Lust and Propriety - 7. The Agreement

When Elder Mason and Prince Winter finally arrived at the entrance, the gold-hued horn on the Nightmare's forehead began to glow as he shifted into a human shape until Hazeth Montcroix stood before them. He dusted some of the snow off his long, thick winter coat and then shrugged it off, handing it to one of the guards.

"Be a pal and hold that for me, will ya?" He asked as he patted the guard's shoulder amicably. As he turned towards the prince, he was left in a jacket that was layered on top of a vest, dress shirt, and a scarf. He tugged the scarf off, and his burgundy red hair spilled out of it. Hazeth ran a hand through it and offered a charming smile. "Hazeth Montcroix. Now, which one of you is Winter?"

::

"Winter Maestri," the prince responded. He had intended to look into the Nightmare's eyes unflinchingly. However, he was arrested at the sight of the gold, stylized sun that served as the Montcroix's crest.

Hazeth's gold-hued eyes raked the prince from head to toe, taking in his appearance. The young man's stormy grey eyes were lovely, but he'd seen that color before. The luxuriously wavy, silver ankle-length hair, however, was quite rare. Such creamy, fair skin should have been illegal. It made his own olive-hued skin feel quite out of place in the wintery land of Peraza. Was that a snowflake crest? Now wasn't that the irony of ironies?

A salacious smirk formed on the Nightmare's face, one that caused a strange chill to roll down Winter's spine.

"You are far more gorgeous than I expected," Hazeth admitted as he walked over to the prince and took one of his hands. He kissed the back of it and then quickly swiped his tongue across one of the pinkish knuckles. "And you taste even better."

The prince took his hand back as if it had been electrocuted, staring at the man in incredulity. "Did you just...lick me?"

"Of course not, not unless you like being licked." Hazeth teased out loud as he reached out to gently touch some of Winter's hair. He ignored the indignant gasp of the Elder beside him as he leaned even closer to the shorter man. "Tell me, my prince, have you ever been tongued?"

"T-Tongued?" Winter questioned, his silver eyebrows forming into a frown as he glanced at Elder Mason and back again. "What does that even mean?"

The devious Montcroix felt like purring at that point. "It's true, then," He remarked in awe. "You really are a Maiden. How delightful."

Before the Nightmare could get any closer to the Perazan prince, Elder Mason stood in front of Winter protectively. "And you, Sir Montcroix, are here to help protect that chastity. Is that not correct?"

Hazeth made a slightly disgusted face. "Hazeth or Zeth would be much better." He insisted. "But in place of that, Sir Zeth would be fine. And, yes, I suppose I am." The gold-eyed Nightmare feigned a yawn. "So, are we going to talk somewhere more private?"

"I think that would certainly be best," the prince said with a small huff. "Follow me, if you please."

Winter turned on his heel, deciding quickly where would be appropriate. Before the overly-friendly Montcroix had arrived, Winter had thought to adjourn to the prince's sitting room. It seemed far too intimate, now that he'd met the man. The small meeting room seemed a better idea. Prince Winter suddenly wanted a table between himself and Hazeth Montcroix's hands...and mouth.

"This way," Winter told the burgundy Nightmare as he straightened his spine and stepped forward.

Not trusting the Nightmare enough to leave him alone with his sire just yet, Elder Mason followed the two of them into the room, locking the door behind them.

"The plan is to use glamour for the mating marks and to use perfumes to imitate one another's scents," Mason explained.

"Clever and crazy enough that it just might work!" Hazeth commented out loud.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Winter said quickly, feeling a bit overwhelmed. He folded his hands primly in his lap, keeping himself from playing with his hair. It was a nervous habit that left his hair a tangled mess and had taken years to break. "First, we need to make sure that it's a wise plan." The prince glanced at their guest. "And that Sir Hazeth is a candidate that is even appropriate or interested in such a scheme."

"You won't find anyone better, babycakes." Hazeth countered, waving a hand as if to dismiss the very thought. "I'm hot, I'm single...and the only way that you're gonna convince that Rath-butt dude about being mated is if he thinks that I seduced you."

Elder Mason twiddled with his fingers for a moment as he peeked sideways at his sire. "He does have a point, my prince." he admitted sheepishly. "In fact, that is the very reason I thought that he was the best candidate." He then settled his sandy beige eyes on Hazeth. "And, as a Montcroix, he is sure not to take any uncouth liberties too far. Is that not so?"

