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Except it doesn’t look like a palace—at first glance, there’s nothing particularly interesting about this building. From the outside, it looks a bit like a high school auditorium, long and boring except for the sleek chrome exterior reflecting the sunlight. The windows are tinted, so I can’t see inside, but my gaze flits between each corner until I find long, spindly columns flanking the building itself. Colorful ivies wrap around the layered columns, fronds and flowers creating layers of moss and foliage over the metallic paint.
It’s not particularly pretty, but it does remind me of one thing.
This city is post-industrial as fuck, and the only people who can afford nature are royalty. And I have to pretend to be one of them.
The hovercar stops short of the main entrance, next to the column closest to us. It lowers slowly, landing with a soft, barely perceptible thud on the paved drive as the systems wind down with a metallic hum.
Keon regards me up and down with a smile as I fidget nervously in my seat.
“You need to change, sweet thing” he says.
I blink. “What?” I ask, my hands sweating. I chose this outfit carefully, and yeah, I might be soaked, but I want to make a good impression. I don’t want Atlas en’Ganivet to think that I don’t care about meeting him.
Because to him, and to his people, I’m the future queen. This is a very strategically chosen outfit. I can’t just…
“I have a dress ready for you,” Keon says. “More Atlas’ style than mine, I’m sorry to say, but it will show off your beauty, and be more appropriate for the occasion.”
“I’m not changing my outfit because you picked something out for me.”
“That’s fine,” he says. “But you should know, everyone there will be able to scent you, including Atlas. And we can all clearly see the wet patch on your jumpsuit. Although I guess if you’re feeling a bit like showing off, that might be the best approach.”
“You said no one would care,” I say.
He laughs. “Maybe I lied.”
“Is Atlas going to be more upset at the prospect of me already turned on, or by me wearing a dress you bought for me?” I ask.
“Hm…” Keon hums. “That’s the question, isn’t it? Do you want to find out?”
We stare across the hovercar at each other, and I get the distinct impression that he’s getting the measure of me as I do the same. I don’t know if this means he wants to help me or hurt me; what Idoknow is that he’s interested in me. If I can use Keon’s sex drive against him, I’ll be all the better for it, and I might ultimately be able to use him to get rid of Atlas. As far as Atlas knows, nothing happened between us—maybe I’m just already wet for my future husband .
On the other hand, I might be able to make Atlas jealous if I come in with Keon on my arm, wearing what he’s picked out for me. According to what intelligence I have, Atlas and Keon aren’t on the best of terms, and the Diavolos want Keon in charge of the Ganivets. Pitting them against each other is an option; maybe I can get Keon in on the plan, if he has any interest in taking the throne.
“Better decide, sweet thing,” he says. “Party starts in an hour.”
“You didn’t exactly give me a lot of time, huh?” I ask.
“Atlas is the methodical one.” Keon shrugs, inspecting his nails. “What can I say? I’m impulsive.”
That doesn’t mean he won’t make a good ally.
“Fine,” I say. “Dress me up. I’m all yours.”
As soon as I say the words, the door opens to my right and a short set of stairs descends from the hovercar. Keon crosses the car and steps out, and I follow—only to be accosted by the flashing of bright lights.
There are paparazzieverywhere.
I’ve never been photographed like this, except for when someone from my lacrosse team got married three years ago. And that was nothing like this. Alien photographers snap pictures of me from the left and right, some crouched and some standing on the rooftop. Fuck–they’re all going to see me stepping out of this car with my thighs clenched together and Keon holding me up by the arm. He lowers a pair of sunglasses over his eyes, his skin reflecting in the flash of the cameras.
“And there are cameras,” I growl, plastering a smile on my face.
“There are always cameras where I’m involved, Penelope,” he says. “Atlas, too—get used to it. You have to realize your arrival would be quite the event.”
I didn’t. Now, I do. “I figured I would at least get to meet him before I start getting paraded around like a prize,” I say.
“Like a prize?” Keon scoffs. “Youarea prize, and Atlas will see you as nothing else. Now let’s get out of the line of sight; I don’t want them seeing you all flushed and flustered from what I just did to you in the car.”
He takes my arm and leads me past the crowd of photographers, then into the massive metallic compound. Guards shoulder the paparazzi out of the way, all dressed in the same plain black that Corvus wore at the spaceport. I half expect to see him here, sunglasses over his eyes, silver irises flashing over the top.
