Chapter 26
Esmera expected that dinner that night would look the same as dinner the previous one had, with a mat spread on the ground and a tray of warm curries balanced on her lap while she gazed up at the stars over the Himalayas. To be honest, she couldn't ask for anything more than a dark, cool, glittery night and a man who made her laugh far harder than she meant to.
So, her mouth fell open when she slipped outside, leaving the warmth of Princess Namesha's room behind her. Near the edge of the balcony stood a square table covered in a cloth embellished with embroidered leafy silhouettes, white to contrast with the night. On opposite sides of it, two chairs with hard backs and cushiony navy-blue seats faced each other. A jug filled with a cloudy grey-white liquid stood between two glasses. A candle flickered inside a bowl on the table.
Esmera recognised the uneven pink substance it was carved from as Himalayan salt. She had seen it in a shop window as she walked past a few months back. It had been too expensive for her to consider buying it even if she had wanted to, but it didn't surprise her that Tauram had one lying around, waiting for an occasion.
What if this wasn't even for her? Maybe Tauram was expecting someone else. Maybe Belaren had decided that his reunion dinner with Anjarah should be somewhere more picturesque than the sitting room.
The prince centred the candle on the table before raising his eyes to Esmera. His face brightened, leaving her with no doubt that she was the guest he had set this up for.
Jammas fluttered where he sat on Esmera's head, even more excited to see Tauram than she was. Lundas was in a better mood than usual, resting his large spotlight-like eyes on Esmera and closing them slowly without any snarls or irritated flickers of his tail.
The flame's light danced along the gold embroidery bordering Tauram's neckline and running down his long black shirt like electricity along wires, and Esmera was once again uncertain that she belonged here.
"I think I'm underdressed." She looked down at her clothing. She was still wearing the red and gold parsi she had worn to explore the town in the day and the cave of orphaned familiars in the evening.
She was sure the princess would have something with diamonds encrusted in the neckline and silver embroidered into the seams. She should've worn an outfit like that tonight instead of one that had seen a day as long as she had. She was, after all, the one who had made this a date. She could've at least dressed up for it.
"You look fine, Esmera." Tauram gave her one of his characteristic half-smiles.
"Just fine?" Esmera tried to dismiss her doubts with a playful huff. "Very charming, Prince Tauram."
"Okay, you look exquisite. There, I said it." He raised his hands.
Esmera rolled her eyes. "You can dial the sarcasm down just a tad."
She was nowhere near as beautiful as Ghallia or Jilhari, probably the most beautiful women in this world, and Tauram really shouldn't be joking that she was.
"I wasn't being sarcastic, and I'm truly offended that you would think that I was." Before Esmera could decide whether Tauram was messing with her or not, he was already rushing into his next sentence. "You're perfectly dressed for the occasion. If anything, I'm overdressed. Occupational hazard of being a prince." He grinned.
"It must be nice being a prince with a wardrobe full of more clothes than you can probably wear in a lifetime." Esmera raised her eyebrows.
Tauram was probably in the habit of changing his outfit for every meal of the day, but Esmera hadn't yet adjusted to the idea of having Princess Namesha's whole wardrobe to herself. Back in Arkōsāra, she had only a handful of outfits, and she had to make them last.
"Why the dry tone, Esmera? Having this much clothing is as fun as it sounds."
"I guess I'll see for myself." Esmera tilted her head.
She had at least a week to do so, more if she and Tauram could defeat King Ruagu by their deadline. Even so, she wouldn't have needed this time if she had grown up a noblewoman as she had been meant to.
A pause gaped between Esmera and the prince until he found some words to stuff it with. "I left the food inside to stay warm. I'll bring it out now. You can take a seat in the meantime and help yourself to some litchi juice." Tauram brushed past Esmera.
Her breath caught at the warmth of his bare arm, and then he was gone with Lundas right beside him, both of them swallowed by the light emanating from the house.
Esmera poured herself half a glass, uncertain if she would like the litchi juice and reluctant to be saddled with a full glass if she didn't. She did the same for Tauram, for the same reason.
She tucked her dark shawl around her as she sat, taking a cautious sip of the juice. She smiled at the explosion of cold sweetness. Although the juice didn't have the most inviting colour, it had a unique and subtle flavour. Esmera didn't know what fruit it reminded her of. She only knew that she wanted more, so she set her glass down and filled it to the top.
She curved her hand around the glass, staring out at the night.
It hardly seemed real that she had gone from being a barista estranged from her husband to a lady having dinner with a prince on a starlit balcony, but it was real. The goosebumps on her arms told her so. Besides, she couldn't have imagined as beautiful as this sky, with all the celestial bodies close enough to be seen as sparkles in the heavens and those galaxies so distant that they were merely vague patches of brightness, almost unnoticeable if one wasn't looking closely enough.
