Chapter Fourteen
Avari
Following the king to what he announced as his usual seating spot, I trailed behind until we reached a little nook separated from the rest by thick foliage hanging from the ceiling.
It was private and snug, just the way I liked it.
The air smelled fresh and earthy, carrying the faint sweetness of dew-kissed leaves after rain.
‘I never expected Fogoya to be this verdant,’ I admitted as my fingers brushed the rose-coloured beads of a trailing vine. Its lush strands hung low enough to tickle my nose, almost making me sneeze.
Taking the chair opposite me, the king let me have the booth since I was already running my hands through the plants and blocking the entrance.
Tone laced with mockery, he ridiculed, ‘Yeah, my people got sick of the eternal fire pit last week and begged us to change it up.’
‘Very funny.’ Clearing my throat and feeling perplexed by how little I actually understood about my new home, I turned my attention to the menu. The options seemed endless, though most included some form of meat, which worried me. ‘Would now be a good time to mention I’m a vegetarian?’
Clutching a hand to his mouth, he whispered, ‘You don’t say! And here I thought you were just picky.’
The fact that he'd realised I had dietary requirements shocked me. Hadn't he said his spies couldn't uncover anything about me? I watched him, studying him anew, hoping to find traces of... I didn't even know what. Perhaps I just wanted to understand him.
He met my wary gaze with one of quiet composure before quipping, ‘You haven't touched any meat since you moved here, so it was a safe bet.’
“Moved here.” What an interesting choice of words for the circumstances surrounding my arrival in Fogoya.
‘You’ve been watching what I eat,’ I accused, unsure whether to be annoyed or amused. Being attentive was one thing, but this bordered on obsession.
Seeing nothing wrong with his behaviour, the king stopped analysing the menu and reflected, ‘I like to see my investments reap profit.’
Interesting. ‘And what exactly does that mean?’
‘It means,’ he snapped the catalogue shut and leaned closer, eyes glinting deviously, ‘eat, so you can heal and keep training me. Can’t have my investment wasting away, now can we?’
A quick sequence of pings from his phone tore his gaze away. The mask of the ruler took over his face the longer his attention stayed on the screen. His posture changed too, like he expected the worst.
‘Everything okay?’ I asked as a frown etched itself onto his features. The importance of whatever message he received seemed to weigh on his shoulders.
Focusing on my face, he wore the look of a composure that he had clearly practised to perfection. ‘Yes, just some court matters to attend to later.’
Perhaps he needed a distraction to stay this almost pleasant version of himself. ‘So what kind of errands are we running today anyway?’
‘This.’
I frowned. ‘This?’
‘This,’ he repeated, eyes twinkling as he admired my bewilderment.
‘What, did the court run out of food or something?’ I mused, though his attention had already reverted to the pinging phone. Curiosity burned holes in my mind, but I knew it was none of my business. The relentless ringtone was my cue to get back to the menu.
‘Most of this I can’t eat,’ I muttered, scanning the list. ‘But you go ahead. I’m not that hungry anyway.’ Instead, I looked around the room. The soft golden accents, deep reds and greens, and warm woodwork gave the place a cosy feel.
‘Rob will adjust it for you. Just pick what you want. I’m sorry, but I have to take this,’ he said, answering the phone after multiple rings as he walked away.
On his way out, he quietly requested the usual from a tall, blonde waitress and sent her my way.
The girl towered over me. She was definitely the standard height for a Fogoyan woman.
The blonde was also nicely gifted in other areas of her body.
No wonder he came up to her, out of all the other waitresses.
‘Have you picked?’ Her curt question caught me off guard. I expected the king’s favourite restaurant to be friendly, but apparently, easy on the eyes didn’t mean easy to digest. This particular woman resembled heartburn.
Unwilling to chance a dish polluted with meat, I requested the safest option. ‘I’ll take the salad with croutons, please.’
The girl scoffed, noting it down. ‘Anything else?’
Looking at her grimace, I couldn’t help but wonder what her deal was. ‘Have I offended you somehow? You seem very standoffish.’
The woman set her notepad down and gave me a once-over, eyes flashing with venom and the desire to unleash her power. ‘Having you in my kingdom offends me, not to mention my place of work, you filthy Ortensian.’
Oh. Reactions like this were expected; I had braced myself on my first and second visits—the latter of which had resulted in my non-consensual extended stay.
Yet spending so much time at the castle, where I only had to worry about the curse and the king, had mellowed me.
