The Atlas Six (The Atlas 1)

“What? That’s crazy,” said Nico.

“Nico, you had no right—”

“That’s ridiculous, of course I did—”

“—you can’t just interfere without telling me—”

“—I was going to tell you; in fact, I’m sure I already did! It’s not my fault if you didn’t read the minutes closely—”

“—for the last time, my mother is my problem, not yours—”

That, of course, was met with a growl of frustration. “Haven’t you figured out by now that I want your problems?” Nico demanded, half-shouting it, and thankfully, Gideon’s mouth snapped shut. “Your pain is my problem, you idiot prince. You little motherfuck.” Nico rubbed his temple wearily as Gideon’s lips twisted up, half-laughing. “Don’t laugh. Don’t… don’t look at me, stop it. Stop it—”

“What are these pet names, Nicky?”

“Shut up. I’m angry.”

“Why are you angry?”

“Because you seem to think for some stupid reason that you should be handling everything on your own—”

“—when really you should be handling it on your own, is that it?”

Touché. The bastard.

“Gideon, for fuck’s sake, I’m rich and extremely handsome,” Nico growled. “Do you think I have my own problems? No, I do not, so let me have yours. Put me to use, I beg you.”

Gideon rolled his eyes. “You are,” he said, and exhaled, “unbearable.”

“Yes. And you are safely hidden from your mother right now, so hush. But she is definitely looking for you,” Nico conceded, which had been the primary warning he’d intended to pass along. “The ward will hold for a while yet, but it’s only a matter of time before she breaks it. Or pays someone else to break it.” Eilif was unfortunately much worse than the usual finfolk; largely in that she had friends in low places, most of them possessing uncompromised access that many people and governmental organizations wished they didn’t.

“I could stay here,” Gideon said thoughtfully. “In the realms?”

It would work, but not forever. “You still have a body.”

“Yes.”

“A mortal body—”

“Well, it looks like a mortal body, anyway.”

“It’s aging, isn’t it?”

“It appears to be, possibly, but—”

“We’ll figure it out someday,” Nico assured him. “Your lifespan and all that. Your natural diet,” he enumerated idly, “where to put the litter box, how to give you proper exercise. You know, the usual care and keeping of hybrid creatures—”

“Though I suppose none of it will matter if my mother kills me first,” Gideon remarked.

Nico sighed, stepping back from the bars for a quick count of three, and then stepped back.

“Do not,” he said with a long-suffering scowl, “say things like that.”

But Gideon, who customarily looked amused by everything Nico did, only smiled.

“Don’t worry about me, really,” he said, for probably the millionth useless time. “I don’t think she’ll actually kill me. Or if she does, it’ll be an accident. She’s just very careless.”

“She nearly drowned you twice!”