Chapter 4 #2
There was something about Lucien that made Leander’s tongue become loose and he knew it was not due to the alcohol he had consumed.
Nothing got past Lucien. He absorbed everything, but it was also rare that any information came back out.
Leander knew this from his mother’s warnings, and he needed to be careful with what he said to the next king of Vyrica.
“Lord Flavian is rather… intimidating, yes,” Lucien ag reed quietly.
“A small part of me is hoping he retires when my father passes, then I can elevate Verin to the position of chief advisor. Your brother is much easier to talk to, less judgemental, and generally all round more receptive to my… more progressive ideas about what Vyrica, and indeed Saeren, needs.”
Leander didn’t know his father well, but his initial impression of the man was that he would retire when he was dead. And, even then, he imagined that if anyone could find a way to keep on working, Flavian Talius would be that man to continue serving Vyrica from Serai’s underworld domain.
“Though I suppose he has assisted my father to rule this kingdom with compassion,” Lucien continued. “He is a good man, there is no denying that.”
Nodding, Leander made a noncommittal sound of agreement to what Lucien was saying.
Flavian frightened Leander, that much was certain.
He couldn’t imagine that glacial, inhospitable man being described as compassionate.
All his experiences with his father had been impassioned at best and borderline hostile at worst. Maybe it was just him.
It was not unreasonable to assume that Leander himself was responsible for Flavian’s piss poor attitude around him.
Perhaps if Leander did just as his father asked, perhaps if he proved himself a worthwhile member of the family. Perhaps… oh, who was he kidding? He downed the remainder of his sparkling wine just as a slave was passing by with a tray of more drinks. He swapped out his empty glass for a new one.
“There are many things I am looking to change when I am king, of course,” Lucien said, unaware of Leander’s thoughts.
“Though I am very impressed with your father’s efforts to develop this policy on free healthcare.
The lives we will be able to save and improve with this novel idea will be too many to count.
It is revolutionary, we will be the first nation on this continent to enact such a scheme. I cannot wait to see it in action.”
“It is a very good idea. My father came up with it?”
“Oh, yes. He has been working on it for months. Years, really. It’s been a long time ambition of his to see it to fruition.
He’s very proud of it. Hey, if you want to see him animated and not looking at you as if you are griffin shit on his shoe, then ask him about that policy.
He will talk your ear off, I can guarantee it. ”
Even from this brief interaction, Leander knew instinctually that the prince was the genuine article. He couldn’t imagine him asking for Leander’s divine assistance, that was something the demigod knew for sure. It almost made Leander respect the prince more.
Lucien stopped walking occasionally to greet the odd guest with warmth.
At these times, Leander took the opportunity to drink deeply from his sparkling wine flute.
Lucien seemed to know not only everyone’s name, but the names of their children, or even that of their cat.
When talking to them, he drew them into the conversation by making them feel important, by remembering key facts about them and making them feel seen.
It was impressive to watch.
That was why Leander cemented the thought that he liked Lucien—he reminded Leander of Verin.
Leander’s eldest brother had the same gentle, mischievous charm covering a keenly analytical mind.
And Lucien was quite obviously exceptionally emotionally intelligent.
Leander glanced over to his eldest brother, who was now talking to an old woman not far away from them.
No wonder Verin and Lucien got along so well.
They would make the perfect team in a couple of years.
Every time Lucien greeted a new person, he also diligently introduced Leander to them.
The demigod tried to remember their names, and he did well at putting names to faces as the perfect social butterfly might, but he made no effort to remember the content of the conversations that he shared with these people.
He could engage in frivolous, meaningless conversation but he would not remember it, as apathetic as he was to the lives of these mortals.
Ultimately, Leander thought as he downed his drink and picked up another, the plights of the wealthiest in Saeren were absurd, inconsequential.
He found himself forced, this evening, to listen to the complaints of these affluent few as if their problems were actually meaningful. Leander found it beyond challenging to have any semblance of sympathy for the people who did not know what real suffering was.
Their emotions were angry, frustrated, slighted. Not once did Leander sense anything akin to the fear and despondence he could feel seeping into his consciousness whenever a slave brushed past, tray of sparkling wine flutes or canapés in hand.
He needed a way to extricate himself from the endlessly circular conversations he was now trapped in.
Meeting the gaze of his father, he found his escape from the inane dialogue in the most unwanted form.
Leander excused himself from Lucien’s side to approach Flavian, who also left his conversation partner to address his son.
“I didn’t give you many instructions tonight.” Flavian commented coldly. “Perhaps it was wrong of me to hold your intelligence in higher regard.”
“Oh, you mean this?” Leander raised his new wine flute up. “I decided to ignore your guidelines.”
“They weren’t guidelines, Leander. You are expected to follow through when I give you an instruction. They are not for my benefit.”
“But that one was. You wanted me not to drink lest I embarrass you. This has everything to do with you.” The three glasses of bubbly had loosened Leander’s tongue somewhat, and he was vaguely aware of this fact. But he didn’t care.
After a parting smile, Leander turned on his heel, knowing his father would not make a scene and berate him for his disrespect. Not when so many people were eavesdropping on the fallen demigod’s every interaction.
Leander would suffer for it later, no doubt.
He had no idea where he was going, though. Having met Lucien, the list of people he knew at the party had gone up to six. Straining his neck, he was trying to find one of his brothers when he slammed into the side of someone.
That someone exclaimed their shock and spun around, holding a flute that had, until two seconds ago, been full.
Steadying himself, Leander glanced upwards to stare into cerulean eyes.
With pale olive skin, he was quite obviously not Vyrican.
Raven coloured, wavy hair sat just below the top of his ears, framing his face and accentuating the high cheekbones that Leander now expected to find on the ruling class of the mortal world.
