12. Ellowyn
Chapter 12
Ellowyn
T his morning was a disaster.
A complete and utter disaster.
After waking at the brink of dawn and dealing with the strange dreams, Pip was late to help me prepare for the day. Contrary to what she said last night, she was rather clueless regarding every task necessary as my personal maid. The worst offense was her inability to style my hair. She knew less than I did, which I thought was impossible. After about a dozen attempts at a simple chignon, I angrily waved her away and then spent the last fifteen minutes trying to get my long, thick hair to do something and coming up blessedly short. It was currently just down, a crime against humanity according to my mother.
As if the lack of knowledge regarding hair styling wasn’t enough, Pip also had zero clue what to pull from the closet for me to wear. She stood stock-still and stared at my enormous wardrobe, overwhelmed by the sheer number of dresses I owned. Different occasions warranted different styles of dress, and it was incredibly clear that Pip was out of her depth. Sighing, I reached around her still form and selected a random dark-grey dress with a boat neck, and a pair of sable-colored leather boots. I was comfortable, but my selection would not meet Mother’s expectations .
To top it all off, I had to skip breakfast this morning because Pip was late to my room and fumbled through her chores.
I was annoyed.
More than that, I was tired, frustrated, hungry, and absolutely dreading this meeting with my parents.
I padded quietly down the stairs to my father’s study and knocked three times before stepping back, my hands folded at my waist. I would have to be on my very best behavior today to make up for my appearance.
Ugh .
My father opened the door shortly after I knocked, his frame filling out the opening. He wore relaxed clothes today, just a simple deep-blue tunic and dark-brown pants with boots like my own, and the sight of him home and safe made me happy. I smiled, moving to embrace him, but he stepped out of the door frame before I could give him a hug.
My smile fell a bit at the action, but he patted my back on my way into the room in condolence. As I entered his study, I noticed that everything was in a bit more disarray than it was last night, like my father had stayed up well past the normal hour poring over maps, charts, and letters. I turned slightly so I could look at his face and, sure enough, his normally bright-grey eyes that held laughter and joy were dull and lifeless. His skin was paler than usual and there were dark circles under his eyes. As I watched, Father rubbed his face like he was still trying to wake up.
No doubt the stress of last night’s dinner and my upcoming Awakening put an undue toll on my father.
Then maybe you shouldn’t have brought a Keeper here . . .
A quiet sigh in the corner of the room jolted me from my thoughts and I noticed my mother for the first time. Her appearance was such a sharp contrast to both my father’s exhaustion and my own ragtag ensemble. As usual, Mother looked extremely put together, not a hair out of place in its plait down her back. What little makeup she had on was flawlessly applied, and she wore a much more embellished gown than my own. She looked every inch the Lady of Hestin.
At best, I resembled one of the merchants in Katiska, and at worst, a servant in our own home.
I tried to inconspicuously smooth down my hair but quickly gave up when my mother’s eyes tracked every movement with a hawklike intensity. I folded my hands in front of me again to keep from fidgeting.
“Good morning, Mother. Father,” I said quietly. If I made myself seem smaller, quieter, maybe I could avoid her wrath over my appearance.
“What happened to you, Ellowyn? Why do you look like . . . this.” She gestured with a hand at my general appearance, her voice full of distaste.
My annoyance from the morning and lack of sleep resurfaced with a vengeance and I snapped back before I could control myself.
“Maybe because I’m stuck with an unAwakened teenager who has never served a day in her life! She knows less than I do and that is saying something. My floors are cold, I have no hot water to bathe, and she has no clue how to do hair or pick a correct dress. She can’t even look at me naked! How is she supposed to help me if she can’t even look at me?” My tirade sounded immature and spoiled even to my own ears, but I was tired, cranky, and frustrated that I was serving penance for an improper appearance when I had no control over the situation.
I heard my father cover a laugh with a cough at the last part of my rant, and I stifled a smile of my own. Pip still couldn’t look at me while I was naked, and I ended up having to help myself into my gown again. It was borderline adorable how she refused to look at my body. Annoying and inconvenient, but adorable.
My mother scoffed, clearly not finding the same amusement. “Are you quite finished?”
I went to open my mouth to say some other caustic remark that would inevitably land me in more trouble, but the door to the study swung open, saving me from my own tongue.
