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

One week ago

A few hours have passed since Bernadette stole Ether away to clean her up. I can’t shake the image of her gushing tears, the gnarled anger squishing her features to the center of her face and her eyes glowing that enchanting, wild pink. I did that to her. How will I be able to gain her trust now?

Ronan brings me a wooden basin, filled halfway with water. He places it at the base of my bed, then steps aside and holds his arms out in front of him, studying his wrists.

“Is everything alright?” I raise a brow at him. He continues to focus on his wrists, his short black eyelashes feathering down over his eyes as though trying to spot something microscopic. “Ronan?”

“Who?” he asks, his head twitching toward me. Then, he shakes his confusion away and stands straight, tossing his arms behind his back. “Yes. I’m fine. As requested, I’ve brought your foot bath.”

I laugh softly at his scatterbrained replies, then turn back to focus on the bucket beneath my feet. It’s filled with ice-cold water, a method commonly used to reduce swelling. The summer heat tends to blow my ankles out, so this has become something of an evening ritual.

As I lower my feet carefully into the small container, Ronan moves to kneel in front of me, his eyes down.

“Sir.” There’s a hint of hesitation angling his tone.

“Speak,” I say lightly. “There’s no need to waver. Tell me what it is you wish to say.”

My feet plunge into the ice bath, chunks of the splintering cold stuff nipping at the heat clinging to my soles. I suck in a harsh breath.

Ronan lifts his head, his dark eyes serious. “The king requests your audience.”

My feet suddenly sink to the bottom of the basin and water sloshes and scatters puddles across the marbled floor.

I haven’t seen my father since our meeting with the military men, a little over two weeks ago. What could he want now?

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” I clear my throat, then reach for the towel laying across my bed. “We best hurry—”

“No need,” a voice grumbles from the other side of the double doors. My heart sinks. “May I enter?”

A mist of sweat settles on my skin and something lodges in my throat, inhibiting my speech. I turn to Ronan, bring my eyebrows together, look down at my red feet freezing in the bucket, glance back at the doors, then to Ronan as though asking him to say something in my stead.

Ronan coughs into his fist, a subtle gesture but an appreciated one.

The doors open gallantly, revealing the unaccompanied king. He’s wearing court garb—glistening gold buttons flit along his rose-colored tunic, and an embellished wine-red robe drifts around him as he walks into the room. Azriel’s eyes flash to Ronan, who stands an awkward distance between us.

“Leave, boy,” he chides through his teeth.

Ronan scurries away like an animal with its tail tucked, closing the doors politely behind him. “Now,” the king says, looking at me with small, judging eyes. His gaze trails down to my feet, still sunk in the bucket. An amused chuckle puffs from somewhere within his beard. “I heard you took an unauthorized trip outside the palace. Care to explain?”

“Yes,” I say carefully. My feet lift from the bucket and hover mid-air as water drips from them. “To get a maid.”

“Just one?” Azriel’s tongue clicks as he says this, a patronizing tone shimmering over his enunciation.

I breathe in, then smile. “My standards are quite high. I don’t know if you’ve heard.”

“Your standards matter not, Ramiel.” He lifts a hand to his eyebrows, messaging them together with two fingers, and sighs again. “I heard from an informant that issues have arisen in a few of the outer villages, where our land touches the forest. Rumors have spread about our peace treaty being breached.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, thinking on his words but not finding any relevance. “What does this have to do with my bringing back a new maid?”

He heaves a deep sigh as though he’s speaking to a toddler. To be fair, he’s never approached me with issues regarding government affairs. He may as well be talking with a child.

“Ramiel, villagers are spreading intel about a certain young regal roaming a village bordering the magic-dwellers’ land.” His voice bleeds with annoyance. “Was that you?”

In Edenburough? Ronan seemed to know the way, so I didn’t question how close it might’ve been to the magical forest. But now that I think about it, the village hadn’t seemed all that Ronan said it would be, except for the perfect timing we had in meeting a stack of mages and an elf sacrifice...

Azriel raises a thick, silver eyebrow. “Your expression tells me it was you. What business did you have there? Edenburough is the last place anyone ought to go to recruit palace maids.”

“How has the peace been broken?” I say, dodging his question.

He moves across the room, hands crossed behind his back, and he stares out the glass window pane, his eyes flickering between different landmarks below. He clears his throat before speaking again. “One of our elder elves was found dead.”

I repress my gasp. The elder elves have been humanity’s tie to the elven world since the War of Undying, and with one now dead, this could mean...