Hazeth let out a sigh. "Yeah, yeah...I'm not gonna steal his goodies without his consent. What's the fun in that?"

Prince Winter looked like he had swallowed a whole lemon sideways. "My-my goodies?" Winter gasped. "Sir, you go beyond the pale!"

The Montcroix placed his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his hand. His eyes practically twinkled as he smirked. "Have I?" he questioned sarcastically. "Do you even know what I meant by 'your goodies'?"

"I certainly do not!" Winter sputtered, his hands clenched in his lap. "However, I've no doubt it's something inappropriate!"

"In any case, my Prince." Hazeth held out a hand, his gold eyes taking on a more serious nature. "I promise I won't go too far. As your Elder here says, as a Montcroix, I can't break my word. I vow that I will protect your chastity with my life."

"That is certainly a relief to hear," Prince Winter admitted, reaching out to gently press his fingers to Hazeth's.

It was supposed to be a polite gesture, a reassurance that the prince accepted the Nightmare's words. Winter couldn't suppress a little jerk as Hazeth's warm skin touched his, a tiny static spark jumping between them.

"Ah," Winter gasped, unsure why he felt his cheeks warming with a blush. "When it's cold the static is everywhere. My apologies for shocking you, Sir Hazeth."

Be still his Nightmare heart. Hazeth felt like he was going to get into so much trouble. In spite of the farce, he really did feel like courting the pale prince. His family was sure to shit bricks if he succeeded. He lifted Winter's fingers to his lips to press a kiss against them. "I should be the one to apologize."

The tiny hairs on the back of the prince's neck lifted as he felt warm lips press against his skin. Hazeth's shining golden eyes held Winter. He felt a bit like a rabbit that had been spotted by a fox. He was frozen as the man spoke, unable to stop from staring rudely. Peripherally, Winter was aware of the man's thick burgundy hair and his sun-shaped crest that matched his eyes, complementing his tan skin. But it was those sparkling eyes that held him transfixed.

Elder Mason watched the interaction with interest.

"W-what?" Prince Winter whispered.

"Where would you like the glamour of your mating mark?" Hazeth asked him softly. He couldn't keep the smile off his face at the younger man's flustered manner.

Winter snapped back to himself, yanking his hand back so fast it was a wonder he didn't smack himself.

"I am assuming from that question that you are amenable to this somewhat ridiculous plan," the prince said stiffly. "However, we still must determine if you are truly an appropriate candidate for this false mating."

Elder Mason reached out to place a gentle hand on Winter's shoulder. "Sire, there truly is no one else. Though presumptuous and a touch uncouth, I know that he will do well and keep his word."

Hazeth nodded. "Unless Winter decides to truly allow me to court him in the end, of course." he pointed out.

"You wish to court me for real?" Winter asked incredulously, completely forgetting the decorum that had been drilled into him his entire life.

"Only if you would ever want me to. For now, it's merely to fool Rath-butt," Hazeth insisted. "And, yeah, who wouldn't want to court you? You're beautiful and oh-so-fun to tease."

The prince wondered if, eventually, the unconventional Montcroix would stop making Winter blush constantly. Hopefully.

"I suppose we can at least attempt it," Winter hesitantly acceded. "We'll have to determine the parameters of the arrangement, and compensation to you, of course, Sir Hazeth."

"Excellent!" Elder Mason commented, startling both young royals from their musings. The upside-down tear crest on his forehead began to glow as he drew up a magical document that appeared in front of the desk between the two royals. "Article number one: Hazeth Montcroix shall not, upon any circumstances, take the young prince's Maidenhood without Prince Winter's explicit consent. Does that seem fair?"

"More than fair." Hazeth agreed as he initialed next to the first article.

"To be clear, consent will not be given, sir," Winter felt the need to add as he placed his mark next to Hazeth's.

"We'll see about that, my prince." Hazeth countered. "Article number two: Hazeth Montcroix will be allowed to touch the young prince, so long as the intent is not to take his Maidenhood, without repercussions...especially in front of any dignitaries. How's that?"

"What kind of touching?" Winter asked with narrowed eyes.

"The kind of touching a couple would do," Hazeth explained, not going into further detail.

"Appropriate touching, only?" the prince asked, fighting the urge to squirm as his face heated further.

"Appropriate touching the majority of the time." Hazeth conceded.

