s my pleasure, Maya.”
They ate in silence, although Maya could feel him watching her periodically, as if gauging his next move. Feeling a little uncomfortable with his gaze, she finally looked upat him. “Could you please not watch me eat? It makes me uncomfortable.”
“I apologize,” he looked down. “I was just … never mind.”
Maya frowned. “No, please finish that thought. You just what?”
“You aren’t affected by the island like the rest of us.”
“I’m stuck here, just like everyone else.”
“Yes, but you can swear.”
Maya paused and considered this. “Yes. And you should be able to as well.” Even as she said it, Cosmo’s words came to mind. At the time, she had thought he was messing with her, throwing in random words to confuse her.
“No, Maya, we can’t. And again, I am reminded of Sasha, the only other person I know who was able to curse when she was here.”
Maya looked down. “You already know that we are related.”
“No, Maya, I didn’t know that.”
Maya looked up, her memory going back over their earliest interactions. “But … you know I’m a member of the royal family.”
“Yes,” he nodded. “The purple in your eyes is a dead giveaway that you have family ties.”
Picking up a cinnamon roll, she peeled a small piece off at the end. “Did you make these from scratch?”
“Yes,” Apollo said, pushing his plate away from him. “All of the supplies were here when I looked, so I figured it would give my hands something to do while my mind worked through a few things.”
Maya was tempted to ask him about his thoughts, but she wasn’t sure that was a good idea. Instead, she looked at him and asked, “Was it hard with your hand in that state?”
She pulled another part of the cinnamon roll off and put it in her mouth. To her surprise, Apollo didn’t seem offended or upset about the question. “I’ve learned to work around it. In some ways, it can actually be rather beneficial since my hand can move in ways that most hands can’t.”
Maya stared at his hand, more questions arising. “Does it hurt?”
“Not most of the time.”
“When does it hurt?”
“As the humans say, it’s a good indicator of a storm brewing.”
“So … you were injured, and now it somehow helps you predict the weather?”
He smiled and put his hand flat on the table, or as flat as it could go. Some of the bones clearly were not in the places they should have been. “No, I can’t predict the weather. Just certain shifts in the air hurt it more, so I can feel what is already happening, just not to the naked eye. And that’s usually the indicator of bad weather, like storms.”
Maya stared at it, the cinnamon roll forgotten in her hands, which hovered over her plate. “What happened?”
He sighed, pulling his hand back. “I’ll make a deal with you.”
Maya looked up at him. “I’ve already agreed to get you off the island.”
He smiled, the sides of his eyes wrinkling a little. “For every personal question I answer, I want a personal answer about your past.”
