Page 28 of Taken By the Crab King of Atlantis

I don’t remember doing it. I don’t remember stumbling back to my room. But I remember Karkinos’ kiss. My body soars in response to the memory, my core clenching on nothing, butterflies taking flight in my stomach.

I reach for the pills, taking them quickly, and stumble towards the bathroom, trying not to dwell on how forward I was last night as I shower and pull on a casual set of clothes Quan left me — a comfortable blue mini-dress in a stretch fabric and a lightweight sweater.

Did Karkinos enjoy it as much as I did, and if he did, why did he leave?

When there’s a knock on my door, I’m still turning last night over in my mind.

I open the door to Kilandra.

I flush as if she can read my mind, and she smiles broadly. “I have a big day planned!”

I manage a weak smile.

Less than an hour later, Kilandra and I are in a cafe, crowded beyond the row of four security guards keeping the curious public from our table. A table of cakes sits in front of us.

Maybe it’s the sugar, but Kilandra is being much warmer with me today.

“This is the best thing I have ever tasted,” I say over my cup, not willing to put down the hot chocolate yet. “And I could get used to cake for breakfast.”

Kilandra smiles proudly. “The key ingredient is deep-sea salt, not available on the surface.”

This cafe is on the edge of the bad part of town — decaying buildings surround us. It’s in a small square lined with cafes. There’s a children’s playground in the center, decorated with large conch shells. It reminds me of Lina’s earrings.

A line of women and men in uniform stand between us and a crowd beyond. The crowd cranes their necks to see us. Their faces are alight and curious, and they chatter excitedly over the squeal of children on the playground. It’s a weird sensation to be an instant celebrity, but Atlantans have been kind so far.

The city has old buildings mixed with modern ones, and many of its citizens wear the 1960s fashions I first saw on the submarine.

“What do you think of the city so far?” Kilandra asks.

“There’s not a lot of diversity in the city,” I say, thinking. “I’ve mostly seen Atlantans with the red coloring. Almost nobody with your blue hair except a diplomat yesterday. But there are a lot of children. And young people. And no homeless people.”

“The blue haired man was Corvin, Oceania’s diplomat,” she nods. “Atlantis rarely opens its doors so freely. We are a cultural center, but not a very open one. And we have no homeless people, and very little crime.”

“Do Oceanic people have a city like Atlantis?”

“There is nothing like Atlantis. Oceania has an underwater city, but Atlantis has an air bubble. It allows children under sixteen to grow up in the city. Otherwise, they would have to be raised in lower-pressure environments, closer to the surface, and then move to the city once they’re old enough. Because of the unique environment here, Atlantis takes in a lot of orphans. Many of them see Karkinos as a father figure.”

I nod and say nothing, but wonder if that’s why Karkinos didn’t take a woman from the city to be his sacrifice. It might be strange if they see him as a father. Aloud, I say, “Couldn’t Atlantis share its technology to allow for another city?”

“Atlantis is run by magic, not technology. Don’t you remember?” She smiles at me as if it’s a joke.

“You don’t believe that.”

“I believe Karkinos is a good leader with significant powers. I don’t know how the city was founded, but I don’t believe a conch shell had anything to do with it.”

“Conch shell?”

“The founding story of the city. Karkinos’ wife decided where the city would be by placing a conch shell on the ground.”

“And now the shell is a symbol of the city,” I say.

“A symbol of the city, the belief in Karkinos’ divinity, and in the love he held for his wife, that founded the city. It covers a lot of ground.”

My stomach turns. “That’s very romantic.”

“People like romance. It’s why the city feels…”

“Fresh,” I finish for her. “Like it has hope, despite the crumbling buildings. It feels like a young city. It’s not jaded.” I sip my hot chocolate. “How did she die?”