Matov was exhausted. Teaching the boys the priest had rounded up to replace Torzet, Windal, and Alvaz was a lot like herding kittens – blind kittens – who mewed for their mothers constantly. It was hopeless. Well maybe not hopeless, but he was tired of hearing them complain about everything like it was his fault they were there. It was not his fault. These things happened. Heirs bound and others, well others…

He understood why Alvaz ran away to the priesthood. Now that he was Eldest Unbound he knew why Windal was found unfit. Matov shook himself before he got worked up again. Torzet had bound, although he took that secret with him to the grave. That angered Matov. Rix was being punished for not finding his bound and for not honoring him, and Torzet was allowed to die and leave his bound to an unknown fate.

Because he knew the rituals, the priests took Matov into the temple immediately to learn the higher duties of Eldest Unbound. Duties left undone since Rix had been bound. He adjusted quickly and he understood his Uncle Rix better than before. Which was why the niggling feeling he kept having was bothering him so bad. It started as a bit of a distraction out of the corner of his eye that slowly morphed into a full blown distraction that had him missing his cues.

“I need a break,” he announced after missing the same line three times.

The priest looked at him oddly, but nodded, lining the other boys back up to begin again.

Matov escaped. However, instead of going to his rooms to unwind, he headed out of the main chapel where the High Holy days were observed and down the hall that led toward the two smaller chapels known as the Heir’s and the Consort’s Chapels. Along either side of the chapels were several private cells that only fit two or three people, but between them was one cell made for one – the Eldest Unbound’s Meditation Chamber.

Matov was comfortable down here. His father had brought the entire family to the Heir’s Chapel on religious days important to his people as it was the next largest in size. He also encouraged all this children to use the private cells for meditation and prayer either singularly or in groups. Matov wasn’t sure how often his sisters came to the temple, but he had learned early the benefits of meditation and escaping the notice of one’s cousins. However, since he had been taken in the smallest chamber, Matov came there regularly to commune, meditate, and pray.

In the connecting hallway, Matov paused. His chamber was directly ahead, between the anterooms for the Heir’s and Consort’s Chapels. As he went to enter his chamber he thought he heard muffled cries from the Heir’s Chapel. He tried the door but found it locked however there were definitely noises. He could only make out a few sounds that may have been words, but nothing of which he could be certain. Then the door moved. Matov jumped back as an acolyte slipped out. The door clicked in place behind him. It took a moment for Matov to register who he was seeing.

“Alvaz, wait,” he called. His cousin turned around.

“You shouldn’t be here Matov, go back to your… duties.”

“Duties you shirked for this?”

“I shirked nothing,” Alvaz cried out as he puffed himself up, “you don’t know anything.”

“Do you think you were the only one? Why did you never speak up for yourself? No one could speak for you,” Matov said softly and looked back toward the locked door. “Now, tell me, Alvaz, I need to know…”

“The madness has descended upon Uncle Anarix,” Alvaz said and moved away. “I’m sorry, the announcement will be made soon, Your Highness.”

“No.” Matov shook his head. “No. I won’t believe it until I see it. Tell them. I won’t accept until I see. Do you understand?”

Alvaz nodded once then fled.

Matov watched him go, then he turned back to face the door to the Heir’s Chapel. The knob would not turn nor would the door move by pushing or pulling. He trembled as he felt fate clamping her cold hand around his life. The adversary would not win, he would find the answers. If they were written among the stars he would know them.

With resolve, Matov entered his own chamber and locked the door behind him. It was small, smaller even than the private chambers. He contemplated the path he would take as he stripped off his clothing, leaving it in an untidy pile near the door. To his left was the breaking dawn, the representation of the heir and the light his coming rule will bring to the world. His present, one he did not want. It belonged to Rix. Directly across from the heir was the representation of the consort – the setting sun, the coming darkness – Puck Hanover. It was another change, only a darker one. One most people feared. Matov wasn’t sure if he feared the changes that having a consort might bring to their kingdom. What kind of man was he? Why did he die – did he die?

Matov feared a future where his uncle was insane and he sat upon the sun-throne.

The wall opposite where he stood was covered in stars and their constellations. One star near the center was portrayed as larger than the rest. It was the representation of the King and his Divine right to rule – his future if he did not find the answers he sought. That way was always taught as the way of truth. But Matov had learned different in this very room. The intersection of the three paths was the way to truth, and it was there he would stand when he was ready.

