Page 36 of The Shadow Prince's Ruin
I smile, even though deep down I know this means he’s out of touch with reality. I’m fine with being reimagined as ahot barbarian to his elven prince, but there is no denying our situation. Still, everything inside me wants to soothe and please him, so I press a small kiss to his head as we dash past the billboard. “I suppose we could ask about the bar while we’re at it.”
Sylvan claps his hands together, looking excited like a kid at Christmas, his pointy ears twitching. He rises in the seat and stares out of the window in anticipation of the giant pretzels. After five years in the can, just being in the presence of such an adorable creature makes me melt. It doesn’t hurt either that the attraction between us is sizzling louder than a donut in hot oil.
He changed into a different shirt when I was napping, since my dad tore the collar of the other one. This top is black, loose, with almost the entire back covered in lace revealing milky skin, as if to tease me. Elaborate frills cover half his hands, starting at the wrist, and I’m amazed that the outfit didn’t get wrinkled. Must be some fancy new fabric.
I took the initiative at my parents’ place and repacked his stuff from the unmanageable chest into a massive bag for me and a smaller backpack for him. Do I think it’s ridiculous to be taking all those books and trinkets with us? Including alava lamp? Yes. But when I thought about him crying over losing his precious possessions, I knew I couldn’t leave them behind.
“How thrilling!” Sylvan says as we approach the cafe-gas station-shop with a giant pretzel display at the front. “They cannot possibly expect one person to eat that,” he points to the display. “A whole family wouldn’t be able to.”
As he glances my way, a chuckle rolls out of my throat, and I pull him close, sohappyto be here with him. Maybe I’m not destined to escape the law after all, but what time I have, I want to spend with him, enjoying his eyes on me and feasting my own on his amazing body, soft lips, sapphire eyes.
“This one might not be edible. Let’s see what they have inside,” I say and put on the same face mask that obscured my identity at the first gas station. It’s nothing special, just a bit of printed cotton, which happens to smell of stale lady perfume and has a bit of a pink stain left by the lips of Sylvan’s former landlady. But it works.
“You prefer sweet? Salty?” I ask as we stop in front of the shop’s bright windows. It has seen better days, as there are cracks on the blue and brown walls. A part of the neon logo mounted on the roof keeps blinking, but our vehicle is the only one within sight, other than an old van at the back, which likely belongs to the owner.
We’ll get some crunchy snacks, ask for the way to the bar, and be on our way.
Easy-peasy.
“As long as it’s not too sweet, I would like to try both,” he says with all seriousness, as if this decision is of great importance.
He stretches when he gets out of the car, and even standing on his toes, he’s so… tiny. I love how big it makes me feel next to him. If we weren’t trying to avoid attention, I’d pick him up and carry him inside for the fun of it. I’m a fugitive with only a few bucks to my name, yet to him, it seems I can offer so much more. He’s impressed by my size, my strength, excited to get a pretzel, and even my not-extraordinary driving skills are amazing to Sylvan.
He walks into the shop first, and I notice he’s limping a little. I hope his leg doesn’t hurt too much, but we will get to take care of that eventually.
The elderly lady behind the counter looks at us from behind thick glasses. Her hair is like a cloud of cotton candy, though white rather than pink, and she’s wearing a T-shirt depicting her with two huge iced pretzels.
“Oh, hello! You’re just on time. I was about to close for the night,” she tells us with a winning smile and already picks up a small paper bag, ready to serve us.
There aren’t many pretzels left at this hour, but I’m drawn to the one smudged with lashings of cheese.
“Thank you, madam, we will not be long. What is cinnamon?” Sylvan asks, stunning us both into silence.
The shop owner meets my gaze, clears her throat, then turns back, only to return with a steel container filled with brown dust. “It’s a nutty spice.”
“May I try it before I make my decision? I don’t like spicy food.”
I fight the urge to put my arm over his shoulders. “It’s not hot, if that’s what you mean.”
“Ah, yes, in that case, I might like some.”
As soon as I spot him lifting a whole spoonful of cinnamon to his nose, alarm bells ring in my head and I pull him away. “It can be dangerous to inhale it.”
He stills, and I swear he was about to just eat a whole spoon of cinnamon to the cafe worker’s wide-eyed terror.
Sylvan puts down the spoon after smelling it from a good distance. “Oh. That is indeed good to know.”
“Well… what can I get you?” the owner asks with a smile glued to her lips as she puts the container to the side. One of the pretzels, sprinkled with bits of salt, is the size of my pecs, but the others appear to be a more manageable size.
“The big one, the one with cheese, and… one with cinnamon?” I ask, glancing at Sylvan, who offers me a fervent nod and rolls on his heels, as if he can’t contain his excitement.
It’s so damn cute.
And it pisses me off that were I straight, and he—a girl, I could have cuddled him now without drawing attention. But it is what it is.
I place a banknote on the counter, and after a second of hesitation, grab some lube and condoms too from an area with basic medicines and cosmetics. “We’re looking for this bar… it’s called The Rusty Stallion.”
She doesn’t look into my eyes when she scans my items. “It’s two miles down the road or so, but I’m pretty sure it’s been closed for a few years now, and found no buyer.”