My father turns his head toward me, darkness invading his expression as the sun’s rays leave it. “I’m only telling you this because I’m holding you responsible.” He glances once more out the window, then folds into the room. His burly body fits right in with the high ceilings, as though this room was created for a king like him. “You must return to Edenburough to assess damages.”

“But I—”

His glare seals my lips. “Leave in the morning. And take Xavelor’s buffoon with you. You may not return until all is well.”

We prepare to leave at daybreak.

I make the difficult decision of keeping the elder elf’s death from Ether. A part of me senses that her reaction won’t be as calm as mine had been during Xavelor’s passing. So we whisk through my private quarters and walk to the stables, where the air smells of hay and sweet maize, the prized crop of Arioch.

Claude kicks up dust and whinnies. His black eyes communicate reluctance—he’s just returned from a long day’s journey, and now I have to coax him to let me shove the metal bit back in his mouth.

He chuffs in protest, even as I stroke his long face in an attempt to calm him. “Shh, it’s okay,” I whisper. My fingers gently pry open his lips, sliding the piece to the back of his mouth. Smiling, I run my fingers through his dark mane. “See? That wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

Ronan coughs next to me. “You’re sure about this?”

“I don’t really have a choice.”

He pats a well-rested cream-colored mare that’s clearly anxious for a nice walk. “I meant, are you sure you’ll be okay? If the peace has been broken as the king has claimed, well...” His voice trails off. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

My hand goes to Claude’s flank where a flask dangles from its leather strap, and travels to the saddle where a sheathed training sword is mounted. The hilt is bronze, the shaft a hazy gray. I don’t recall ever using it. Still, I gesture to it like it’s capable of saving us in a pinch.

Ronan laughs heartily. “I reckon that’ll do.”

A smile creeps onto my face and I pull myself onto Claude, aligning my feet in the leather stirrups. Then I grab the reins and lead my strong, black stallion from the comfort of his stable. I’ll award him generously with carrots later.

Ronan follows me, but he’s soon ahead as Melanie trots gleefully along the stone path. Her light mane swooshes beautifully in the light of the warm orange sunset.

I pull on the reins and take a quick last look at the palace. Somewhere in the maid’s quarters, my master might still be weeping. I’ve no doubt she’s established a firm distrust in me by now.

“Is something the matter?” Ronan calls out.

I shake my head and gently push my heels into Claude’s sides. He starts walking forward. “No, I’m just a little worried about Ether.”

“Well, don’t be,” he says gruffly.

Do I sense a bit of jealousy in his tone? No, it can’t possibly be...

“Do elaborate,” I laugh, catching up to him.

“Ramiel, she’s an elf. She doesn’t need anyone to worry about her. That’s how they all are.” His flippant tone is a bit surprising. He must’ve met a handful of elves while aiding Xavelor in battle...

“You must know a lot about them.” I study the change in his expression and conclude I’m correct. “We’ll be on the road for a while. Would you care to enlighten me a little?”

Ronan keeps his eyes on the road, not speaking. But I can wait. We pass the guards at the palace gates and begin down the dirt path lined with gaunt dark green trees, where we’d just entered hours ago.

Finally, he speaks. His voice is dry. “What would you like to know?”

I think about it for a second. There’s a lot I’d like to know, but I doubt he knows it all. It would be best to start with something easy. “Ether’s eyes...” My phrasing dies off.

Ronan lifts his head, recognizing what I’m implying. “Yeah, you’re aware that elves are cursed to tell the truth, right?” I nod eagerly. “Well, that goes beyond simply speaking. Their eyes reveal their emotions, their deepest fears. If you can determine the code for their eyes, you’ll be able to tell what they’re feeling at any time.”

A wave of guilt shoots up my spine and spreads to my hands, which grip the reins. The number of times Ether’s eyes changed color in the short span we were together... was it around ten?

“Do you know what their colors mean? Say... a bright pink, for example?”

“Pink?” he asks and I nod intently, watching his expression. He tilts his head to the side, then shakes it. “No, I don’t think I’ve ever seen an elf with pink eyes. I’ve seen red, black, and brown. That’s about it.”

“What do those mean?”

A smirk spreads over his lips and he glances at me under his half-closed lids. “To answer that, I need to know how well you knew Xavelor. How well did you really know him?”

“He’s my brother,” I start, as if this stands to preface our closeness. In truth, that’s about as deep as our relationship goes—a siblingship by title only. “But I probably only know about as much as the public does.”