The priests allowed him to supplicate the gods with the first of two rituals of which they had supervised his performance until a few days ago. However, Matov knew he had the choice of three rituals -- one for each representation – with which to petition the Son of the Stars. Each held a different purpose and used different tools, all of which were individually wrapped and labeled in the box by the door. Either of the two allowed rituals would be less intense and easier to perform, but neither felt right, so, today would be his first offering of the third. He began to remove his selections from the box. It had been explained and he had been cautioned not to perform it without direct supervision, however, Matov felt if he were to be named heir he would be doing a lot of things without direct supervision. He did not want a priest in the room for this.

He removed a stoppered jar of what appeared to be oil and set it aside. Then he found the package of orange fungi he needed. It still glowed so it was fresh. He took the small blade in the package, cut off several pieces a bit longer than his thumb was wide; he put one of the cut off pieces in his mouth and chewed. It was bitter. His mouth swelled slightly and his lips tingled but he swallowed the juice anyway. He sat the rest near the oil. After wrapping the package back up making sure the label was visible, Matov placed it back into the box before selecting the last object -- The Horn of the God. He needed a black one for the Consort’s Ritual -- large enough to stretch him uncomfortably but not large enough to cause damage. There was fair selection of lengths and thicknesses in the box. He picked up several of the smaller ones but none felt right for this particular ritual.

The fungus’ effects were beginning and he still hadn’t figured out which horn the god wanted to use today. Then one began to glow. Matov picked it up. It was thicker and longer than he thought he should use. He stroked it and unstopped the oil as he knelt in the center of the floor facing the breaking dawn. His prayers in this room were truth as his soul was bared with his baser nature. He belonged to the god.

“The Heir and his Consort,” he whispered as he placed the Horn on the small ledge near the floor, “I need to know. Will Anarix be my Prince? Is he still Bound? Where is his Consort? How can I help them?”

He closed his eyes and dribbled a little down his chest. Heat spread from where it touched. He spread the oil over his chest with one hand, across his nipples, over his abdomen, down to cup under his scrotum.

“Teach me.”

He caught the oil as it flowed over his penis, gasping as his hand moved down to his anus to prepare himself for the symbol of his god’s phallus. He sat the jar aside.

His genitals felt as if they were on fire as they swelled. He fucked himself greedily on his fingers for his own gratification, not yet ready to give over his self.

“Touch me,” he begged. Matov’s body curled for the best position as the dark horn of god thrust into his body. He submitted his soul and his prayers to the pain and pleasure of the size and heat as his body spread to a will not his own. He was not a priest but the embodiment of his people as his body writhed suspended between life and death in the temple chamber.

He was prized for his purity, his innocence. He cried out in in satisfied lust as the stars burst from the sky and enveloped him in their caress.

“They are Mine,” the voice whispered. “Just as you are Mine. The Consort lives. See, Child, know what you must know.”

Images flooded his mind. His mouth made sounds but he did not recognize the words. He stared into eyes that were so different than his own and knew the alien man knew the touch of his god.

“You knew my brother was here?” Amberly demanded after Brianna had been escorted to verify Bobby lived.

“My consort lives,” Prince Anarix of Estovan said with conviction although he had Brianna’s hand print clearly in red on his face for holding them hostage when it was unnecessary. She would have come willingly had she been told Bobby was here and hurt. Amberly wasn’t very happy over their kidnapping and treatment either – especially that first night.

Amberly was undone.

He had been separated from Brianna, and put into a private room with a bunk on one bulkhead. He knew he was on a ship going away from where Bobby was supposed to meet them with Puck and where Kismet was supposed to meet them in a few hours. He ranted at first. Threats weren’t really his style, but making sure they understood just what would happen to them if they harmed one hair on his wife’s head was communicated effectively at the top of his voice in the direction of the door in several languages. When he tired of that, he promised them what would happen if anything happened to his child while he stripped everything from every possible surface. A child he had only found out Brianna carried that morning. A child he wasn’t sure he wanted until it was possible he might lose them both.

When the guard brought him food he threw his ammunition at the alien. Amberly knew he was reacting childishly but this was his family. His family, the words he said with his mouth etched themselves into his heart as he cried on the alien floor of an alien prison and banged on a locked door until his hands were bloody and he was too exhausted to do anything other than sleep.

He woke up in the bed. The room had been straightened and most things throwable had been removed. No one came in to bring him anything for a very long time then Prince Gilban came and asked if he were ready to behave. If he were, he would be brought food.

Amberly agreed and a truce was called.