Winter scowled, but agreed. If the Montcroix couldn't take his virtue, the prince decided that any inappropriate touching couldn't be very bad. The man likely meant kissing or cuddling. And though the thought of such things made his face burn in embarrassment, Winter decided a few stolen kisses and hugs were a small price to pay for the safety of his kingdom.

Elder Mason would have intervened at that point, but he wanted to see how the two of them cooperated first. "Article three: Neither Hazeth Montcroix, nor his family line will intervene or try to take over Peraza. Should any true alliance form, Hazeth would take on the Maestri name."

Burgundy-hued eyebrows lifted at the very thought. For the sake of the country of Peraza, it made sense. Wouldn't do for too many Montcroix to be taking over so many thrones. "Hmm, Hazeth Maestri...it still has a nice ring to it. Sure." He replied as he initialed.

"How long will it take to stymie Rathburn?" Winter bit his lip. "I don't want Sir Hazeth to be bound to my side indefinitely. That would be unfair to him. I'm sure he has a life to lead."

"Don't you worry your lovely head about that," Hazeth insisted. "I have nothing but ample time. Besides, it shouldn't take too long to convince him. I'm sure he'll visit only a few more times to make certain."

"Would you make yourself available whenever the need arises?" Elder Mason asked.

"Yeah, whenever you need me, I'll just hop on over. Rath butt won't suspect a thing." The Montcroix added.

"I have two sub-segments to add, one of a more personal nature." The Elder explained. "In addition to Article Three, Sub-segment A.: While under this arrangement, Hazeth Montcroix is not to associate with any other person as a lover would." He continued. "And Sub-segment B.: Should Hazeth Montcroix ever be officially and legally mated to Prince Winter, he shall continue to remain faithful to him and not take on any other lovers."

The redheaded Nightmare clutched at his heart in a dramatic manner. "The things you ask of me!" he stated playfully. "Because of your tremendous loyalty, Elder Mason, I have but no choice," he teased even as he initialed each sub-segment. But, his last statement was spoken in a much more serious tone. "Should he want me, I will be faithful and true."

"I'm sure that won't be a necessary addition!" Winter sputtered. "This isn't a marriage contract!"

"It might as well be, Sire." Elder Mason admitted. "Appearances are everything. It would not do for the young Montcroix to flirt shamelessly with others while feigning to be mated with you."

"He's quite right, not that I'm interested in anyone other than you right now, Winnie." Hazeth pointed out.

"I beg your pardon?" The prince huffed.

"What? All lovers have cutesy pet names for one another." Hazeth defended. "You can call me Zeth if you want, or Hazy, or even Sexy if you'd like."

"I will not call you se-... any of those things!" Winter blurted, horrified.

Hazeth made a show about pouting. "But, it's true! All lovers have cutesy pet names for one another," he countered.

Elder Mason cleared his throat. "I believe that the parameters have been set and signed."

"...so, where do you want your glamour mating mark to go?" Hazeth asked the prince.

"I-I suppose it should be somewhere easily visible?" Winter said, unsure. "But that really only leaves my throat and face. That doesn't seem like a good choice."

"There's the space between your collarbones, that'd be nice...or somewhere on your arm." Hazeth offered.

"Oh, yes," Winter blushed... again. "Thank you, Sir Hazeth. Yes, either of those would be acceptable."

A small smirk formed on Hazeth's lips as he gently reached over to touch the space between Winter's collarbone, the glamour of the stylized sun crest forming. "Hmm, that really suits you. So elegant." He confessed. "As for mine..." He said as he quickly unbuttoned his dress shirt and held it open to expose his bare chest. "I think...right above or beneath my bellybutton would be nice. But you have my entire chest to work with, if you so wish."

Winter's face went from bright crimson to white as parchment and back again several times before he had the presence of mind to look away from that smooth expanse of bronze flesh.

"Sir!" the prince said, much louder and at a higher pitch than intended. "Please, put your clothes back on!"

Hazeth blinked. "A bare chest is hardly being nude..." He mused out loud. "I'll button it back up after you place the glamour marking where you wish. Don't be afraid."

"I am not afraid," Winter squeaked, reaching out blindly while keeping his eyes averted.

His smile widening, Hazeth reached out to take Winter's hand, placing it just below his bellybutton. "Right there, hun."

A visible shiver rolled up Winter's spine and down his arms as his fingers touched warm skin. The man was like a furnace! Was he feverish? And his skin was so soft over tight muscle. Winter desperately wanted to know where he was touching, but refused to turn his head. He certainly wasn't going to allow his fingers to wander to try to figure it out. It was fine. It was probably the man's chest. His broad, tanned, muscular...

