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

I was never that close to Xavelor. In fact, during his life, he was almost constantly battling wars in the outer-lying provinces, conquering kingdoms and villages with ease—he had no time for tea parties and glamorous balls. We spent most of our time together when we were children, though my memories have grown rather hazy since then.

One thing I remember, however, is that Ronan would never leave the crown prince’s side. They were stuck together like a fly to a spot of pitch on a tree—no one would’ve taken pleasure in trying to separate the two.

It used to bother me: seeing him treat someone else as his brother when I held that title, but our father hadn’t made it necessarily easy for us to bond anyway. After all, I was born two years after Xavelor, and to a concubine. Our association had been taboo.

I’ve never once thought Xavelor held any ill will toward me, nor have I ever thought he’d held me in high regard. But he gifted me his trusted servant and best friend, so I must’ve misjudged him.

“Ramiel,” Ronan calls from behind me. I look back and his head bows low, his choppy brown hair gilded over dark eyes. “Thank you for trusting me.”

I smile at him and nod. There’s no reason not to trust him. After all, he’d served Xavelor for almost fifteen years, aiding him in his victories. He has always been close to the royal family as the son of a duke.

“Your Highness,” a palace guard greets me. His fist thuds his chest and stays there as he bows deeply. He continues talking while remaining bent in half. “Welcome back.”

Claude chuffs, shaking his mane. Specks of sweat dot along his neck of glistening black fur. Poor guy. He’s never had to travel so much in a day, and in such dreadful heat, no less.

My hands grab the saddle’s horn and I swivel my left leg over Claude’s broad back, landing squarely on the stone ground. Ronan drops from his steed, too, then grabs the reins to lead the horses to shade.

Ether must be flustered: a brilliant red color invades her nose, cheeks, and ears.

“And who might this be?” the palace guard asks with a chuckle. His eyes are lazily half-open, half-shut as he surveys the petite elf wearing no shoes, two messy braids, and commoner’s clothing.

I step up beside her, my hands clasping behind my back so as not to get in the way of my speaking. Her gaze turns to me, but I resist looking down at her.

“She’s a new maid-in-training.” My words carry much more confidence than I’d thought they would, especially for having not planned any of this in advance. “On my outing, Ronan spotted her and commented on her build and youth. She’s a perfect understudy for Bernadette.”

The palace guard seems convinced, his shaded green eyes bouncing between me and the elf, then finally resting on me. “Of course, Your Highness.” He gestures with his long arms, directing us into the palace gates.

That was easy enough.

The palace is nothing to gawk at—street vendors have been outlawed since I was a boy, so roads and neighborhoods are quiet. Buildings are shades of yellow, orange, and red brick, perpetuating the feeling of autumn. The heat rises in distorting columns along the dark grey streets as if trying to reach the clouds above.

Two guards fall in behind us, and two take the front. It is customary I am escorted back to my quarters, though Ether seems to replace this odd.

I can’t help but watch her. Though she’s taken Ronan’s strange magical pill and her ears have been disguised as a human’s, her expressions are quite unique. Lips a deep red, freckles speckling along her cheeks, and eyes constantly atwinkle, one would think she’s in love with everything she sees.

Even these rugged streets.

“Um, Xavelo—Your Highness?”

I flinch at my brother’s name. She must know by now I’m not him... right? A guard earlier surely leaked my name in front of her. Or maybe she’d been under the pill’s sleeping spell at that point, in which she couldn’t have heard it.

It would be better if she continued to think I am an amazing warrior. Things will work out better that way.

My head tilts in her direction. “Yes, Ether?” We continue walking at the same pace as the guards, staying in the center of the little square they’ve formed. They shouldn’t be able to hear our conversation.

Ether hesitates for a moment. We walk in silence for a few moments, which I’m perfectly fine with. She can speak when she feels comfortable.

“You’re... not Xavelor, are you?”

My feet forget how to walk for a moment and I nearly trip over myself, my arms swirling around my body for balance. A frog jumps to my throat, inhibiting my ability to speak. This is too soon. She wasn’t supposed to know yet. Will she think me a liar?

“It’s okay if you’re not,” she continues, her voice dipping lower. Is that disappointment I hear? “Someone called you something different earlier, that’s all. And as you know, elves are cursed to always tell the truth.” I finally look at her, our paces perfectly in sync. Her eyes are a muted blue color—the dullness in them makes my heart ache. “So, if you can, please be honest with me.”

