Ashes of the Elite-Chapter 33: Lunch

Cecilia walks just a little too close beside me, smelling of lavender with a faint hint of cinnamon—pulling at my senses no matter how hard I try to ignore it, and I hate how annoyingly pleasant it is. Her steps are light, graceful, matching mine without effort.

She glances up at me with a soft smile. "I hope you don't mind us tagging along... I know we're being intrusive," she says gently, her tone sincere but with a flicker of amusement beneath it. "It's just... well, after meeting you that day, I found myself hoping I might speak with you again."

I glance at her, unsure how to respond to that. She's an inquisitor. I should hate her; she's part of the system I hate. Part of the order that killed my parents. But yet, her voice is warm and disarming. And have I myself not become part of that same order I hate by being an elite?

She laughs softly. "And now here we are. In the same place, crossing paths once more. Surely the Divine wills it."

I clear my throat, feeling awkward. "Uh-huh, sure."

Ahead, Howard is still talking to Dax and Garet, completely at ease, with the lanky, ugly Jaynd walking silently next to them. He glances over his shoulder at me and smirks, clearly picking up on my discomfort before turning back to the conversation. I mentally curse him. What does that bastard think is happening back here?

Cecilia continues walking beside me, her hand brushing lightly against mine as we step around a group of slow moving citizens. The faintest touch, but it sends a sharp jolt of energy up my arm. I flinch back instinctively, my pulse spiking.

She turns quickly, her expression all polite apology. "Forgive me, my Lord. I didn't mean to startle you." Her words are soft and apologetic, but her eyes sparkle with something playful, as though the touch had been anything but accidental.

I force a short nod. "It's fine; no issue."

She smiles again, softer this time. "You really are quite serious; I like that about you." "You're everything an elite should be," she says softly. "Beautiful. Just. Blessed by the Divine... almost regal," she adds the last part as a whisper.

I freeze for half a second, completely blindsided. My face heats up instantly. I clear my throat, scrambling for something—anything—to say back. "Uh... you, um... you're very... elegant."

Her laughter is soft and warm, like silk brushing across my skin. "Thank you, my lord. You're very kind."

I sneak a glance at her, just for a moment, and I hate what I notice. Her lips are full, curved in that knowing smile. Her body moves with effortless grace, every step confident but soft. I drag my eyes away before I embarrass myself further.

I stare straight ahead, trying not to trip over my own feet. Internally, I seethe. Seriously? Is my body really going through its first crush... on a fucking inquisitor? One who's probably nineteen or twenty and smiles like she knows exactly how attractive she is and how much she's messing with my head?

I glance at Howard ahead. He throws me another look over his shoulder like he knows I'm looking at him, that same smug, knowing grin on his face, and just keeps talking to Dax and Garet like nothing's happening.

What a fucking prick for not saving me from this torture. This isn't fair. I've gone eight years hating the inquisitors and Empire by default for their murder of my parents, and now I'm going to lose to a pretty smile and good perfume? Fuck me sideways.

Thankfully she spared me any more conversation for the remaining few minutes we walked. Finally the building Howard leads us toward towers ahead, its dark polished wood gleaming in the late afternoon sun. Ornate golden inlays run along the frame of its heavy doors, and a grand wrought-iron sign swings gently above the entrance, reading The Coiled Fork in elegant script. Outside, richly dressed patrons lounge at marble-topped tables beneath flowing silk canopies. They sip from jeweled goblets, eating their food and talking in low, refined voices.

The moment our group approaches—two Elites and four cloaked inquisitors—the conversations fizzle out. Heads turn, murmurs ripple through the seated crowd, and all eyes land on us with a mixture of curiosity and respectful fear.

Before I can fully take in the scene, a young man in an impeccably tailored vest nearly stumbles out the grand doors to meet us. He bows so low I think he might fold in half. His face is pale, his smile tight with nerves.

"I—I am honored to welcome you, honored Awakened and honored Inquisitors," he stammers, straightening with effort. "Please... if you would allow me the privilege of guiding you."

He turns and gestures with a trembling hand. As we step inside, the scent of spiced meats, fresh herbs, and warm honeyed bread hits me like a punch to the gut. My stomach tightens—I didn't realize how hungry I was.

The interior is even more lavish. Mahogany paneling with gilded filigree, stained glass windows casting colorful patterns onto plush crimson carpets. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, their light catching in the cut glass and sending rainbows across the walls. The tables are polished dark wood, each adorned with delicate porcelain dishes and golden utensils.

We move through the crowded main floor. Every table falls silent as we pass; forks freeze mid-air, conversations abruptly halt. I catch glimpses of wide eyes, hushed whispers, and more than a few people subtly bowing their heads as we walk by.

The young attendant clears his throat softly. "If you would... this way, please." He gestures to a grand curved staircase with polished brass railings.

He looks back at us, still nervous. "Upstairs is the VIP floor. Incredibly difficult to reserve, and..." He swallows. "Very expensive. But for Elites of course... all expenses are waived. It is the Coiled Fork's highest honor to host you."

Internally, I smirk, resisting the urge to chuckle. Free food at a place like this? My old self from the outskirts would've killed for even a taste of what's being prepared. He'd be proud of me now—leeching off my newfound privilege like a pro.

We climb the grand staircase, the plush carpet soft beneath our boots. Staff move quickly around us, giving polite head bows. At the top, there's another set of double doors carved with a twisted fork; how amusing. The attendant opens them with care, revealing a private dining hall lined with tall windows overlooking the street below.

