Chapter 11: Coin Toss
Golden afternoon sunlight streams through the stained glass windows of my living dorm. The air is heavy with the rich aroma of freshly brewed tea, a blend of fragrant herbs, and delicate flowers that fill the room with its soothing scent.
I recline in a plush armchair, its velvet upholstery soft against my skin. Across from me, Rowena perches on the edge of an ornate settee, her posture perfect as always. Her short black hair gleams in the sunlight, contrasting sharply with her pale skin.
Between us, a silver tea service rests on a delicate mahogany table. Steam rises from the fine porcelain cups, curling lazily in the air before dissipating. The gentle clink of a spoon against china punctuates the comfortable silence as Rowena stirs a cube of sugar into her tea.
Outside, I can hear the distant bustle of campus life. Students hurry to and fro, their excited chatter carrying on the breeze as they prepare for the start of classes tomorrow. But here, in this sanctuary of luxury, all is calm and still.
I take a sip of my tea, savoring the complex flavors that dance across my tongue. Normally, the day before classes begin would be a flurry of activity, unpacking trunks, organizing textbooks, arranging schedules. But for me, there's no such chaos. My army of servants has taken care of everything, leaving me free to relax and enjoy this peaceful afternoon with my sister.
Rowena sets her cup down with a soft clink, her grey eyes meeting mine over the rim. "Elwin," she begins, her voice as soft as ever, "are you really going to go on a date with Rolo?"
"Of course I am, sister," I reply, my voice warm with affection. "She's my girlfriend, after all."
Rowena's eyes startle slightly, her delicate brows arching in surprise. She sets her teacup down.
"Aren't you afraid she's going to use you?" Rowena asks. The words seem to hang in the air between us, heavy with unspoken worries.
I can't help but chuckle. "I approached her first, Rowena," I explain, running a hand through my hair. "I asked her to sleep with me, and she said no."
Rowena's eyes widen further, her lips parting in a silent 'oh' of surprise. I watch as a faint blush creeps across her cheeks, coloring her pale skin a delicate pink.
I shrug, the movement causing the silk of my shirt to rustle softly. "She seems very kind," I continue, my voice filled with genuine warmth. "If anyone's the user, it's me."
Rowena chokes on her tea, the liquid splattering across the pristine white tablecloth. She coughs, her slender frame shaking with the effort. "Brother!" she exclaims, her voice a mixture of shock and dismay.
I lean forward, concern etched across my features. But before I can offer assistance, Rowena waves me off, composing herself with the grace befitting a princess of the Warbringer line. She dabs at her lips with a linen napkin, her grey eyes never leaving mine.
"Elwin," Rowena says, her voice low and serious. "You mustn't speak that way. A prince of your standing... it's not proper."
I lean back in my chair, a smile playing across my lips. "Rowena," I say, my voice soft but filled with conviction, "I honestly think she's the one."
Rowena opens her mouth to respond, but before she can speak, the heavy oak door swings open with a soft creak. Madame Eloise glides into the room, her silver hair gleaming in the sunlight. Her crisp black and white uniform rustles softly as she moves, every step precise and measured.
As soon as she takes in the scene before her, the spilled tea, Rowena's flushed face, the tension hanging heavy in the air. She immediately begins to back out of the room.
"Ah, Eloise, since you're here," I call out, halting her retreat.
She turns back to face me, her posture straightening even further if that were possible. "Yes, Your Highness?" she responds, her voice calm and professional despite the awkward atmosphere.
"For the rest of the month, would it be possible for me to have only spaghetti and meatballs for all my meals?"
Madame Eloise's usually impassive face transforms into a mask of utter bewilderment. Her silver eyebrows shoot up towards her hairline, and her mouth falls open in a most undignified manner.
Madame Eloise blinks rapidly as if trying to clear her vision and ensure she hasn't misheard. "I... Your Highness," she stammers, her usual composure completely shattered, "surely you jest?"
'Is this really that stupid of a request?'