Winter squeaked and set a glamour of his mating mark upon Hazeth's skin. The prince yanked his hand back as though he'd just touched a hot kettle. The feel of Hazeth's skin seemed to linger on Winter's fingertips.

"There. All done." Hazeth said as he buttoned his shirt back up. "Now, all that's left is the subject of scents. As shy as you are, I'm going to need you to hug me, young prince."

"I am not shy." Winter stood, straightening his spine. He'd realized that some amount of minor physical displays would be necessary. He could handle a small hug. He kept his back rigid and awkwardly opened his arms, unable to bring himself to walk over to the Montcriox.

Hazeth slowly approached the shorter prince, gently reaching down to wrap his arms securely around his waist as he pressed his nose to the crook of Winter's neck to take in his scent. Sweet pea, fresh air, and the bite of snow? That would be tricky for a perfumer to duplicate. However, the sweet pea that he broadcasted the most could be their saving grace.

"Oh! I...ummm..." Winter shivered, patting awkwardly at Hazeth's shoulders. "Wh-what am I supposed to do?"

"Take in my scent, Winter," Hazeth whispered into the prince's ear. "Know it, recognize it, for your perfumers to get as close to it as they can."

The prince bit back a whimper as warm breath teased against him. His head tipped the the side as his eyes fluttered closed.

"Ahn," Winter sighed softly, his fingers digging into the fabric of Hazeth's shirt.

The man's scent seemed to wash over the prince. There was a hint of olives or olive oil. It was like a gentle background for the heavier scent of magnolias and sunshine. Just smelling it made Winter feel warm, like summer had come early. The prince nuzzled closer.

"Yours is lovely," Hazeth confessed. "Like a breath of fresh air with the bite of snow fluttering over a field of sweet pea bushes in full bloom."

"Magnolias and sunshine..." Winter murmured before his eyes snapped open.

The prince jerked backward so quickly he tripped over his feet and began toppling toward the floor.

"Sire!" Elder Mason exclaimed.

But, Hazeth's reflexes were sharp. "Easy there," he murmured as he tugged the prince back toward him. After steadying the Unicorn, he stepped back to give him space once more.

"M-my thanks, Sir Hazeth," Winter blurted, still a bit dazed. "I'm not normally so-so clumsy." The prince folded his hands in front of him. "If we're through, Elder Mason, perhaps it's time for all of us to have a meal." His gaze flickered up to Hazeth and then away. "I'm sure our guest is weary and hungry after his trip."

Hazeth gave Winter one of his most charming smiles. "I'd like that. Thanks."

"I'll have the kitchen staff be ready for us." Elder Mason responded with a short bow before walking off to the kitchen.

The prince suddenly found himself alone with his new mate...well, faux mate. Winter wanted to call the Elder back. Which was silly. The prince knew he'd be spending lots of time with the Montcroix. They needed to be at least a little comfortable with each other before Rathburn arrived.

"I hope your trip was pleasant," Winter blurted, his training in social niceties demanding he say something.

"Compared to how I was treated by my cousin Alistair and his mate Finian when I arrived, the traveling itself was nothing," Hazeth admitted. "They chucked winter clothes at my head and took turns explaining the situation you were in. At first, I thought it was part of some kind of elaborate joke. Fin, however, isn't the prankster type."

"I'm very sorry that they treated you so abruptly," Winter told him, his stormy gray eyes widening slightly. "Truly, thank you for coming to our aid. I apologize for my own lack of courtesy. You weren't even given a chance to rest after you arrived."

"Well, so far, it's definitely been worth it," Hazeth replied. "Fake mating or not, I'd like for us to be friends."

"Of-of course," Winter agreed, wondering where on earth his ability to speak like a reasoning and intelligent being had fled. He looked down, trying not to fidget or blush. "I'd like that, Sir Hazeth."

Truth be told, he certainly wanted to be more than a mere friend to the beautiful young Unicorn. But the Montcroix had to pace himself. He didn't want to scare Winter off and he definitely wasn't going to push him into anything the shorter royal wouldn't want.

"So, how long do you think it will take the perfumers to uh... bottle our scents?"

"Not more than a day, certainly," the prince answered cordially. "Would you like to visit them before we dine? Or we can see them after. Whatever is amenable to you."

"After," the Nightmare responded. "I've worked up quite the appetite."

Something in the way the man said it sent a little thrill into the pit of Winter's stomach. He pushed the feeling away and smiled politely.