Amberly looked first at Anarix then at Anarix’s father for an explanation. One of the translators spoke up, “According to legend, when a consort dies, madness descends.”

Understanding flooded Amberly, it would explain so much of what happened over the past three days. Anarix was insane.

“I am not insane,” Anarix said.

It was not the first time Anarix seemed to anticipate his thoughts. Amberly glared at Anarix as he remembered being kidnapped and locked away from Brianna and dragged here to be told his brother is dead.

“Are you certain? Your recent actions toward my family prove otherwise.” Amberly wasn’t sure what the Prince saw for the briefest moment their eyes locked. However, his golden eyes widened just before Amberly’s fist connected with his jaw.

Amberly was certain something had broken. He just wasn’t sure if it was his hand or Anarix’s face. He knew his hand hurt like hell. Then there was yelling and ushering Amberly away. Through it all, the King had said nothing, done nothing. This was madness and Amberly was certain the madness did not start nor end with Anarix.

Rix knelt at his father’s feet. He was embarrassed that the humans had used physical violence against his person. He could do nothing to retaliate against Brianna as she was breeding. Breeding females were temperamental and prone to emotional outburst. He hoped he would be given a chance to explain and that his father would understand. However with Amberly, Rix could not deny he deserved the reaction and more. He had been trying to protect his blood, his bound. Rix would have behaved the same. He wanted to react the same, only there was no one to hit. He hung his head in shame.

“That your bound is passed from the living must already be affecting your judgment,” his father said gently. “I had hoped that the madness would not affect you, but to see you in such a state of disgrace. You will go to the priests and they will assist your adjustment.” He nodded to the guards who moved forward so they could do as commanded.

Rix looked up and met his father’s gaze. “My bound is not dead father. I am not insane. He will find me if I cannot find him. He will come and I hope I have not been adjusted so much that I am unable to greet him as he expects. He is human, with all the emotions and variances that come with that species. He could be scared and needful like you predicted, Father, but I do not think so. The gods would not be so cruel. Therefore, I believe he will be quite the challenge. And one I look forward to facing.”

The guards pulled on him and he took a few stumbling steps away from his father, breaking their gaze.

“The body of your bound lay ready to go to his final rest, Anarix. He was a beautiful man. Your family and I can understand why you were so enthralled by him.”

Rix pulled free of the guards. He took back the few steps that separated him from his father so they stood face to face again. His hands came up and he felt the pricks of a blade against his throat.

“Admit your madness, Anarix, or admit you were attacking your father, our King,” one of the guards said from near his ear.

Rix shook. He was not insane. He was not. His head shook but the guard put a hand on his shoulder and pulled his hand back. His other hand dropped at the same time.

“Calm yourself, Anarix,” his father said, “the priests will care for you.”

Rix slumped, the fight gone. The guards led him away. He was still trying to process he had almost caused physical harm to his father. He had never… he would never…

He must be mad.

“That’s not my brother,” Amberly Hanover said as he looked down on the body they claimed was Puck. The other young man in the room translated his words for the doctor. It was an imperfect system, but for the most part it worked, if he kept the words and concepts simple.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?” one of the aliens that claimed to be a doctor asked.

“In person? Five years, but we had a video conference on his birthday.” Amberly looked up and met the alien’s odd eyes and explained, “A few days before he became the Prince’s consort. This is not the Prince’s consort, do you understand? He is not my brother.”

“The other one seems convinced he is.”

Amberly bit back a scathing remark, a couple of them. He loved Bobby, he really loved Bobby. Bobby was not stupid no matter how he fucked this up.

“Bobby has never met Puck -- not in person, not on video. He’s seen pictures, just like the ones I’ve shown you. There is a resemblance in the pictures. I’m sure Bobby was under time constraints and stress when he took this man. He says he was in Puck’s bed, in his room. We don’t know why he was there. I have to believe my husband made an honest mistake. Do what you want with the body, but do not refer to it as my brother again.”

Amberly turned on his heel and marched out of the room with his back ramrod straight. He hated dealing with asinine, bigoted bureaucratic types in any species. He’d been doing it since he entered accelerated education as a preteen. However, it had taught him how to deal with people he didn’t want to deal with and he was going to treat everyone here like a huge hive of nasty instructors intent on failing him from now on.

After he was out of what served as the morgue, a guard met him to take him to his quarters. This particular one had been chosen because they could speak basic words in common, although it was not enough to hold a conversation. Amberly indicated he would prefer to not go back to his rooms just yet, he wanted to see some of Estovan. He wanted to understand Prince Anarix and his brother. He needed to process the injuries Bobby had sustained and how a person who could do that – a person who was still unaccounted for.

