“Good evening, your highness. I’m Petty Princess Nevoni Hasaroyl of Messaonars.”

  “Good evening, welcome to Ae°calikasvven,” Jurao replied, already seated in the Grand Hall for the evening meal. The table was set much the same - in a u-shape - but the bottom of the ‘u’ was longer to accommodate the petty royals. Petty Prince Voyvok had, indeed, come to the meal - offering a silent bow before taking his seat. He was still shaky on his legs, but the welts had receded from earlier in the afternoon.

  Petty Princess Nevoni rose from her bow with a smile. She was a stout traditional demon with dark green skin and light green banded markings, her bright pink hair braided into a bun. Her light green eyes trailed to Braelin - her tail swaying in an indicator of delight. She said, “And good evening, Lord Braelin - I know my family is not fond of a human in such a high position, but I personally am honored to meet Lady Iescu’s Beloved.”

  “Oh?” Braelin asked.

  “My child was born during his highness’s siege of our castle,” Nevoni replied, pulling a small child from her back, “My little Enaolos is so dear to me, of course I would be honored to meet a Beloved of fos patron.”

  Enaolos could be no older than ten, the babe sleeping and barely stirring as fos mother resettled fos. Of course, Jurao also knew fos was ten as he had sieged Messaonars ten years ago.

  “Ah, I see,” Braelin nodded, though Jurao imagined he was mostly relieved there was not another duel in his near future.

  “And may I introduce my wife, Okkik,” Nevoni said, holding out a hand to the woman next to her.

  “Good evening,” Okkik bowed as she took her wife’s hand. She was another traditional demon, one with gray skin and thick, red wavy markings. She had bck hair pulled back into a bun, and her white eyes also looked at Braelin curiously. Though they soon shifted to Voyvok, seated next to Hujur. She delicately cleared her throat before asking, “I thought there was another petty royal joining us…?”

  “And so there is!”

  They all turned as Exmarre burst into the room - his husband and nephew behind him, the former being led by a wastehound wearing a harness with a stiff, high metal handle and what appeared to be a pink frilled skirt. Kylse was partially hiding behind Oresti, both wearing rather typical demon fare.

  Which contrasted sharply with Exmarre, who appeared to be wearing a mass of multicolor ruffles from colr to thigh, and removable bronze shoes over his hooves with cloth wraps criss-crossed up his legs, tied on the back of his calves with rge bows. He had matching ribbons tied down his arms in pce of sleeves, ribbons tied down his horns, and he had painted his lips a bright pinkish purple.

  Exmarre bowed with a flourish, “Apologies for our slight tardiness, your highness! After the long trip, it was simply impossible to decide what to wear!”

  Oresti rolled his eyes behind his husband - but his smile betrayed the reaction as fond.

  “It’s fine,” Jurao said, “This is not a formal event.”

  “Of course,” Exmarre rose with a grin. He turned, putting a lower hand on his nephew’s shoulder to guide the young human man forward enough that he could wrap an upper arm around his husband’s shoulders. He said, “For those who do not know me, I am Petty Prince Exmarre of Noskanar - this is my husband, Oresti. And this is my brother Petty King Joron’s ward and heir, Kylse Naolosnaonar.”

  “G-good evening,” Kylse said, bowing nervously.

  Voyvok scoffed loudly and attempted to get to his feet - hissing as nded back in his seat heavily, nails scraping against the stone top of the table as his hands clenched in pain.

  “A human Petty Prince?” Nevoni’s brows rose, “Well… how losven.”

  Jurao thought perhaps to argue that point - making one’s ward heir in pce of children by blood was quite common - but the petty princess’s uncertain tone suggested she simply could not think of a better term.

  “How could a human,” Voyvok paused with another hiss of pain as he adjusted his weight in his seat, “even inherit?”

  “Have you forgotten his highness’s intended Wish?” Okkik replied, studying her human peer, “All those living in a realm where the average lifespan far exceeds their own will have their lifespan extended to match.”

  Voyvok scoffed, “Yes. Of course. That.”

  “Yes!” Exmarre agreed - eyes turning sharp as he met Voyvok’s gre, “And of course, I fully support my brother’s decision.”

  Voyvok growled, looking away from the older man.