“Is this a bad time?” a soft, melodic yet undoubtedly male voice interrupted any further argument with Mother. I spun on my heel, my skirts swishing about my calves and hair whipping my face before settling on my back, to see a man close to my parents’ age standing in the doorway. He was tall with pale skin and even paler hair—a color so light it was almost white, though it glinted a soft gold in the sun that spilled through the windows of my father’s study. His eyes were just as pale, though they closely resembled ice, and were full of keen observation and knowledge. They darted from person to person before unnervingly settling on me. The stranger cocked his head slightly, his eyes narrowing in concentration before he relaxed and offered the room a slight smile.
“No, Jarius, you’re not interrupting at all,” my father spoke as he moved to usher the man into his study, closing and locking the door before speaking again. “You’ve met my wife, Acantha.” My mother curtsied shallowly before resuming her straight-backed position near the far wall. Jarius paid my mother little mind, only briefly canting his gaze over her, before refocusing entirely on me. The attention made my palms sweat and I absentmindedly smoothed the skirt of my dress.
“And this”—my father turned to me with a raised palm gesturing at my figure—“this is my daughter, Ellowyn.” Jarius approached on his own accord, his movements fluid and graceful, before bowing slightly over a hand I hadn’t even realized I outstretched.
“Ellowyn,” his voice was a caress and a reverent prayer that had the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” His dry lips lightly grazed my knuckles before he pulled back.
I offered him a tight-lipped smile before gently extracting my hand from his grip and sinking into a curtsy.
“Sir.”
“Jarius is the Keeper we . . . rescued from the Borderlands,” my father supplied in a hushed tone. My eyebrows hit my hairline at his admission and my mother hissed her disapproval at his admittance. Father simply rolled his eyes at her. “Acantha, we just created Air Wards along the perimeter of the room. I’m allowed to speak freely in my own home.”
Mother huffed a sound of displeasure from her corner before walking on light feet to a chair near my father’s desk and sinking gracefully into its confines. Jarius’ gaze never left my own, though the corners of his mouth did kick up briefly as if he was amused by the whole exchange.
The silence in the room extended for a few moments before my father blessedly broke it and, with it, Jarius’ gaze. Once I was no longer scrutinized by his probing stare, I felt like I could breathe again.
“With all due respect, I would like to have this conversation quickly so we can all proceed with our days,” my father commanded, “we have much to do this week, as was discussed last night.”
My father, the Keeper, and I relaxed into the three remaining chairs— my father sat behind his desk—and I settled in for a long and painful conversation.
“I’ll get right to it. Ellowyn”—my father looked at me—“we expect something extraordinary to happen with your magic at your Awakening Ceremony. The presence of Lord d’Refan all but indicates that he knows something we don’t. We are going to have Jarius look into your future, or the possibilities of your future, to try and determine what will happen. I want to be prepared so we are not blindsided later this week.”
I sat and thought for a moment.
“But I thought Lord d’Refan was our ally? Doesn’t Hestin serve and support him?” My mother scoffed as if my question was idiotic, but my father put up a hand to her, gesturing for her silence. She cut off the noise immediately and sat rigidly in her chair.
“It’s a legitimate question with merit, Ell. The short answer is, yes, we are. The long answer, we don’t have time to discuss this morning. However, I will say that there are some other...forces at play here. Chess pieces moving, if you will, and I like to have all the information before making a move.”
I nodded my head. That made sense. Knowledge was power and all of that.
“So!” My father slapped his hands against his legs and rubbed them in anticipation. “Jarius? Shall we?”
Jarius agreed and gestured for me to sit on the floor in front of him.
“This won’t hurt, but you might feel a bit lightheaded, dear. It shouldn’t take more than a moment.”
With that, he placed his long-fingered hands on either side of my forehead, thumbs touching just above my eyes, and the heels of his palms resting against my cheekbones. His hands were warm but dry and they scraped a bit against my skin.
“Close your eyes.”
I obliged. At first, I felt nothing, and I peeked an eye open in curiosity. Jarius’ eyes were closed, and he had an incredibly peaceful expression on his face. One of complete content. It made him look younger, less imposing, even with his extremely pale skin and hair.
Suddenly, I felt a jolt. Like my body was electrocuted.
I gasped and punched my eyes closed again. When I did, images started to rush across my eyelids, too fast for me to catch or make any sense of. I saw myself a few times, just snippets and bits. Me much older, me the same age I am now, me with a man I have never seen before, me with a baby. Me with a different man and a different baby.