There was a clink as Tauram set Esmera's plate down in front of her. He took the chair across from her, setting his plate on the table. Lundas purred from beneath the table, reminding them that he was there is case they were to be careless about where they placed their feet.
"So, how are you liking it?" Tauram looked at the glass cradled in Esmera's hands.
"It's probably the best juice I've ever tasted. That's why I filled a full glass." She brought it to her lips again. It had the soft sweetness of a dream.
Tauram smiled. "I thought you might like it. It's my favourite and one of the things I missed most about Milatanur."
"You chose well." Esmera smiled across the table at him.
Their eyes locked a moment too long, long enough to quicken her pulse, and she looked down at her plate. "So, what's this?"
At the centre of her plate were two bowls containing condiments she had never seen before. They were surrounded by a couple of pouches of dough gathered closed at the top like little drawstring bags, but there was no string in sight. Despite the little glimpse they allowed inside them, Esmera couldn't tell what they contained, but they smelt amazing. Her stomach rumbled. If it had been any louder, Tauram would've heard it despite not being an auditory sorcerer.
"These are momos. They're basically steamed dumplings. This is red ginger chilli pickle, and this is sesame yellow sauce." Tauram pointed between the two bowls.
They both sounded delicious, but Esmera didn't know what to expect. "Which is better?" She gestured between the bowls.
"The pickle adds a spicy edge to the momos. The sauce focuses more on enhancing their flavour, so it's really up to you."
Esmera peered into the heart of the closest momo. "And what's inside?"
"Cabbage, carrot, onion and yak meat, assuming Belaren didn't lie to me." Tauram took up his chopsticks. "Honestly, I'm impressed that he even made us dinner."
So was Esmera. She raised her eyebrows. Belaren had been fuming when she and Tauram left to go on the excursion to the orphaned familiars' dwelling with Anjarah earlier, but he had still made them dinner with care if the delicate folding of the dumplings was any indication.
"That was nice of him."
"He is nice, deep down, as cold as he can seem sometimes." Tauram smiled at his dumplings.
Esmera poked at her momo. "You know, I've never eaten yak before."
"It's a specialty of this region and rare to find anywhere else."
She felt Tauram's eyes settle on her even as she kept her gaze on her momo. She straightened her shawl.
There was so much Esmera learnt about Milatanur every day, but she knew she had barely scratched the surface.
She grasped her chopsticks. She had spent enough time examining her momos. Now was the time to enjoy them.
"I trust you know how to use those." Tauram raised his eyebrows.
"Yes." Esmera tilted her chin up. That was the one thing that was familiar to her about the cuisine in this world, and she would own it. "It can't be much harder than sushi, right?"
"No." Tauram smirked, and Esmera wondered if he was simply humouring her, and it was really very different from eating sushi.
Esmera studied the momos. They looked more slippery than sushi, somehow, but she would be careful not to make a fool of herself.
She pinched a dumpling between her chopsticks and dipped it into the sesame yellow sauce. It filled her mouth when she popped it inside whole. The sesame yellow sauce was even more flavourful than Tauram had described and only a little spicy.
Esmera bit down, and the warmth of the vegetables and yak meat filled her mouth instead, flooding it with another foreign flavour she couldn't describe but enjoyed nonetheless. When she swallowed and opened her eyes, she felt changed, steeped in Milatanuran culture in a way she hadn't before, but Tauram stared at her the way he always did, with his head cocked and a tiny smirk.
"What?"
"Nothing." He lowered his eyes to his food, which was still untouched.
Esmera studied him. She was an open book to anyone who would care to read her. Tauram, on the other hand, was one bound with intricate locks that required a whole ceremony and an elaborate array of tools to open.
Esmera wasn't sure if Tauram was the type of person she might've chosen for herself had she grown up in Milatanur. Maybe he was. Most girls admired the monarchy and dreamed of marrying into royalty, but she couldn't ignore how different she and Tauram were.
Tauram was as infuriating as he was entertaining, as mocking as he was charming, but even when he was annoying, he somehow managed to make Esmera smile. The clean lines of his tunic and his perfectly windswept hair were as beautiful as they were enviable, almost unreal.
Esmera's hair wasn't alluringly tousled, just a curly mess in which a little bird had made a nest, but someone 23 years ago had, for some reason, decided she and Tauram should be married.
She set her chopsticks on her plate with a click. "Tauram, can I ask you something?"
He picked up a momo and held it just in front of his lips. "You can, though I can't promise I'll answer." He popped the dumpling into his mouth.
Esmera gazed at him for a moment. That hadn't been the most encouraging of replies, but it was better than him claiming they were getting off-topic and steering the conversation in another direction. It was progress.
She took another dumpling between her chopsticks. "How did a noble baby and a child prince find themselves betrothed?"
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