Eighteen

EVE

My growling stomach must have offended Calten's sensibilities, because we were at the silversmith's shop debating between the merits of a rounded buckle versus a square (I couldn't follow the conversation at all) when he threw them both back into the pile in dismay.

"We will take both! Deliver them to Prince Shyllon's manor to my attention. If I have to continue to hear that sound for another moment, I'll lose my mind!"

Calten jerked his hand at me and I followed, leaving a chuckling owner and my ears burning.

"I'm sorry! I haven't eaten much."

My protests disappeared as we crossed a busy street, dodging horses, carts, and throngs of other shoppers. It was just like at home, except carriages and carts stopped and waited for those walking on the streets as if they had all the time in the world.

Calten gestured to a small cafe that even had tables outside on the sidewalk. "Don't apologize. You are a heartily sized girl who has been through a lot. I sometimes let the art of haggling take over. If you are hungry, you may simply say so."

My nose wrinkled as I wondered how many more times someone here would mention my size. Though the more it was brought up, the more I realized it wasn't meant as a barb or insult. It just was.

We sat down at an iron wrought table with matching chairs.

"Anything tickle your fancy?" Calten asked, even as a young girl approached our table, her hands folded in her lap and her brown hair in an intricate, braided bun.

My lips parted, but nothing came out. I didn't even know where to begin. Was it the same food we had back home, or other fae delicacies I'd never had before?

Calten rolled his eyes and addressed the girl. "I think we'll do two meat pies, but leave out the sauce on hers."

Meat pies sounded amazing, but the second part confused me. Surely we wouldn't get dry bread with hunks of meat in it, would we?

The girl's eyes slid to me, then back to Calten, who raised an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes at her. She wilted under his scrutiny and scurried off.

Two tables down from us, a cloaked figure took a seat and sat. It was impossible to tell if he or she was staring at me from underneath their hood, but it certainly felt like it. They were covered head to toe, no skin peeking out and touching the chair or the table.

A mug hit the table in front of me, a welcome distraction.

Calten raised his mug toward me, then took a deep draught. It smelled like ale. I hated ale on a general principle, thanks to my father and the other lords who always walked around reeking of it.

I let my mug sit.

Down the street, a woman's voice split the air. "Stop! Don't! What are you doing? He's just a boy!"

People stopped and gawked as two royal guards dragged a young fae boy out into the streets. He kept his knees tucked up to his chest, forcing the guards to either carry him or drag him out into the evening air.

"This boy is a rebel. He got caught speaking against our king to one of our informants. He will be dealt with," replied the one fae guard, his voice strained as the boy landed another successful kick to his shins.

"Impossible! He only goes to school and home. He …" Realization blazed in her eyes.

"Monsters! You keep your little rats away from our children!" Seeing she was drawing a crowd, she pulled herself up to her full height. "This is what they do! The king loses power, so they try to control us through fear, by attacking children! What cowards! What madness! THE QUEEN WILL RISE AND DESTROY YOU ALL!"

I jerked in shock as the boy kicked like a wild animal, ensuring that both guards had to focus on him and neither could subdue the moment. The crowd pressed in, and the guard's eyes flicked side to side nervously. The situation wasn't in his favor.

Calten put a hand on my arm in a silent warning to stay still and stay quiet.

We'd see about that.

The first guard yelped suddenly in pain, clutching his head and picking up a rock thrown at him by someone in the crowd. The other guard ducked as several more came his way, and by the time they both looked up, the boy and his mother had vanished. The thick crowd hid any traces of where they'd gone.

The guard sneered, then reevaluated his odds. Swallowing heavily, he jerked his head at his partner, and they went on their way.

The small, cloaked figure sitting a few tables from us was also gone.

Curious.

"Just another bloody day," Calten mumbled, draining the last few drops from his mug. There were so many questions, yet the words wouldn't form properly. Was this an accurate representation of the divide in fae society? Or simply a one-off situation?

Ask him something. Anything.

But the serving girl returned before I could put words to my thoughts, dispatching warm bowls of ‘meat pie' with steam still emanating from the middle. To my delight, there was indeed sauce in them. It was more like a thick soup put into a loaf of bread.

I shot a glance at Calten, remembering Shyllon's warnings of poison.

"Why'd you say no sauce? There's sauce." I pointed down at the pie like a simpleton.

Calten smirked. "Sweetheart, if I wanted to see you die, it'd be far more subtle than a public poisoning."

He dug into his meat pie with gusto.

Frowning, I speared my fork into the steaming bread, and lifted it to my mouth.

