The Sinuous Bargain of a Cowardly Prince (book one, The Shadowed Throne Chronicles)
Chapter Fourteen - Ether

The Tallup in my hands is indeed bigger than any I’ve ever seen. Red and heavy and overflowing, no doubt, with a generous helping of magical energy.

Its eyes are now covered in a film of white, so it must have died more than a day ago. I rub my finger along the iridescent scales, and when I lift, a tackiness clings to my skin. My nose wrinkles in disgust.

Bernadette sips at her goopy cereal, her eyes focused downward.

“Ether,” Ramiel finally speaks, his voice lifting on the second syllable. I look into those bright green eyes that watch me so sincerely as though they’re preparing an apology. “How have you been this week? I assume Bernadette’s been considerate?”

My eyes flash back to the old maid, who is now turned slightly away from the conversation, still nursing the little bit of food left in her bowl. I force my lips into a line, hiding my amusement.

“Of course,” I say as I move to sit at the table. The fish, though dead, flops in my hands as my body creases into the wood of the stool. Ramiel follows my lead, sitting next to me, and Ronan sits across, by Bernadette.

Ramiel lifts his chin, challenging me. “Eat it. I want to see how you can connect to the supposed magical energy it possesses.”

My throat dries up quickly at his doubtful words, and I hesitantly set the slimy fish on the wooden table. Only Ramiel is unphased by this act of disrespect. Bernadette makes an unpleasant noise, then stands and moves to the sink to clean dishes to distract herself from the reeking fish. Ronan... just looks angry. Nothing new.

“You’d like to see that, wouldn’t you?” I cross my arms over my chest and straighten my back. There’s a trick to looking like the dominant one in a conversation. Eighty percent of it is one’s posture. Pluto taught me that.

Ramiel chuckles softly, rests an elbow on the table, and turns toward me, nestling his chin in his hand. And then he just... stares at me. For a little too long than I’m comfortable with.

“Yes, I’d like that very much,” he says, his voice like the low thrumming of some ancient, tenor instrument. His dark eyebrows crease over his forehead and he suddenly leans a little closer to me. A little too close.

My disobedient heart throbs in my throat, but I stay still, not backing down. Heat flares in my cheeks and spreads to my ears. A recondite fact about elves is that when we eat, it isn’t the most attractive thing to watch. In fact, it’s the last thing I want to do in any non-elf’s presence.

He holds me a little longer in that tantalizing emerald gaze and I feel my hands twitching in my lap, ready to grab the stool I’m sitting on and teleport myself to another dimension. Away from this humiliation. From his lingering stare.

I catch the fairy’s sideways glower—it’s accompanied by a pathetic smirk. He definitely planned this. My hands stir restlessly in my lap, readying themselves for a quick attack.

But then Ramiel’s warm palm is suddenly resting over my knuckles, and I swear if it weren’t for my sobriety, I’d one hundred percent be stuck in the rafters above us. Hot and rough and large, his hand covers both of mine like a blanket. Comforting, soothing, overwhelming.

A shudder rages through my spine, and in one quick stroke, I rip my hands from under his and scoot away a safe distance.

He isn’t the prince I had pined for all my life, nor is he worth fussing about now. Just get the job done and return home, Ether. Don’t attach any unnecessary strings.

A soft, amused laughter erupts from Ramiel, his eyes curving with the upward tug of his cheeks. To my surprise, he doesn’t move closer to me, but instead grabs the Tallup firmly with one hand.

“Allow me to filet it for you,” he murmurs. Before hearing my reply, he reaches toward the fairy, fingers twitching. “A knife, if you would, Ronan.”

The flat-faced miscreant retrieves a small dagger from the pack on his waist and places it in the prince’s palm. He doesn’t look at me, but I sense the malice.

A smile plagues my lips. If I make a scene, Ronan won’t be able to do anything to conceal his identity. And after hanging me high and dry after the stunt he pulled last week, he is the most deserving of torment.

Ramiel steadies his hands over the fish, lowers the knife slowly, then carves out the pale belly to remove the organs inside. Along with them, a brilliant pearl-sized orb of magical energy is set on the table. Only those who possess a magical core can see something so valuable. Ramiel probably doesn’t realize the precious power he’s placed within reach.

Neither I nor Ronan moves. I clear my throat.

“Where did you go this past week? Tallup are difficult to obtain. Certainly you didn’t to the forest.” I glance at the fairy, whose face pales. He knows humans are forbidden to enter our land. Once he admits to this, Ramiel will see that his dutiful servant is nothing more than an errant pig.

“As a matter of fact,” Ramiel laughs, his expression uncertain, “we uh, did go into the forest.”

He makes a clean cut behind the gill and down to the tail, then holds the hunk of bright red meat for me to see. His eyebrows bounce on his forehead a few times, gauging my interest. But I couldn’t be less amused.

“Why did you go to the forest?” My voice is hard. Somehow, I no longer want to expose the fairy. For all of the laws our kind follows to respect humans and keep the peace, this prince is gutsy. He’s invaded our territory. I feel sick just thinking about it. Is there anything left that’s truly... ours?

Ramiel flips the fish to cut the other side. He sighs, hovering the knife at a slant. “An elder elf was found dead.”

My eyes widen and my throat lurches. Then a funny sound croaks from the back of my mouth, and it’s impossible to stop. Confusion is a coat of sweat over my skin, an invisible needle dragging my eyebrows into nonsensical directions on my forehead.

An elder elf, dead? A part of me wonders if it had been the same one who disappeared on our journey to the palace—the same one who had planned to bring me to my death—and my mouth goes dry.

But the other elves don’t know about that. This has never happened before, so in their eyes, this is a serious occurrence. This means... war. Nothing less.