Brianna refused to leave Bobby. He could think of no safer place for her to be. She was explaining to what served as doctors in this culture how humans were physically different from their own species. She said wanted them to understand so that when the Consort was found they could provide him the medical treatment he needed. Although he knew she said it so they didn’t make her leave Bobby’s side. He was certain a few of the others were suspicious of her motives as well as were just being indulgent.

He smiled at the memory of his determined wife facing down the dour aliens. The ones that had dragged him off Prince Anarix had taken him to the medical are first where she was going toe to toe with an alien so dark his skin appeared to be plum colored. They started to escort Amberly beyond her, but she refused to be left out and Amberly latched on to her and refused to let go. So, the aliens allowed it.

Bobby lay unconscious. He looked pretty beat up to Amberly. Brianna touched him, cautiously at first, then with more intent. Soon she was asking very pointed questions to the doctors and issuing directions expecting them to be followed. Amberly waited until she paused.

“How is he?”

“He was injured badly. They may have saved his life, but his mind, Amberly, his wonderful mind…” Brianna sobbed as she brushed Bobby’s brow.

“He’s in there Bri, you’ll get him back. We’ll get him back,” Amberly assured her. “You stay here, and I’ll go figure out what happened with Puck.”

She nodded.

It was simple to find someone to take him to the body that was not his brother. He just wondered who he was, and more importantly, where Puck was.

Amberly surveyed the room he had been appointed and was pleased to see that the door had not been locked, there was not guard posted outside, and he was not to be kept prisoner. His and Brianna’s belongings from the space station had all been placed neatly inside the door. He immediately began looking for his data and communications devices and sighed in relief when they were found.

“They won’t work here,” a voice came from the doorway.

Amberly looked up, a woman stood there.

“The technology is different so the communications will not work. Is there someone you were trying to contact?”

“There was another in our party. We were supposed to meet after our lunch. He would be very worried by now.”

“Ah, yes, I can see why that might be a cause for worry. But he would know that you were brought here?”

“He might. He was incoming.”

“They said you deny the Consort is dead.”

“That man is not my brother.”

“That would mean my brother is not insane.”

Amberly looked up, confused.

“Rix, he is my brother. I am Elmera. There are stories that tell of Consorts and their Bound. Many mention a darkness that descends. The last Consort was four generations ago. What is happening between Rix and Puck could be considered insanity. I can help you message your party.”

“Why?”

“Because if we do not help Rix, he will die and if he dies, Puck dies. They are too tightly Bound now although they have not touched since their first meeting. The more help we have in our search the better our chances of finding him.” She held out a small device. “It’s mine, take it.”

Amberly held the device in his hand. The language was incomprehensible. “I can’t read this.”

“I will help you so you can help us. I’m sorry he did not ask for your help. I’m told Rix was a bit irrational.”

Amberly smiled. “We all are a bit irrational at times.”

Amberly prowled.

He hadn’t received any message back from Kismet. He wasn’t even sure if it had been received. He wanted to trust the aliens. He needed to trust them, but so far none of them had shown themselves to be worthy of trust.

Bobby was getting better. He was more lucid and able to explain that ‘Puck’ had been unconscious in his bed with all the medical evidence Bobby needed to be convinced it was him. His face was obscured, but his reddish hair could be seen.

Amberly believed him, but then the question became who would fake paperwork or put the wrong patient in the room in a secure facility? More importantly, why would they do it?

Not for the first time Amberly wished Kismet were here. He could help get to the bottom of this issue with the Center. He would even be happy with a lab --something to do. He felt as if he were spinning in circles and going nowhere, waiting on something to happen, but he didn’t know what, and no one would tell him what it might be.

Gilban was nowhere to be found. That rat, Anarix, was holed up somewhere, which in the mood Amberly was in, might be the best move the crazy bastard could make right now.

His restlessness took him along hallways, the medical area, even the temple. No one stopped him but no one tried to explain things to him either. Their temple was interesting, not unlike some of the ancient earth amphitheaters but with better seating. There was a bit of a spicy scent he couldn’t quite place to the room although it appeared to be open air. That was debatable though, the sky didn’t seem quite right. Then again it was an alien sky, nothing seemed quite right. The doorway where he entered opened two thirds the way along a long wall with a raised dais with a single chair and a stool to the immediate left, another larger one with a couple chairs and stools on the short wall adjacent, and a third directly opposite the first with only a single chair. Another doorway directly opposite was closed. There were various designs on the walls as well but they all looked like the sun the various positions in the sky to Amberly: sunrise, noon, and sunset. On the remaining wall were a few doors including one that led to what appeared to be a ledge rather near the upper edge of the theater. He wondered what happened up there.

