Chapter 93: Tableflip

After a series of winding and twisting tunnels, they entered the not-so-clandestine brothel.

Violet eyes swept the crowd of available candidates. Jemi picked the youngest-looking girl, and with her they headed into the room.

In the Shifting Sands there were a number of open-air rooms, little more than pits dug in the sand really, which provided good ventilation for the… types of activities that went down in there. However, there were also many soundproof rooms like the one Jemi was in, and for these, though it was easy to get stuffy in them, the privacy they afforded was excellent. They had to be, in order to cover up all the illegitimate activities that took place within its walls. This was exactly what Jemi needed.

“Hey, squirt,” Jemi called to the girl, who was standing by the bed, quivering something frightful in her coloured sash. She was disgustingly young—the poor thing was probably new to the Sands, too. When the girl looked over, seemingly expecting the worst, Jemi dug out from her cloak a jangling pouch—her pickings from the bar’s cash register earlier—and shoved it at her.

“Get out of here,” she said. When the girl stood there in shell-shock, Jemi pushed her out the door and shut it behind her, leaving just her and Theseus alone in the room.

Theseus blinked suspiciously at Jemi’s actions. “What are you doing?” He had probably been expecting Jemi to be laying down on the bed, maybe taking off a few clothes and such. And indeed, if this were another time, Jemi might have done so just to distract herself. But tonight, she decided she wasn’t in the mood. Instead she stood there, arms folded, all of her earlier flirtatious energy drained.

“I’m going to be straight with you,” Jemi said, businesslike. “I sought you out because I need something from you.”

The prince frowned. “I’ll buy you a round of drinks, lady, but I’m not giving you money.”

“I don’t need you to give me your money.” She’d already stolen plenty of it herself.

“Well, I won’t do you any strange favours, either,” Theseus spat, his face darkening as he realised what was going on. It was probably all too common an occurrence to him. “You’re nothing more than a fling to me. Don’t overestimate your importance. I know you’re no princess. You’re just another filthy commoner who thinks you can flip your hair, say a few sweet words and get anything you want. Give one of you cheap harlots an inch, and they always want a mile.”

The prince’s true colours were ugly, indeed.

“You’re wrong,” Jemi tilted her head. “I am a princess. Just not the kind you’re used to.”

“What does that even mean?”

In response, she strode closer towards him. Twirling her golden hair around her finger, she looked him in the eyes and continued, voice low:

“Don’t overestimate your importance, either. You’re just a liar and braggart and coward, strutting about in your dad’s coin, hiding behind your ridiculous swords, pretending that you’re some kind of saviour. The only reason why anyone puts up with your theatrics is your pathetic crown. I pity you.”

As Jemi spoke, turquoise eyes grew wider and wider. By the end, his face was almost entirely purple, the veins on his forehead bulging. Prince Theseus had clearly never been spoken to like that in his life. His reaction, therefore, was quite well anticipated.

“Raaaaargh!” He swung his fist at her—a fist full of brass knuckles—right in the face. Jemi didn’t move.

What happened was that, where Theseus’ fist should’ve collided with Jemi’s a left cheek, his knuckles instead connected with something black, and rock-solid. It was the long nose of a mask. As his fist crushed into it, all his knuckles cracked, the brass over them splintering into pieces.

Theseus gawked at the sight of the woman before him, now masked. Standing in tall boots, a black ballgown, reptilian breastplate, and a rooster’s feathered tail, her figure hummed with silver, sparks buzzing off her shoulders. The temperature felt like it had dropped twenty degrees.

The Cockatrice stared back at him.

“Holy Prometheus,” Theseus breathed. Clutching his bleeding fist, he took several steps back, falling onto the bed. He raised his head, gripping his temple. “Was my drink spiked? Am I hallucinating? Or is the Moon’s Ace seriously in this room with me?” Mumbling some more, he began to reach for his mace. “If that’s the Princess of Beasts, then I definitely have to slay her…”

-Before a cold, gloved hand closed around his wrist.

The Cockatrice climbed on top of him, pushing him down and holding him to the bed by his hands. She stared him down the beak of her mask.

