It was no wonder the other Golden Vine owner was so pissed off. Though I imagine it was hard to compete when your competition served drinks while hanging upside down from a golden web that spanned the entire ceiling. My brother Cumin would have run screaming into the night, but I thought it was fucking wicked.
“One blueberry and one spiced apple,” a voice called from above me. I looked up to see a spitaur lowering down our drinks on a golden thread. Thankfully, the thread came out of his hands, not his ass.
His lower body resembled that of an orb weaver. Gold and black bands decorated each of his eight long legs. The human-half looked normal enough, aside from the pointed ears and fangs most demons shared. His hair was cropped short and coordinated with the banded coloring of his legs. If I wasn’t so blindsided by my growing obsession with Dante, I think I would’ve found him handsome.
My companion reached up and grabbed our drinks without a word. The spitaur clasped his hands together and gave a friendly smile. “If you like, we could set up a table for you in our private section?” he asked.
Dante shot him a dismissive glance and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “No thank you, we won’t be staying.”
“We won’t?” I asked, as he steered us out the door. Dante glanced back at the dejected-looking owner then pulled me further away from the tavern and into the busy street.
“Absolutely not. They’re about to launch into a sales pitch to get me to claim Kirkwall as my territory and I am in no mood. Besides, I’d like to see the castle gardens while we’re here.”
“Does that happen often?” I asked.
“More than I’d like.”
“Huh, you must be a decent landlord.”
He shrugged and took a sip of his drink. “Some dragons like to be more involved with what goes on in their territory than others. I prefer to be left alone unless there’s an actual threat.”
A king that does his job and leaves. No wonder he had demons kissing his ass.
His head snapped up as he spotted something in the crowd. “Oh look, fire dancers.”
“What? I want to see!” I tried peering over the crowd, but the most I could make out was a ball of fire being swung high to the rhythmic drumming filling the air. I wiggled a little further into the crowd and tried jumping up to spot the dancers. “Damn these short legs!”
“Give me that,” Dante took my drink and crouched in front of me. Needing no further invitation, I hopped onto his back, wrapped my legs around his torso and took my drink from him. He stood, locking his arm around my leg and finally the fire dancers came into view.
Women dressed in clothing not nearly warm enough for this weather, twirled balls of flames around their bodies. The crowd cheered as one swung her ball at her counterpart, who flipped out of the way in the nick of time.
The beat of the drums picked up its pace and Dante tapped along against my leg. While the rest of the crowd was enamored with the fire dancers, his gaze remained transfixed on the drummer. “Do you play drums, too?” I asked.
“Drums, piano, most string instruments, it’d be easier to tell you what I don’t play. An obsession with a musical theater group plagued most of my 400s.” His gaze turned wistful as he watched the drummer. “I mostly played the cello. But picking up other instruments became useful in case someone else couldn’t perform.”
I gasped, nearly spilling my drink. “Dante, are you telling me you used to be in a band?”
“A long time ago.”
I took a sip of my drink. “Sing me a song!”
“Sing? Never.” He untangled us from the crowd and set me down. More people flocked to the fire dancers’ performance, leaving us with plenty of room to make our way past them and further out of the marketplace and toward the castle. With everyone else so distracted, it almost felt like we were alone. Moonlight lit up the cobblestone streets in a soft glow, while lanterns glowed orange in the night.
An icy chill rustled the fallen leaves around us and I hugged myself against his arm. Pushing as much of my body against him as I could to steal his warmth. Gods, he always smelled so good. “Pretty please? You can’t just dangle that juicy bit of information in front of my face then snatch it away.”
“We have all done regrettable things in our past. I’ll play you a song on any instrument of your choosing. Singing is off the table.”
“Dante, my love. My one and only,” I cooed.
“Now who’s laying it on thick?” he asked dryly.
“I beg you, one song.”
Winding streets gave way to more opulent houses until we reached the castle gardens. Knights were stationed at the main entrance to the castle itself, but the garden entrance seemed to be open to the public, if the people walking in and out were any sign to go by. An old couple nodded politely at us as we passed each other through the gate.
Archways covered in yellow and orange roses imitated a setting sun as we walked in. Noble women dressed in fine gowns laughed and whispered to each other in a gazebo surrounded by beautiful flowers. Evergreen hedges were trimmed back into proud pegasi. In the distance, I could see marble sculptures poking out of the maze.
“I tell you I’ve been in three wars and this is what you fixate on?” Dante said, incredulously. “One of them was against the sea people. Ask about that.” A flush of red spread across his ears.
