Under the Water(Fem. Percy)

Chapter 18

"Why do you want that?" The cook's brow knits. Glittering, spider-like, black eyes stare at me. "Your Highness," he tries, unsure of what to call me, "there's no shortage of food for you to chose from. Wouldn't you prefer some adzani paste with tzaeni? It's much sweeter and lighter than any of the preserved foods we have on hand." I have no idea what either of those things are, so I shake my head.

"I like having stuff in my room to snack on for later"

"Our Lord said he wishes for you to settle into the normal food cycles."

"My father forgets that I have a very fast metabolism. If I stick to three meals a day, I'm going to be hungry constantly, and I'm not having much luck with him getting me more Cheerios." I cross my arms with a huff. "Starving me really is not helping my impression of him."

And it's not helping me plan my escape. Almost as soon as we'd returned to the palace, I'd decided I really needed to get back to the surface. Dad keeping me in his room was just a taste of what could end up happening if I stayed much longer. Of how much more I'd want to stay if I didn't get out. Already the urging's waking in my bones, stirred by how he's treated me.

I shove my hands into my pockets and pinch my thigh. It's a trick. It's also hard to remember that.

Gods don't care. They use us. The gods think of us as weapons.

Don't hope for them to love you, because they never will.

They'll send you out on suicide missions with the false hope of earning it.

"I could discuss changing the meal schedule for you, but---"

"He'll say no," I say. "That's fine, thank you anyway."

The moment I'm in the hallway, I scowl. That was a bust, and I'm running out of options. I had tried keeping some of the food that didn't look like it'd go bad, but Orthello or Tulia swept it up and ate it. Then I went to the gardens, only to realize there was a high chance of me grabbing something poisonous. The orchard's also not an option. The last of the apples had fallen. A few other plants were in bloom, though it'd be a while until they bear fruit. If they bear fruit. That one at least meant I got to lay under the heat lamps though.

"No luck?" Cyreus asks, pushing off the wall. "I've told you that I can attempt to speak with your father about this."

"And he's going to tell you the exact same thing he's told me."

Always the same thing. You need to get used to how things are down here, including when meals normally are. Disregarding that the Curse of Achilles means I'm almost constantly hungry despite no longer having it. Disregarding that demigods eat more than mortals. Disregarding that as a god, eating is optional for him. I stop in my tracks.

"If I starve myself and pass out from low-blood-sugar, do you think that'd get him to let me eat more?"

"You'll earn yourself a lecture. Your brother has been scolded for overworking himself. And there's enough lectures on him scratching himself with his talons that most of the guard has heard at least one. As he's a god, I can only imagine how much those would increase if they shifted focus to you. I doubt you'd be able to go without eating a single day before your father intervenes."

"I could lock my knees and force myself to pass out. You'd just have to lie to him and say I dropped after being lightheaded."

"My head is on my shoulders, and I'd like for it to stay there."

"He uses a trident. Those aren't exactly good at beheadings."

My choices are limited, a fact driven home all the harder by the click of Cyreus's spear against the floor. Either I can stay and keep trying to build up a stash of food and risk getting caught, or I can leave and deal with any hunger issues when they come up. Food's my biggest roadblock. Meals here don't seem to last me as long. And maybe it's because I'm colder and I'm burning more energy to stay warm, but that doesn't change that it's an issue. I could be miles under the sea. Gods aren't required to live by the same rules, and I doubt their domains are really that much different.