Knossos overwhelmed Galea's senses from the moment they passed through its massive gates. The noise alone was shocking after the relative quiet of the road—thousands of voices shouting, laughing, arguing, haggling, creating a constant din that echoed between the closely packed buildings. Wheels clattered on stone-paved streets, animals brayed and bleated, metalworkers' hammers clanged against anvils, and beneath it all ran the persistent murmur of humanity concentrated in numbers Galea had never imagined.
The smells were equally intense—roasting meat from food vendors, human waste from overflowing gutters, incense from countless small shrines, sweat from bodies pressed together in the heat, and the salt-tang of the sea carried on the breeze. Galea found herself breathing shallowly, overwhelmed by the sensory assault.
Their procession moved steadily through the crowded streets, citizens hastily making way for the royal guards. Galea noted the sharp contrast between different sections of the city—from squalid, overcrowded tenements where thin children played in filthy alleys to prosperous merchant quarters where well-dressed figures conducted business beneath colorful awnings.
As they neared the palace, the streets grew wider and better maintained. The buildings here were constructed of fine-cut stone rather than mud-brick, their facades decorated with painted frescoes and carved symbols. Citizens in this district wore elaborate clothing that marked them as members of the elite—officials, priests, nobles, and wealthy merchants.
Finally, they reached the palace approach—a broad avenue leading to a gateway flanked by massive stone bulls with gilded horns. Palace guards in ceremonial armor stood at attention, their faces impassive as Galea's escort was verified and permitted to pass.
Beyond the gate lay a series of courtyards, each more impressive than the last. Columns painted in vibrant reds and blues supported upper levels adorned with frescoes depicting hunting scenes, religious rituals, and battles at sea. Fountains splashed in central basins—a luxurious display of water that seemed almost obscene given the drought conditions beyond the palace walls.
Servants moved purposefully through the courtyards, carrying vessels or linens, heads bowed in deference to the nobles who lounged in shaded areas, engaged in conversation or games of chance. None of these people—servant or noble—showed visible signs of the hunger that plagued the countryside. Here, at the center of power, the drought's effects appeared to be held at bay by royal privilege.
Galea's escort halted in a courtyard smaller and more private than the others. A palace official in elaborate robes approached, consulting a clay tablet in his hands.
"This is the king's guest?" he asked, eyeing Galea with poorly concealed curiosity.
"Yes, by royal command," the guard captain confirmed, handing over the official documents that had accompanied their journey.
The official examined the tablets, then nodded. "Guest quarters have been prepared in the eastern wing. I will summon attendants to see to her needs."
Demetrios stepped forward. "I am to report directly to the royal steward regarding our arrival."
"Of course." The official gestured to a servant who materialized at his side. "Show this man to the steward's offices." He turned back to Galea. "Please dismount. Your journey is at an end."
Galea slid awkwardly from her donkey, her legs stiff after days in the saddle. Before she could retrieve her bundle from the animal's side, servants had already done so, whisking her possessions away with efficient movements.
"This way, please," the official directed, turning toward an ornate doorway.
Theon caught Galea's eye briefly as she moved to follow. His expression conveyed a silent message of caution before he resumed his formal military bearing and departed with the rest of the escort.
The official led Galea through a bewildering series of corridors and staircases, each decorated more lavishly than the last. The palace interior was surprisingly cool after the heat of the day, its thick stone walls providing natural insulation. Light entered through clerestory windows set high in the walls, creating shifting patterns across floors inlaid with decorative mosaics.
They passed numerous palace denizens during their walk—officials carrying tablets of accounts, servants hurrying on errands, priests in ceremonial garb, and occasionally, figures whose rich clothing and haughty bearing marked them as members of the nobility. All stared at Galea with varying degrees of curiosity, some making warding gestures when they noticed the faint patterns visible on her skin.
Finally, they reached what appeared to be a residential wing. The official stopped before a wooden door inlaid with ivory and precious metals.
"These are your quarters," he announced, pushing the door open to reveal a space beyond anything Galea had expected.
The room was larger than the entire hut she had occupied in Kydonia, its walls painted with delicate frescoes of flowering plants and leaping dolphins. A bed dominated one wall, covered in fine linens and cushions embroidered with intricate patterns. A copper bathing tub stood in one corner, while carved wooden chests for clothing lined another wall. Glazed ceramic lamps hung from the ceiling on bronze chains, and a balcony beyond diaphanous curtains overlooked a garden courtyard.
