They followed Taro till they reached a hidden tavern that was small, tucked behind a narrow alley, its entrance unmarked except for a faded sign swinging lazily in the morning breeze.
Inside, the air smelled of roasting meat and spilled wine. Voices rose in laughter and argument, glasses clinking, but nobody paid the three newcomers any attention.
looking around with wide eyes, Raymun took in every detail. "I've never been anywhere like this. I… I've never left the palace. The Pharaoh… he never allowed it."
Taro grinned, leading them through the crowded tables. "Well, Moon-girl, consider this your first taste of freedom—and chaos." He wove between seated patrons with effortless agility, drawing a few curious glances but nothing more.
Raymun shivered slightly, brushing a stray lock of silver hair from her face. She clutched the cloak tighter. "It's… loud."
"Loud?" Taro's eyes sparkled with amusement. "That's called life. You'll get used to it."
Osairin, tall and impossibly imposing even in the dim light, followed quietly. He didn't flinch at the shouting or the smell of ale. If anything, he seemed irritated by the chaos.
Raymun found a small table tucked into a corner and gestured for them to sit. "Here," she said, surprised by how natural it felt to make a decision herself.
Taro plopped down beside her, elbows on the table, scanning the menu scribbled on a piece of parchment. "Wine. Meat. Everything that isn't nailed down. Yes, yes, all of it."
Osairin's brows knit. "You know I don't have to eat."
Taro clapped him on the shoulder with more force than necessary. "Ha! Even a part-god—though now you're more mortal, remember?—still needs to eat. You can't live off mystery and brooding alone."
Raymun blinked at that, curiosity prickling. "More mortal?"
Taro leaned back, eyes twinkling, conspiratorial. "Ah, yes. Master here… is cursed. A demi-god trapped among humans. Forced to feel everything they feel—their sadness, their helplessness, their pain. Imagine having godlike power and yet tasting nothing but grief and mortality."
Raymun looked at Osairin, who only glared at Taro. His golden eyes were sharp, molten, dangerous, and yet… he didn't deny it.
Raymun's stomach grumbled at that moment, loud enough to draw a few glances from nearby tables. She winced.
"Ah," Taro said, snickering, "even cursed beings get hungry. Don't worry, Moon-girl, it's a human flaw. Very charming."
When the food arrived, steaming platters of roasted meat, bread, and thick cheese, Raymun wrinkled her nose. "I… I'm not used to… this. At the palace, we had feasts, delicate things, not… this."
Taro waved a piece of bread at her. "Adventure comes with a taste test. Eat!"
She hesitated, watching Osairin as he leaned back slightly, arms crossed. Then hunger overcame her, and she began to eat, each bite tasting more satisfying than she expected.
She felt Osairin's eyes on her, heat pooling low in her chest. Her gaze flicked up—and caught him watching her lips. She bit her lower one almost instinctively, cheeks flushing.
Taro snorted, noticing the tension. "Ah, now that's entertainment! Watch the demi-god stare at the mortal's lips. Dangerous."
Osairin's jaw tightened. "Taro."
Raymun could feel the faint heat of his attention and tried to focus on the food, but every glance he stole sent little sparks across her nerves.
Taro leaned across the table, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Listen, Moon-girl, there's more going on than your little human heart can imagine. Another god—troublesome, greedy, thinks he's above the rules—is stirring the pot. Your friend here," he gestured at Osairin, "is tangled up in it, whether he likes it or not."
Osairin's fingers twitched around his goblet, golden eyes narrowing. "Taro…"
"Relax," Taro said, grinning. "I'm just explaining why the gods' realm is as messy as a tavern at noon. Politics, schemes, betrayals. He's… well, let's just say he's in the middle of it, but also cursed to care too much. That's your problem in a nutshell, Moon-girl."
Raymun swallowed, trying to ignore the heat in her chest as Osairin's gaze lingered. She chewed, a mix of curiosity and something more primal tightening inside her.
Taro continued, oblivious—or perhaps intentionally provoking. "Don't worry. I'll keep you safe. And he," he jabbed a thumb at Osairin, "will be silently brooding and staring at you while you eat. Romantic, in a very terrifying sort of way."
Raymun looked up, and for a fleeting second, Osairin's lips twitched. She blushed, heart hammering.
"Dangerous and handsome," Taro whispered. "That's the combination that kills mortals—or at least keeps them awake at night."
Raymun felt a shiver run down her spine, partly from the spicy food, partly from the weight of his gaze, partly from the thrill of being alive in a world that suddenly seemed bigger and infinitely more dangerous—and yet, impossibly exciting.