Now I wasn’t sure how to approach the situation.
I decided against a retort. I didn’t even know this woman, and bickering with a stranger felt beneath me.
Besides, as I’d learned from hundreds of times my sisters had tried to provoke me, ignoring such attempts irked the perpetrators more than anything else.
So instead of squabbling, I smiled—a move that nearly popped a vein on the waitress’s forehead.
‘Do you think your king would be happy with what you’re doing?
’ I asked lightly, though internally, I groaned at how much I enjoyed seeing the girl pale.
Her pathetic attempt to cover discomfort with a careless shrug amused me.
Though it wasn't fear I craved from people, but respect.
To be seen as a person. To be accepted and respected as a fellow fire-breather.
I supposed it all circled back to learning to control my fire.
‘He would not believe you, you worthless halfling,’ the ungracious airhead spat.
‘Well, to me, he seems quite displeased.’ I pointed toward the window at the far end of the café. Between the bushes, we could just make out the king, showing all the telltale signs of anger: furrowed brows, piercing gaze, tense posture—all the usual theatrics from the gloomy barbarian.
The girl gasped and took a step back, eyes blurring with unshed tears. She hurried off, leaving her pen behind. I snatched it up, keeping it as a small souvenir of the day when, for once, it wasn’t me running from an encounter.
I could almost feel sorry for her; I knew what it was like to fear my monarch. Sighing, I realised there wasn’t a day my mother didn’t creep into my thoughts.
‘She’ll be punished.' The king’s tone was sharp as he finally sat back down facing me. Frowning and gruff, I could see he was agitated, either from his call or my exchange with his favourite server.
‘Let her speak her mind.’ I shrugged. ‘It’s not a crime to dislike me.’
‘She disrespected you, and there will be consequences.’ His tone made it sound less like justice and more like ownership. He did a double-take just as our food arrived, steaming fresh from the kitchen. Well, his was. ‘Seriously, a salad?’
‘I’ll have you know, vegetables are very nutritious. Maybe order some next time to enrich your carrion,’ I scorned him, though I knew the chances were slim. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him have a meal without meat.
‘I’ll have you know you’re skin and bones. Where’s your protein? At least my carrion—’ His hand gestured toward the bloody steak, ‘—sustains my protein needs.’
‘What it sustains is your high blood pressure, you hothead.' I mimicked his serious stance before biting into my vegetables.
It made him laugh, the tension finally easing from his broad shoulders. ‘No. You can take the credit for that, witch.’
We ate the rest of our meal in comfortable silence, and as we finished, Rob brought us a plate full of round biscuits to share. The treat carried a scent I couldn’t quite pinpoint.
‘Nutmeg?’
‘Ginger,’ Rob cheerfully offered while taking our empty plates away.
The king sighed, taking one and snapping it in half. ‘It’s an ongoing joke.’
Confused, I eyed him expectantly, but he appeared reluctant to share.
‘Well, when I met the fire-haired Rob over there, I wouldn’t stop pestering him about that hair colour.’
‘Okay?’ I encouraged him to continue as something like shame dominated his features, and he traced his fingers along his mouth.
‘We met about a hundred years ago, just so you know. Eventually, jokes run cold, and as a young, unruly prince, I moved on to demanding ginger biscuits be present everywhere I went if Robert was going to be present as well.’
‘And he didn’t like that?’ Okay, that was a little funny.
The king scoffed, smashing the biscuit into dust and playing with it on the table. ‘He didn’t mind, actually, especially since I couldn’t lay them off and got fat pretty quickly.’
‘I find that difficult to believe.’ The corners of my mouth lifted of their own accord. The image of my athletic brute, now adorned with a hanging belly, replaying in my mind, was far too hilarious to ignore.
‘You best believe it. It took a ton of cardio to burn it off,’ he promised, cheeks reddening as he swiped the dust off the table.
Wonder what kind of cardio, I thought.
His eyelashes fluttered as he shot me a roguish smile. ‘Interested, little witch?’
Heat flared across my chest, neck, and cheeks as I realised I said it out loud. My body betrayed me far too easily.
Using my hand, I shielded myself from the king’s gloating stare. Surely, I was on the verge of self-combustion.
The bastard winked. ‘Oh, relax. You’re not the first princess to throw herself at me.’
Mortified, I defended myself, ‘Um, no? There is no throwing going on here, not even a little bit.’