"This is... for me?" Galea asked, unable to hide her astonishment.
"The king honors his important guests," the official replied. "Servants will attend you shortly to provide refreshments and assist with bathing. You will be presented to His Majesty tomorrow, after you have rested from your journey."
With that, he bowed slightly and departed, closing the door behind him. Galea stood motionless in the center of the room, overwhelmed by the sudden transition from dusty roads and simple camps to this display of luxury.
Her bundle had been placed on a low table near the bed. She moved toward it, seeking the comfort of familiar possessions in these alien surroundings. As she reached for it, a soft knock at the door interrupted her.
Before she could respond, the door opened, and three young women entered. They wore the simple garments of palace servants, though their clothing was of finer quality than any servant's attire Galea had seen in Kydonia.
"We've come to attend you, lady," the foremost said, bowing low. "I am Thais, assigned as your personal handmaiden during your stay. These are Cleo and Lyra, who will assist with your bathing and dressing."
Galea had never been attended by servants and found the concept both foreign and uncomfortable. "That's not necessary. I can bathe myself."
The three women exchanged glances, seemingly confused by her refusal. "The king has ordered that you receive full ceremonial preparation for your audience tomorrow," Thais explained gently. "It would displease him if his commands were ignored."
Understanding the implied warning, Galea nodded reluctantly.
What followed was an experience unlike anything in her previous life. The servants filled the copper tub with heated water carried in vessels from the palace kitchens. They added scented oils and flower petals that released fragrant steam into the air. When the bath was prepared, they moved to undress Galea, their hands efficient but respectful.
She balked initially at this intimacy but soon realized resistance would only prolong the awkward situation. The women worked in silence as they removed her travel-stained clothing, though Galea noticed their curious glances at the luminescent patterns that marked her skin and the crystal pendant she refused to remove even for bathing.
"That's a beautiful ornament," Thais commented as Galea finally settled into the heated bath. "I've never seen its like before. Is it from your homeland?"
Galea touched the pendant protectively. "Yes. It was a gift."
"From the island guardian?" Thais asked, her tone carefully casual as she began washing Galea's hair with a mixture of clay and herbal extracts.
The direct question about Bobby surprised Galea. Word of Atlantea had spread farther than she'd realized. She chose her response carefully, aware that anything she said would likely be reported to palace officials.
"From my teacher," she replied simply.
Thais seemed to recognize Galea's reticence and changed the subject, explaining instead the palace routines and customs Galea would need to navigate. As she spoke, she worked oil infused with lavender and rosemary into Galea's scalp, then rinsed it with fresh water poured from a decorative ewer.
"The king has many demands on his attention," Thais explained, "so audiences are strictly timed. You'll be announced, approach the throne to the third step—no closer without express permission—then kneel until the king addresses you directly."
"And the queen?" Galea asked, recalling Theon's warnings.
"Queen Pasiphae attends most court functions, though she holds separate audiences for matters concerning the royal household or religious observances." Thais lowered her voice slightly. "If both are present, direct your responses to whichever royal addressed you last. Never ignore a question from the queen, even if the king seemed more interested in your response."
The other attendants, Cleo and Lyra, remained largely silent during these explanations, focusing on preparing clothing and arranging items from Galea's bundle on the provided furnishings. Galea noticed that they handled her possessions with a mixture of curiosity and something like revulsion, particularly the woven plant fibers she had brought from Atlantea.
After the bath, Galea was dried with soft linen cloths and dressed in a garment Thais called a "proper Cretan gown" – A long, layered dress with a fitted bodice that left her shoulders and upper chest bare. The fabric was finer than anything Galea had worn since leaving Atlantea, dyed a deep blue that complemented her sun-darkened skin and made the luminescent patterns more noticeable rather than less.
"Your features are quite striking," Thais observed as she arranged Galea's dark hair in an elaborate style, securing it with carved bone pins. "Foreign, but in an interesting way. The court will find you fascinating."
"I'm not here to be fascinating," Galea replied. "I came to help people suffering from the drought."
Thais' hands paused briefly in their work, then resumed. "Of course," she said, her tone carefully neutral. "The king is most concerned with his people's welfare. I'm certain he values your knowledge greatly."
The response struck Galea as diplomatic rather than sincere, reinforcing her growing suspicion that everyone she encountered in the palace was playing some role, advancing some agenda that remained opaque to her.
