Elias fiddled with the ring on his pinkie, waiting. He was always waiting, lately. 

Malitech had flown into a towering rage the moment Elias had so much as hinted that he could no longer be Igraine's keeper. The prince hadn't paused to hear any of the reasons. Hadn't noticed even as Elias had hacked up another mouthful of blood, residue from being too long in contact with the death maiden's magic. 

The fresh-healed cut along Elias' cheek burned at the memory. The prince hadn't stopped his fit until an errantly thrown glass had shattered beside Elias, opening the skin over his cheekbone, narrowly missing his eye. 

Elias couldn't help but replay the moment over in his head. The burst of crystal. The sharp pain and warm blood. The way Malitech's eyes had widened and the prince himself had rushed over, pressing a handkerchief to Elias' bleeding face, asking if he was well. If he could still see or if the glass had gotten in his eye.

Bewildered and touched, Elias had let the prince guide him to a seat, staying quiet as Malitech had bellowed for a surgeon to be brought immediately. 

"I'm sorry," he'd blurted out as Malitech fussed over the cut, gently wiping the blood away. At the prince's quizzical look, Elias had said, "I can continue to care for Igraine. I just...I didn't know it meant so much to you. That I be the one..."

Malitech had smiled and nodded, relief shining sharp in his eyes. "You're the only one I trust with this, Elias. The only one I trust with her."

And Elias hadn't the heart to refuse him in that moment. Or...any moment after, in the last handful of weeks. With a sigh, he settled deeper into the low chair, the cushions stiff and uncomfortable beneath him. Igraine twittered and hummed to herself in the other room as she got ready, the sweet melody interspersed with vicious snaps and snarls at the slaves whenever one so much as glanced at her the wrong way. 

A fire crackled low in the grate before him. A small concession he had managed to get from the witch. If he was to remain in her company, he at least had the right to ward off the chill. She had pouted and whined, but still given in, much to his surprise. 

"Out!" Igraine suddenly shrieked, making Elias' ears pop as he lunged up from the chair. There was a crash and he closed his eyes in exasperation as three slaves, two dragging the third whose head was bloodied, darted from the room as fast as they could. A moment later, she barked, "Elias!"

Sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, Elias crossed the room, skirting the splashes of blood that littered the floor leading to the witch's bedroom. He stopped in the doorway, peering cautiously through the shadowy room. 

No matter how he pleaded with the witch to remain properly clothed when he was around, it was never a sure-fire thing that she would have, well...any clothes on. 

A cold hand materialized around his wrist, jerking him all the way into the gloom. His eyes adjusted rapidly, getting more used to the dark with every passing day. A breath of relief left him as he found Igraine fully clothed in a magnificent gown of dark emerald, her black hair hanging loose down her back.

Her eyes glimmered with barely contained rage as she pulled him through the disaster of a bedchamber into the dressing room. Once there, she let him go and collapsed into the delicate chair sitting before the vanity. Elias kept his face carefully blank, knowing she was waiting for a reaction. Her mood had been fey and recalcitrant ever since the letter had come, requesting her presence at the prince's country estate. 

She had thrown the letter into the fire the night it had been received, hissing at the sparks that had flown into the air. She had been so outraged by the prince's request, Elias was genuinely surprised they found themselves in rooms at the prince's country estate today.

He didn't dare to ask why she had acquiesced. He was simply glad he hadn't been forced into mediating for the prince with his fiancée yet again.  

"Something comfortable or elaborate?" he asked, reaching past the witch to pick up an ivory comb, shaking his head at himself. He should have warned the poor slaves not to try and touch her hair. 

That, for some unfathomable reason, was something only he was allowed to do at this point.

"I do not care," Igraine said petulantly. "I do not wish to be here."

Elias decided to save himself some effort, drawing her hair into the beginnings of a low chignon. He chewed on his tongue for a moment, peering cautiously at the witch's reflection. She suffered him better than most others, but there was no way to tell when she wouldn't take kindly to his questioning.

"Spit it out, Elias," she said with a sigh. "Unless you're simply trying to chew a hole through your tongue. Not a very comfortable way to die."

Neither, he assumed, was having the life ripped from him by that ghastly magic of hers. Still, curiosity would ever be the death of the cat, and he wasn't going to deny the opportunity to satisfy his.

"If you do not wish to be here...why are we here?" Elias finished the chignon with a thin braid and began to slide jeweled pins into the dark strands. 

Igraine smiled at him, teeth white and sharp even through the gloom. "Have you forgotten my true objective here, darling Elias? The reason I've allowed Malitech such...liberties...with me?"

Elias was not nearly curious enough to pursue that topic. So he gave her a nod, stepping back as soon as the last pin was in place. He gave her a shallow bow and turned on his heel, meaning to bolt from the room and find the prince himself. It would be a relief to throw Malitech to his wolf of a fiancée for once, instead of the other way around.