"Let me show you to the dining hall," the prince said. "I'm sure they'll have something ready soon."

Elder Mason was nearly caught gossiping with one of the chefs when his Sire and the Montcroix arrived. He had been telling the kitchen staff about learning Hazeth's likes for appearance's sake later on. But, he was also eager to tell them just how great the two of the royals looked as a couple. "Lunch will be served soon," he stated with a slight bow.

"Thank you, Elder Mason." Winter turned to Hazeth with a prim smile. "Would you like to sit near the fireplace? I'm afraid with so few people in it, the hall can take on a chill."

"Only if you sit right next to me," Hazeth replied, holding out his arm in offering.

Elder Mason averted his gaze, certain that his sire would be able to see the mirth in his eyes, otherwise.

"Oh, I... Certainly, sir."

The prince rested his fingertips just below Hazeth's elbow. He thought he could feel the warmth of the man's skin radiating through his clothes. It made his fingertips tingle strangely, especially when Hazeth laid the fingers of his opposite hand atop of the prince's.

Perhaps this Montcroix wasn't such a bad sort. He was certainly attentive and cordial. Though Winter wasn't sure why Sir Hazeth left him feeling so off-balance. The prince decided it must simply be the stress of the situation. He would take a long soothing bath that evening, and he would no doubt feel better in the morning.

Hazeth led Winter to a small table near the massive fireplace. It was large enough for three grown men to stand within it, with room to spare, when it wasn't lit. A small fire crackled merrily, putting out a pleasant warmth as Hazeth pulled out a chair for Winter. The prince thanked him quietly and sat, folding his hands in his lap after moving his long river of silver hair out of the way so he wouldn't constantly sit against it.

Without permission from his own mind, Hazeth's hand reached out to trail his fingers along that beautiful hair. "So beautiful. Must be difficult to care for this length," he murmured softly as he sat down beside the prince.

"Th-thank you," Winter said jerkily, moving his hair further from Hazeth as soon as the man stopped caressing it. The prince cursed his fair skin as he felt yet another blush heat his face. "I've thought of cutting it. It really is getting too long to be manageable."

"Not if someone else helps you," Hazeth added. "It would be a shame to cut it..." He reached behind him to tug his own long, burgundy hair over his shoulder. He held out the ends towards the prince. "Would you like to touch mine?"

"I-I couldn't possibly," Winter's fingers clenched in his lap as he fought the urge to run his fingers through the rich dark hair. "It would be far too forward of me."

"Not if I ask it of you," Hazeth insisted as he leaned closer and held out his straight hair towards him. "Go on, grab a hold," he urged.

Winter looked around furtively, but no one was around. The prince felt wickedly naughty as he hesitantly reached out to stroke the burgundy locks.

"Oh!" Winter exclaimed with a gasp as his fingers threaded through the thick, soft strands. "It feels so nice!"

Hazeth felt like he kept getting teases of what Winter's breathy moans would sound like. And, damn, were they gonna be delicious. Before he was able to say anything, however, Elder Mason walked over from behind Winter.

The Elder's eyebrow was raised at the scene in front of him. He even regretted having to interrupt. "Sires, the Captain of the guard and young Andyvion asked to join us for lunch."

Winter yelped, trying to tug his hand back to his lap. His fingers tangled in burgundy locks, however, giving Hazeth's head a harsh yank toward the prince's crotch.

"Ouch!" Hazeth hissed under his breath, but a wide smirk formed on his face at his position. "Actually, I kind of like it right here just fine."

"Oh dear," Winter cried, freeing his fingers and trying to smooth the tangled strands. "I am so very sorry, are you - Please, do not nuzzle there, sir!"

"But, your inner thigh's so soft," Hazeth all but whimpered, but he pulled back at Winter's refusal. "In any case, should you ever want me in this position, just ask."

"I will do no such thing!" the prince shouted, skootching his chair further from his dining companion. Winter's voice lowered to a hiss. "And please refrain from speaking of my...my body with such familiarity, Sir Hazeth."

The redhead let out a long, defeated sigh as he stood up and bowed respectfully towards the prince. "As my faux beloved wishes," he responded dryly.

The prince was still sputtering when Andyvion and Captain Tyr entered the dining hall, Kimset and Button following close behind.

"The cooks are wonderful here," Tyr was murmuring gently to Andy as they walked through the door. "I'm sure they can make anything you'd like. You've been through so much. A hearty warm meal is just what the healer would recommend." The large captain noticed his prince and greeted him with a wide smile. "Highness, good day to you."