A baby? Is this my future I’m seeing?
It was all so confusing.
Suddenly, the visions stopped. But I wasn’t looking at the back of my eyelids. Instead, I was standing in the cracked and dry place again, the sky dark and stormy.
“ My child ,” I heard, but it wasn’t the female voice from my dreams. This time, it was more androgynous. At points it sounded male and at others it sounded female. A cacophony of voices all at once. “My child .” There was possession in the tone that made the hairs on my arms stand up.
“What do you want?” I squeaked out, rubbing my arms to get the hairs to go down. I was so tired of these visions.
“ You are destined for much, and nothing. Much pain, misery. But also greatness, joy. There is much in your future. You will have to decide which path to take .”
More riddles. More confusion.
“Where is the woman I talked to last night?”
“ Not here. Just me.” The voice sounded almost amused. Like it was playing a game I couldn’t win. “You pick a path today, child.”
Today? Don’t I need to prepare for this or something? I don’t even know what I’m choosing!
Suddenly the ground shifted, the scenery whirling around me, and I felt like I was moving through time and space. The whirling stopped abruptly, spitting me out in front of two literal pathways.
“Oh, you’re not kidding. Two literal paths.” I couldn’t help the sarcasm that bled into my voice.
The androgynous voice chuckled. “ Yes, child. Two paths.”
I stood and stared. There seemed to be no difference between the two. They both started smoothly and darkened before I could really glimpse what the path turned into.
“What’s the difference?” I asked.
“One is wrought with destruction, the other with creation. I cannot tell you what happens on each path. You will have to find that as it unwinds . Choose. ”
“Can I know which path is which, at least?”
“No. Feel it within yourself. You know. ”
I know? What kind of advice is that? It was like the woman’s voice from my dream telling me to destroy . Is this what she meant?
I took a tentative step toward the path on the left, feeling nothing.
Ugh! I stamped my foot in frustration.
“You are acting like a child .”
“Well, you keep calling me that, so maybe it’s fitting that I act like one!” I snapped.
“ Ooh! She bites.” That humor again.
I blew out an angry breath through my nose and tried to focus. I felt nothing. Heard nothing. My anger rose—all the annoyances over the past twenty-four hours, the fact that I even had to have my future read like I was some pawn in political games. The slimy feeling of being used crawled across my mind and skin. I was my own person, with my own wants, needs, and desires. Didn’t what I want matter?
I was quite tired of my wishes being pushed aside for the will and decisions of others.
“No,” I breathed.
There was silence from the voice after I said it.
“No,” I said louder. “No, I won’t pick. I won’t play these stupid games. I’ll let Fate choose for me. I’m not picking a path.”
There was a pause. “Interesting choice, my child . After all, no choice is still a choice. ”
Behind me, a third path appeared. It didn’t look any different than the two in front of me, but I decided I was quite done with trying to figure out where each path led or what it contained. I turned on my heel and strode onto the new path.
“I expected nothing less, child. This is going to be . . . fun. ”
The voice’s words echoed in my skull as I opened my eyes with a startled gasp. I was back in my father’s study, but I was lying on the floor, looking up at the ceiling. All three adults were standing over me, staring, looks ranging from horror and concern to terror on their faces.
I blinked, groaned, and put a hand over my face. I tried to push myself into a sitting position, but a cold hand pushed me back onto the ground.
“Stay,” Jarius said. “You need to rest.”
“Well, I’m not resting on the ground,” I grumbled .
“Acantha, please pour Ellowyn a glass of water from that pitcher by the window,” my father said. To my surprise, my mother scuttled to do as he asked.
“How long was I out for?” I asked.
“A little over an hour,” my father replied, quietly.
Shit .
“Ell, has this happened before?” my father asked, taking the cup from my mother as she returned. Jarius and my father helped me sit up, pushing my back to lean against my father’s chair. My father handed me the cup of water and motioned for me to drink. I’m not sure why they were treating me like an invalid. It was just a dream again, I was fine.
I took a sip of water to avoid the question.
“Ell?” my father prompted.
I noncommittally shrugged my shoulders.
“How often?” This question came from Jarius.
“Recently? Every night,” I whispered.
All three adults widened their eyes.
“Is it the same dream or different?” Jarius asked.