Once Galea was bathed, dressed, and her hair arranged, food was brought—a tray laden with delicacies that would have fed a family in Kydonia for days. Fresh bread, olives in oil, roasted meat seasoned with herbs, fruits that must have come from irrigated royal gardens, and wine diluted with water in the mainland custom.
"You should eat well and rest," Thais advised as the other attendants withdrew, taking Galea's travel-worn clothing with them. "Tomorrow will be... demanding."
Left alone at last, Galea moved to the balcony, pushing aside the gauzy curtains to look out over the palace gardens below. The contrast between the lush greenery within these walls and the parched landscape beyond the city was stark—a physical manifestation of the inequality she had witnessed throughout her journey.
In the deepening twilight, she could see servants lighting lamps along garden pathways, courtiers strolling in paired conversation, guards standing at attention at key intersections. The palace operated like a small city unto itself, insulated from the hardships afflicting the wider kingdom.
Galea turned back to her luxurious quarters, feeling more out of place than she had even in the struggling village of Kydonia. There, at least, she had felt useful—her knowledge helping to ease suffering in tangible ways. Here, she was merely a curiosity, a novel specimen brought for the king's amusement.
She approached the low table where her few possessions had been arranged with careful precision. Among them was a small pouch containing seeds from Atlantea—not the island's unique flora, which Bobby had strictly forbidden her from removing, but ordinary plant varieties that had benefited from the island's influence. She had brought them hoping to cultivate more resistant crops for the drought-stricken mainland.
Beside her belongings stood a ceramic pot containing a small ornamental shrub, its leaves yellowed at the edges from insufficient water despite its privileged palace location. Galea touched one of the withered leaves gently, closing her eyes to focus her awareness on the plant's internal structures.
Without the island's energy field to amplify her abilities, the connection was tenuous, but still present. She could sense the plant's distress, its systems struggling to maintain function with inadequate resources. Concentrating, she directed a small measure of energy through her fingertips into the leaf, encouraging cellular repair and more efficient water usage.
The pendant at her throat warmed slightly against her skin, glowing with a faint blue luminescence that it hadn't displayed since she left Atlantea. The plant responded to her influence, its leaves straightening almost imperceptibly, the yellowed edges beginning to green again.
"Remarkable."
Galea whirled at the voice, dropping her hand from the plant. Thais stood in the doorway, a folded nightgown over her arm, her eyes fixed on the now-fading glow of the pendant.
"I knocked," the handmaiden said, though Galea had heard nothing. "I brought sleeping garments for you."
"Thank you," Galea replied, wondering how much Thais had witnessed and to whom she would report it.
The handmaiden approached, placing the nightgown on the bed. Her eyes darted to the plant, which now stood noticeably healthier than before, then back to Galea's pendant.
"Legend says the blessed island grants special powers to those who dwell there," Thais said quietly. "That its guardian chooses disciples to share in his divine nature."
"Legends exaggerate," Galea replied carefully. "The island has unusual properties, that's all. And Bobby is no god, despite what people may believe."
"Yet he taught you to heal with a touch." Thais gestured to the revitalized plant. "To bring life back to the dying."
"It's knowledge, not magic. Understanding how plants function, how to encourage their natural processes." Galea moved away from the table, creating distance between herself and the handmaiden. "Anyone could learn it, given proper instruction."
Thais smiled slightly. "Perhaps. Yet here you stand in King Minos' palace, summoned for that very knowledge, while countless scholars and priests throughout the kingdom remain uninvited." She moved toward the door, then paused. "Rest well, lady. Tomorrow you enter the labyrinth of court politics. You'll need your strength."
After Thais departed, Galea changed into the provided nightgown and extinguished most of the lamps, leaving only one burning low for comfort in the unfamiliar space. She lay on the too-soft bed, staring up at the painted ceiling where stylized birds flew in eternal circles.
Despite her physical exhaustion, sleep proved elusive. Her mind raced with impressions of the day, warnings received, subtle threats perceived. The palace's luxury couldn't mask its fundamental nature as a beautiful cage, its occupants engaged in complex power struggles she barely comprehended.
She found herself thinking of Bobby, wondering what he was doing at this moment. Was he continuing his endless experiments on Atlantea? Had he noticed her absence, or was she merely another subject whose departure warranted only a notation in whatever records he kept of his "evolutionary research"?
Yet she remembered the rare moments when something more than scientific interest had shown in his expression—concern when she'd been injured during training, pride when she'd mastered a difficult technique, perhaps even affection in his final words before she left the island.