I maintain my casual demeanor, leaning back in my chair with an air of nonchalance. "Not at all, Eloise," I reply, my voice light but firm. "I've developed quite a hankering for it, you see."
Rowena's brow furrows, her delicate features contorting into an expression of deep concern.
"Surely," she begins, her voice tinged with disbelief, "that wouldn't cover all your nutritional needs, Elwin."
"No, no," I say finally, my voice filled with confidence. "I don't see why it wouldn't." [A/N: It wouldn't.]
Rowena looks at me as if I've suddenly sprouted a second head. Her grey eyes, usually so calm and composed, now wide with a mixture of exasperation and incredulity.
"Okay, brother," she sighs, her voice heavy with resignation. "It's your dorm."
Madame Eloise, still standing by the door, seems to have regained some of her composure.
"Your Highness," she begins, her voice once again the model of professionalism, "it's about time we start getting you ready for your dinner with the third princess of Eltar, Rolo Horseheart."
At the mention of Rolo's name, I feel a flutter in my chest. I rise from my chair.
"Of course, Eloise," I reply, unable to keep the excitement from my voice. "I really wish I could dress casually for a date, you know?"
Rowena sighs and rises gracefully from her seat, her grey eyes filled with a mixture of concern and resignation.
"I'll see you later, brother," she says, her voice soft. "And do try to behave yourself on the date."
"Goodbye, Rowena," I call after her, my voice warm with affection despite the undercurrent of exasperation. "Try not to worry so much."
*****
The restaurant is a wonder of opulence and refinement, a glittering jewel nestled in the heart of the city outside of Starcrest Academy. Crystal chandeliers hang from the vaulted ceiling. The air is thick with the aroma of exotic spices and perfectly cooked meats, mingling with the delicate scent of fresh flowers arranged in ornate vases on each table.
Our table, situated in an exclusive VIP section, is a masterpiece of craftsmanship. Fine bone china and sparkling crystal glasses catch the light, creating a dazzling display that seems to dance with every subtle movement.
I sit at one end of this grand table, the distance between Rolo and me feeling almost comically vast. The empty chairs lining either side only serve to emphasize the gulf between us. Rolo, resplendent in a gown of deep crimson that matches her eyes, fidgets with her napkin.
The silence stretches between us, punctuated only by the soft clink of silverware and the hushed murmur of conversation from nearby tables. I can see the tension in Rolo's shoulders, the way her crimson eyes dart nervously around the room, never quite meeting mine.
Finally, unable to bear the distance any longer, I clear my throat softly. "Rolo," I begin, my voice carrying easily across the expanse of polished wood, "I know conventionally royalty of different countries here would have to sit at the heads of the table, but I was wondering if perhaps I might come and sit closer to you?"
Rolo's eyes flicker with panic. Her crimson gaze darts around the opulent dining room, taking in the other patrons who seem to be watching our every move with barely concealed interest.
"I... I don't think that would be wise," Rolo says, her voice barely above a whisper. She leans forward slightly, her raven hair cascading over one shoulder like a silk curtain. "It might be seen as a concession of the Sunhaven royalty. We have to maintain appearances, you understand."
The words hang heavy in the air between us, laden with unspoken implications of duty and tradition. For a moment, I simply stare at her, drinking in the sight of her flushed cheeks, the nervous way she bites her lower lip, the slight tremble in her hands as she smooths imaginary wrinkles from her napkin.
'Nah.'
Without a word, I rise from my seat. The scrape of my chair against the polished marble floor seems unnaturally loud in the hushed atmosphere of the restaurant.
Rolo's eyes grow impossibly wide as I approach, her breath catching audibly in her throat. She looks like a deer caught in torchlight, frozen in place by some mixture of anticipation and fear.
I slide into the chair directly next to her, close enough that our thighs touch beneath the tablecloth. The warmth of her body seeps through the layers of fabric between us, sending a shiver down my spine.
Leaning in close, I whisper in her ear. "After my offer last night, did you think I'd just sit there idly?"
