Page 76 of A Sweet Destruction

An honest answer. Just one that didn’t capture the fringe interpretations, painting Muli as brutes who hoarded resources to build their strength.

Elijah was the one to call her on it. “And the term sun-stealers would be news to you, then?”

Esme did a piss poor job of hiding her smirk, and I couldn’t stop my hand from floating to her knee to let her know that I’d seen it. Whereas last night she’d subtly pressed her knee back into my hand (I was a fucking saint for not sliding my hand up her thigh after that move), now, the muscle in her leg bunched up.

God, we needed to talk about what happened. Whatever she’d done that had made her so ashamed, surely talking about it would take away some of the intensity.

Even then, I knew that she would have to volunteer the information. Even if it felt like walking over hot coals to wait, all I could do was make her feel like anything she shared about the Bond was normal.

To be fair, it was. Stealing my clothes and sleeping at the foot of my bed seemed like perfectly reasonable courses of action, especially in light of how much of an asshole the Bond could be.

“I didn’t say that,” Bellamy said, seemingly covering a laugh of her own.

“I’m sure your depiction of us is flawless, then?” Soren tacked on.

“That is exactly why I chose to hold this meeting in public,” Caspian said, before pausing so that someone could place a rattling cup of coffee in front of him. For as hard as the poor kid’s hands were shaking, he really only managed to spill a few drops.

When he scurried away, Caspian continued, “As you can see, there is fear for your people I’d like to dispel. Especially if we hope to encourage further integration between our worlds.”

Apparently, he was not done. Caspian turned his eyes to Esme, and I had to sit there and watch as obvious interest entered them. Esme either didn’t see it or chose to ignore it.

I much preferred the latter.

“I don’t think I can do much with your reputation, serpenia,” he said to Esme, using the same term he had last night. It wasn’t a term of endearment I was familiar with in the old language. I hated it in any language.

The moment was over nearly as soon as it began, Caspian launching into an impressively colorful description of how cartoonists on Muli had a grand time depicting Virterrans as sniveling trolls who’d never seen the sun.

“I know you lot have sunlight,” Caspian said with a too-pleased smile. “In reality, we only have a little more proximity to it. Barely a quarter of a year on you. But who am I to mess with an artist’s creative vision?”

Elijah let him prattle on for several more seconds before issuing a warning, nothing more than his name. What power to have over a Prince, even as a family relation.

“I say that to assure you that my only intention in having these meetings be public is to assure our people that we are more similar than stories have led us to believe,” Caspian said, doing a decent job at recovering.

“Alright,” Bellamy said with a decisive dip of her chin. Well, that was that then.

It was no secret that Bellamy would be the one leading the charge—read, near uprising—against her father. She’d be the person stepping onto the throne eventually.

Good thing she deserved it. Had willingly thrown herself onto the front lines of a war for the slightest chance she might be able to broker for peace.

I would not mess that up by slamming our waiter’s face into the table for staring at Esme too long. He had the type of fear in his eyes that made people trigger happy and I did not appreciate that being leveled anywhere near her.

Was it Esme specifically or the fact we were from Muli? His eyes did seem to focus on her Mark, on the snake on the back of her hand.

I couldn’t dwell too long, not when Soren was turning the conversation to setting up a trade system across the Bridge. A formal one, Caspian had said with a wink leveled at Esme.

It was obvious Elijah and Caspian were looking for information on what our side of the Bridge looked like. Soren took the lead, sharing openly under the thinly veiled assumption Carson had told them everything already.

To everyone’s utter shock, he had.

“A seven hour drive, is what, an hour or so with the right train system?” Elijah asked passively. “I assume you can build what you need fairly quickly, even with the desert conditions.”

Soren laughed, while I plotted murder in my head. Carson was a fucking asshole, and I had no idea what happened to him. Maybe this traitor had lived inside him all along.

The conversation was moving along smoothly enough that I felt comfortable excusing myself. What I really wanted was to take a lap and get a different perspective on the room, but had to cover it up somehow.

On my way back to the table, I stopped at the bar to get Esme another coffee. Before I’d gotten up, she’d reached for her empty cup twice out of habit.

Everyone gave me a wide berth, which I appreciated, because I really only wanted to stare at the back of Esme’s head.