The pendant remained warm against her skin as these thoughts drifted through her mind. In the space between waking and sleeping, Galea imagined she could sense Bobby through their connection—standing on Atlantea's shore, gazing out at the perpetual storms, waiting for someone who wasn't her.
This last image followed her into uneasy dreams, where she called to him across the tempest-tossed seas but couldn't make herself heard above the howling winds.
---------
Morning arrived with a shaft of sunlight through the balcony curtains and another soft knock at her door. Thais entered without waiting for a response, accompanied by several servants carrying water, linens, and what appeared to be yet another elaborate outfit.
"Rise, Lady Galea," Thais announced briskly. "Today you meet the king."
What followed was an even more extensive preparation than the previous evening's ablutions. Galea was bathed again, this time with different scented oils. Her hair was arranged in an intricate style involving multiple braids interwoven with golden threads and tiny blue beads that matched her pendant. Cosmetics were applied to her face—kohl around her eyes, red ochre on her lips, a subtle powder that somehow enhanced rather than concealed the luminescent patterns on her skin.
The clothing provided was clearly intended to display her exotic nature rather than help her blend into court life. The gown was constructed of a lightweight, almost translucent fabric in layers of deepening blue, reminiscent of ocean depths. The bodice again left her shoulders and upper chest bare, prominently displaying her pendant and the patterns that marked her skin. Gold bands encircled her upper arms, and delicate sandals with gilded straps completed the ensemble.
"You look magnificent," Thais declared when the preparations were complete. "Unsettling, but in a way that will command attention."
Galea studied her reflection in a polished bronze mirror. The person staring back seemed a stranger—more goddess than human, adorned like a ceremonial offering. The thought sent a chill down her spine.
"When will I see the king?" she asked, trying to hide her growing apprehension.
"The audience is scheduled for the third hour," Thais replied. "Demetrios will come to escort you when it's time."
True to her word, Demetrios appeared shortly after Galea had consumed a light breakfast under Thais' watchful supervision. He too seemed transformed from the dusty traveler who had accompanied her from Kydonia. His clothing was rich but understated, marking him as a person of some status but not nobility. His expression showed approval as he surveyed Galea's appearance.
"Excellent," he said. "The king appreciates beauty almost as much as he values useful knowledge."
"And which does he think I am?" Galea asked. "Beautiful or useful?"
Demetrios' mouth curved into a cold smile. "That depends entirely on what you offer him today."
He led her from her quarters into the labyrinthine palace corridors. Unlike the previous day's direct route, this path seemed deliberately circuitous, designed to impress and disorient visitors before they reached the throne room. They passed through galleries displaying war trophies, chambers where scribes recorded accounts on clay tablets, and courtyards where nobles engaged in what appeared to be ritual dances.
Throughout this journey, Galea was acutely aware of the stares she attracted. Courtiers paused in their conversations to watch her pass, servants risked reprimand to steal glances at her unusual appearance, and guards studied her with a mixture of suspicion and fascination.
"They call you 'the island witch' in whispers," Demetrios informed her, seeming amused by her discomfort. "Some believe you'll curse them with a glance; others think your touch might heal their ailments. The palace thrives on such rumors."
"I'm neither witch nor healer," Galea replied. "Just someone who learned different knowledge than they possess."
"A distinction without difference to most of them," Demetrios countered. "Power they don't understand might as well be magic."
They approached a massive doorway guarded by six warriors whose armor was more ceremonial than practical—gilded breastplates emblazoned with the royal labrys, helmets topped with horsehair crests dyed blue and white. These guards carried axe-shaped blades rather than the spears of regular soldiers, their weapons as much symbols of office as instruments of protection.
Beyond the guards, Galea could hear the murmur of many voices, punctuated occasionally by the sharp tap of what might have been a staff on stone flooring. Demetrios paused before the entrance, turning to face her with sudden seriousness.
"A final word of advice," he said, his voice low enough that the guards couldn't overhear. "The king values directness in new acquaintances. Answer his questions honestly but succinctly. Do not volunteer information he doesn't specifically request. And above all, do not mention the guardian's powers unless directly questioned."
Before Galea could respond, Demetrios turned to the guards. "The king's guest for the morning audience," he announced formally.
The guards parted, and the massive doors swung open to reveal the throne room beyond.
The chamber was larger than Galea had imagined possible for an indoor space—its ceiling soaring two stories above a floor inlaid with intricate mosaics depicting legendary beasts and heroic battles. Massive columns painted red with gold capitals supported the roof, while frescoes along the walls portrayed the king's conquests and religious ceremonies in vibrant colors.
