Ema walked through the cobbled streets toward the Upper Square, feeling a little lighter with every step. In an emerald green top, well-fitting jeans, and a light pale jacket, she didn't feel like hunted prey for the first time in a long time. Beata was right. Subtle makeup and her hair worn down, pinned on one side with a simple clip, had turned her into someone else. If anyone from her hometown saw her now, they probably wouldn't recognize this confident girl on the street at all.
A group of three girls her age passed her. They were giggling and subtly turning back toward the large baroque fountain.
"Too bad he's not waiting for me," one of them whispered. "Did you see him? That is unbelievable material. Do you think he's a student too?" another asked.
Ema looked in that direction. A short distance away stood him. So this is what a Přemyslid looks like, flashed through her mind. He had ditched the faded t-shirt and denim jacket. Instead, he wore a dark blue, tailored linen shirt with casually rolled-up sleeves, loosely tucked into light chinos. The light fabric of the shirt uncompromisingly sold his robust build and broad shoulders. He exuded a calm, unshakeable confidence that subconsciously forced people around him to step out of his way.
But before Ema could take a step, the boldest of the three girls broke off and headed straight for him. Ema stopped and watched with amusement. The girl ran a hand through her hair and gave him a radiant smile. "Hi, sorry to bother you, but my friends dared me... and you caught my eye right away. Would you give me your number? Or at least your Instagram?"
Tomáš turned slightly toward her. His smile was polite, absolutely gallant, but at the same time, clearly impenetrable. "That is very sweet of you and flatters me immensely," he answered with that natural, aristocratic ease of his. "But I'm sorry, I'm already waiting for someone here."
The girl stepped back a little disappointed, but she wasn't giving up yet. "Oh. And this someone... is it a girlfriend?"
Ema smirked. Hold your horses, little girl. Time for a minor rescue mission. A group of boys on skateboards happened to be passing by. Ema didn't hesitate. She swiftly borrowed a board from one of the surprised teenagers, pushed off, and rode straight toward them. In front of the fountain, she stomped on the tail and tried a clean kickflip.
The board spun perfectly in the air. But when she landed back on the grip tape, the hard wheels clacked and lodged right into a wide gap between the historic cobblestones. The board jammed in place, and Ema flew forward from the momentum.
She didn't close her eyes in panic like a beginner. Muscle memory from years spent on a board kicked in immediately. Keeping her eyes wide open, she lightning-fast extended her arms to break the impact and instinctively tried to run out the fast fall. She expected harsh contact with the pavement—painful, but completely controlled thanks to her experience.
But she didn't hit the ground. Instead, after two stumbling steps, she crashed right into a solid chest. Tomáš had stepped toward her quickly, his arms shooting forward to catch her effortlessly and with absolute certainty.
Ema hung in Tomáš's arms. The taken-aback girl who had been begging him for his number a second ago stared at them wide-eyed. Then she sized up Ema, who looked damn good today, clearly realized she was a lap behind, and with a quiet grumble, quickly slipped back to her friends.
"Nice," one of the boys called out appreciatively, picking up his board and riding off into the dark with his buddies.
Ema looked right into Tomáš's eyes. They were closer than she expected. She could feel the heat of his body and the scent of expensive cologne mixed with the ozone of his aura. They just looked at each other quietly, searchingly, until Ema snapped out of it and quickly stood back on her own two feet.
"I just came to save you from that persistent fan," she blurted out, trying in vain to ignore the sudden heat in her cheeks as soon as she regained her balance. She stepped back quickly and chuckled. "And also to show you that in this getup, you look like you just popped over from the philharmonic rather than a nu-metal band. Whereas I..."
With a casual, swaggering motion, she rolled up the sleeve of her light jacket and revealed her wrist. Right under the neat hem hid a wide, old leather wristband studded with worn metal pyramids. "...I'm still the real underground."
Tomáš straightened up, a dark, amused spark in his eyes, and lightly adjusted the cuff of his own perfect, tailored shirt in return. "The entrance was indeed grandiose, and I appreciate the rescue effort," he chuckled. "But you mustn't forget, Ema, that even though I have a band, at my core, I am still a nobleman. Sometimes I just have to show myself in the right light."
He lightly raised his right hand, palm up. The air above it rippled imperceptibly, and a dark, wrinkled seed dropped onto his skin. Within a second, it cracked. With a quiet snap, a rich green stem shot out from the shell, elegantly wrapping around his fingers as it thickened, sprouting sharp thorns that gleamed with an unnatural whiteness, reminiscent of polished bone. At the very top, a bud formed and opened in a fluid, hypnotic motion. It was a rose, but not just any rose. Its petals were a deep, rich crimson red. But in the center of the bud, where the petals were softest, ran a thin edge of pure white, like the first morning frost. And beneath the flower, where the petals met the stem, the calyx was painted in a shade of deep, sapphire blue. The scent that wafted from it was heavy, sweet, and intoxicating.