Arms wrapped around him from behind, much too strong for how thin they were. Elias froze as the witch pressed herself against his back, the chill of her body seeping through the thick material of his dress coat. 

"A child, darling Elias. A son of kings." She giggled into the space between his shoulder blades, making a shiver shoot up his spine to the base of his skull. "The prince has been increasingly reluctant to come to me. Though I don't like it, my goal precedes all else. Even my pride, unfortunately."

"Yes, I remember," he said, voice hoarse. "And I wish you the best of luck in that endeavor. However...my presence is sincerely not necessary for...that. I'll--"

"Elias," she murmured, arms tightening around him. "Elias you know I'm rather fond of you. It's such a pity you're not the son of a king, but...rather...a traitor."

Mind blank, Elias stared at the wall in front of him, hands drifting up to cover Igraine's where they were fisted into the material of his shirt, just below his chest. He squeezed until it felt he might crack her bones and something deep inside of him longed for that. It played out in his mind. How the bones would stick through the flesh, stark white against her pale skin, blood bright red and luminous.

Igraine giggled again, slipping out of his grasp like a fish. She whirled around him until she stood just before him, pressing her cold hand to his cheek. Elias glared at her, but didn't dare jerk away. She hated when he did that. She smiled, rouged lips peeling back to show perfect, white teeth.

She swept her thumb along the ridge of his cheekbone, just below his eye. Like she was wiping away a tear. Then she pressed a kiss to his cheek, just a hairsbreadth from his mouth, before she moved to whisper in his ear. "It needn't always be so, darling Elias."

Before he could ask what she meant, she whisked out of the room.

Elias glanced toward the window before dismissing the idea out of hand. 

They weren't high up enough anyway.

                                                                                           ***

Down below, the party was already in full swing. The young men and women of the empire drank and danced, flirted before sneaking off to dark corners, debated and enchanted. All a dance trying to garner the appropriate favor and connections for the future when they inherited their parents positions and fortunes.

Elias lounged in his place at the head table, slumped sideways in his chair, goblet tilting precariously in his hand. One benefit to enduring Igraine's company during the social functions she deigned to attend was that she hated the Metian tradition of watering down the wine to keep the company civil during dinner. The carafes brought to her were undiluted, rich and heady with the promise of dulled senses and duller perception. 

She was down there, moving among the nobility, resplendent in that emerald gown, glued to Malitech's side. The prince, for his part, didn't seem to mind her cold presence. Arms constantly twining together, or his hand on her waist, or hands linked. For all the world a young couple breathlessly in love and counting the days until their wedding ceremony. 

Elias tipped his head back, draining the contents of the goblet. It wasn't until he lowered the cup that he realized an unnatural hush had swept through the room.

Eyes immediately snapping back to Igraine, Elias stood, searching for...for what? A body? A trace of her black magic? But no one was screaming. None backed away from the eldest prince and his betrothed. 

Instead, the crowd was rippling farther away, people drawing back as the water does before a tidal wave comes crashing down on the shore. They pressed against each other, trying to clear a path as quickly as they could. 

As it wasn't Igraine, Elias could only think of two other people who would garner such treatment from the sons and daughters of the empire's most powerful men. 

And one of them was presumably on another continent.

Ignoring the sting that accompanied any thought of Cassia, Elias made his way around the table, wishing suddenly that he hadn't had quite so much to drink. The murmurs preceded him like a foul wind, whispers hidden behind fans and gloved hands. 

Then the last of the crowd between the newcomers and Malitech opened. Elias stumbled down the low steps of the dais the head table was on, pushing his way through the crowd, unable to believe his eyes.

Prince Marcus ambled through the crowd, his motions lazy in the same way a full lion's were. Dangerous, still, but not bloodthirsty. Not yet.

He was dressed head to toe in black, silver embroidery and buttons flickering in the light from the chandeliers. Torvan come to back to earth. The woman beside him was ice and cold wind and blood. 

She was Brunian.

She was a slave. 

Prince Marcus had brought a slave as his companion to Malitech's celebration. 

Like he'd been dunked in a vat of cold water, Elias found himself stone-cold sober as he darted through the crowd to appear at Malitech's side, ready to whisk Igraine away at the first hint of trouble. 

Then, Malitech smiled and stepped forward, shuffling Igraine behind him and toward Elias, who took the witch by the elbow. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, but didn't shake off his touch. No one was paying attention to them anyway, all eyes glued to the second prince and his companion.

"So glad you could attend, Marcus," Malitech said, voice restrained, but uncharacteristically friendly.

Marcus gave a half smile, golden eyes shifting over the faces surrounding them before he turned his attention fully to the older prince. His smile grew into something fuller. Charming, in the same way the bright colors of a venomous snake were charming. "I could hardly turn down an invitation, Lord Brother."

"None of that," Malitech said graciously. "There are no titles here, among my friends."

Again, that half smile. Like Marcus knew a secret no one else was aware even existed. Again, his gaze wandered over the glittering display, skipping disinterestedly over Elias and the witch beside him. 

