She looked taken aback. “You’re ridiculous.”
He spread his hands. “It’s true.”
“That you’re ridiculous? I know.”
“That you fascinate them,” he said smoothly back.
Bel seemed curious—probably against her will. “Why?”
“Because you don’t lie to them or sugarcoat the truth. If they don’t know what’s real, how can they navigate life?” Making decisions for themselves was priceless to kids, and Bel never tried to control what they said or did.
She hmphed. “But you’ll stay with me, right?”
Dione would expect Bel to stay. No one would expect him to do a thing.
Carver lounged back in his chair again, a grin spreading across his face. “But I have so much gambling, boasting, andblathering to do up at the agora. I’ll probably be broke and tired by the time I come home, so get ready to rub my feet and hand-feed me whatever fish you’ll have lovingly prepared this afternoon.”
Her nostrils pinched. “Rottenfish.”
His grin widened. “Now remember, you’re a woman of Atlantis, which means you serve me.”
“Oh, I’ll serve you all right. I’ll serve you some of the arsenikon I’ve been saving up.”
Carver chuckled, mostly sure she was joking. “So now you’re dabbling in poison?”
“Flames bursting from my hands isn’t exactly subtle. I’m exploring other options for inflicting pain and suffering on my enemies.”
“Am I your enemy?” Carver’s tone said he teased, but something inside him tensed.
“You’re the bane of my existence.” She shoved the amulet toward him. “I’m sick of staring at these symbols. It’s your turn to stew and be clueless.”
Carver reached for the bronze disk. He’d takebane of my existenceoverenemy. After all, it was reciprocal and truly heartfelt most days. “I’ll admit to stewing. To clueless—never.”
“Then what do you make of that?” she asked.
“Probably nothing more than all the other times I’ve looked at it.” He still studied the engravings again. A thunderbolt. A trident. A helmet. The gifts from the Elder Cyclopes to Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades. Those three powerful gifts forged from primordial magic gave the brothers the advantage in the first War of Gods. They’d overthrown their Titan ancestors and established their kingdom on Mount Olympus with Zeus on the high throne.
Carver touched the empty, oblong space in the middle, hisfinger drawn to it just like Bel’s. At this point, they were certain the Shard of Olympus belonged there, but it was nowhere to be found.
“Maybe Zeus’ll finally take an active role in all this and crack your thick head open with a lightning bolt. I mean,” she paused, “with inspiration.”
“You meant with a lightning bolt,” he grumbled.
His tone made her smile. “Do you think the key—the Shard of Olympus—amplifies magic?” She leaned forward, filling the space between them with the scent of her almond-milk skin cream.
Carver leaned back, leaving the amulet on the table. “Probably. But it seems like more than that. It won’t just amplify your magic, right? It’ll unlock magic that’s been locked away in everyone else, no?”
“That seems impossible. Like something only a god can do.”
“Or someone with a god’s tool.” They both looked at the medallion again.
“Orgods.” Bel touched the symbols. “Three are represented here.”
“We need more information. I need access to Cleito. It was so much easier before.” Frustrated, Carver swiped a hand through his hair. After six months in Atlantis, it needed a trim, but he didn’t dare ask Bel. She was as likely to give him a normal haircut as she was to do something truly awful to his head.
“Before? You mean when you were a prince and had access to everything?” Her hard little smile cut across the table. “A snap of the fingers and prophecies galore.” She lifted her hand and snapped, of course.
Carver scowled. Her sarcasm always made him feel like an ass. “Prophecies might not come that easily, but Eryx is really on to something now. Rumors from the throne room yesterday sayhe’s trying to force Cleito to describe an arcane, magic-igniting ritual.”
