Frankly, Magnus couldn’t remember the last time he’d observed them himself.
He watched Cleo and Enzo pass storefront after storefront: bakers and jewelers, tailors and cobblers. Cleo had not disguised herself in any way, other than by wearing a pair of white silk gloves to cover her water Kindred marks. She greeted all who approached her with a warm smile, allowing them to bow or curtsy before she took their hands in hers and said something kind enough to make them glow with happiness.
The Auranian people loved their golden princess.
She deserves their love, Magnus thought, his throat tight.
After some time had passed and Cleo had spoken to dozens upon dozens of people, Magnus watched her indicate a specific building to Enzo. Enzo shook his head, but Cleo persisted. Finally, he nodded, and the pair disappeared inside.
Magnus looked up at the sign.
The Beast.
He hadn’t recognized it in the stark light of day, but he knew the tavern quite well. He decided it best to remain outside, where he wouldn’t be recognized and he could watch from afar.
A steady stream of patrons entered sober and left drunk and singing at the top of their lungs, but Cleo and Enzo still didn’t emerge. Magnus’s impatience grew as the afternoon wore on.
And then concern set in.
What could be taking so long?
He crossed the street to the tavern and pushed through the entrance. Inside the Beast, it could be any hour of the day or night. There were no windows to let in the light, so the walls were dotted with lanterns, and a chandelier heavily laden with candles hung from the ceiling.
The room was packed, every table filled to capacity. Magnus could barely hear himself think over the din of loud conversation blended with a fiddler’s music.
The placed smelled of cigarillo smoke, alcohol-laden breath, and hundreds of bodies that hadn’t bathed today.
He wondered with dismay if the tavern had always been like this and he’d simply been too drunk to notice during previous visits.
Cleo was nowhere to be seen, so Magnus drew his cowl closer to his face and pushed forward through a mass of sweaty bodies dancing to the fiddler’s tune upon a sawdust-covered floor. He grimaced as a scantily clad couple, kissing passionately, stumbled across his path, spilling wine from their goblets onto his leather boots.
Cleo would wish to spend more than a heartbeat in such a place?
A bearded man tripped over his own feet and landed hard in front of Magnus. Then, laughing, he immediately sprang up and continued on his way.
Auranian heathens, he thought.
The fiddler ended his song to cheers of appreciation from the drunken crowd. He stood up and spoke loudly to be heard over the din: “We have someone who wishes to make a toast to you all! Silence please, allow him to speak!”
The room quieted, and Magnus saw a flash of a red guard’s uniform out of the corner of his eye. He turned slowly as Enzo, a large tankard of ale in his grip, climbed upon a long wooden table.
“I’m not sure I want to do this,” Enzo said tentatively. “I think I’ve had far too much to drink today.”
The crowd laughed as if he’d made the most hilarious joke they’d ever heard.
“It’s fine!” the fiddler called up to him. “We all have! Speak from your heart in honor of the goddess and her magically sweet breath. Make your toast!”
Enzo didn’t say anything for a moment, and the crowd began to murmur among themselves as the silence became more awkward.
Then he raised his tankard high in the air. “To Nerissa Florens, the girl I love.”
The crowd cheered and drank, yet Enzo was not quite finished.
“The girl I love,” he said again, “who never loved me! The girl who took my heart, chopped it up into tiny pieces, and threw them into the Silver Sea as she set sail with another man! A man with only one eye, might I add, when I have two perfectly fine eyes! Goddess, how I hate him. Do you know what she told me? ‘It’s my duty,’ she said. Her duty!”
Magnus stared up at the guard. He’d known Enzo to be very loyal, very quiet, and very subdued—until now.
Just how much ale had he drunk since they’d arrived?
Enzo continued. “If any of you know Felix Gaebras, and I’m sure many of you do, he’s not to be trusted.”
Surely, he had to be finished now, Magnus thought.
Enzo stomped his foot, sending several tin plates flying from the surface of the table. “Nerissa does not value commitment, she says! This she told me many times, but what am I to believe? That her attentions were only temporary? That her kisses were meaningless?” His voice broke. “Does she not know my heart is shattered by her absence?”
Magnus’s gaze moved over the crowd as Cleo, her blond hair trailing behind her, hurried toward Enzo.
“Please come down from there, Enzo,” Cleo implored.
Seeing her loosened some of the tightness in Magnus’s chest.
“The golden princess wishes to make a toast as well!” the fiddler announced.
Cleo waved her hands. “No, no, I don’t. I’m just trying to retrieve my friend before he says something he will deeply regret.”
“If you ask me,” Enzo said loudly, ignoring the princess entirely, “I think there was something curious going on between Nerissa and the empress. Yes, you heard me correctly. Something much more than an attendant and a ruler.” He took a deep drink from his tankard before raising it again. “You know what they say about Kraeshians.”
“What?” someone called out. “What do they say about Kraeshians?”
“That the only cold bed for a Kraeshian is their deathbed.” Enzo’s shoulders then slumped, as if he’d just run out of his last bit of energy. “My gratitude to you all for joining me in this toast.”
The crowd fell completely silent for a moment before they cheered again, and the fiddler started his next song.
Magnus approached Cleo as she helped Enzo down from the tabletop.
“That was . . . fascinating,” he said, no longer interested in keeping his presence unknown.
Cleo spun to face him. “You followed us!”
“I did. If I hadn’t I wouldn’t have heard such intriguing gossip about your favorite attendant.”
“Enzo’s drunk,” Cleo explained. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”
Magnus eyed the guard. “I see that the princess has managed to corrupt you to her Auranian ways in a shamefully short amount of time.”
Enzo leaned heavily against a nearby wall. “Your highness, I don’t think—”
“Clearly there was a profound lack of thinking here. Your one job is to keep Cleo safe, not to publicly and drunkenly pine away for your lost love.”
Enzo opened his mouth to speak, perhaps to protest, but Magnus raised his hand.
“You’re dismissed for the rest of the day. Go . . . drink as much as you see fit. Find another girl to help take your mind off Nerissa. I’m sure there are plenty under this very roof who would be willing to help. Do whatever you wish, as long as it’s out of my sight.”
Enzo’s gaze flicked to Cleo with uncertainty for a moment before he bowed deeply, nearly losing his balance. “Yes, your highness.”