She blushes a deep red, the color spreading down her neck and disappearing beneath the neckline of her gown. "No, I suppose not," she murmurs, her voice barely audible over the soft clink of silverware and hushed conversations around us.
Before I can respond, a waiter materializes at our table as if summoned by some unseen force. Without a word, he begins placing an array of exquisite dishes before us, each one a work of culinary art.
Delicate wisps of steam rise from a golden consommé, its surface shimmering like liquid amber. A salad of exotic greens and edible flowers resembles a miniature garden, complete with tiny "soil" made of crushed nuts and seeds. The main course, a perfectly seared cut of meat so tender it practically melts at the touch of a fork.
As the waiter finishes his choreographed performance of serving, I catch his eye. "Waiter," I say, my voice carrying a note of authority, "may we have your hardest drink for my girlfriend?"
"What are you doing?" Rolo cries, her voice strained with alarm.
I turn to her, a reassuring smile playing at the corners of my lips. "I'll pay, relax," I say, my tone light and carefree.
She shakes her head vigorously, sending cascades of raven hair shimmering in the candlelight. "No, not that," she protests.
Leaning in close, I whisper in her ear. "I want to get you drunk."
Rolo pulls back slightly. "Isn't that what bad girls do to guys to take advantage of them?" she asks, her brow furrowing in puzzlement.
I can't help but laugh. My hand finds hers beneath the crisp white tablecloth, our fingers intertwining as naturally as if they were always meant to fit together.
"Yes, it is," I say, my voice low and tinged with amusement. "Waiter, make it two!"
The waiter, his face a mask of professional neutrality, gives a slight nod. The corners of his mouth twitch upwards in the barest hint of a smirk before he turns and glides away.
"Elwin, I'm not sure it's a good idea to be this forward with me in public." Rolo's words are hesitant, but I can see the war of emotions playing out in her expressive eyes, a mixture of excitement, nervousness, and something deeper, more primal.
I study her for a long moment, taking in the slight flush of her cheeks, the way her teeth worry at her lower lip, the almost imperceptible trembling of her hand in mine. As much as I want to continue this dance of seduction, to push the boundaries of propriety and see just how far Rolo is willing to go, I find myself hesitating.
With a soft sigh, I lean back slightly, giving her a bit more space. "Rolo," I begin, my voice gentle but serious, "would you like me to stop being so aggressive in my courting of you?"
Rolo's crimson eyes widen, a myriad of emotions flickering across her face in rapid succession.
"It's not about want," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "I mean, I should be courting you. That's what's proper."
As she speaks, I can see the toll this internal struggle is taking on her. Her shoulders slump slightly, the weight of societal expectations pressing down on her like a physical force.
Gently, I place my hand on her thigh, the warmth of her skin seeping through the fabric of her gown. The touch seems to ignite something within her. Rolo's gaze locks onto mine, her crimson eyes burning with an intensity that takes my breath away. In that moment, she looks at me as if she wants to devour me whole, right there in the middle of the opulent restaurant.
"Let's have a few drinks first, okay?" I suggest, my voice low and sultry. "And then we can decide who has to court who."
As I speak, I slowly slide my hand up her thigh, feeling the toned muscle beneath the smooth fabric. Rolo's breath catches audibly in her throat, her lips parting slightly. Then, almost imperceptibly, she nods, her crimson eyes never leaving mine.
*****
An hour later, the world has taken on a delightful haziness, the edges of reality softened by the effects of the potent drinks. The once-vast table now feels intimate, Rolo and I huddled close together, our bodies angled towards each other like flowers seeking the sun.
The remnants of our meal lay forgotten before us, half-eaten delicacies growing cold on golden plates.
Rolo's cheeks are flushed a beautiful shade of pink, her crimson eyes sparkling with mirth and mischief. Her hair, once perfectly coiffed, has come slightly undone, a few rebellious strands escaping to frame her face in a way that makes my heart skip a beat.
Rolo leans in close, her breath warm against my ear as she giggles. "Did I ever tell you about the first time I went goblin hunting in Eltar?" she asks, her words slightly slurred but filled with excitement.
