Othric's elegant office was on the top floor of the hotel, its big window showing a beautiful view over the city. But Fyn barely noticed it. All he wanted was to get this talk over with and return to his friends. Since his anger was mainly directed at Othric now, he'd already started to forgive Kalish. Their friendship was more important than a silly fight, and although Fyn still felt he had every right to be furious, he didn't want to risk losing his best friend.

"Can I offer you something to drink?" Othric Holden asked him.

The journalist declined. "Thanks, I'm good. Let's just talk."

The sire offered him a seat, and they both sat down opposite each other in nice, expensive armchairs with a little glass table between them.

"Mr. Sheldon, I'm sorry for your first impression of me, and I would have liked to meet you before," Othric began with a serious expression on his face. "Since you're Kalish's best friend, I wanted to be on your good side of course since Kalish wishes you to be his best man at the bonding ceremony. But you being an investigative journalist made me wary of you, to speak frankly. I've always tried to stay out of the papers except for very big occasions that not only affect my private life, but the future of the family business."

"I can understand that. But I've never betrayed a confidence, and I strictly differentiate between work and private life," Fyn answered as calmly as possible. "And Kalish has known me long enough to know that. You had absolutely no right to forbid him to tell me about the engagement."

"I didn't forbid him anything," the sire clarified with narrowed eyes. "I simply suggested it, and Kalish agreed after much hesitation. Whatever you might think, I'm not pushing him around or treat him like a child who's yet unable to make decisions. I'm simply concerned about my public image."

Fyn rolled his eyes. "And that's supposed to make me feel better? Listen, Mr. Holden, I don't care. All I care about is my best friend. Kalish is a wonderful person; he's kind, intelligent, and lively. And I wish him to stay that way. It doesn't matter how much he might love you, he'll wither away like a plant without sunlight if you try to change him in any way."

To his astonishment, Othric smiled. It made him look younger and less stern. "Those are the very things about Kalish that made me fall in love with him, and forests forbid I ever try to change him. But after everything my family's been through, you might understand that I have to be careful in rebuilding our family's reputation. The name Holden stood for integrity and honest work for thousands of years, and my brother and Sylair managed to ruin that in just a few weeks."

"Speaking of your family... there are some things I'd like to know as well." Fyn leaned forward and held Othric's gaze, as pastel green as his own. "But I guess you have questions as well."

"I do," the sire said. "Has there ever been any proof as to Aravin being your sire?"

"No. In fact, my father told me that Aravin had ordered a paternity test when I was a kid, and it turned out negative. But nobody ever spoke of it, and my birth certificate lists him as my sire. My last name, however, is Sheldon, since the man who raised me adopted me. I've never had any claim to the Holden name and I don't want it, if that's what you're asking." Fyn sighed. "I actually learned all that just a few hours ago. Until now, I didn't want to know the truth."

"And now?" Othric asked very quietly.

"Now I guess I don't have a choice. My sire - adoptive sire, I mean - had a theory about my biological sire, but I guess that's something only you can confirm. Mind you, I don't want any money, and I'm happy as things are. But... if you're bonding with Kalish, I have to know if... well... if we are related." Fyn hadn't really meant to blurt it out like this, but he was a direct person, and dancing around the subject was stupid.

Othric Holden was silent for a moment. "Now let me tell you something," he started. "And mind you, this is just between you and me. If Kalish trusts you, so will I - especially since I've now met you personally. Some decades ago, I separated from my mate. We had been happy for many years, or so I thought, but I then I discovered that he had been cheating on me. I was willing to forgive it because I loved him. Sylair was born, and it was clear that he wasn't my son. But I loved him very much and decided to make him my heir regardless. But when he grew up, I realized that his character was... twisted. Even if he had been my real son, I would have withdrawn his rights as my heir. As he learned of that, he drowned himself in glamour, parties, and scandals, desperate for attention. My mate finally decided to leave me. Not because of Sylair, but because of me behaving more and more distantly toward him. I guess we just grew apart. But when the divorce was finally through, I was depressed. There was just my brother Aravin left, who tried to cheer me up the best he could. So he sent me to an... establishment of debatable reputation that he frequented. It was the first and last time I ever set foot in such a place. However, there was a very lovely lifebearer with blond hair like yours, and I just wanted to forget everything that had happened for just a few hours. I banned that night from my mind, and I never really made the connection when Aravin told me that he had... well, bought himself a consort who was expecting his child. I never set foot in his house, and he kept his trophy to himself."

Fyn didn't realize that he had been holding his breath. "So it is... possible?"

Othric smiled softly. "It's not only possible, but the truth. I don't even need a DNA test to prove it. It's the same way I could tell right away that Sylair wasn't my son. Every firstborn child to one of our family members has light green eyes, without fail. Eyes like yours and mine. It's a lashran genetic oddity like that strangely colored hair you see sometimes, and it's been passed down from countless generations. You could have been Aravin's first-born child, but since the paternity test ruled that out..."

"That's..." The journalist didn't know what to say. He had already suspected it, but now... "So my sire's theory was completely right," he murmured. "He said that after the investigation back then, he had suspected Sylair was not a true Holden since he was so desperate to destroy the family and make himself the new heir."

Othric nodded, his eyes sad. "It was terrible, and I still blame myself for what happened. I should have seen it coming, but I just didn't want to believe him being capable of such hate."