  Jurao thought it was likely not a coincidence that Kylse was sat next to Braelin - with Exmarre and Oresti past him, Snip and Snap going to greet the hound guiding the tter. Nevoni and Okkik were between Hujur and Voyvok - likely also on purpose.

  “Hello,” Braelin greeted the younger human.

  Kylse flinched, then cleared his throat, “Oh, um, hi?”

  “I heard you slipped through a rift?” Braelin went on, nodding to a page delivering food before adding, “That’s how I came here as well.”

  “Y-yes, I did,” Kylse said, “You… don’t eat any demon food…?”

  Braelin sighed, “I ate too much over the past decade - I have to refrain for medical purposes.”

  As Ergirri and his family had elected to eat together privately, Kloy was also absent from the meal and thus unable to offer his usual amusement at the sentiment.

  “Is demon food bad for humans?” Kylse asked in concern - looking to his uncle for the answer.

  “Too much demon food is bad for anyone that’s not a demon,” Exmarre snorted in reply, “That’s why Joron had most of your food prepared with beastkin produce.”

  “Oh,” Kylse said, “I didn’t… notice he did that…”

  “If I might ask,” Oresti said, putting a hand down for Snip to sniff, “Whose hound am I greeting?”

  “They are my waste hounds,” Jurao replied, then amended, “Jurao, the King. The one at your hand is Snip, the other is Snap.”

  Exmarre reached down to pick up the third waste hound, grinning as he said, “And this is my darling Scuscus! I got her as a gift for my performance in our match during the Trials, your highness.”

  Scuscus barked with a happy tail wag - licking the petty prince’s cheek before being set down again.

  “Did you make that outfit for her?” Okkik asked with a smile, “I hear you are a tailor.”

  “I did!” Exmarre decred proudly, “As well as my own attire - though I promise I do not pn to be so losven in my fashion choices for you, your highness. Unless you wish for me to be so.”

  “I would not mind,” Jurao replied, “So long as it is comfortable.”

  Exmarre’s face lit up in response - literally, as his illusory fire hair went from red to pink and grew brighter.

  “Yeah,” Festi snorted, “Not sure how much that would improve his standing amongst the other petty royalty…”

  Exmarre sighed dramatically, “Ah, yes - the eternal struggle of a designer. Fashion versus politics.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Nevoni asked, pulling an arm out of her top to feed Enaolos as the baby fussed.

  “Petty Prince Exmarre has been hired as the Royal Tailor,” Festi replied, “It’s a new position, based in beastkin tradition.”

  Voyvok scoffed, “So the entire court can look as foolish as he does in that mess?”

  “Oh,” Exmarre purred, “And here I thought the mark across your face was a bold fashion statement of your own. Does it have a different purpose, then?”

  Voyvok growled, focusing on his food angrily.

  “Where did you get that mark?” Okkik asked.

  “Lord Braelin spared him in a duel to the death,” Hujur replied dryly.

  Voyvok growled again but kept his eyes on his pte.

  Kylse’s head whipped back around to stare at Braelin in concern.

  “The vines did most of the work,” Braelin replied mildly.

  Gavven giggled, “The gardens do love you dearly, Brealin! I certainly wouldn’t want to face you when you can pick to have a duel there!”

  Gnori pounded a fist on the table, “Me either!”

  “Would anyone want to?” Jouvi snorted.

  “No wonder the King made you Royal Gardener, Lord Braelin,” Oresti said, smiling, “When your work loves you as much as you love it.”

  Exmarre chuckled, kissing his husband’s temple before adding, “Oresti would certainly know - he’s one of the best wyvern grooms in Noskanar, and the wyverns certainly love him back as well.”

  “A blind wyvern groom?” Voyvok scoffed.

  “Should you wish to make another unwise challenge,” Oresti said, appearing unbothered, “Know the wyvern is my weapon of choice.”

  “Acid burns take longer to heal than numbing vine welts,” Exmarre added pleasantly, “As far as I am aware.”

  Voyvok glowered at his meal rather than reply.

  The remainder of the meal was tense, but not too terribly so. As Jurao and his partner returned to their suite, the King asked, “Were you uncomfortable today.”