“Depends on the night and who is in it, I suppose,” I mused, taking another sip of the water. It was cold and helped to clear some of my brain fog.
My father looked to Jarius. “What does this mean?”
“I’m not sure,” Jarius replied, “there are a few theories I have, but I would need to explore them further. You have a Seeing Room in the city?”
My mother nodded her head. “Yes, in Solace’s temple. It’s . . . in disrepair, but I would imagine still functional.”
“Very good,” Jarius said with a nod. “I would like to spend some time there. I will be able to see Ellowyn’s futures now that I have connected with her, so no need to subject her to any more of my prodding.”
Jarius rose with my father and my father quickly bowed to him as Jarius strode from the room. The door shut with an audible click , and then it was just me and my parents in the room.
“He is so odd,” I said finally, breaking the silence.
My mother gave me an admonishing look.
Guess fainting and having weird dreams didn’t excuse me from proper behavior. I ducked my head and continued drinking my water. My father scratched his jaw in thought.
“Was he able to see any of my futures?” I asked.
My father laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “No, Ell. He wasn’t. Not clearly, anyway. He says he needs a Truthsayer to make sense of them. And the only one left in existence is Lord d’Refan.”
I gasped at that admission.
“So, looks like we’re not going to be able to be prepared then, are we?” My father shook his head. We sat in silence for a few minutes longer, my mother looking anywhere but at me while my father seemed lost in thought. I casually sipped my water until the cup was empty.
“Are you feeling better, Ell?” my father asked after a few additional minutes of silence. I nodded my head as I pushed up from the floor.
“Yes, I was fine when I woke, actually.”
My father dropped his hand from his face and wrapped me in a hug, which I gladly returned. “You had us worried there for a second, daughter.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered into his shoulder.
“No need to be, it wasn’t your fault. Jarius will figure it out, I’m certain.” He ended the hug and pulled back to look at me. “If you’re sure you’re alright”—I nodded my head— “then I would like you to continue your responsibilities for the day. But I would like to talk with you soon about your dreams, if that’s okay?”
I nodded again. “Of course, Father.”
“Then we must be going, Ellowyn. There is much that needs to be done today, and we’ve spent more time in here than was necessary,” my mother said as she strode from her place by the window. “Please go and try to figure something out with your hair. I’ll send Jaclyn up to try and wrangle it for you. Then gather your brother and Finian. They have business in Katiska today as well.”
I agreed and then tried to hurry from the room before my mother could say, or request, anything else from me. Just as my hand was on the door to the study, she called out again.
“Oh, and Ellowyn. See one of our healers about those cuts on your face. They’re unbecoming.”
“Yes, Mother.” I curtsied before hurrying from the room and down the hallway toward our healing room in the back of the manor. Most rulers employed a variety of Mages for different household tasks; the richest, and the most influential, also employed a Creation Mage who used their magic to heal minor injuries and maladies. Creation Mages were few and far between, and those who focused on minor healing even less so. But I supposed that employment in a Lord’s manor had its perks—money and higher paying job opportunities later to be specific—and, thus, my parents had a Creation Mage employed as a personal servant.
The back wing of our house was primarily servants’ quarters and other rooms used for things my parents didn’t want our high-society guests to see. There was even a separate door to enter the wing, guarded by two Mages from my father’s personal guard. The Mages saw me approaching and one opened the door with a key that hung from his belt.
I thanked him and made my way down the darkened hallway. There were no windows in this corridor of the house—probably because there was a door every six feet or so, each leading to a room that housed a few servants or guards. There was a separate kitchen and dining area, and the whole corridor functioned like a separate home. It was simultaneously intriguing and saddening. Once you were employed by a ruling family of any territory, you generally stayed employed by them until your death, which meant whole families ended up living in the house they served.
Our healing room was toward the middle of the corridor on the right, and I quietly knocked before letting myself in. Our Healer was an older, dumpy Mage who talked under her breath with a lot of tutting noises scattered about. She didn’t even ask why I was there, simply assessed the damage to my face before lightly touching each wound, a trickle of magic knitting my flesh back together. There was a slight burn as the magic worked, but otherwise, the process was relatively painless and quick. Our Healer had no Vessel, most servants didn’t, and the crystal that stored her magic was inlaid into a ring that had direct contact with her skin. It was an inventive way to ensure bodily contact with the crystal that held her well of magic while still being able to use both hands if necessary.