He stopped, bowed slightly and with absolute naturalness, and said with a smile: "When a man beholds such a beautiful and rare flower as the one that has just bloomed before me, he knows that all other roses in the garden have lost their color for him forever."
He offered her the flower. It was incredibly theatrical, balancing on the very edge of kitsch, but with his charisma, it worked perfectly. Ema had to smile. She took it, but instead of demurely smelling it, she clamped its black-red stem firmly between her teeth like a true street Carmen.
She made sure to look as rebellious as possible, and then looked up at him. "Hoh hom hwe hohing?" she mumbled completely incomprehensibly around the thorny stem in her mouth.
Twenty minutes later, they were sitting in a renowned restaurant on the top floor of a glass building, one that specialized exclusively in premium steaks. It was half-empty, soft jazz was playing, and the view of evening Olomouc, dotted with lights, was breathtaking. The interior smelled of roasted meat, expensive wood, and leather.
As the waiter in a black apron led them to their window table, they passed a group of three young guys heading for the exit. "Dude, I honestly thought that was the price for the whole steak, not per hundred grams," one of them complained desperately. "And then the waitress tells me: You're a man, sir, get the two-kilo T-bone! I don't want to wash dishes here." Tomáš just chuckled quietly at overhearing this and gallantly pulled out a heavy chair for Ema. When they settled in, Ema leaned back into the comfortable leather booth and started playing with the magical rose. Its petals were cool to the touch and incredibly soft.
"You know, one thing is still bugging me," she began after the waiter poured her water. "When they read Old Czech Legends to kids in school, where the Přemyslids are... does that mean that's directly your family? And are those legends even true in any way?"
Tomáš smiled, amused. "Wow. I had no idea we'd be analyzing my family tree on the very first dinner." But then his expression turned slightly serious. He leaned his forearms on the table and steepled his fingers. "A lot of it is, of course, romanticized fantasy. Adapted for ordinary people so history makes some acceptable sense. But the foundation... that's there. Libuše, for example. She wasn't some mythical princess prophesying glory from a cliff above the Vltava river. She was an immensely powerful Architect from our bloodline. Her strength didn't lie in creating matter, but in manipulating time and probability. She had visions. Which ultimately proved fatal and meant her absolute ruin."
Ema stopped spinning the rose. The tone of his voice sent a chill down her spine. "What happened to her?" "After her last, massive vision, she went mad. Her mind simply couldn't handle the pressure. It shattered completely, and she was never the same again." "Did she see the end of the world?" Ema asked quietly, completely absorbed by the story. "No one knows," Tomáš shook his head. "Because after that vision, she never spoke a single meaningful word again. She just laughed wildly, continuously. Day and night."
Ema went noticeably numb. She had a far too good idea of exactly what might drive a powerful Architect to absolute, unquenchable madness. The memory of the shapeless darkness swallowing her home dug its claws into her mind. For a moment, she completely stopped noticing the soft jazz and the smell of food. Her body stiffened, and she just stared blankly ahead into the void with a glassy expression.
Tomáš immediately noticed how her mind had slipped away into some cold dark place, and lightning-fast, he changed the subject. "But enough of historical family tragedies. That doesn't belong at a good dinner," he smiled warmly to dispel the sudden tension, and picked up the massive leather menu. "Do you know what you'll have yet? I can recommend something. If you like a steak with a really bold, earthy flavor and nice marbling, go for the dry-aged Ribeye. But if you want something incredibly tender that just falls apart on your tongue, I recommend the Filet Mignon. And with that, we'd pick a fuller red wine, maybe an Argentine Malbec."
Ema put the menu down without opening it. "To be honest, I've never been to a restaurant like this in my life," she admitted bluntly, looking around the elegant interior. "I'll leave it entirely up to you." "It will be my honor," Tomáš smiled. When the waiter arrived, he ordered for both of them fluently and with certainty. As soon as the staff brought them tall crystal glasses of dark ruby wine, they clinked them with a soft chime.
The food was phenomenal. The meat melted on the tongue, and the wine provided a pleasant warmth. Throughout dinner, they debated everyday things. Music, professors, what Olomouc was like in the fall. The atmosphere was relaxed. Ema discovered that Tomáš wasn't just a great talker, but more importantly, an attentive listener. Only over coffee did he lean back in his chair, look at her searchingly, and return to more serious topics.
"Have you ever thought about what you're going to do after you graduate? What are your actual goals?" "Mainly, I'd like to understand and control my power," Ema answered honestly, wrapping her fingers around the warm cup. "To not be dangerous to anyone anymore. And then... then I just want to stand on my own two feet. To be free and independent of outside help."
Tomáš nodded, as if that was exactly the answer he expected. "And what about family? Have you thought about that?"