"SO TELL ME, MY KING, why did you change your name?"
Eotigan's cup of tea froze under his lips at Maya's question—such irony.
He forced himself a sip and gently put down the saucer and mug. The ship's crewmen's voices floated by like distant bells on a cliff. All the other patrons enjoying a warm meal under the tent continued well away, oblivious to the tension at his table. It was growing. Kambili had dropped her gaze and busied her hands with the fray-white linen coverlet, aware of the opinion that who was she to rise to the discussion of a sea deity and a prince of the abyss?
Inaia waved the awkward server whom appeared to take off the trays away.
"Go." she mouthed. One word that might save his life.
It was obvious on the table roundabout; only Yemaya of the great seas was bold—and powerful enough to ask this of the Apollyon. Eotigan had said nothing in seconds. Inaia thought he'd just up and leave. Breakfast was over after all.
He didn't.
