Chapter 17 The King Beneath
THE KING BENEATH
We sat at one of the iron bistro tables outside the cafe in this bustling city beneath the city that I had called my home for nearly six years.
How many times had I strolled over the cobbled streets above, unaware that this sprawling metropolis existed beneath my feet?
How far beneath the city did the invisible twin city stretch?
I had so many questions. I sipped a frothy cappuccino and pondered where to begin.
“You haven’t said much,” Ciaran said in rough gravelly tones.
“I don’t know what to say,” I replied honestly.
“Yesterday I was performing on stage, in the Lutesse City Opera. I had a life. I had friends. I had a future. And now… I’m…
I don’t exactly know where I am. I certainly don’t have a life or friends or a future.
And this—” I gestured to the marketplace around us.
“I don’t know, Ciaran. I just don’t know what to say. ”
People smiled amicably at Ciaran as they strolled past, on their way to wherever they were going.
“Understandable.” He looked down. “I would hope you know that I am your friend, though.”
“Are you? None of this insanity started until I met you.”
“I am. I’m trying to help you here. You know what will happen if you go back, right?” Ciaran looked graver than ever. His dark brows knit together, his knuckles white as they gripped the sides of his steaming mug of coffee.
“So what am I supposed to do? Hide down here forever? I didn’t ask for this. This isn’t fair.” The walls I had put up in those moments when I decided to save myself cracked, letting just a bit of my true emotions leak through.
“Nothing Scion has done to our kind is fair,” Ciaran hissed, his voice dropping to a whisper, “but that is the lot that we have been given. You are here. This is your reality. Get used to it.”
“I will not,” I began, but Ciaran held up a hand.
“We can finish this later.” He rolled his shoulders, and some of the tension in his face eased as he looked out toward the bustling market and waved at someone.
If I had expected to meet anyone down here, it was not the person who casually strolled toward us, her high heels clacking against the cobblestones—the woman Seff had sneered at, all those days ago.
It felt like it had been another lifetime.
He had called her a witch; I don’t know how he knew, but somehow, he was right.
Here she was, flashing a winning smile at Ciaran.
Something unpleasant twisted in my gut as I watched him return her grin.
“Elena.” Ciaran’s smile was warm and genuine as she approached.
Today she was dressed in a much more modest fashion than she was when Seff had sneered at her: a simple black overcoat over warm looking black wool pants, with a flat black hat perched on top of her finger-waved chestnut hair. No sign of all her intricate tattoos.
“Ciaran.” Her smile crinkled her dark eyes in their upturned corners. “And you must be the famous Seraphina. I’ve heard so much about you.” She pulled a chair up and sat beside me. “Your message just said it was serious?”
“Seraphina, this is Elena,” Ciaran introduced us. “Seraphina will be staying with us down here for the time being.” He didn’t elaborate on why. Whether she knew the whole story or not, I didn’t know. I was fixated on how he had said us, my gut twisting inexplicably.
“Then I’m guessing this is a fashion emergency?” Elena looked me up and down, noting the clothes I wore, which clearly did not fit.
“It is absolutely a fashion emergency.” I finally had the wherewithal to get words out.
I was so struck by Elena, and if I was honest, quite intimidated by her.
“I need help.” I gestured to Ciaran’s old clothes hanging off me, trying to be irreverent, even though I was a mess inside.
Was this Ciaran’s lover? She was beautiful enough to be his match.
Why did I care? I had no reason to think he wouldn’t have someone.
Of course, he had someone. No one could look like that and not have someone.
I told myself that it didn’t matter—what did I care?
Elena giggled in response to my plea. “That simply will not do. We must go play dress up. And then you can tell me all about how you managed to get away from those horrible Scion goons without any magical training. So impressive.”
So, she did know what had happened. I had no idea how—as far as I knew, Ciaran hadn’t left the apartment since I had arrived. But perhaps they had some sort of magical method of communicating.
“Sit tight, Elena, you’ll have your turn with her.” Ciaran’s lip twisted into a half-smile. My eyes darted back and forth between them, trying to piece together the nature of their relationship. It was going to drive me crazy.
“So, are you two… together?” The words escaped my lips like vomit before I had a chance to stop myself; I pressed them together immediately, wishing I could take it back.
