“How often do they come?”
He made a vague gesture in the air. “Once in a while. Maybe.”
“How often?” I wouldn’t give up.
He tilted his head with a wince. “You truly are a stubborn little thing, aren't you?”
“When I ask a question, I need an answer. It’s not my job to give up.”
“What job was that?”
“Is,” I corrected. “I still have it, and I will come back to it, I told you I would.”
He shook his head. “Small like a minnow but stubborn like a bull whale.”
“Not sure what a bull whale is in this world,” I said, “but I’ve been called stubborn more times than I can count. You still haven’t answered my question. How often do these things comeup to the surface? I mean, you’ve been alive for a hundred and twenty-one years and haven’t seen them before. That means this is the first time they have come in over a century. Is that correct?”
Without much effort on my part, my voice turned to the one I employed when questioning at work—clear and confident, with just enough pressure for the person to believe in my leniency if they cooperated.
Kye arched an eyebrow at my persistence butcooperated.
“Correct,” he said.
“Then why would it come up now? What did it want?” I frowned, remembering the voice I’d heard before the tentacles appeared.
The voice had calledme. But was it the voice of the tentacle monster? The monster didn’t talk to me when it grabbed me. The way the voice had resonated inside my head, maybe it didn’t belong to anyone at all?
Had it been just my overtired, overstimulated mind playing tricks on me?
I rubbed my forehead. My brain struggled to process everything that had happened, and I couldn't blame it. It had a lot to process in a very short time.
“Listen, my little—” Kye started, taking a step toward me, but I raised a hand, cutting him off.
“One more thing, Kye. If I’m to spend any amount of time in your company, give all those nicknames a rest, will you?”
He looked taken aback.
“What do you have against my endearments?”
“There isn’t anything endearing about them. No more ‘human’ or ‘woman,’ and definitely nothing ‘little’ please.” I grimaced.
He looked either offended or puzzled, but most likely both. “What will you have me call you then, child?”
“Ugr!” I pointed my bottle at him decisively. “Definitely not that one. I stopped being a child fifteen years ago. Besides, you calling me that would make allthis...” I pointed at his very bare groin, meaning his dick’s noticeable excitement during the dinner, “...extremely inappropriate. Just call me Maren. It’s my name.”
“Maren?” he said slowly, staring at me as if matching the name to my face and trying to decide whether the two went well together.
“Yes. Or better yet, call me Miss Blackwell, then I may even address you as ‘Your Majesty’ in turn.”
He took the bottle from me, tossed back a drink directly from it, then straightened his spine and raised his chin.
“Your Majesty is the only acceptable way to address a king,” he said haughtily, then added in a slightly softer tone of voice. “Now, let’s go back to bed. I’m tired.” He yawned openly.
I glanced back at the great hall through the glass walls. The water rippled peacefully in all its pools. The one where it had splashed out from before was also placid now.
“Are you sure more of these things won’t come?” I asked, biting my lip.
He shrugged, unconcerned. “Two visits in one night after over a century of none? Highly unlikely. That said, I don’t want you to leave the bedroom at night anymore. If you need anything, ask for it before we go to bed or wake me up.”
