Page 18 of Essence of the Throne

We’re quiet for a few moments, and the tautness of my posture lessens. Caspian breaks the silence once more. “Will you forgive me, angel? I may question you sometimes, but I have nothing but good intentions with you. I wouldn’t ever do anything to harm you.” He nods to a woman dusting around her window, and her mouth drops when she realizes who the prince is walking with.

Instead of answering, I drop the subject because I wasn’t angry with him to begin with. I’m angry with myself—always myself. And for the first time, my stomach churns knowing I’d just treated Caspian how I do everyone else.

“Are you hungry?” I blurt before biting my cheek so hard the taste of blood slides over my tongue. It is suddenly too hot out here; I need a cold shower.

When he doesn’t answer, I look over to find the prince smiling boyishly at me. Aether, does he know how to make me uncomfortable. Not such an unwelcome sensation, though.

“Did you just ask me on a date, Ariella Mistaire?”

My face heats as I move to refute his accusation. “What? I only asked if you were hungry, because I’m starving and there’s a place close by that makes the best tarts.”

“Sounds like a date to me,” he declares, grinning so wide I’m certain his lips will split in half.

I shove him to the left, toward Pyro’s Bite. I could come just imagining the taste of their food. Ronan, the owner, weaves the pyro strand and uses his essence to cook. He claims that he does nothing special, just makes sure customers get a warm meal, but the man is an Angel in his own right. I’ve no idea what he does with his recipes, but there’s nowhere else like it in Valoria.

We approach the hidden little restaurant; the entrance nestled in a small, creepy alley—I love it. I reach for the handle, but Caspian’s voice halts my steps.

“Are you sure this is safe?”

I throw my head back, laughing loudly. Still chuckling when I catch my breath, I find the prince watching me with a look I’ve only ever seen from my parents, Marek, and Isaiah. Three of whom are now dead.

“Nothing in this part of the city is safe, prince. Lucky for you, you’re being escorted by the one person in this realm that no one in there would dare fuck with.” I pause, considering my words. “Actually, I’d bet you’re the safest person here because of that. Let’s go.”

I grab the handle and yank at the door, cursing under my breath when the hinges squeak and stick. The door itself isn’t heavy, just covered in years worth of what I assume is alcohol, piss, andprobably cum. It sticks to itself and I pull hard, my elbow grazing Caspian's stomach when it gives. I remind myself to reprimand Ronan again for not yet fixing it before stepping into the space.

A small smile tugs at my lips as I breathe in the familiar air of sweat, meat, and my favorite tarts.

Ronan had stopped making them at one point, claiming they cost him more than they’re worth; but one look from me and they were suddenly a permanent item on the menu. Sometimes being me has its perks.

A waitress squeals when we step into the dining area, nearly tripping with a tray full of food in her hands. I catch her wrist, steadying the tremble before letting go. Her mouth opens and closes twice before I save her from any more embarrassment.

“Tell Ronan I’m here,” I remark before grabbing Caspian’s hand and stepping around groups of people to claim an empty table at the corner of the room. The waitress is not one I’ve seen before, but I’m not attempting to hide my hair, so she’ll know what to tell the owner.

I nod at the outer chair for the prince to take while I sit in the one opposite, providing me a clear view of the entire room. Every single person is staring at me as if they cannot believe I’m real—it’s pathetic. I meet each pair of eyes glaring my way until they drop and continue with whatever the fuck these people talk about.

Interesting that no one looks twice at Caspian. I wonder if it’s my presence, or that they do not know what the prince looks like.

I settle into my seat, scanning the room once more before turning my attention back to Caspian. He’s looking around withwide eyes, taking in the raucous atmosphere and extensive mix of patrons.

“Not quite what you’re used to in the castle, is it?” I smirk.

He shakes his head, a small smile playing at his lips. “Definitely not. But I like it. It’s…real. Everything in my life is always so painted over; fake smiles and money hide the reality of it all.”

Before I can respond, a booming voice cuts through the chatter. “Well, well, well! If it isn’t my least favorite customer!” I level Ronan with a glare that would make most weep, but he just laughs and waves it away.

The man saunters over to our table, his footsteps resonate through the room like the confident beat of a drum, announcing his arrival to any that care to listen. His broad frame fills my vision as he nears us. He towers over Caspian, his muscular arms and chest straining against a tight shirt. Dark stubble lines his jaw, giving him an air of virility. As he reaches the table, Ronan’s hand slaps against the aging wood, displaying his calloused skin.

He's a few years ahead of my age, but there’s always been a sense of ripened wisdom about him. If I wasn’t sure of his age, I’d be convinced he was far older.

“Your least favorite customer?” I quip, my tone void of any warmth.

He snorts and crosses his thick arms. “You scare off most of my customers when you visit. Of course you’re my least favorite. Ah, at least I can finally rid of my stock of tarts, though, so I suppose you’re not the worst this time.” Ronan is one of the very few people that have never treated me differently because of myhair or my reputation. He insults me far more than I would allow anyone else, but he knows I won’t kill him.

I’d miss his cooking too much.

“Is that right?” I challenge, leaning back in my chair. “Who is it this time, then? I’ve not met my kill quota for the day yet, so I’ll take care of them.”

He bursts out laughing while Caspian folds his hands on the table, grinning as he looks between Ronan and me. “Truthfully, Benny has been troublesome in your absence—I wouldn’t mind a break from him.” I mutter something about Benny being gone by the end of the night, not paying much attention as I watch the prince relax in this new environment. Ronan narrows his eyes, scratching his chin for a moment before saying, “I can never tell if you’re being serious or not.”

---