  Braelin chuckled, “Voyvok is a hot-headed young man. Hopefully, he will learn from this rather than grow bitter.”

  “Yes,” Jurao agreed.

  “I think I’ll ask the twins to make friends with Kylse,” Braelin went on, “They’re around the same developmental age, and he seems pretty nervous. Though he has rather good reason to be.”

  Jurao hummed - in agreement again. He added, “I hope the other petty royals are more like Nevoni than Voyvok.”

  His partner chuckled, “I don’t think many would be eager to sit through a meal covered in painful welts, at the least.”

  Braelin found a book as Jurao poured himself a gss of brandy and set up his Ascension board, Petal climbing into its basin as Snap id down before the fire. Snip waited eagerly by the door - as she seemed to have a fondness for Feyl.

  “Good evening,” Feyl greeted when he did appear - leaning down to scratch the wastehound’s head as she yipped and followed on his heels to the couch.

  “Good evening,” Jurao replied, mildly surprised the valet was followed by Kloy.

  “She seems to like you,” the doctor observed of Snip, nodding to Jurao as he sat on the other side of the couch from Feyl.

  “Gods know why,” Feyl snorted, raising his left brows in amusement as Snip id her head in his p as usual.

  “What’s not to like?” Braelin replied, smiling as he read.

  Jurao turned his head to read the title on the cover, noting it was one of the medicinal botany books Kloy had gotten his partner.

  “I hope you don’t mind my joining you, my lord,” Kloy said, though he didn’t appear uncomfortable.

  “I do not,” Jurao confirmed, “Did you pn to py.”

  The physician considered, then chuckled as he sat up to set a third pce, “Why not?”

  “Congratutions on winning your first duel yourself,” Feyl said breezily, “Even if it was mostly the pnts.”

  “I’d rather have not been challenged at all,” Braelin sighed, “But thank you, I suppose.”

  “How was Prince Ergirri,” Jurao asked.

  “Oh, the same as he ever is,” Kloy smiled, “Eager to cause trouble and celebrate getting out of the trouble he caused.”

  “It seems the petty royals won’t be the only reason things get more lively, then,” Feyl snorted, leaning up to take the opening move in the game.

  “At least he should tilt things towards a good kind of lively,” Braelin remarked.

  “If he can help it, certainly,” Kloy agreed.

  Jurao supposed only time would tell. Then he recalled a question he’d had, “Preferences.”

  “Hm?” Feyl asked.

  “When we were shopping, some weeks ago,” Jurao said, “Kloy mentioned how people can have positional preferences during sex.”

  Kloy scoffed in surprise, failing to stop a chuckle.

  Feyl sighed with a smile, “And your question is…?”

  “Ah,” Jurao said, “I suppose my main question is more for Braelin.”

  “Yes?” Braelin asked, looking up from his reading.

  “Do you have a preference,” Jurao asked, “You have been rather insistent about me having the opportunity to fuck you.”

  “I don’t have a preference,” Braelin shrugged, “But you might not know if you do without trying both positions.”

  “Ah, yes, that makes sense,” Jurao nodded, turning back to the others.

  Kloy had turned away, a hand over his eyes as he shook with silent ughter.

  Feyl looked more wryly amused as he said, “It’s your turn, Jurao.”

  “Of course,” Jurao said, turning back to the board.

  “And,” Kloy cleared his throat, “Did you have any other questions about toys, my lord?”

  “You took him to a toy smithy?” Feyl shook his head - but in a familiarly fond way.

  “My talk with Maenscul ended early, so I found him there,” Jurao replied.

  Braelin looked up thoughtfully, then shook his head and returned to his book.

  “But no, I did not have questions in that regard,” Jurao said, “I did wonder if most people had strong preferences.”

  “Many in rough py do,” Feyl mused, studying the board, “But in my general experience, more people have flexible tendencies than strong preferences.”

  “I would agree with that,” Kloy said, “I would also agree that many only discover a preference after trying something new - even those very experienced in one preference.”

  The evening held more idle conversation - and did much to ease the tension of the earlier meal. It made Jurao feel a bit better about the ‘liveliness’ of the future - to be reminded that he had such good friends supporting him, even in small ways.

  sbdrag