Page 46 of Of Song and Scepter
“Apologies, my ladies,” says Krass, stooping to retrieve the pebbles.
Odissa looks pointedly at the ceiling and moves her foot out of his reach.
I hop from my chair and scoop up the few stones that landed near me and hold them out for Krass. He accepts them with a deep bow, touching his hidden gills with two fingers.
I drop the stones into his large blue hands. “Next time, don’t leave your left flank so open,” I whisper. “It was a fair move, you know.”
“Thank you, my lady,” he rumbles, his pointy smile spreading wide. “Truly.”
“Don’t mention it,” I say, returning to my seat.
Odissa pins me with a glare as the males return to their game.
I raise my eyebrow at her. “Something chewing your fins?”
She shakes her head. Prince Soren arrives with three mugs of ale and a plate of seaweed crisps balancing on top. He slides into the chair between us and distributes the mugs.
“Ladies,” he says, tipping his head.
“How kind of Your Highness,” Odissa purrs. She lifts a mug to her lips, the foam clinging to her upper lip.
He takes a long pull from his own mug. With every bob of his throat, he sucks down the liquid in rapid rhythm, draining the liquid in a few gulps. Then, he licks the foam from his lips.
Odissa watches him, her eyes widening with each gulp.
He plucks a crisp from the plate and crunches it between his teeth. “This is my favorite spot,” he says, glancing at her.
She forces a smile. “Oh, really?” she says, taking in the room. Her eyes dart between the tables, snagging on Krass, who leans in our direction with interest, and swivels his large ears.
The prince tips his mug, studying the bottom of it with disappointment. He signals the waitress.
A small band has taken post at the far end of the cavern, coaxing a lilting tune from their stringed instruments. Mermaids spiral in a free-flowing dance, laughing and carrying their mugs of ale to the dance floor, amber liquid sloshing onto the stone floor.
Odissa flexes her jaw. “What a lovely place.”
“You think so?” He leans across the table, studying her face intently.
Next to us, Krass belches loudly, thumping his fist onto his table repeatedly. His opponent snickers as he places a white stone.
Odissa flicks her eyes to the game. Her lips quiver as she holds them in a smile. “Of course,” she says. She reaches for the prince’s hand, smoothing the back with her thumb.
I guzzle my liquid. It’s smooth against the back of my throat, and I close my eyes, letting it slide into my gullet. I soon reach the bottom of my mug, too, seeking the buzz. But this ale is weak, and I’ve spent a lifetime building my tolerance.
“I think the palace kitchen does a fine job, as well,” she hedges. “That cake on our first night was to die for, don’t you agree?”
He flips his hand and catches her thumb between his fingers, giving it a squeeze before releasing.
“Oh yes, the royal chefs are fantastic. But sometimes, I fancy a good meal away from the pomp of palace life.” He leans in close, whispering now. “Don’t tell the chef, but the food here is better.”
He places another crisp between his teeth, offering a second to Odissa. She pinches it between her fingers.
“Try it. You might like it.”
She places the crisp in her mouth and chews, swallowing slowly.
“Excellent,” he says. “I figured it’d be nice to relax away from the palace for a while, get to know the people. Have an ale.” He nods at the approaching waitress. “Or two.”
The waitress delivers the next round of ales with two plates of roasted wrigglefish and one plate raw. The prince slides the uncooked meal to me. “For you, my lady. I know you like it raw.”
