Page 114 of Ashes of Aether
“Is it a surprise?”
He chuckles. “I suppose it is.”
We soon reach the end of Fairway Avenue and arrive on Lenwick Street. Nolan guides me farther into the Upper City, closer to where the Aether Tower hums above all the cobalt rooftops.
Though it’s dark, it is still rather early, and we pass plenty of people on our way. Some are dressed as extravagantly as me, so no one spares me a second glance. And Nolan himself is also dressed in fine clothes. I hope that means wherever we’re heading, I won’t look out of place. Then again, Nolan always seems to be well-dressed.
Luckily, our destination proves to be The Shimmering Oyster, which is one of Nolderan’s most luxurious restaurants. There is nowhere finer to dine than here. The guests flowing in and out of the restaurant’s double doors look as though they have stepped out of a Ball. If anything, I feel underdressed compared to them.
“The Shimmering Oyster?” I exclaim, turning to Nolan as we reach the dozen steps leading up to the restaurant’s entrance.
Twin baskets of ivy hang on either side of the carved doorframe. Purple azaleas add a splash of color to the green. The ivy’s tendrils sway in the breeze.
“What’s the matter?” he asks. “Do you not like it here?”
“No,” I swiftly say. “This is my favorite place to dine.” What I don’t say is that I’m astonished Nolan would bring me here. The prices are incredibly steep. And hasn’t he just bought a tavern? Can he really afford to take me to dinner here?
Maybe he thinks because I’m the Grandmage’s daughter, I can afford to pay for us both. Maybe that’s the real reason he asked me out to dinner. What he doesn’t realize is that I’ve already spent my stipend for this month, meaning I will be unable to offer a single copper coin toward the bill. If Nolan insists on me paying, then I will have to tell the owners that my father will pay on my behalf. And then I will be in so much trouble because I should be in bed, recovering for the Trial of Magic tomorrow.
But Nolan was the one who asked me on this date, so surely he expects to pay? I know it would probably be best to clarify this with him before we sit down and eat, but I don’t know how to ask politely. I should have checked on Tuesday before agreeing to come here with him. Now I fear this will end up in disaster.
“Shall we go inside?” Nolan asks, gesturing to the door.
Perhaps now would be the opportune moment to check whether he will be paying tonight, but I lack the courage to ask him. Instead I nod, and Nolan leads me up the stairs and through the open doors.
The Shimmering Oyster’s interior is decorated as lavishly as I remember. Glittering chandeliers hang from the ceilings, large enough to rival the Arcanium’s magnificent ones. Fine white lace decorates the tables, and small vases sit at the center of each, painted colorfully and filled with fragrant flowers. All the table legs are carved into spirals.
I haven’t been here since my mother died. The three of us used to come here often, but my father hasn’t suggested it over the past few years. I suppose it would feel strange without my mother with us.
Arluin took me here for dinner on the last Ranthir’s Day: a day for lovers to celebrate their affections for one another. Since it was early summer, we sat out on the balcony. Tonight the balcony’s doors are shut since it’s the middle of winter. Though I can ward off the chill with fire magic, most guests are neither magi nor adepts.
Nolan starts over to the man behind the tall wooden stand, leading me along with him. The waiter looks up as we approach.
“Can I help you?” he asks.
“I reserved a table for six o’clock,” Nolan replies.
“What’s your name?” the waiter asks, rolling out his scroll and revealing a list of names scribbled across it. He holds it open with one hand and reaches for a quill with the other. He dips the nib into a pot of ink.
“Elmsworth.”
The waiter pauses, scanning through his list. When he finds Nolan’s surname, he strikes a line through it and returns the quill to his stand.
“Mr. Elmsworth,” the waiter says with a stiff bow, “if you would like to follow me to your table.”
We follow him through the restaurant. Most of the tables are full, aside from a few at the back, and the waiter escorts us to one near a large, arched window. Through the frost glazed glass, I can see the shadowed street below.
When we are seated, the waiter places a menu on our table. “Do take your time,” he says. “I will return when you’ve had the chance to look through our menu.”
With that, he turns and leaves. There’s already a line of guests waiting at the entrance.
Nolan picks up the menu and holds it out to me. “Ladies first.”
“Thank you,” I reply, taking it from him and opening the thick, folded paper.
A variety of dishes are scrawled onto it in letters so cursive I can barely decipher what they say. My fingers drum against the table’s lace cloth as I mull over the many choices.
“I really can’t choose,” I say, breathing a laugh. “Everything sounds so good, and they have so many new things since I last visited.”