Chapter 17 #2
Apparently, he was not done. Caspian turned his eyes to Esme, and I had to sit there and watch as obvious interest entered them. Esme either didn’t see it or chose to ignore it.
I much preferred the latter.
“I don’t think I can do much with your reputation, serpenia,” he said to Esme, using the same term he had last night. It wasn’t a term of endearment I was familiar with in the old language. I hated it in any language.
The moment was over nearly as soon as it began, Caspian launching into an impressively colorful description of how cartoonists on Muli had a grand time depicting Virterrans as sniveling trolls who’d never seen the sun.
“I know you lot have sunlight,” Caspian said with a too-pleased smile. “In reality, we only have a little more proximity to it. Barely a quarter of a year on you. But who am I to mess with an artist’s creative vision?”
Elijah let him prattle on for several more seconds before issuing a warning, nothing more than his name. What power to have over a Prince, even as a family relation.
“I say that to assure you that my only intention in having these meetings be public is to assure our people that we are more similar than stories have led us to believe,” Caspian said, doing a decent job at recovering.
“Alright,” Bellamy said with a decisive dip of her chin. Well, that was that then.
It was no secret that Bellamy would be the one leading the charge—read, near uprising—against her father. She’d be the person stepping onto the throne eventually.
Good thing she deserved it. Had willingly thrown herself onto the front lines of a war for the slightest chance she might be able to broker for peace.
I would not mess that up by slamming our waiter’s face into the table for staring at Esme too long. He had the type of fear in his eyes that made people trigger happy and I did not appreciate that being leveled anywhere near her.
Was it Esme specifically or the fact we were from Muli? His eyes did seem to focus on her Mark, on the snake on the back of her hand.
I couldn’t dwell too long, not when Soren was turning the conversation to setting up a trade system across the Bridge. A formal one, Caspian had said with a wink leveled at Esme.
It was obvious Elijah and Caspian were looking for information on what our side of the Bridge looked like. Soren took the lead, sharing openly under the thinly veiled assumption Carson had told them everything already.
To everyone’s utter shock, he had.
“A seven hour drive, is what, an hour or so with the right train system?” Elijah asked passively. “I assume you can build what you need fairly quickly, even with the desert conditions.”
Soren laughed, while I plotted murder in my head. Carson was a fucking asshole, and I had no idea what happened to him. Maybe this traitor had lived inside him all along.
The conversation was moving along smoothly enough that I felt comfortable excusing myself. What I really wanted was to take a lap and get a different perspective on the room, but had to cover it up somehow.
On my way back to the table, I stopped at the bar to get Esme another coffee. Before I’d gotten up, she’d reached for her empty cup twice out of habit.
Everyone gave me a wide berth, which I appreciated, because I really only wanted to stare at the back of Esme’s head.
That was, until someone appeared in the edge of my vision. A woman, I could vaguely make out.
“I have to say, though I wasn’t initially happy with the idea of a visit from some Virterrans coming to visit, my mind has changed,” she said, voice drawn out and syrupy.
Something had gone tight in Esme’s shoulders and I wasn’t about to turn away and miss what had caused it. “Yeah, and why’s that?” I asked passively.
“How could it not, when I didn’t realize what a…treat it would be.” The open innuendo in her voice forced me to turn towards her so she understood I was serious when I shut this down.
When I did, I found a shorter woman with severe black hair blinking up at me.
"We’re here on business,” I said carefully, making sure there was not an ounce of emotion on my face. Just then, a frothy cup of coffee slid across the bar. Perfect. “Now, would you excuse me?”
I stepped away, only to be stopped by her hand on my arm. It was years of practice, and nothing less, than kept my face from pinching in pain.
This woman had barely touched my arm, and yet it shot a bolt of lightning through my body.
Esme had been severely understating how much the Bond could make you hurt if someone else touched you.
"Running away already?” the woman said with a pout, unconcerned that I was shaking off her touch.
“With all due respect,” I said, though my tone didn’t reflect it, “my paranima is standing over there. I’d like to return to her.”
She waived a hand dismissively, holding up a giant middle finger to the Bond. The entity that lived inside the majority of her people since birth. That was inside her, if the tattoo on her shoulder was to be believed.
Something in my expression made her light up with an odd sort of giddiness. “Oh, are you going to live up to legend? I heard your lot are quite passionate.”
I didn’t care to continue this conversation, not when I could feel Esme’s eyes on me. I turned to find her pushing away from her chair.
“Yes,” I said, none too softly. “About that woman walking towards us. Who, I might add, does not look happy.”
Her eyes shifted to Esme, raking down her with an unimpressed look until she got to her hand, her expression immediately dropping and her eyes blowing wide.
She’d seen the same Mark on me, but it was like it didn’t register until she saw its twin on Esme’s. “I…I—” she stuttered, unable to get anything out, her body locking up in fear.
“Hello,” Esme said, with not even remotely the tone I was expecting.
Disappointment curled through my stomach.
I couldn’t help it. I was excited to hear her voice laced with possession.
“I wanted to,” she swallowed, then her jaw pulsed once.
“Introduce myself.” Those words, sounding like they were spoken with a throat ravaged by sickness. “I’m Esme.”
What. Was. Happening? How was she so calm right now?
I wanted to throw her over my shoulder just to make it very clear who she was to me.
The woman’s blinks stuttered and so did her stance, her legs wobbling back and forth. “I…uh, we were just talking,” the woman, who’s name I’d still yet to learn, finally got out.
“Okay,” Esme said, her voice that same measured, practiced calm.
In fact, clearly Esme had practiced this. Suddenly, I needed to know what was hiding under all that control. Now, preferably.