I thanked her and quickly made my way back out of the servants’ corridor and up to my brother’s room. It was past midday at this point, and I was shocked that neither Finian nor Peytor had emerged for any type of food. Maybe they had the servants bringing it to them.
I knocked on the door, waiting for either man to answer. When no one responded, I began to tap my foot impatiently, arms crossed over my chest. Mother’s personal maid was supposed to be meeting me in my room any minute now, and her personality matched Mother’s. Plus, any type of lateness or perceived lateness would be reported back to my mother, which would only accumulate consequences for me later.
Ugh.
I knocked again, this time louder and a little more forcefully.
“Peytor, Finian!” I called as I knocked. When there was no answer, I put my ear to the door. Our doors were impossibly thick, which made for phenomenal personal privacy but greatly inhibited any type of eavesdropping.
I sighed and tried the door handle.
Miraculously, it was unlocked. I pushed it open, ready to chastise Peytor and Finian for leaving me in the hall, but what I saw froze me completely in the doorway. My mouth gaped open, but instead of finding words to throw at the boys, shock rendered me speechless. My eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as I took in the scene on my brother’s large four-poster bed. His bed was positioned against the opposite wall to the door, in between the two large windows. Unfortunately for me, the bed was kitty-corner from the door, and I saw everything that was happening.
Both boys were completely naked, Finian lay face-up beneath Peytor, and Peytor was thrusting hard into Finian’s ass. Finian’s eyes were closed in apparent pleasure, and my brother focused his gaze on where their bodies were joined. If the two men weren’t my brother and closest friend, I’d find the difference in their bodies to be almost poetic—Finian was wiry and strong, his thin arms pinned to the bed by Peytor’s more massive form.
“Yes, fuck yes. Just like that. Shit, Peytor, shit ,” Finian panted from beneath Peytor. His voice was husky and low, and a slight whine accompanied the end of his sentence.
Peytor thrust hard again, his muscles clenching from the force of it. Every time he thrust, Finian’s dick bounced against their stomachs, leaving an obscene trail of what I could only guess was precum. I’d seen dicks before when helping to facilitate the intimate moments after a Bonding Ceremony, but I never stayed for the physical act of sex. My job was to help get Mages hard or wet, and I saw enough penises to judge size. From what I could see, Finian seemed rather average, though that didn’t seem to bother my brother. He reached between them and grabbed Finian’s dick in his hand, stroking up and down in time with his thrusts.
I shook myself from my stupor as their grunts grew louder.
“Oh gods! ” I shouted before slamming the door closed behind me and covering my eyes, my face as red as a ripe tomato.
“Oh FUCK!” I heard Peytor shout. There was the distinct squelching sound of something wet slipping out of something else wet—I did not want to think about that—then the rustle of covers and a few other muttered curses.
Finally, after what felt like ages, Peytor spoke again, though he was out of breath and his voice sounded strained.
“Okay, Ell, you can open your eyes.”
I peeked through my fingers splayed over my eyes and saw that both Finian and Peytor were in the bed, covers pulled up nearly to their chins, looking thoroughly chagrined and flushed with embarrassment. Though maybe that flush was something else.
Don’t think about that! I shuddered and shook my head, trying to rid myself of that visual.
I groaned before removing my hands, keeping my eyes closed, and leaning my head back. “Please tell me there’s some sort of magic that can erase a memory.”
Finian chuckled. “Nope. Not possible.”
“A potion, then?”
“Nope.”
“A freaking stone? Anything?”
“Uh, sorry, sis,” Peytor said.
I groaned again before dropping my head forward to stare at the boys. “Seriously? I have to remember that visual for the rest of my life?”
They both grimaced sheepishly at me.
“Fuck,” I said.
Peytor widened his eyes and pointed at me. “You said fuck! You never say fuck!”
“Yes, well this situation warrants it. Why didn’t you lock your door?”
“Uh, we thought it was locked,” Finian said, still not making eye contact with me .
“You can come farther into the room to talk to us, Ell,” Peytor told me. I shook my head.
“Nope. Nope. I am perfectly good right here, thanks. I don’t know what your bare butts or other parts have touched,” I replied.
We sat in awkward silence for a few moments, none of us making eye contact.
“So, the weather’s nice today,” Peytor started.
“Oh don’t give me that about the weather!” I threw my hands in the air. “How long has this been going on?” I used my hand to gesture between the two of them, finally giving in to my curiosity.
