“I'm fine where I am.” I leaned back.
“But you could be so much better.”
“Perspective.” I shook my head, ignoring his flirty grin to look down at my notebook.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, Your Majesty. At least let me go over my notes on the way to lunch.”
“Of course. And you will read them aloud so that I may offer my insight.”
I clenched my teeth, keeping my stare on my notes. How did he manage to annoy me so violently? I had never wanted to strangle someone as much as I did the Dragon King of Rushao.
But he was still my king. So, I took a deep breath and began to read aloud.
Chapter Six
The scent of warm spices and roasting meat greeted me when I climbed out of the royal carriage. Oh, and a line of people as well. The line wasn't to get into the restaurant but to greet His Majesty. The staff of the Golden Triangle wore traditional Rushaoian clothing—the men in loose pants and a sleeveless tunic belted with a wide tapestry sash, and the women in similar tunics that were tucked into gold skirts made of the same material as the men's sashes. Although the colors were varied, all of them had long hair pulled back into braids or ponytails. They bowed in unison to the King, their hands pressed together as if praying.
I rolled my eyes. Great. It was one of those cultural restaurants. Rushao had moved out of this primitive style ages ago. These days, we blend old-world beauty with modern fashion. And we certainly didn't greet each other with prayer hands. But some people loved this stuff. They called it an experience. The King appeared to be one of those people. He grinned and nodded at the staff.
Suddenly, the length of his hair made sense. He was a traditionalist. At least where his appearance was concerned. Interesting.
As if to confirm my theory, the King took my hand and wrapped it around his arm to escort me into the restaurant.When I tried to pull away, he slapped a hand over mine to hold it in place and growled at me. Fucking growled! With a sigh, I let him have his way. But in my head, I ticked another line against him. The marks were adding up, confirming my initial conclusion that dating the Dragon King would be a bad idea. Not surprising. My first conclusions were normally correct.
The heat of summer eased as we stepped inside the building. A gate of flowers arched over the doorway, but their scent couldn't mask the aroma of traditional Rushaoian cuisine that wafted out to us. As much as this outdated display annoyed me—I was a man who made a point of never looking back—I had nothing against the food.
After the King's knights made a circle of the restaurant, earning gaping stares from the customers, the staff flowed inside, around us, and then thinned out to form an aisle for us to walk through, taking us directly to a room in the back. The knights again went in first, then took posts by the doorway. Finally, the King ushered me into his private room. It all felt like a performance to me. Except that I didn’t find it entertaining
Gold, gold, and more gold adorned the private dining chamber. I spotted it woven into the wall tapestries, the tablecloth, and the fabric that draped the ceiling. The utensils weren't gold, but they were brass—close enough. And gold statues of people and trennor birds stood around the room, staring at us. Even the upholstery was a traditional fabric woven with gold metallic thread. It was enough to make me sigh again—in annoyance, not delight.
The Dragon King finally let go of me, but only to pull out my chair.
I scowled at him. I didn't want to be there. My mind itched to go over my notes and work out this puzzle. But my king demanded attention like a fucking lap dog—annoying and adorable all at once.
“What is it?” The King looked around. “Do you not like Rushaoian food?”
“The aroma here promises delicious food. That is not the problem. My issue is that I have important things to do, and this is a waste of my time. On top of that, this feels too intimate. To be plain, Your Majesty; I don't like being treated like your date. What is happening right now? I'm honestly baffled by your behavior. We hardly know each other and yet you are acting as if we've had a relationship for years. It makes no sense, and if there's one thing I cannot stand, it is nonsense.Thatis what's upsetting me! This nonsense!”
The Dragon knights, who had barely shown a reaction to anything I'd said or done so far—with the exception of Sir Vasren's nod of approval—both flinched as if I'd punched them. Wait staff who had come in behind us, spun on their sandals and retreated to the outer room. The King, however, started to laugh. Boisterously. Again, it was as if he knew me—he knew just how to annoy me and had done so on purpose, to get this rise out of me.
I crossed my arms and glared at him.
Shaking his head, King Tor'rien went to sit opposite the chair he had pulled out for me. “Sit down, Claw Shinkai. I promise I won't try to kiss you.”
“You mean, again?” I lifted a brow.
He inclined his head as his lips twitched. “Yes, again. Sit down. I know you have work to do, but you still need to make time to eat.”
I took a cleansing breath, let it out, and sought my usual calm. But that calm required a bit of detachment, and I was finding it more and more difficult to detach myself from the Dragon King—either mentally or physically. Still, I sat down. What else could I do? Walk out on the King? Not if I wanted to keep my job.
The King nodded at his knight. Not Sir Vasren—the other one whose name I hadn't heard yet. He went to the doorway and motioned to a server. A man came sweeping into the room, holding a tray with two pitchers on it.
He bowed, holding the tray steady. “Your Majesty, we're so pleased to have you dining with us again. Would you care for some cold tea or water?” He looked at me, grinned, then back at the King. “Or perhaps some wine for a more romantic tone?”
“We arenoton a date,” I growled. “This is a professional meal.”
The server's eyes went wide.