I so badly want to be honest with her. Sweat creeps up my back like claws of guilt scratching at my conscience. Will she understand?

Her eyes are filled with a pain similar to how I’ve felt recently, so I understand it. That deep emotion rushing fresh in my veins tells me I haven’t moved on. Xavelor is gone and she thinks I’m him and that’s not right.

The tears come like a perpetually-cycling fountain, and once they start I can’t stop them. They drip messy streaks down my face, mixing with sweat and dirt.

I turn away from Ether. Seeing a prince weep in public, in a stranger’s presence, is as tantamount as a noble stripping naked in a busy marketplace.

How embarrassing.

Bernadette greets us at my chambers, the last and largest room in my wing of the castle. I’d thought she’d be more shocked at Ether’s arrival, but instead, her eyes are only focused on me.

“Dear Rami,” she coos, her arms stretching toward me. She must be able to tell I’ve been crying. How pathetic.

I don’t move, so she advances, wrapping me in a warm embrace. Her hand strokes my back thrice, then she backs away. My heart slows after seeing her, though it immediately increases its tempo as my maid’s eyes flicker to the elf next to me.

“I recently heard that Ramiel brought back a new maid.” Her words are soft and kind, as always. “Would that be you, miss?”

Ether looks at me, her eyes now a shade of pink. This change is puzzling. Before, more natural colors filled her irises, but now the most unnatural one glares up at me. Her jaw clenches, then she whips her small head to look at Bernadette.

“Yes.” This one word comes out sharp, hostile. Ronan had sworn the pill would reduce her magic, but I feel a fear consume me now, making me sway under an invisible pressure.

“And what’s your name, miss?”

The elf’s voice softens a bit. “Ether.”

The tension vanishes with Bernadette’s kind, crooked smile. I knew she’d accept whoever I brought with me; I never bring any maids, since they’ve always been assigned to my quarters at random. In my conversations with Bear, I’ve never gleaned any hatred from her toward non-human creatures. She’ll be a perfect teacher to Ether.

“Where do you come from?” Bernadette swoops her arm toward the door, motioning for us to enter my chambers.

Ether walks briskly past me, her hair cracking like a whip behind her. I follow her into the room. “An outer village,” Ether says tightly. She seems to understand the importance of concealing her identity here.

“I came from an outer village, too,” Bernadette presses. “What’s the name?”

Ether makes herself comfortable on the floor, crossing her legs in a funny way. Her braids fall around her, swirling on the ground like snakes. “Nwatalith.”

I’ve never heard of the village, but Bernadette’s eyes widen with recognition. Then, she whips around, closing the double doors to keep our conversation private. When she turns back to us, her expression is a blend of excitement and fear.

“You’re an elf,” she says plainly.

Ether seems unfazed.

Bernadette paces along the front wall of the room, her shadow mimicking her quick little steps. Finally, she stops, a smile turns her lips upward, and she scurries forward to kneel before the elf. Her hands reach carefully down, lift the dainty pale hands of the ethereal creature, and her thumbs gently brush over Ether’s calloused knuckles.

The elf retracts her hands, stuffing them in her lap, beneath her thighs. Her eyes are golden now, but her cheeks have flared up with that worrisome shade of red again.

“It’s a pleasure to have you in the castle, Ether. And don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” Bernadette beams despite the elf having just rejected her gesture. Her admiration for the creature makes me smile, too.

“Now that you’re aware of her identity,” I say with a sigh, “she’s here to be my master. With her guiding hand, I hope to become a warrior worthy of kingship.”

Ether gawks at me, her mouth falling open like an empty cavern. Before Bernadette notices, she quickly clamps it shut, then nods tersely.

Bernadette’s presence fills the atmosphere with a calm. It’s the perfect time to tell Ether the truth, while there’s a witness.

“I’d like to officially introduce myself,” I say, all but swallowing my fear. “I’m Ramiel Faunder, the second son of King Azriel and the only brother to the late crown prince, Xavelor."

Ether clenches her jaw again and her face flushes an even deeper red, though I can tell she’s communicating a deeper emotion this time. Her eyes flare a wild pink and her breathing heaves loudly from her nose.

Fury.

“You’re the first person outside of the castle to know of his death,” Bernadette says softly, probably in an attempt to calm the magical creature down. She sets her hand on Ether’s shoulder, and the elf doesn’t move to shake it off.

Instead, the double-braided beauty weeps.