Page 16 of The Puppeteer and the Poisoned Pawn

“Have you ever had bourbon?” he asks, angling the tray to sit by itself across the tub.

“I don’t think so.”But there’s no time like the present!

“Good.” He reaches his hand over to me. “Eat this before we start.” A chunk of hot sourdough bread with a clump of butter on top.

“Mmm,” I hum, taking a large bite.

He takes a long seven gulps of the bottle, then sets it on the tray with a sigh. I watch his movements like a child looking at the sky for the first time. His expression is relaxed yet subtly amused by my presence. It’s like he’s patiently awaiting what I’ll say or do next. Like I’m a rare species that he gets to observe for the day. But it’s also the way his elbows hang over the edge, the way he blinks slowly. Aquarus doesn’t believe he is human. No, his body language screams deity. It blasts an energy of almightiness. A carelessness for any threat that might linger. Because, currently, he’s a king sitting on a throne, studying me.

“What is it like?” he finally asks, unblinking.

I arch an eyebrow at him. My mouth is full. So full. Stuffed with buttery, warm, breaded goodness.

“Living in this contradicting world of rules and death and male superiority complexes,” he clarifies.

I chew faster so I can answer. “Good. Fine. I mean, I often wish to be caught under an avalanche or accidentally trampled by a stampede. But other than that, pretty swell.”

The corner of his mouth ticks up. It’s the only cue that he has a sense of humor.

“I’d take you back with me if I could.”

“To the inner world?”

Aquarus moves his head down a centimeter as an answer.

“You’d let me come live with you?” I ask with a tickle of warmth spreading across my chest.

“I am isolated there mostly. But I would enjoy your company in the sea.”

I try not to smile. “I could live on a boat.”

“You do have the hair of a siren.”

My father did always say I had mermaid waves in my hair.

With one finger, he pushes the bottle of bourbon my way. I finish another piece of bread, then bring the bottle to my lips. I take two big gulps, then hiss at the burn clawing its way down my throat.

“Yummy,” I lie.

“You’ll get used to it.” He takes the bottle back, sipping it this time.

I watch the milky water saturating his shirt, glancing over the part of his chest that isn’t covered. “Do you like fronting? Being in this world?”

“Not particularly. The only times I do are when sadistic little humans are trying to drown me.” He looks away, blinking slowly, like even mentioning them isn’t worth his breath.

“So, finding me asleep in the bathtub was a better alternative?”

His dark, dilated eyes slide back to me slowly. “It was.”

I smile, taking another swig from the bottle.

We talk about his version of the inner world. How he rarely sees any of the other alters, if ever. Although, there was that one time he saw Greystone enthusiastically waving at him from the shoreline. Besides that, he’s spent much time alone, listening to the ocean’s waves, feeling the cool water seep into his skin. He has no memories of loving anyone or being loved at all.

“Dessin’s going to be mad at you for getting me drink,” I say, my face warm and numb. “Drunk, I mean.”

Aquarus seems to smile with his eyes. “He isn’t mad. But I am rather annoyed with the constant heaviness of guilt and stress pouring off of him and close to me at the moment.”

“You can feel him?”

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