I shake my head once I feel my body settle, though the tingly feeling of surprise is still simmering under my skin. The hiccups don’t stop.

“Don’t worry, we gave him an appropriate send-off. And we ran into an elf that helped us along the way. He said he’d take care of everything. You needn’t worry,” Ramiel says, voice cool and calm. He slices the flesh from the other side of the fish, then slides the bony spine to his subordinate.

Ronan makes a face, then pinches the tail of the fish and tosses it into the wash basin across the room. Bernadette doesn’t move at his close aim. I almost forgot she has been here the whole time.

Anger seethes in me. This most definitely was that rat’s doing. Ramiel doesn’t come off as the confident type, so he’s surely been listening to his sidekick’s nonsense.

“By ‘appropriate send-off,’ you mean...”

Ramiel smiles as he starts to slice the fish into trapezoidal chunks. “Ronan gave him a pill to dissolve his energy into the rest of the forest. Apparently, he’d been leaking out dark energy, affecting the natural magic of your land.”

“Elder elves don’t have dark energy. They are pure, as all elves are,” I snarl, nearly cutting him off. He just blinks at me. My jaw tightens as I try not to lace my words with contempt. “Who is this so-called ‘elf’ you met while in the forest? Surely nobody I—”

“Pluto is his name,” Ronan hisses.

I jerk my head in his direction, the anger writhing through my veins. I’m famished of magic after using it to stoke the fire, and the perfect solution is sitting right next to me, but for a moment, I want to relish this desire to rip the limbs from this indecent, lowly creature feigning innocence just feet away.

He somehow knows my closest kin’s name. What kind of game is he playing at? Of all elven kind, Pluto would not be the first one dispatched to an emergency such as this. Another tribe, perhaps one with more medicinally gifted elves, would first try to revive the revered being.

“You liar,” I jeer. “Pluto is in no position to take care of important matters like that. He’s a village diplomat. Matters of death are left to the sages.” My teeth grind together. “What you say bears no truth.”

The fairy’s face contorts and I can see that he’s trying to hold in his hostility, but it’s so obvious to me that I want to laugh, spit in his face. Call him out for his falsehoods and apprehend him before the prince I now serve. Can’t Ramiel see what a lying, two-faced, conniving little worm his servant is?

“Calm down, both of you,” Ramiel interrupts, his voice still impressively calm. He looks at me and offers a sympathetic smile. “His name is Pluto. He has blond hair and eyes that flash with rainbows like yours. He even claimed to know you well.”

Does he... flinch at those last words?

My throat dries once again, parched. If Ramiel speaks the truth, and they truly have met Pluto, then my friend might be in real danger. Fury is a river that flows through me now, twisting my thoughts into knots of baseless conclusions. If I don’t consume the Tallup’s magical core soon, I may end up doing something I regret.

I move slightly in Ramiel’s direction, wary of the distance between us, and reach toward the fish’s pile of guts. But before I get close enough, the prince reaches into the puddle of organs, retrieving the red orb between his thumb and forefinger.

“H-how can you—?” I shoot a glare at Ronan. Had he given away the location of the precious magical core?

Ramiel twists the thing in his fingers, the green in his eyes reflecting the sparkling red core. “Pluto only showed us where to replace the Tallup,” he says, grinning, “and I did the rest.”

He turns to me, lifts my hands, and places the core in my palms.

“You’re giving it... to me? Just like that?” I raise an eyebrow.

Ramiel smirks. “That’s kind of the point, Ether.” He turns to Ronan, who still appears bored. I’ve noticed his expression only changes when he’s looking at me. The thought is unnerving. “What do you say we fry up some of this meat?”

The fairy shrugs his shoulders, then yawns. “It isn’t the tastiest creature, but I am rather starved. Thank you for offering, Ramiel.”

The prince turns back to me, eyes filled with a stir of motivation. He peeks down at my hands, then returns his gaze to my face. A kind smile rests handsomely next to his dimpled cheek. “I don’t know exactly how, but I suppose I have a rare condition.” His smile deepens. “I can sense magic, though very slight. Ever since I caught you that fish.”

The core burns in my hands, but I’m not done asking questions. I must stretch my patience.

“Humans don’t sense magic,” I reply, voice tight. “Not even mages.”

Ramiel shrugs, the smile never leaving his face. Something about his calmness is relaxing, and I want to believe him. That out of every human that ever lived, he’s able to use magic without the consequences.

“Well then,” I cough, “we’ll have to put that to the test then, won’t we?”

I roll the ball of light in my palm, then toss it into my mouth. Like fire, it scorches its way down my throat and melds together with my weak magical center, igniting it like a spark to cloth drenched in methane.

The feeling buzzes out to the rest of my body, energizing my limbs and muscles. Ah, such a satisfying sensation.

“I’d like to start training tomorrow.”

The feeling of euphoria dribbles down to nothing. “Tomorrow?” I ask weakly.

Ramiel nods. “I may seem like I don’t care that much, but I’ve become recently motivated to learn. So please, let’s start tomorrow.”

Before I can reply, the prince is down on one knee with a fist held tight to his chest, his head bowed low.

I nearly choke on the spit slipping down my throat.

“Okay, I get it. Let’s start tomorrow. Stand, please.” My voice is hushed and harsh. It’s considered treason for a member of the royal family to bow before anyone of lower status. Even I, a non-palace citizen, know that!

Ramiel slowly stands, then nods. The dimple in his cheek struggles to stay hidden as he suppresses a smile.

He may be annoying, but he seems like he’ll be a good pupil. I mean, he did go out of his way to replenish my draining magic supply...

My eyes widen. Does this mean I’m technically his “master” now?

The thought tumbles in my brain a moment longer before a smile of my own pulls on the corners of my lips.