“Try that, and I’ll break your hand for real this time,” she droned over him. Her grip tightened very casually—but the prince felt the tips of sharp claws pressing against his skin, threatening to carve his wristbones to ribbons. “I’m not like any one of those puny Runts you fought before. I have murdered Wardens, wiped bloodlines off the map. Just last month, I killed five thousand angels in under a second. You stand no chance against me. Neither will any of your guards, so don’t even think about calling for help. I may not be able to kill you, immortal prince, but I can make you regret you were ever born. Now—are you ready to talk?”

Finally, Theseus relented. Maybe he was smarter than he looked.

“What do you want?”

“I need to get in the heart of the Cretan Labryinth,” Jemi said, releasing her grip and stepping off. Theseus seemed sufficiently threatened, and there was no trick the prince could pull that the Cockatrice couldn’t immediately thwart. Looking at him, he also seemed to understand that. His legs seemed to shake as he shuffled off the bed, hands in the air.

“Okay, okay. I’m not even gonna ask why,” Theseus replied. He reached towards his head—slowed down, when he saw mask-shaded violet eyes tracking his every movement. Carefully, he lifted the celery wreath on his head. Snagging his nail under one of the interweaving laurels, he pulled one end free. Jemi watched him as he stood and tied the end of the twine to the bed post. After he did so, the twine began to shimmer. The ordinary-looking wreath was no longer green but glowing gold, flooding the dim brothel room with incandescent light.

“If you tie one end of this twine down at the entrance, and hold on to the wreath, unravelling it as you go, it will lead you to the heart of the maze,” Theseus explained. Even as the wreath lay on the bed untouched, it seemed to be sliding across the sheets on its own, gravitating towards an unknown direction. “I’ll let you take the wreath with you. There. Are we done? Can you let me go now?”

“Done?” Jemi scoffed. “As if. You’re coming along with me.”

“W-why?”

“Do you take me for an idiot? Am I supposed to believe this will work based on your word alone?” Jemi picked up the glowing wreath, twirling it around her arm. “This could easily be any random magic trick-toy. I bet I could buy this off a tent stall in the Main Street.”

Vehemently, Theseus shook his head. “It’s the real deal, I promise. I used it myself to reach the heart of the Labryinth.”

“Then tell me, Theseus. Where did you get this from?”

“Someone… gave it to me.”

“Whom?”

“You wouldn’t know her. She’s just a random woman,” Theseus stammered.

Jemi wondered if she was being too nice to him. Slamming a few knives by his head might’ve done the trick. But she also didn’t want to show her impatience and risk Theseus figuring out how much she needed him specifically. If he chose to run out screaming right now, getting the chance to negotiate with him again would be a headache.

She folded her arms.

“Yeah, sure. Some random woman gave you this powerful, never-before-heard magical item that could lead you to the heart of the world’s infamously unsolvable maze.”

“It really is,” Theseus insisted. “Ariadne. That’s her name. She was a girl who played with me in the royal courtyards when I was growing up. I don’t know where she got it from, I swear. And I swear on everything I have that this is real,” Theseus pleaded. “You can have my money. I’ll send a retinue to accompany you, if you wish. Just please… whatever you do, don’t make me go in that maze again. I can’t.”

“What are you so scared of?” Jemi questioned. “The Minotaur that you already killed?”

At that, Theseus froze.

“I knew it,” Jemi said. “You didn’t actually kill the Minotaur, did you? That’s why the spiders are still around.”

“That’s not true. You have no proof.”

“Give me the truth, then,” she advanced on him. “Answer my questions properly. How did this Ariadne come to give you the magic twine? Why is the fearless hero so bent on never returning to the Cretan Labryinth? What lies within there? Who lies within there? What happened, on that first time you went inside?” She touched the rim of her mask, as if to remove it. Her left eye glowed silver—

“Fine!” Theseus screamed. Jemi was glad for the walls. “I’ll tell you,” he said shakily. “I’ll tell you, start to finish, and you’ll understand why I cannot go, Phaedra. Or whatever your name really is.”

~~~