Peytor and Finian exchanged a look before Peytor ran a hand through his chestnut hair, mussing it even further. “Almost three years.”
I was shocked. Completely floored. And I’m certain my face showed that.
“Three . . . years?” I asked quietly. How did I not notice it until now?
“We’ve kept it quiet. Private. It’s hard enough being an Elemental Vessel. But an Air Vessel who’s also a future Lord with a male lover, a Fire Vessel, who is a future cabinet member? That’s taboo enough as it is. Throw in the fact that we’re both supposed to have advantageous Bonded matches and produce heirs? Sure, being gay or bi isn’t prohibited, but with all the other factors in our lives, it sure as fuck won’t be accepted,” Peytor said.
I nodded my head. I got it. I did.
“But if you love each other, what does it matter? You can both produce heirs with your Bond and just be bedmates on the side.” I truly was trying to understand, but Peytor and Finian both scoffed like the question was offensive.
“You really think that our future wives—Bonded Mages—would let us have a same-sex bedmate?” Finian’s question was caustic. His normally soft brown eyes were cold and sad as he regarded me. Peytor turned his gaze to Finian and gave him a tight-lipped smile before grabbing and squeezing his hand. Finian relaxed marginally under my brother’s care, but the tension was still in his body and eyes.
I simply shrugged my shoulders in answer. Maybe I was naive—okay, I was naive—but I really didn’t see the issue. People took bedmates all the time.
“No. They’ll be the pinnacle of high society and female power in Hestin. To have their husband take a male bedmate would be the ultimate social death. Plus, they’re all sharks in disguise. They’ve been raised quite differently from you, Ell, and will do anything to ensure power. Even if that means spying on their husbands, creating gossip and mistrust to eventually take over the territory. No, this is all we can be.” Peytor’s voice was hard, convinced, but full of pain. Finian clutched Peytor’s hand so tightly his knuckles turned white. He used his other free hand to draw soothing patterns on Peytor’s bare back, a motion that caused my normally burly brother to soften completely.
My heart broke for them.
“Oh,” is all I could say.
“We would appreciate . . . some discretion in this.” Finian looked at me expectantly, never ceasing his ministrations on Peytor’s back.
I sighed, “Of course. Who would I tell anyway? It’s not like I have any friends. Aside from you two, that is.”
Finian gave me a sympathetic smile, but Peytor’s gaze was hard. “I mean it, sis. No one. Especially with Lord d’Refan coming soon. We’ll have to be extra vigilant. Finian and I probably won’t even be able to see each other outside of formal situations until he’s gone.”
“You have my word,” I said solemnly.
That seemed to assuage Peytor, and he relaxed back onto the bed, laying his head on Finian’s shoulder. Finian released Peytor’s hand, and his arm came around Peytor, pulling him close to his side.
My cheeks pinked again at their show of affection, but I also found it endearing and sweet. They cared about each other, clearly. I sighed wistfully, hoping that one day I would have that type of love and affection as well.
“So, what’d you barge in here for anyway?” Peytor’s voice lost all of its tension, his usual easy charm back.
“Mother wants you both to accompany us to Katiska’s shopping district today. I’m to be fitted for my dresses, and apparently you both have business in the city?” I raised my eyebrows at them.
They looked at each other briefly, unspoken words passing between them, before nodding.
“We can definitely go today. Get everything done before Lord d’Refan arrives.”
“You going to tell me what it is you’re doing?” I asked .
“Nope,” Peytor said, rising from his position against Finian. I averted my eyes as he sat up in bed and the sheet fell to expose the muscled planes of his chest and abdomen. “It’s on a need-to-know basis, and you definitely don’t need to know.”
I rolled my eyes and stuck out my tongue in response. Immature, yes, but it made the boys laugh.
“Now, I have the bluest balls in the history of blue balls. Finian, you too?” Finian nodded while gazing at Peytor with utmost love and reverence and a healthy dose of lust. “So, unless you’re staying for the show, I suggest you go do whatever it is you need to do right now. Maybe fix your hair or something?” He bent to kiss Finian passionately before even waiting for my response.
He was teasing but I growled at him.
He laughed into Finian’s mouth as he rolled back on top of his lover.
“We leave in ten minutes, you two! Make it quick!” I shouted as I turned on my heel and fled from the room, their laughs following me out.