Essence of the Throne (Shadows of the Crown #2)

5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Ariella

I suck in a deep breath, the calm of the night settling in my lungs. I may have overreacted, but there are times when I want to rip Caspian's head clean from his body. I wouldn't— couldn't —so my possibly exaggerated reactions are the next best thing.

This part of Valoria smells of warm bread, mixed with the sharp tang of smoke from chimneys and the faint hint of herbs from open windows. The city is shrouded in darkness, with only a few flickering lamps lighting the streets, and my shadows beg to come out and play. It’s dark enough to hide them, but I’m in no mood. I need to release some essence soon, however. Each ripple under my skin drives me mad, and I do not wish to deal with the buildup any longer.

Something wraps around my arm, and I have my blade against the prince’s wrist before my next heartbeat.

“Do that again and you’ll find yourself sympathizing with the pain your cousin was in on the night of the ball.” He chuckles, calming the tension between our bodies.

“Bastard deserved much worse than that.” True. His gaze softens as he maps every bit of my face, as if he didn’t see it just a few minutes ago. “I fear my words came out wrong before…I didn’t intend to upset you.”

I blink. “And what did you intend?”

He shrugs, gesturing forward to continue our trek back to his home. “Honestly, I just wanted to give the guy a break and didn’t think it would matter to you either way.” More laughter leaves him as he turns his head toward me, his eyes lighting up with something I do not care to discern. “I swear to the Angel I thought he was about to piss himself when he saw you—it was magnificent.” I offer a nod in response.

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, and probably 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 with wide 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 my hair 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.”

That catches my attention. My eyes snap to the dark irises of his as my forehead creases. “When have I never been serious? I said I’ll take care of him, and I will. But first, I’m starving, so we’ll have my usual.”

The man nods before knocking his knuckles against the table and stating he’ll be right back. He pauses mid-turn, looking back at me with obvious concern. “Just so we’re clear, I do not want you to kill Benny. It was a joke.”

I raise a brow. “And yet I’m not laughing.”

I examine Ronan’s face as he processes my words. His bright expression falters for just a moment before he forces out a chuckle. “Right, well…I’ll go put in your order then.” He hurries away, gl ancing back over his shoulder once before disappearing into the kitchen.

Caspian leans forward, his voice low. “You’re not actually going to kill this Benny person, are you?”

I meet his gaze steadily, forcing a smile down. “Why wouldn’t I? Ronan said he’s been causing trouble.”

“But he just said it was a joke,” Caspian protests, his brow furrowing.

I shrug, picking up a knife from the table and twirling it between my fingers. “Joke or not, if someone’s causing problems for Ronan, they’re causing problems for me. And I don’t like problems.”

The prince opens his mouth, likely to argue further, but I cut him off. “Relax, Caspian. I’m not going to murder some random drunk. Not tonight, anyway.” I smirk at the relief that washes over his face. “Besides, we have more important matters to discuss.”

He nods, leaning in closer. His aura engulfs me, the rest of the room falling away at his proximity. “Do you really think we’ll be able to find them?” We . As if I’d permit him to join me.

“I have to,” I mutter, my eyes scanning his face. He is far too pretty, and the bastard knows it, smirking at my examination. “I’m unsure of how else we’ll get the answers needed otherwise.”

I lean back as Ronan returns, setting down plates piled high with steaming food. The aroma of spices and roasted meat fills the air, making my mouth water.

Ronan looks the prince over, raising a brow before addressing me. “Enjoy,” he says with a wink before retreating .

Caspian eyes the spread with wonder. “This looks incredible. What is all of this?”

I gesture to each dish as I name them. “Roasted boar with blackberry sauce, herb-crusted potatoes and, of course, the tarts.” I pick up one of the flaky pastries, savoring the burst of sweet fruit as I take a bite. My satisfied moan draws the attention of those closest to us—I let them stare. Including Caspian, who bites his lip, looking pained.

“You’d do well to stop making such noises before I disregard my dinner and indulge in the taste of you instead.” Heat sparks low in my abdomen, and I nearly squirm in my seat at the promise in the prince’s eyes. Fuck, I may continue making those sounds just to see if he follows through.

“Perhaps I’d love to be ravaged by the Prince of Eldoria in the middle of a lesser district tavern.” I’m surprised at the breathiness of my voice, though Caspian doesn’t comment on it as his lips quirk and he bends forward. A moment later, I jolt from a featherlight touch on my inner thigh. Our table is thin enough that his fingers can trail just to the base of my center.

He continues to tease me, drawing circles around the area, creating an uncomfortable ache in my core. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

“ Would you like that, Ariella?” The hunger in his voice is too much—I cannot do this with him. “Because I’ll drop to my knees right now. Throw your leg over my shoulder while I hold the other open, and give the entire building a view of what they all dream about, but will never have.” Fucking Aether, his words . He is so impassioned…something I’m beginning to appreciate. “I’ll drink your sweet fucking cum until you’re the only thing my body will accept as sustenance. Angel, I’ll stay between these exquisite thighs for as long as you’ll let me. Just say the word and I’m there, in front of all these people, status be damned.”

I am speechless. What do I say to such a confession when I want so badly for him to do everything he just said, but don’t want to give in?

I’m too stubborn for my own good.

“That is…intense.” What a pathetic response.

He shrugs, pinching the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. “I don’t care. I know what I want, and I’ll not hide what's mine.” I hum, nodding as I lift my glass of water and gulp it down.

“Eat,” I whisper, unable to get the word out without needing to clear my throat.

I finish my tart and the prince follows suit, his eyes widening at the taste. “Angel above, these are amazing.”

I nod, swallowing. “Of course they are. Now, about the…”

We discuss our plans in hushed tones as we eat, debating the best approach to finding the Palmluvela and what questions to ask once we do—well, once I do, but I don’t correct him just yet. The food and conversation flow easily, and I find myself relaxing despite the urgency of our mission.

As the night wears on, the crowd in the tavern thins. Ronan stops by every so often to refill our drinks and chat, his earlier wariness seemingly forgotten. He ignores Caspian’s title, treating him as he always has me: as just another customer .

As the last patrons stumble out, Caspian leans back with a contented sigh. “Thank you for bringing me here. I’ve never experienced anything quite like it.”

I shrug but can’t quite hide my pleased smile. It’s impossible to describe the satisfaction inside me at being the one to show the prince of life outside the castle. Why does it feel so good, and why do I want to have more nights just like this?

Shaking my head and ignoring the tightness in my throat, I hand Ronan a few coppers for our meal and grab some tarts to-go. Caspian and I walk the short distance back to the castle in a comfortable silence, alone in our thoughts but surrounded by the company of one other.

He nods to those we pass in the dimly lit halls as we approach our rooms. I consider slitting his throat for asking me to give up one of my tarts, but surprisingly, that thought is just a fleeting thing before I give in.

I reluctantly allow myself a moment to think about how I’m going to miss this when I walk away—this easy, mundane company.

Just a moment before I empty my mind of the feelings and suppress the tingling under my skin. I mutter a goodnight to Caspian before tugging at my umbral strand and undoing the wards along my door.

It’s a pity that good things never last.