"Prince Win!" Andy called out cheerfully as he rushed over to hug the prince. He had borrowed Tyr's clothes again, which were far too big for him, even rolled up. But, he at least he was clean and clothed.

Hazeth made a petulant face at the sight. What was this? Why was Winter allowing a little shrimp of a thing to hug him like it was nothing? "How come he's allowed to hug you, then?" he questioned out loud as he folded his arms in front of his chest defiantly.

"I'm his closest friend!" Andy responded, placing his hands on his hips and staring right up at Hazeth fearlessly. "Still, I'm very pleased to see that you've arrived, Sir Montcroix. Are Kings Alistair and Finian doing well?"

"Pfft, yeah, they're honky-dory. Probably planning a trip to some theme park with their kid as we speak." Hazeth answered before turning his attention back to Prince Winter. "Why is he allowed to hug you again?"

"Well, he is my-" Winter began to explain, but was interrupted by Kimset.

The giant pard disliked the tone and posture Hazeth was displaying toward Andy. The cat hopped between the Montcroix and Andyvion. Kimset's lips curled back, exposing long pointed fangs. A displeased growl bubbled from the beast's throat as he narrowed his yellow-green eyes at Hazeth.

"So, the shrimp has a protective giant cat," Hazeth mused to himself under his breath.

"It's ok, Kimset. Hazeth's a good guy. He's gonna help save Winter!" Andyvion urged as he petted the pard.

The cat peered at the burgundy-haired Nightmare. Kimset blew a puff of air out of his nose and crouched low. He crept forward on silent paws, approaching Hazeth. Kimset circled him, sniffing his clothes. The pard finally plopped on his bottom in front of the Montcroix and inclined his head to allow his ears to be scratched.

Hazeth raised a brow at the feline but reached down to scratch at the offered ears. "I still want hugging privileges, too," he practically whined as his gold-hued eyes peered over at Winter.

Completely misunderstanding, Kimset huffed and reared back on his hind legs, towering over the Nightmare. Hazeth grunted as the weight of the pard's huge paws draped across his shoulders, making him stagger. Kimset rested his chin next to one paw, rubbing his cheek against Hazeth's as a soft purr rumbled in the cat's chest.

Winter couldn't help the giggle that bubbled up in his chest.

"There you are, Sir Hazeth," the prince said with a beaming grin. "Andy's feline friend will make sure you get enough hugs."

The Montcroix let out a sigh, but he pet and patted the pard back. "Thanks, big guy. At least someone here likes me."

"I liked you fine until you started nuzzling my...my unmentionable places!" Winter snapped.

The prince immediately turned scarlet, his gray eyes wide and shocked at what had come out of his mouth in front of company. Kimset craned his neck at the prince. He gave Hazeth a sandpaper lick with his rough broad tongue and pulled away, letting his front paws return to the floor. The pard shook his head and went to lean against Button. Kimset understood the big dire wolf. People though, they were just strange.

Andyvion's eyes widened at what his friend said. He quickly turned towards Hazeth with anger in his eyes. "What did you do to my dear friend!?" he demanded to know.

Hazeth held his hands up in defense. "It was a private moment, and I swear I did NOT go into places that were that unmentionable...I merely nuzzled the inside of the flesh near his knee."

"You...You..." Prince Winter pointed at Hazeth accusingly, eyes narrowed. "No more private moments in rather public places! Like dining halls! Keep your face out of my inner thighs in the dining hall!"

Silence accompanied that outburst. Andy's mouth was open, Elder Mason kept looking at the ceiling, and even Tyr was wise enough not to say a single thing.

Hazeth bit his lower lip. "I will make no such promise," he whispered in defiance.

Winter stomped his foot with an undignified squeak, uncaring if he looked like an enraged five-year-old. The prince spun on his heel, his long silver hair flying behind him like a cape as he stormed out of the hall muttering angry epithets about obscene Nightmares with no decorum who could choke on their own improperly soft burgundy hair, for all he cared.

"He totally wants me," Hazeth mused to himself with a half-smile. When Andy glared at him with arms folded across his chest, he shrugged. "What?"

"He shouldn't be skipping meals," Andy insisted as he walked over to gently tug Tyr's hand towards the table.

"Fine," Hazeth sighed as he headed after the silver-haired prince that was rapidly getting under his skin.