The woman at his side kept her eyes downcast, her hand a bit stiff where it rested in the crook of Marcus' elbow. 

Malitech waved his hand at the musicians, who immediately picked up a lively tune, prodding the rest of the room back into action. Couples once more paired off, men whisking their ladies back onto the dance floor. Elias could still feel the weight of dozens of eyes pressing on them as Malitech took a step closer to his duplicitous brother.

"That is the second prince, yes?" Igraine whispered in his ear, cold breath giving him goosebumps all down his arms. "The brother just a year younger than Malitech?"

Elias nodded, not really paying attention to the witch as Malitech began to speak. His eyes widened in astonishment as the older prince clapped the younger on the shoulder, as though they were true brothers, rather than old enemies who happened to bear the same blood.

"Who might your beautiful companion be?" Malitech asked, extending his hand toward the Brunian woman.

She stared at him with icy eyes for a moment before extending her free hand. Malitech pressed a light kiss to her knuckles, his next words lost in the sudden swelling of violins.

Marcus tugged the slave girl closer, his arm wrapping around her waist in a possessive gesture that made her pale skin turn paler. His grin was sharp, all bared fang as he said, "Sorry, brother. I found this enchanting creature first." He reached up and grasped her chin, forcibly turning her head to face him. Eyes dropping to her mouth, he said, "I know she's not entirely suitable. But you didn't give me much time to find a proper companion."

Malitech shook his head, smile just as sharp as his brother's. "Beautiful things are always suitable. Tell me, dear, aren't you from Brunia?" He extended a hand back, eyes going to Igraine. "It would seem we have the same taste in some things, brother."

Sobered as he had been by the sudden arrival of the second prince, Elias still couldn't seem to grasp what game was being played here. Malitech had invited Marcus? The same brother he had been ranting about just days ago? The brother who had killed not one, but three of Malitech's spies within the last week, leaving little more than blood to be found?

Elias had the sudden, strong urge to go dunk his head in a barrel of water. Maybe then, he would be truly sobered and this friendly exchange between deadly enemies would begin to make sense.

Igraine stepped forward with a gracious smile, taking Malitech's hand and inclining her head slightly to Marcus, though her silver eyes stayed glued to the Brunian slave girl. Introductions were made and Marcus bowed, but never moved to take the witch's hand in greeting. Instead, his arm stayed firmly around the slave's waist, keeping her pinned to his side through the whole conversation.

Her blue eyes never strayed from the tile beneath the for even a moment, and Elias couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for her. 

Elias was startled by Igraine's crystalline voice suddenly cutting Malitech off. She smiled at the slave girl. "You seem a bit nervous, chara."

Those blue eyes flashed up, then back down. The slave's jaw tensed as she gritted her teeth, shaking her head as she pressed closer to Marcus. 

Igraine suddenly said something in Brunian, the northern language barbaric and out of place amongst all the glitter of the world around them. 

The slave girl lifted her head, eyes going wide in surprise. She shook her head slowly, then faster, obviously bewildered by whatever Igraine had asked her. Igraine rapped out another question, head cocking to the side like a snake contemplating a little bird.

"Liadain," the slave said with a slow furrow of her straight brows.

Igraine smiled and switched abruptly to Metian. "A dull name for such a darling thing." She eyed Marcus, who met her gaze, eyes flashing gold in the candlelight. "Might I have her?"

The slave girl's eyes flew wide and she cowered behind Marcus, who simply smiled at Igraine. "I'm afraid not." He bowed before taking the slave's hand. "Perhaps I can find you another. Or you can have her once I am bored of her."

Igraine bristled at that, but Marcus had already disappeared into the crowd, the blonde girl right on his heels. 

"What was all that about, dearest?" Malitech asked, looking as puzzled by the exchange as Elias felt. 

Igraine simply smiled at him and shook her head. "Oh, nothing. I simply thought it would be nice to have a companion from my homeland."

Malitech gave out a great laugh. "I can bring you ten if that is what you desire." He opened his mouth to say more, but an approaching lordling caught his attention, pulling him into a sudden discussion that Elias didn't care to eavesdrop on.

The alcohol was once more making its presence in his veins known, blurring things as his adrenaline died away. 

A cold hand locked around his wrist, pulling him down slightly. Elias froze as Igraine spoke quietly in his ear. "Separate that girl from the snake. She's not what she appears to be at all."

Elias tried to glimpse Marcus and the girl through the crowd, but it was useless. There were too many people crowded into the space. He glanced down at Igraine, wondering if Malitech had been talking to her as well about the ongoing games of intrigue between him and the second prince. 

He was just about to reply when suddenly it was Malitech by his side, rather than the witch.

"My brother is a touch too bold." Malitech's hazel eyes glittered like they did during a particularly exhilarating hunt. "Find out if that girl is a spy. I've seen them together before. Marcus is always a little too keen to keep her from my attention for my liking."

Elias sighed, really wishing he had stayed a bit more sober.