Elena burst out laughing. Ciaran just gave a smirk.
“Goddess no!” Elena was almost doubled over laughing. “No. No, no, no, no, no.” She tried to catch her breath as she placed her hand on her abdomen. “No offence, Ciaran… You know you’re just not my type.” She winked at him.
“Sorry, my mistake,” I mumbled. I wished I could disappear and sink into a city even farther below the earth than this one.
“No, not at all.” Elena turned toward me. “It’s just, I’ve never been with a man. It sounded so absurd!” She started laughing again, as if the thought had entertained her to no end.
“You see,” Ciaran began, “in addition to being a haven for those of us with magical abilities, the City Beneath is also a refuge for those who don’t ascribe to Scion’s… rigid romantic requirements. Here you are free to love who you wish, to live as you truly are, in every way.”
“True freedom.” Elena nodded. “You’ll see. It’s… unlike anywhere I’ve ever known.”
“Forgive my ignorance.” I tried to tamp down my embarrassment, which was tinged with a sense of immense relief.
I had no right to feel this sort of possession over Ciaran.
But I was starting to see the appeal of the place.
Somewhere you could be free, as you never truly could in Lutesse proper. It sounded like a fantasy.
“I would have thought that the King Beneath Lutesse would have told you a bit more about his city before he just plopped you right into the middle of it, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. So typical, Ciaran,” Elena said offhandedly. My stomach jolted.
“Sorry. The what Beneath Lutesse?” My eyebrows were so high they were almost touching my hairline. Ciaran was what?
“Ciaran! You didn’t tell her anything at all, did you?” Elena chastised her friend. Her… king?
Ciaran’s nose scrunched in distaste. “You know I don’t like that title, right?”
Holy fuck. So, it was true? Ciaran was some kind of… magical royalty?
“Well, it’s what everyone calls you. You’d think he’d be used to it by now; he’s held the position for three years.” Elena looked at me, shrugging her shoulders like it was obvious.
It was not obvious. “You’re… the king here?” I breathed. My shock at the revelation must have been apparent. Elena laughed at me.
“Technically, yes.” Ciaran winced. “It’s just a title, though.
It is a democratically elected position, I promise.
We do not have a true monarchy. The titles are old—older than this city, older than Scion, so it just kind of stuck.
I am the fair and democratically elected head of this city, yes, and they do call me their king.
True. But if I lost the next election, I would no longer hold the title,” Ciaran explained, glaring sharply at Elena. She suppressed a giggle.
“What does that mean?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.
“When we met, you were working in a kitchen in Lutesse… How did you do that and maintain your duties as a… king?” I needed explanations.
This was a much bigger revelation than I was expecting.
And it meant I was sleeping in the bed of a king?
That I had kicked him out of his own bed and forced a king to sleep on his couch.
I was suddenly very aware of the redness creeping up my neck.
“This city is very efficient at running itself, I assure you, Seraphina. But there was a growing threat against magic wielders in Lutesse, and my position in the kitchens at Montmartre was part of a greater mission. It came with some perks, though.” Ciaran smiled that wry half-smile, and I don’t know why, but my stomach gave a pleasant jolt this time.
At the thought of Ciaran in his chef whites, cooking in the bustling kitchens of Montmartre.
At the way that coat had moulded to his exquisite torso.
Stop it. I shook my head to snap back to reality.
I should have known—the way that Ciaran had emanated power and grace, even from the rooftop at Montmartre. But his apartment was so… small. I decided not to pry. Just because he held that title, didn’t mean he was as rich as a king in the traditional sense.
“Okay, so now that that’s out of the way…” Elena began. “Ciaran, can I please take this poor girl shopping? She is a beautiful ballerina with the body of a goddess. She should not be wearing your old clothes. This is a travesty.”
I saw why Ciaran had called on her. She reminded me of Carlotta and Maren. With an irreverent sense of humour and undeniable warmth. I could already tell we were going to get along.
“By all means.” He held his hands up. “Just try and keep to some semblance of a budget, Elena,” Ciaran warned, downing the remainder of his coffee and standing. “I have some things to take care of this afternoon. I’ll be back at the apartment by this evening. I’ll meet you there.”
Elena waved him off. As he stood to leave, Ciaran’s eyes found mine. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he just nodded once and left the bustling cafe.