His cobalt blue eyes, chasms of emotion that they were, were warm, and inviting, as he looked down at Leander.
Last time he had looked upon such eyes, Leander had been inebriated. Worse, he had had tunnel vision, with the singular aim of being pleasured by Jasmine’s whores. He had not bothered with the who are you , only the how might you please me .
This time, dressed in aristocratic finery as he was, the demigod recognised the man.
Prince Jarryn Eleinium of Desanne, the exiled crown prince, now seeking sanctuary in a foreign realm, was devastatingly beautiful.
There was a long moment of silence as Leander tried in vain to marry up the scruffily clad person he had met the other night with the finely dressed prince in front of him now.
Leander had been otherwise occupied with a beautiful girl whispering sweet nothings into his ear.
It had not occurred to him to consider the possibility that he might encounter someone of the prince’s calibre in Jasmine’s whorehouse.
He tried to think back for what he had said, what he had done, that night in the pleasure house, what embarrassment he might have caused himself.
Fuck.
“Your Highness.” Leander bowed his head, just as he had with Prince Lucien Aguilar. “My deepest apologies. I was not looking where I was going. Let me… uh, let me find you another drink, please.”
He fought to remember, but the haze of that night was shrouded by alcohol and whatever else it was that Talia had suggested they try together. He couldn’t remember… which was probably worse in some ways. His only excuse was a humiliating admission that he had not been in his right mind.
Something like that would not fly if his father ever found out how he had insulted Desanne’s Crown Prince.
Leander sent up a silent prayer to any god who would listen to let him disappear from this nightmare.
“No need, I was merely sipping at it for something to do,” the prince replied, an amused edge to his tone as he spoke.
“I must insist?—”
“And I said there is no need.” The tone of his voice was no longer amused, but brooked no argument. He was a prince, after all, and used to being obeyed.
“I… yes. Sorry.”
“That’s quite alright.” Jarryn abandoned his previous conversation partner and turned bodily to face Leander. “Now I am new here and you will have to forgive me. You know who I am, but I have no idea who you are.”
Leander wanted the ground to engulf him, to sink into the earth and fade into nothingness as he realised he would have his flaws laid bare for this man to see and judge, the minute Prince Jarryn learnt his name.
Would that he could turn his back on the prince and pretend he had not heard, but that would have created more of a scene, and Leander was vaguely aware of courtiers not-so-surreptitiously watching and listening.
Gods damn them all.
“Leander Talius, Your Highness.”
The prince blinked twice, so fast Leander almost missed it. “The disgraced demigod. I had been told you also sought sanctuary here but had not expected to bump into you.”
There was none of the sycophantic reverence that Leander had grown accustomed to in Jarryn’s voice. The prince was not in awe of him like so many other people seemed to be. It was refreshing. It was also a little unnerving.
“That’s me. A disappointment to everyone I meet,” Leander said lightly.
“Oh, I never said that. I said you were a disgrace, not a disappointment. In fact, I would be more disappointed if I were to meet a squeaky clean god. Sounds rather… unnatural. Inhuman.”
“But we’re not human.”
“Well, you are now. As human as they come. Or so I’m told.” Jarryn tilted his head to the side, examining Leander. “I do so hope your crime is a worthy tale. It would be a shame if we both found ourselves seeking refuge accused of an indictable offence we did not commit.”
“I am certainly responsible, Your Highness. It’s just a shame I was caught.”
“Bold of you to be so confident in present company as a self-confessed criminal. I can’t imagine Saeren’s most affluent are pleased with your presence.
” He glanced around. “But it seems that everyone here is dying to meet you. Must be something in the water, to make you so irresistible, so admired without ever having to put any effort in.”
Prince Jarryn was a contrary individual.
Leander couldn’t tell if the attractive prince liked him or not, which made it difficult for him to come to his own conclusion about Jarryn.
Even Aesthesia was no use: Jarryn was a prince, raised by the most militant etiquette instructors.
He would know better than anyone how to suppress any undesirable emotions.
Or at least hide them behind adamantine barriers.
“You would be surprised how keen the aristocracy of Saeren is to meet a god, even a fallen demigod. They seem to believe I still have some influence. My father has grouched to me almost daily of the sheer number of libations left at his gate for me already.”
“Indeed. And how do you feel about your worshippers seeking you out as a mortal, looking for your blessing?” The prince sounded genuinely curious. It was invigorating to have an authentic conversation with someone for once this evening.
Leander considered his answer for a moment, unsure of how he actually felt and he wanted to know that for himself before presenting his answer. Such was his desire to have an earnest conversation with Jarryn.
Finally, Leander responded, “It satisfies me. To know that I am still important to so many. And I am humbled and honoured to think that people covet that which only the divine can offer.” He took another sip of his drink before glancing around.
The surreptitious glances has become more overt stares.
“Before now, I had not spent much time around mortals. I answered their prayers, but I did not walk among men for any extended period. This is new to me and… honestly? It has been a privilege.”
Jarryn listened with rapt attention, nodding along at all the right points. “It is a shame you only discovered that when it was too late.”
“Quite,” Leander agreed.
Leander didn’t like people, but he did like followers and he liked the rush he felt when someone offered a gift of oblation to him with their prayers. His domain was small but not unimportant. And Leander liked nothing more than to feel purposeful… or even essential.
“Well, I was glad to have met you… properly, Lord Leander.” Jarryn said with a weird smile on his lips. “Perhaps we might bump into each other again.”
Leander swallowed and nodded, once again mortified by his words and actions of the other night. Maybe it was something he could be forgiven for, but he would never live it down. “And you, Your Highness.”