Chapter 92: Drinks and Tall Tales

“As you wish, your Highness,” Theseus inclined his head, still all smiles. He ordered another round of drinks.

The bartender looked flustered to have the prince sitting at his table. “Your Majesty, son of Aegeus, great Hero of Archizoun, it is an honour to serve you-” the bartender babbled, before Theseus cut him off with an irritated glare.

“Quit yammering and bring them out, already.” His hand beckoned.

“Um. What do you want, sir?”

“Just the usual.”

The bartender, visibly sweating, ducked in the back and brought out a tray. “Please, sir, have these on the house.”

Theseus glanced at the tray. His chiselled features twisted—and with a hand, he swept the tray off the table. Even after a decade of learning to control her facial expressions, Jemi couldn’t hide her wince as the glasses crashed to the ground. In the back, the stone-faced DJ slowly turned the music up.

“Are you new here or something? Those are the wrong ones. I only drink ambrosia. Get it right!” Theseus barked.

Muttering, a senior bartender came to take over from the hapless junior, and the mistake was quickly rectified. Theseus offered her a glass of its shining, rich-gold liquid. It made the yellow hue of Jemi’s cider look like donkey piss in comparison. As Jemi accepted the glass, the gaggle of voluptuous girls trying desperately to get him to sign their sashes finally got the hint and backed off.

“A princess shouldn’t be drinking something as common as cider,” Theseus caroled. His attitude was a complete one-eighty from when he was talking to the server. It made Jemi’s stomach turn, but she kept up her saccharine smile.

The prince went on. “Have you had ambrosia before?”

“A few times.” Ambrosia was an alcoholic drink made from fermented flower nectar, the same one that angels liked to drink. It was usually the most expensive drink there was, more potent than even the strongest human vodka, and thought to be beneficial for a sunblood’s Soleki. Somewhat. The ‘studies’ were paid for. In any case, it was a mark of nobility and prestige. Jemi had only had it a couple times when she was infiltrating nobles’ houses. She didn’t enjoy it. It was thick like honey and tasted too much like oranges.

“Why don’t you tell me,” Jemi said carefully, “about all those Beasts you’ve killed.”

Theseus’ face instantly brightened. And he began to talk. It was clearly his favourite thing to talk about, for he started and never stopped, his words crashing down like Wataron’s grandest waterfalls. Jemi pretended to be interested as she stirred her ambrosia glass, listening.

“So there was this time I battled a hydra,” Theseus was saying. “A real-life hydra. Do you know what a hydra is? It’s-

“-A creature with a behemoth four-legged body, and multiple snaking heads,” Jemi said.

“Exactly,” Theseus said, impressed. “You really are well-read, lady Phaedra!”

Jemi, Princess of Beasts, gave only a thin smile.

“Yeah, so, every time you chop off one head, it grows two more from the stump,” Theseus continued to babble. “The only way to slay this Beast is by stabbing its heart… but of course, you have to get past the multiple heads first. And this one had a real temper, too, especially when it realised I couldn’t die, not even with a venomous fang through my ribcage. Poor thing would’ve wanted to scratch all of its heads in confusion!”

He was probably talking about a Runt. Mythological creatures didn’t exist. Only Beasts did. When animals drank from the moon, some of them became Beasts. Most of them died. Of those who didnt survive, though, there was a chance that they became a Runt: a dead animal whose corpse had been taken over by wild Lunaki. They were rare, and they only had the lifespan of the night they formed, but a single Runt’s one-night rampage was sufficient for large-scale destruction. Without the normal limits of a living body, the magic bloated their bodies, overflowing from them. They were beyond the lunar army’s control, beyond anyone’s control really… except the animal whisperer Jemi Garen. But even for her, commanding a Runt was a lot of effort.

“I saw the hydra stomping towards the city, so I immediately gave chase. But it was so fast, that I couldn’t get to it before it reached the city…”

“Couldn’t you have driven it away from the city, though?” Jemi couldn’t help asking.

“What?” Theseus blinked. “Why would I have driven it away? What if it escaped? How would I kill it that way? Also, I wanted everyone to watch me slay it. I can’t do that if I killed it in the Fenlin countryside.”

“......”

“-Yeah, so anyway, I was trying to stab its heart. But it proved far too tenacious. Eventually though, I found the solution. While one of its many jaws were unhinged, trying to swallow me whole, I threw a dozen bundled grenades down its gullet! Hah! The hydra exploded from the inside out! I heard you could see the explosion all the way from Fenlin.”

And that surely didn’t have any ramifications whatsoever for the people in the city, Jemi thought, but she had to remain pliant. So she just smiled and nodded.

Theseus rambled on. And Jemi just grew more and more tired. Jemi’s plan had been to let him naturally tire of talking—but it seemed the tipsier he got, the worse the rambling became, and when he rambled, he drank even more. The prince didn’t even ask much about Phaedra, rendering her foreplanned backstory unnecessary. To him, Phaedra was just a pretty lady to have on his arm while he drank and prattled on about his so-called heroics.

Time for some drastic measures, then.

Jemi slipped herself off the barstool, her boots hitting the sticky floor with a thump.

That got the prince’s attention. “Where are you going?”

“I came here to move more than just our mouths tonight, sir,” Jemi said as she brushed her curls over her bare shoulder, turning slightly away from him. She had barely touched her ambrosia, where it sat tall and gold on the countertop.

Even through his drunken stupor, Theseus’ eyes were sharp, the turquoise of them glinting in the fresco of light. His smile was full of condescension. “I didn’t take you for someone so desperate, princess. You sound like one of those who do… ah… business here.” He glanced at the tunnels in the back, the sashed dancers.

Jemi’s smile thinned.

“I’m not desperate,” she said. “That's why I’m finding someone else. Someone who can give me what I want.” She began to walk away.

“You’d be hard-pressed to find anyone better than me in this room,” Theseus called out when she had made five steps.

“At least I’ll find someone who isn’t all talk.”

Then Theseus was behind her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. A number of bargoers around them gasped. Jemi repressed the cringe that snapped down her spine.

“I’m not just talk, my dear,” murmured the prince, ignoring the stares all around them.

Jemi’s relief was discreet. “Then let’s go somewhere more private,” she said—too quickly, but he seemed too inebriated to pick up on it. Wrapping her hand around his arm, she began to drag him towards the tunnels.

Theseus raised his brow. “There aren’t any rooms in here. The inns are outside.”

“The brothel has rooms,” Jemi insisted. “I’m sure one of their lovely ladies wouldn’t mind sharing with us.”

“And you… want that?”

“I’m flexible when I need to be.”

“Are you, now,” Theseus said, sounding dreamy. Taking advantage of the moment, Jemi successfully manhandled the drunken prince down the underbelly of the Shifting Sands.