Hundreds of courtiers lined the long central aisle leading to the royal dais. They stood in ranks that Galea later learned indicated their status—the highest nobles closest to the throne, lesser officials and favorites farther back, and petitioners or visitors at the rear. All turned to stare as she entered, the collective force of their attention almost a physical pressure.
At the far end of the chamber, elevated on a seven-stepped dais, stood twin thrones. The larger was occupied by a man who could only be King Minos himself—powerful in build despite his middle years, with a carefully groomed beard streaked with gray and eyes that assessed Galea with calculating intelligence. He wore robes of deep purple bordered with gold, and a crown fashioned of gold leaves encircled his head.
Beside him sat a woman whose beauty was as striking as it was cold—Queen Pasiphae, perhaps fifteen years younger than her husband, with perfect features arranged in an expression of practiced serenity. Her elaborately braided hair was adorned with jewels that caught the light with every slight movement of her head. She wore a gown of crimson and gold, and her fingers were laden with rings that flashed as she toyed with an ivory fan.
Around the base of the dais stood what appeared to be advisors and high officials—priests in ceremonial garb, military commanders with ceremonial weapons, and scribes ready to record the proceedings.
A court herald stepped forward as Galea entered, striking his staff three times against the floor to command silence.
"Presenting Galea, maiden of Atlantea, summoned by royal command to share her knowledge with the court of King Minos, ruler of Knossos and all lands from the eastern mountains to the western sea!"
Demetrios nudged Galea forward, and she began the long walk down the central aisle. She forced herself to move with deliberate grace despite her nervousness, keeping her gaze focused on the dais rather than the whispering courtiers to either side.
When she reached the prescribed distance from the throne—the third step of the dais, as Thais had instructed—Galea knelt as protocol demanded, bowing her head in a show of respect she didn't entirely feel.
For several uncomfortable moments, silence reigned in the vast chamber. Then King Minos spoke, his voice deeper and stronger than Galea had expected.
"Rise and come forward, Galea of Atlantea."
Surprised by this immediate breach of the protocol she'd been taught, Galea stood and ascended the first three steps of the dais. This placed her higher than the surrounding courtiers but still below the level of the royal thrones.
The king studied her with naked interest, his gaze lingering first on her pendant, then on the luminescent patterns visible on her skin, and finally assessing her features with an appraisal that felt uncomfortably personal.
"We have heard many tales of the island beyond the western storms," Minos said. "Some claim it grants eternal youth. Others say it heals all ailments. Still others insist its guardian is a god from the time before time." His eyes narrowed slightly. "What say you to these claims?"
Galea chose her words carefully, conscious of hundreds of ears straining to catch every syllable. "The island has unique properties, Your Majesty. It can heal many illnesses, though I cannot speak to claims of immortality. As for its guardian..." She hesitated. "He is unlike any being I have encountered elsewhere, but he never claimed divinity in my presence."
Queen Pasiphae leaned forward slightly. "Yet you lived under this being's protection for ten years, from childhood to womanhood. Surely you observed his nature during that time?"
"I observed much, Your Majesty, but understood only a fraction of what I saw," Galea replied honestly. "Bobby—the guardian—shared knowledge with me, but rarely explained himself."
"Bobby?" The king repeated the name with evident surprise. "The divine guardian of the blessed island is called... Bobby?"
A ripple of laughter moved through the court, quickly stifled when the king's expression remained serious.
"That is what he called himself," Galea confirmed, sensing a potential misstep but unsure how to recover.
"And you believe this is his true name? Not perhaps a simplification for a child's benefit?" the queen pressed.
"I cannot say what is true regarding Bobby except what I observed directly," Galea replied, adopting the careful phrasing Bobby himself often used when questioned about his origins.
The king waved his hand dismissively. "Names matter less than deeds. Tell us of the island itself. How does one reach it through the perpetual storms?"
Galea touched her pendant. "This allows safe passage. It was given to me by Bobby before I left. Without it, ships are destroyed in the tempest."
"And can such pendants be created? Or are they limited to those the guardian favors?" Minos leaned forward, his interest palpable.
"I don't know how they're made," Galea admitted. "Bobby created mine as a focus for the abilities I developed on the island. It's function as a key through the storms was secondary."
"Abilities?" Queen Pasiphae interrupted, her cool voice sharpening with interest. "What abilities does the island bestow?"