I shake my head, unable to keep the grin off my face. "No, I know basically nothing about you," I encourage, my hand resting lightly on her knee.
Rolo's eyes light up, and she launches into her tale with gusto. "So there I was, deep in the Misty Mountains," she begins, gesturing wildly with her hands. "I'd been tracking this particularly nasty goblin tribe for days. They'd been raiding villages, stealing chickens, you know, typical goblin shit."
She pauses to take another sip of her drink. "Anyway, I finally tracked them to this cave. It was all dark and dingey, classic goblin territory."
As she speaks, I find myself utterly captivated. My hand slowly slides even further up her thigh than earlier. Rolo doesn't seem to mind. If anything, she leans into my touch, her body angling closer to mine.
"So I sneak in, quiet as a mouse," she continues, her voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. "I've got my sword ready, expecting to catch them all sleeping or something. But then..." She pauses for effect, her crimson eyes wide with remembered surprise.
"What happened?" I prompt, completely engrossed in her story.
"Flowers!" Rolo exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air. "The whole cave was filled with flowers! And little goblin-sized chairs all set up in rows. And there, at the front of it all, was this goblin couple, all dressed up in what I guess passes for fancy clothes among goblins."
I can't help but chuckle at the mental image. "A goblin wedding?" I ask, incredulous.
Rolo nods vigorously, her raven hair bouncing with the movement. "Exactly! But I didn't realize that at first. All I saw was a bunch of goblins gathered in one place, and well..." She trails off, looking a bit sheepish.
I find myself leaning in closer, utterly captivated by her.
"What did you do?" I ask, my voice low and intimate.
Rolo's breath catches slightly as my fingers unconsciously glide their way to it's wet destination. Her crimson eyes fill with surprise and pleasure.
"I... I slaughtered every last goblin in that cave," she admits. "It was over so quickly. One minute they were celebrating, the next..."
My fingers begin to move in slow, deliberate circles. Rolo's words trail off into a soft gasp, her body tensing beneath my touch.
"Wow," I murmur, a chuckle escaping my lips. "That's actually kind of sad."
There's no real empathy in my voice, just amusement at how weird a goblin wedding would be. Rolo doesn't seem to notice, her focus entirely on the sensations I'm eliciting.
As my caressing intensifies, Rolo's composure begins to crumble. Her breath comes in short, sharp pants. Finally, unable to contain herself any longer, she lets out a soft, breathy moan.
The sound sends a jolt of electricity through me. Rolo's eyes widen in panic as she realizes what she's done. In one fluid motion, she grabs my head, pulling me close.
Her lips brush against my ear as she whispers urgently, "Elwin, we can't... not here."
"Let's take this back to my place then," I murmur back to her.
Rolo nods, her crimson eyes hazy with desire. She bites down on her index finger, trying desperately to stifle the soft moans that threaten to escape her lips as I continue rubbing her beneath the table.
With my free hand, I signal for a waiter, my eyes never leaving Rolo's face. "We're all set," I announce, my voice carrying a hint of urgency.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a gleaming gold coin. With a flourish, I prepare to flick the coin towards the waiter, envisioning it arcing gracefully through the air in a display of raw coolness.
Unfortunately, reality has other plans.
The coin leaves my fingers with more force than intended, its trajectory wildly off course. Time seems to slow as I watch in horror, the golden disc spinning through the air like a miniature sun gone rogue.
With a sickening thud, the coin strikes the waiter directly in the eye. The impact is so sudden, so unexpected, that for a moment, everyone freezes. The waiter's face contorts in shock and pain, his perfectly composed demeanor shattering like fine china.
Then, as if a dam has broken, the waiter lets out a sickening scream as blood seems to stream like tears from his face.
Rolo's eyes snap open in confusion, her crimson gaze darting around the opulent dining room. The warm, intimate bubble we had created bursts, shattered by the waiter's agonized scream.
"Fuck. There goes the vibe." I sigh.