It was delicious!

We ate in relative silence, or as silent as it could get with the busy street around us, the crowd collectively gossiping about what had transpired around us. I tried hard to catch whatever snippets of conversation that I could.

"Just shameful. Last week it was Domini."

"I know, they're grasping at straws."

"Shows a weak king—"

"—and an even weaker court."

"Is the pie to your liking?"

I jerked, mind slamming to a halt as I realized Calten was talking to me. My eyes lifted from my pie to his politely interested expression.

"Yes, thank you," I said quickly, wondering if I could hear more from those two ladies at the potato stall behind me.

"Once we get back to the manor, all your clothes will already be in order, and you'll have nothing to worry about," he continued loudly, oblivious to my mounting frustration.

"—heard the king said—"

Calten dabbed his lips with his napkin. "I am unsure if Prince Shyllon requires your presence tonight. Though—"

"—rebels are getting bolder. The head rebel even—"

"—go wandering around the manor. He's made it clear you are not to be touched by anyone other than the princes, so it should be safe enough. Have you finished?"

"—tired of their bullshit. Court thinks they're high and mighty. Do they not understand we outnumber them ten to one?"

"Princess? Eve?" Calten reached out and put a hand on mine, making it impossible to ignore.

I gave him a weak smile. "Sorry, what was that?"

He glanced into my bowl, only half-eaten. "Is it not to your liking? Are you feeling well? I just thought someone of your size—"

To shut him up from making any more comments about my formidable size, I shoveled down the rest of the pie, ignoring the burn down my throat but relishing the warmth emanating from my stomach. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, unconcerned about manners. "Mm. Delicious."

His eyes narrowed. "Let us return, then. This evening's plans are at the prince's whims. We must prepare either way."

I let him guide me away from the table, turning fully to face where the women had been gossiping behind me. They were gone.

We began picking our way through the throng and heading up toward the hill where the prince's manor sat.

"Do you like your job?" I asked Calten when we finally got beyond the crowd, reaching the cobblestones just outside the market that began the incline up.

He gave me an odd look, his stride not slowing for an instant. "Do you normally ask such odd questions?"

My boots kept moving over the cobblestones, my eyes automatically tracking the uneven stones and avoiding them. Gregory had said the same to me years ago. Or had it only been months? The Royal Hunt and everything before it seemed like an entire lifetime ago. I wasn't the same girl.

My shoulders straightened.

I wasn't the same girl.

"I ask lots of irritating questions. Most prefer to give answers than perish under my harsh interrogations," I fired back.

His nostrils flared, the ghost of a smirk just barely visible in the tilt of his lips. Unless I imagined it. "I see why the princes like you. You're not what was expected."

I danced around a pothole in the road. "And what, exactly, was expected?"

He snorted, glancing up at the manor looming above us. "No matter what happens, remember who you are."

"And just who is that, exactly?" I asked, mostly because most days not even I was sure of the answer.

"Fire and blood, ash and bones,

Captive savior, rancid court.

Break the chains, burn the stones,

Free the queen, last resort."

I blinked.

"That was … prophetic," I managed lamely. I'd been about to say ‘lovely,' but that would have been a lie.

"Do you believe in prophecies, Princess?" Calten asked, leaning forward across the table casually, as though discussing the weather.

And not a kingdom's ruin and damnation.

I hesitated for only a moment.

"I know Ellis is haunted by dreams. Another friend of mine hears whispers of people in places far from any realm I'd been in before this one. I don't know about prophecies, but they see and hear something that torments them. Their fear is real. The dread is tangible."

Calten aged a decade in that moment, eyes large and tired.

"Back in the shop, you said something along the lines of how our society ‘only works in theory, and as long as those in power don't abuse it.' "

Wow, a man who listened. How refreshing.

"Yes …" I agreed cautiously.

His lips thinned, face pinching in.

"The fae society has been poaching from your land for centuries. The royal family has been nothing more than a long line of cruel torturers. The fae two kings ago makes Fennis look like a teddy bear, and that one ruled for over two hundred years. There was almost a war then, and Fennis's father was able to smooth things over by playing both sides. Fennis tries to do the same, but doesn't have the same, ah, charisma of his father."

"And the people now know they have power," I added on, mostly to myself, but Calten nodded seriously.

"Whether you believe in prophecies or not, Princess, you're in one."

We quickly approached the iron gates, and Calten's frankness morphed back into his industrious, busybody self, making any further revelations impossible.

Perhaps I would simply have to decide on my own what I believed, and what I didn't.