"Well, that's in the past. The question is, what will happen now?" Fyn asked.

Othric shrugged, looking as lost as Fyn felt. "That is up to you. I understand that you don't want anything to do with my family, but I hope we can be friends, at least for Kalish's sake. And should he and I have kids, which I hope since otherwise the Holden family will die out, I want them to know they have an older brother."

"I guess... I can do that. I just don't want any trouble or obligations. And most importantly, I want to stay Fyn Sheldon." The lifebearer hesitantly smiled at the man in front of him. His real sire... it still felt strange to even think that.

"I can promise you that." The sire extended his hand. "And please call me Othric. I can't have Kalish's best friend call me 'Mr. Holden'."

"Then please call me Fyn." The journalist took the offered hand and was finally able to give Othric Holden a real smile. "But I think we should tell Kalish. I don't like secrets between us."

"Of course. I'll talk to him, and I hope you two will reconcile quickly."

"I'm going down right now to talk to him," Fyn decided and got up from his chair - once again almost stumbling. "Damn!"

"Did you hurt yourself when you bumped into me?" Othric asked concerned and quickly grabbed Fyn's arm to steady him. "Should I call for a doctor?"

"I'm fine!" Fyn snapped and pulled away, his old instinct of violently rejecting any help or sympathy kicking in. "It's just my leg, as always."

Othric let go of him, a bit taken aback by the sudden hostility in Fyn's eyes. "Sorry. I was just concerned that I'd hurt you."

"No, your brother did that already," the lifebearer retorted, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. "I know you're not him, but as I said: I've had enough bullshit from your family. Here's your chance to do better than Aravin and Sylair."

Othric surprised him with an old-fashioned bow. "I will," he said, his voice solemn.

Fyn just hoped that he would keep that promise. He had to admit that he was somewhat starting to like the man, despite everything. And he wanted Kalish to be happy. But he didn't need any more confusion in his life. A question had been answered, but how many were still left open? Daring to find the truth always had its price.

On his way back to the hotel bistro, Fyn found Eondar searching for him. Thankfully, the photographer didn't ask any questions, just looked at him with genuinely worried eyes. Fyn managed a smile. "Let's get back to Kalish. I think I have to apologize for being nasty."

Eondar just nodded and accompanied him downstairs.

But Fyn didn't even get a chance for an apology. Kalish threw himself into his arms and cried like a kid, sobbing "I'm so sorry!" over and over again. It was rather like his father a few hours ago. And just like then, Fyn patted him on the back and murmured that everything was going to be alright. After Kalish had calmed down a bit, they sat down next to each other on a couch, arms around each others' shoulders.

"I talked to your boyfriend," Fyn finally said. "And after a bit of venting... well, I guess it's okay with me if you want to bond with him. And he promised not to keep important things from me from now on."

"Really? I'm so relieved!" Kalish beamed at him, his crying fit miraculously not having left any traces on his perfect face. "I hope you two will become friends. He's a good man, and I know he's the right one for me."

"We will," the journalist answered, smiling back at his friend. "And now... I guess we all need a drink."

No one objected.

As it turned out, one drink wasn't enough. Celia offered to take the article and the photos back to the "Valkyrie Times" office and excuse both Eondar and Fyn with the editor-in-chef. Eondar insisted on staying with his partner since he didn't want to leave him to get home on his own, and working was out of the question after this day.

Fyn and Kalish practically emptied the hotel bar's contents on their own in the next few hours. Eondar drank just a little bit for company despite both of them insisting that he just had to try this drink and that booze. Eventually, Kalish dozed off on one of the comfortable leather couches, and the barman promised to call Mr. Holden to get him. Eondar was amazed how sober Fyn still was. Apparently, he could hold his liquor despite his tiny frame. He wasn't even swaying on his way to the exit, although his limp was a bit more pronounced. Eondar already knew that this was actually a sign of stress.

The photographer hailed a taxi, and after a short ride, they arrived at Fyn's apartment. The lifebearer had been silent since they had left the hotel, but as soon as they had closed the apartment door behind them, he asked, "Do you think that Kalish is prettier than me?"

The sire was completely taken aback by that question. "What do you mean?"

"We've been living together for a while now." Fyn didn't look at him, just fumbled with the fastenings of his jacket. "Kalish said you must be the last true gentleman on Wyndrah, but I'm pretty sure you just don't want me."

"Fyn..." Eondar really didn't want to have this strange discussion, and if Fyn hadn't sounded so lucid, he would have sworn the lifebearer was completely drunk. "Can we talk about this tomorrow?"

"No. I want to know." The journalist turned around to face the sire, eyes bright, vulnerable and completely honest. "I want to know so I can stop staring at you like a horny teenager."

Eondar hesitated for a moment, then he took a few steps forward and gently put his hand around Fyn's waist. It was so thin that he could almost encircle it completely with his hands. "Kalish is right. I'm the last gentleman on Wyndrah," he whispered. "But if you really want this..."

Fyn smiled, and the sweetness in his face gave way to something darker, more seductive. "I want this. But you have to do me favor first."

"What favor?"

"Bend down, will you? I'll get a sore neck looking up at you all the time," Fyn said softly.

When the sire complied, Fyn pulled him down even more and kissed him.

To be continued...