While he was standing and watching four children marched out of one of the doors with an ancient priest following behind. They would stop every so often and receive directions and on more than one occasion restart entirely. Finally they went all the way around without stopping.

There were frescos on the walls. Amberly touched one and traced its lines. One turned into the next and around toward the door until he stood facing it.

“The temple is open to you,” an oddly accented voice whispered from over his shoulder.

Amberly turned to look at the speaker and only saw priests and the children. Slightly confused, but not overly concerned at the continual oddness of the people here, he pressed his hand against the door and it opened. Inside the walls were decorated, they seemed to tell a story, but Amberly did not know the tale. He walked forward touching here and there until the path came to an intersection. Across from him were three identical doors, the center one slightly ajar. Curiosity propelled him forward and he pushed the door open slightly to see what was inside.

His body barely passed the threshold when a young naked alien kissed him. Surprise opened his mouth and bitter juice flowed inside. The sharp taste gagged him as he swallowed. The alien then touched his forehead with greasy hands. It burned. He made out a little of the alien’s language – dream, remember.

Amberly felt the world contract around him then expand. He stumbled under the alien sky as hands touched him, lifted him, guided him. The strange young alien communicated wordlessly as colors slid off his skin in odd bursts of bruising shades of blues, purples, and reds. Heat spread from his forehead down his neck with the alien’s fingers. Amberly shuddered under his touch and they shared another bitter kiss. The spicy scent of the boy’s skin aroused him.

“Dream, Child of the Stars,” the voice whispered against his mind as their mouths pressed together.

Amberly tried to spit the fluids but his tongue felt a little numb and he felt hot. His clothing itched. He pulled at the fabric. He pulled at the alien. The slick oil the alien had used on his own skin burned Amberly’s hands. The thick dildo in the alien’s ass surprised him, that it was warm and throbbed surprised him more.

A slender, oiled hand slid down under Amberly’s clothing to grasp his penis. It burned but he thrust up into it and a moan escaped his throat. Another thrust and the hand was gone. The heat, however, was not.

There were other voices around him, but he couldn’t concentrate on any of them. For a moment he wondered if this was how Puck had been tricked but his mind refused to focus. He opened his mouth to cry out and more bitter fluid entered. He choked on it, but he was too lost now to fight. He opened his eyes again and once again he found the young alien staring back at him, only the angles had changed. Their hands were clasped above Amberly’s head and he was lying flat of his back. The alien straddled him. Mere cloth separated their bodies.

Amberly arched up and cried out. The alien held his hands tight and rubbed their cheeks together. Then the stars fell out of the sky and a voice rumbled from the void they left behind

“He is in you. Brethren. Blood. Bound.”

There was the sound of laughter and something moved on the horizon. Amberly could not move his head to look, instead a point of light above him intensified. He stared.

“I am in you.”

“Who are you?” Amberly whispered the words and they echoed in the chamber.

“A possessive son of the stars,” the voice whispered seductively, “Give all to me and I will give all to you.”

Amberly fought against the weight holding him down but his body turned traitor as alien words softly soothed him and the press of flesh incited his inflamed flesh.

“Give all, Child of the stars, stand among your brethren.”

“My brother?”

“Lives.”

Amberly cried out in anguish or triumph, but the result was the same.

“Where?”

“Call him Child. Reach. He will come.”

Amberly felt his mind flowing back to when he last saw his brother. It was the video chat they had for his birthday, when Kismet announced he was getting married. He saw his brother through the lens of another. He looked tired. His body language showed dishonesty. Puck had always been truthful. What was he hiding? Why was he so tired?

Amberly wept at the memory and the alien was there comforting him. His eyes flew open and met again with the young alien. He understood. Amberly blinked a few times but didn’t struggle. The alien smiled and let go of his hands. Then he disappeared from Amberly’s vision.

An older priest tried to get him to sit up, but the room was spinning and the colors were not steady. The alien faces blurred into the star field. The priest helped him to stand. As they moved, Amberly saw a black dildo lying on a small ledge. The priest followed his gaze, but then looked away as if he saw nothing there. Amberly allowed himself to stand then and be led to the hallway.

The young alien was gone.