Ronan’s eyebrows twitch. An expression of confusion flickers across his features, then he sighs. “Xavelor was a great warrior. But more than that, he was great at getting what he desired. Be it food, shelter, women...”

Somehow, this doesn’t surprise me. Being away from the palace for extended periods and constantly battling at war would surely be tiresome. I don’t want to think ill of my late brother, but I’m sure he drank until his heart purred, and laid with women he wouldn’t remember in the mornings after.

I’ve been quite a prude in contrast.

“Xavelor attracted women of all species, including elves,” Ronan continues, his smirk widening. “And of those elves I met, their eyes were on a constant rotation between red and brown, and always ended with black.”

Ether’s eyes had shown a whole lot more color than those three, but it seems like Ronan wouldn’t know what they mean even if I ask. So I nod for him to continue.

He lifts a hand from the reins, holding up a finger. “The first—red—always occurred when the elven dames were filled with the spirit of alcohol, slurring words left and right and angrily throwing anyone in their way to the side. So I’ve concluded red must mean either anger or intoxication.” We trot along for a second before he continues. The sky appears to be darkening quickly. Ronan lifts a second finger. “The second—brown—would appear whenever Xavelor spoke to them. The dames would immediately grovel before him, revealing more of themselves throughout their meeting just to entice him. You can decide for yourself what brown might mean.” His third finger juts up and his smile grows wider still. “The last—black—appeared right before Xavelor plunged his blade through their bosoms. He always made sure no one would live to tell the tale of their time together, as it often required him to reveal his identity.”

A frustrated sigh blows through my nose. “Why would he go as far as killing them? Aren’t we trying to maintain the peace?”

“Ah, but you see,” Ronan says, his voice musical, “the female elves always agreed that a night with the prince was worth laying their lives down for.”

My insides twist. Ether’s tears were shed in vain. My brother had been a monster. How could he have killed so relentlessly, taking advantage of elves’ emotions like that?

“Ramiel,” Ronan says, his tone now flat. I don’t look at him, for fear that he will see my discomfort. “Your brother was an amazing prince. But he was also human, and he had a reputation to uphold. I served him for his entire life. Please don’t think ill of him.”

I hate to admit it, but he’s right. Up to this point, I haven’t thought poorly of my flesh and blood, not even the king. Why start now? It’ll only introduce more problems. I pull myself from my thoughts, as I feel them moving toward my mother and her unjust death.

“Do you want to get on Ether’s good side?” Ronan suddenly asks. He doesn’t sound genuinely interested—it’s more like he just wants to change the subject.

It works.

I nod my head fervently. “I’ve wronged her in more ways than one. How how do you suppose I can earn her trust?”

“Give her something she can gnaw on for a while,” he says thoughtfully, “like a dog.”

“A... a dog?” The word doesn’t register. I can’t tell if he means to insult her or not.

Ronan laughs. “Yes. Elves are practically made of magical energy. Giving her something with magical energy to chew on should make her happy. I’m sure she’s already going through withdrawals from being away from her home.”

Something to chew on.

“Like that fish she mentioned?” As soon as I ask, I know I must be right. Ronan’s eyes glint with pride and he nods fiercely. “Does it nest near Edenburough? We could try to catch a few.”

“Tallup can’t be caught,” he laughs. “They’re sensed through magic.”

“Magic,” I mumble. Impatience festers in my chest. I want to return to the palace as soon as possible so Ether can help me learn how to use the invaluable resource. Without it, I’m useless. Then, I remember Ronan’s strange magical capsules. “What about your blue magic pills?”

He shakes his head. “Those only work on creatures that can already use magic deftly. It’s a suppressant.”

“Oh, right.” The guilt returns to my shoulders, making my body heavy. I’d knowingly given Ether a magical handicap. I hope she won’t hate me for that.

“But lucky for you, I know of other ways to find Tallup.” The sky is now completely dark, stars twinkling through the canopies of black leaves above us. Ronan’s eyes are dark and mischievous.

“Please elaborate.”

He laughs, but this time it’s rough and forced. “We’ll have to go into the magical forest, beyond the boundaries of the outer villages. Is that okay?”

I think about the expression the king made when he realized I’d ventured as far as Edenburough, and a part of me believes it wouldn’t be the wisest idea to go even farther. But then again, he’s sending me away again to make amends with a rumor.

My body goes rigid. He’s successfully gotten rid of me.

A chuckle gurgles in my throat. “Yeah, it should be fine,” I spit. “After we confirm everything is in order in Edenburough, let’s go into the forest.”

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