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A long hallway stretched away from me. I glanced over my shoulders and hustled into the room I’d been given. It was cramped—even smaller than my room back home—with a single bed and a rickety desk. I was only there for three days. It didn’t matter how comfortable it was.
I placed the tray of stew on my desk before bending down and retrieving a second tray from under my bed. I removed the lid. Steam billowed from it. I’d placed a large candle underneath to keep it warm and it appeared to have done the trick.
And, most importantly, there was no poisonous black creature cloaked inside it. I placed the poisoned soup under my bed and shouldered my door open. I backed out and continued to the captain’s quarters.
I didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until I knocked on the door. When he didn’t answer, I tried again. I put my ear to it and heard him snoring inside.
I shoved the door open with my boot and placed the tray on his large desk.
The captain didn’t hear me enter. He was still fast asleep, tossing and turning, blankets already drenched with sweat.
“Mom…” he groaned. “Mom… No… Don’t leave me… Please…”
He repeated the mantra over and over again. He was having a nightmare—a bad one by the sound of it.
I poked him. “Hey.”
He didn’t wake. I tried again.
“Hey!” I hissed.
His foot snapped out as he kicked at open air.
I grabbed him by his undershirt and shook him.
He howled and pulled his other arm around, bringing a razor-sharp blade within an inch of my neck. He moved so fast, it was over in the time I could blink.
He opened his eyes and found me crouching over him. Then he glanced at the blade and retracted it. “Sorry. Force of habit.”
What sort of habit was it when you had to look out for attackers while you were sleeping?
He leaned back, his head still heavy and groggy. He sniffed.
“Is that Maisie’s stew?” he said.
“The one and only,” I said. “With help from a talented vegetable chopper.”
Nighteko clapped his hands and sat up like a little kid on his birthday.
Even with his sickness, he was incredibly handsome. At least, by human standards. Maybe he was a complete troll to his own species. His eyes were hooded, giving them a smoky appearance, as if he was always looking at you with a beast’s intentions in mind. His body was big, bulky, and muscular. He had some kind of tribal tattoo up one arm and across his chest, visible through the gap in his sagging bedshirt.
He dug into the stew hungrily, slurping, and smacking his lips. He dipped the bread in the soup and sucked on the crumbs. He looked sad to leave the crusts to one side. He ate like a man on the brink of starvation.
Once the bowl was empty, he leaned back and looked up at me. “I’m always hungry when I wake. You must think Titans are terrible beasts.”
“I don’t think anything of your species,” I said. “I don’t know anything about them.”
“Few people do these days. There aren’t many of us left. For example, there’s a ceremony my people perform that helps make them stronger, virtually overnight.”
“Well, if there’s any way I can help, you just let me know,” I said.
“We call it the bond,” he said.
“The bond?” I said. “As in James Bond?”
He frowned at me. “I do not know who this James Bond is. Among my people, it’s a spiritual as well as a physical coming together of two souls merging into one.”
“Okay…” I said, sensing where this conversation was heading.