The VIP floor isn't empty—several finely dressed groups are already seated at polished tables, laughing over silver platters and delicately arranged dishes. The clink of crystal glasses and quiet conversation fills the air, but as we step inside, the sounds quiet. Eyes flick toward us, some lingering in recognition when they land on Howard, others dropping quickly in deference when they see our eyes marking us as Elites. Their silence lasts only a breath, a brief moment of their respect, before they go back to their meals.

The young attendant leads us toward a large, circular table near the grand windows, polished so well I can almost see my reflection in its dark surface. He waits with perfect posture until we're all seated before offering a respectful bow.

"If it pleases, honored Awakened and honored Inquisitors... what may I bring you?"

Howard barely gives him time to finish. "Bring out the house specialties—all of them. And plenty of it." He turns to the rest of us with an easy grin. "Trust me, I've been here with my father before. You're going to love it."

Dax just nods, his usual stern expression softening with a small smile. "I look forward to it, Lord Ashland."

"Awakened is fine, my good man; no need for Lord." "I can no longer inherit my father's estate, being an elite after all," Howard replies keenly.

Cecilia, seated far too close to me, flashes a bright grin. "This will be delightful," she says, her voice warm, honey-sweet. She turns her head slightly, her eyes locking onto mine with that glint that always makes me tense. "What about you, Lord Daath? Have you ever been here?"

I keep my voice cold, trying to create distance. "No. I grew up in the outskirts.

That seems to land harder than she expected. Her smile falters just a fraction, and I catch the other inquisitors shooting her subtle glances—the kind of silent, wordless warnings that say drop it.

But to her credit, she recovers gracefully. She leans in slightly, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Well... I suppose I'll just have to make sure your first time here is unforgettable."

I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the blush creeping up my neck. I hate how she says things like that so easily, how her smile makes me feel off-balance, and how good she smells this close.

I stare out the window, biting the inside of my cheek, trying to drown out how warm my face feels. Great. Just great. My body's decided its first real crush is going to be on an inquisitor. An inquisitor who smiled at me after I executed someone. Who probably enjoys tearing apart people's lives for breakfast. And yet here I am, noticing the way her laugh feels warm, or how her hair catches the light, or how her scent keeps messing with my focus.

I clench my fists under the table. This is going to be a painful meal.

I clear my throat, desperate to push this entire mess away. "Could you... also maybe stop calling me 'my lord'? I... I don't really like it." I glance at her, regretting the words even as they leave my mouth. "Ayato is fine or even Awakened Daath."

She tilts her head, her eyes lighting up with mischief. Then, to my horror, she winks. "Well, of course, Ayato. I can do that for you."

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I feel my ears burn as my name rolls off her tongue in that soft, teasing lilt. I regret saying anything immediately. I shouldn't like how she says my name. But I do. And I hate myself for it.

Across the table, Howard watches the whole thing with a smug grin, clearly enjoying every second of the show.

The other three inquisitors—Dax, Garet, and Jaynd—exchange a look that's part disbelief, part nausea, like they can't believe how far she's pushing this. Dax mutters something under his breath, and I catch just enough of it to know it's not flattering. Something along the lines of if she gets us killed by the Child of Light, I will find her in the afterlife and kill her again.

I sink a little lower in my chair, wishing I could vanish under the table.

Before I can stew any deeper in my own embarrassment, the attendant returns this time with an entire squad of staff behind him, each carrying trays stacked with steaming plates of food and glittering bottles of wine and spirits.

The smell hits me first: rich, buttery venison drizzled in dark sauce, perfectly roasted fish seasoned with herbs I can't even name, golden loaves of bread still warm from the oven, and dishes so elegantly plated they look like something out of a painting.

The staff moves like clockwork, laying dish after dish on the table until it feels like a royal feast. Bottles of deep red wine, crystalline decanters of golden liquor, and strange sparkling beverages line the center of the table.

The attendant bows deeply. "We hope this is to your satisfaction, my honored Awakened and Inquisitors. If you need anything else, please summon us." With that, they retreat like shadows, leaving as quickly as they came.

I don't waste a second. I reach for the nearest bottle of wine, pouring myself a large, very full glass—nearly spilling it in my haste. I down half of it immediately, the warmth of it burning down my throat but doing nothing for the heat still sitting in my face.

The warmth from the wine barely touches the simmering embarrassment still burning in my cheeks, but it gives me something else to focus on. I swirl the glass slowly in my hand, watching the dark red liquid catch the light like blood in crystal. Across the table, Cecilia watches me with that same knowing glint in her eyes, her lips curled into a faint, amused smile. I quickly look away and take another long sip.

Howard, ever the social butterfly, leans forward eagerly. "Alright! Everyone, dig in—trust me, you're going to love this place. Like I said my father brings me here whenever I did well in my studies or he's made some profitable business venture. It's the best food you'll find inside Lont, I guarantee it."

Dax leans back in his chair, his expression relaxing just a fraction. "I've heard of this place but never had the pleasure."

'Yea, that's because it's too expensive for you," Jaynd says from the end of the table, finally speaking.

Garet joins in. "The same goes for you, Jaynd; we all get paid the same." They all share a laugh and click their drinks together.

Cecilia purrs in delight, glancing at the dishes that were set down in front of us. "I can already tell it's going to live up to the reputation." She glances sideways at me again, the corner of her mouth quirking up. "I feel honored to be part of your first time."

I nearly choke on my wine, my face flushing redder than my wine. Howard coughs, hiding his laugh while the other three inquisitors choose to ignore the scene in front of them, praying to their gods that they make it alive to another day.

Is to much to ask for the building to suddenly explode?