Amberly was still processing what had happened when they finally got someone there who could speak to him. However, by that time, he didn’t want to talk to just anyone. He needed to talk to that wild eyed boy who had kissed him and made him remember.

“Stupid boy,” the priest said for the hundredth time, however it was the first time that Matov actually made out the words and kept them in his head. “Do you know how dangerous what you did was? The Dark Ritual? The Unbound does not perform the Dark Ritual alone. There is a reason it is not taught.”

“I needed it,” Matov whispered.

“You only think you did,” the priest snapped back. “That ritual is dangerous. The components should not even be kept in the Chamber.”

“Sometimes the situation requires…”Matov said firmly. The priests taught ritual, but Matov knew what happened when he was alone in the chamber was not ritual.

“You know nothing whelp!”

“I know the Consort lives.” Matov stood firm in his belief in what he had been shown. He knew forces were at work to bring the Consort to the Prince, but he didn’t know what it would take or how that would take place. However he did know he would do whatever it took to complete the task.

“And how do you know that?”

“I was shown through the ritual.”

“The boy you were practically fucking?”

Matov shrugged. He didn’t remember exactly what happened during the ritual itself. He did feel it was his duty to help Rix find his way through this mess. Puck Hanover being missing was causing everyone who knew him to be a little insane, and that drove those who didn’t know him a little crazy.

“Semen and blood, Matov, that’s all it takes. Then you are not Eldest Unbound.”

“Semen, blood, and the will of the god,” Matov corrected. “The human is not my Bound.”

“It was still stupid and dangerous.”

Matov smiled and inclined his head slightly as if in agreement, if following the will of the gods was stupid and dangerous, then so be it, he was. “I need to see Prince Anarix.”

“He is not available.”

“I did not ask if he was accepting company. I said I need to see him. As his heir.”

“You are the King’s heir now, Matov.” The Priest sounded exasperated with the entire situation.

“I am Prince Anarix’s heir so long as the Consort lives. Now take me to him or I will find him myself.”

“It is not allowed.”

“I do not recall asking permission, either.” Matov met his eye, and spoke in even tones, “As Eldest Unbound and Heir, take me to my Prince.”

The priest met his eyes and nodded once. He got up and Matov followed him back toward the three chambers, only this time they turned toward the Heir’s Chamber. The door opened at the priest’s knock and Matov was led inside. Matov could tell from his body language that he strongly disapproved of Matov seeing Rix at this time.

It made Matov wonder why, until he saw him – Rix was engaged in a purification ritual. Matov had been introduced to them, but this one was more – intense. And it was very wrong. One portion of his Duty became crystal clear as he took in the entire situation.

“If he can be cleansed of the madness…” the priest began, but Matov cut him off.

“Stop, this is madness.” He moved into the room and blocked the priests from Rix with his own body. One of those standing off to the side was Alvaz. He looked at his cousin.

“The human in my chamber, get him.”

Alvaz shook his head.

“It is MY Duty. Get him.”

Alvaz bolted.

Matov knelt before his uncle trying to see beyond the pain in his eyes. “He lives, Uncle Prude. Your Consort lives.”

“Dead. They said…”

“Did you see him? Did you feel him die? Listen to your heart now as you did before. Know your Consort as you knew your god.”

Rix’s eyes widened and he picked himself up some. “You know?”

“I know.”

“He loves you. You deserve to be happy. There is something your consort must do before he can be yours. I couldn’t see it all clearly.”

“You have no bond to him,” Rix accused.

Alvaz returned with a dazed and confused human and several more priests.

Rix saw his nephew look up and smile, so he turned and looked. “He is married.”

“I have no claim on him. He has touched the Stars.”

The priests were arguing in words he did not understand. Then a new one slid out of a door in the wall. He tugged at him and pulled him back in the door with him. Amberly followed.

The boy he was looking for was in the center of the room facing another alien. A familiar one. Prince Anarix.

He had a few things he wanted to say to the Prince. However when he saw the condition he was in, Amberly stopped.

“The dead man they have is not my brother.”

“He feels alive in my soul.”

“He feels alive in my soul too.”

“They say I am mad.”

“Then I am mad too.”

Rix looked at his newest brother. “Then what are we to do?”

“Move over. What they do to you, they must do to me.”

Rix looked surprised.

“If you both are sinking into madness then I must be as well,” Matov said as he knelt on Rix’s other side.

“You are not Bound, Matov, this will not be allowed.”

Matov arched an eyebrow, and then turned to face a very confused priest.