Galea had prepared for this question, knowing that revealing too much might place her in danger while revealing too little would frustrate the king. "The island's influence affects each person differently. For me, it enhanced my connection to plant life—allowing me to understand their structures, encourage their growth, sometimes direct their development."
"Show us," the king commanded.
Galea glanced around, noting the conspicuous absence of living plants in the throne room. "I would need—"
Before she could finish, the king gestured to a servant, who hurried forward bearing a ceramic pot containing a withered laurel seedling. The plant was clearly dying, its leaves brown and curling despite being recently watered.
Galea accepted the pot, placing it on the step before her. She was acutely aware of the court's collective attention as she knelt beside the plant, touching one brittle leaf gently. Without the island's energy field, her abilities were significantly diminished, but not absent. She closed her eyes, focusing her awareness on the plant's internal structures as she had with the shrub in her chambers.
The pendant warmed against her skin, glowing visibly through the thin fabric of her gown. Galea directed her consciousness into the failing plant, identifying the blockages in its vascular system, the cellular damage from insufficient water, the roots cramped in too-small confines. She encouraged renewed growth, efficient resource allocation, cellular repair.
A collective gasp from the court told her the transformation was visible before she opened her eyes. The laurel stood straight in its pot, its leaves green and vital, new growth visibly extending from several branches. The change wasn't as dramatic as what she could have accomplished on Atlantea, but impressive enough to send another wave of whispers through the assembled courtiers.
King Minos leaned forward, his expression intent. "This skill—could it be applied to crops? To drought-stricken fields?"
"To an extent," Galea answered carefully. "Though my influence is limited without the island's energy. I could perhaps heal selected plants or teach others to identify which varieties might survive better under current conditions, but I cannot make rain fall or rivers flow."
"Yet even that limited knowledge could prove valuable," the king mused, sitting back. His gaze shifted momentarily to the officials gathered at the base of the dais, then returned to Galea. "We have many matters requiring our attention today. You will remain in the palace as our honored guest while we consider how best to employ your unique abilities."
The abrupt dismissal surprised Galea, who had expected more extensive questioning. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I hope my knowledge can help your people during this difficult time."
"Indeed," the king replied, his tone suggesting the audience was concluded. "Demetrios will continue to serve as your liaison to the court. If you require anything, he will arrange it."
Galea bowed as protocol demanded, then backed down the steps of the dais. As she turned to leave, her gaze caught that of a young woman standing to one side of the throne room—beautiful, with dark hair arranged in an elaborate style and intelligent eyes that studied Galea with unconcealed interest. Unlike the other courtiers, she wore no expression of fear or fascination, only calculated assessment.
"Princess Ariadne," Demetrios murmured as he fell into step beside Galea. "The king's favorite daughter."
The princess held Galea's gaze for a moment longer, then inclined her head slightly in what might have been acknowledgment before turning away to speak with a tall, handsome man in military dress.
As they exited the throne room, Galea felt a curious sensation—as if she had passed some test whose parameters remained unknown to her. The king's interest had seemed genuine but oddly restrained, while the queen's penetrating questions hinted at deeper concerns left unvoiced.
"The audience went well," Demetrios observed as they navigated the palace corridors. "The king was impressed by your demonstration."
"He dismissed me quickly," Galea noted.
Demetrios smiled thinly. "Trust me, if the king had been displeased, you would know. He has other petitioners to hear today—trade disputes, military matters, diplomatic envoys. Your extended evaluation will come later, once he has considered how best to utilize what you offer."
The word "utilize" sent a chill through Galea. Not "consult" or "learn from" but "utilize"—like a tool or resource to be exploited.
"And until then?" she asked.
"Until then, you remain the king's honored guest." Demetrios gestured expansively. "The palace and its gardens are open to you, within reason. Guards will ensure you don't wander into restricted areas, and I will bring word when the king wishes to speak with you again."
As they turned a corner, Galea caught sight of Theon standing at attention outside an ornate doorway. Their eyes met briefly, his expression carefully neutral though she thought she detected concern in his gaze. Then they had passed beyond, and Galea found herself being returned to her chambers through the same confusing series of corridors and halls.
"Rest," Demetrios advised as they reached her door. "The audience may have seemed brief, but the court will be discussing you for hours. Your next encounter with the king will likely be more...thorough."
With that ambiguous warning, he left her alone in her luxurious prison, the revitalized laurel plant—which a servant had hurriedly delivered to her chambers—standing as silent testimony to abilities she was only beginning to understand might be both gift and liability in the dangerous world of King Minos' court.