The Golden Chalice

✰✦✰ Chapter 2 ✰✦✰

✰✦✰ Chapter 2 ✰✦✰
" Blond Chaos "

WE SPENT THE next hour or so chatting with each other, Thomais chiming in every now and then but clearly still annoyed that Sarinne nearly started another fight.

Eventually, I was fully drunk and ready to laugh at a person breathing. Tomorrow, I would ache with regret. For now, I would relish in the freedom Sparks gave me in the midst of my grief.

"Ready to go?" Sarinne asked me as she picked up my jacket from the floor.

I smiled, standing a little taller to kiss her cheek. "You're actually the best person ever," was my answer.

Sarinne chuckled but helped me stand upright before we made our way out of the pub after we paid. As soon as my shoes hit the grass, the cold air breezed softly against my cheeks. I grabbed my coat from Sarinne's arms and wrapped it around myself.

But a voice almost made me trip over my own feet, "Isn't it a little late to be walking home by yourselves?"

Sarinne and I turned our bodies to find the voice in a very tall human form—in front of us stood a boy with golden hair and shimmering, emerald eyes that made me sure all he was born for was trouble. He didn't even have to smirk for me to know it. He wore a pair of brown trousers, fitting with the vest that was buttoned just above a plain linen, white shirt. He had green gloves on and filthy umber boots.

He really was very handsome, but in a wicked kind of way. A way that warned girls to stay far, far away from him, because his beauty was far more threatening and dangerous than Miles's weapons.

Sarinne scowled. Then faced me and muttered, "Just ignore him. He's probably just one of the drunks that stalk this pub daily."

I shrugged. "But he's rather attractive. Wouldn't even mind if he was a drunk, homeless moron."

Sarinne blinked at me, horrified. "Just walk on, Sof."

I nodded, agreeing since I was too cold and tired and drunk for an argument—I desperately wanted to slip under the covers of my bed.

"I'm only human. . ." I mumbled.

We were about to walk on when he interrupted us again, "I'm not a drunk, Miss Astor. Simply a man who's been asked to take great care of you."

Sarinne turned again, fury and confidence oozing from her. "How do you know my name?" I watched as she grabbed hold of her dagger again. One minute, she was next to me; the next she was inches away from him—only around four inches shorter than him—her dagger's sharp point pressing to his white throat.

"Must we bother with the dramatics?" I moaned. "I'd much rather drown than have to stand here another second and watch you flirt, Rinne—"

"Shut up, Sofia."

"This is flirting?" The blonde boy asked me, arching a brow. His indifference with his life being one press away from being ended perplexed me.

I yawned. "Her way of flirting. She likes weapons—"

"Shut up, Sof!" Sarinne repeated firmly, staring at me like I'd committed a crime.

I raised my arms in defence and dropped onto the ground beneath me, too tired to stand anymore.

"How do you know my name?" Sarinne questioned him again.

The boy glanced between us. "You weren't exactly quiet inside, you know? Pub fights usually aren't."

"Fair," I commented.