“I have to say, if sheiswith you, it explains an awful lot. No wonder she was enjoying my attentions so much, the poor flower,” Oriel goaded, licking his fingers.
The demon roared with rage and lunged for the prince. In a flash Oriel had side-stepped his advance, sending the large demon plummeting into the table behind him. Glass shattered and women squealed, leaping for cover.
The prince's dark velvet wings popped open, helping to steady him.
“Faerie! He got faerie wings!” a nameless oaf shouted, and all hell broke loose.
Suddenly the crowd was wrestling desperately, trying to escape. Lephas was knocked backwards into a wall by the panicking patrons.
The large, lumbering demon was back up on his feet – dark blood streaming from his nose.
“You gon’ regret that, faerie faggot!”
“Boy, that's original,” Oriel quipped. Lephas saw the tell-tale twitch in his prince's cheek.
Now Oriel was angry.
Lephas knew the faerie wings were a sensitive topic with his friend. Anyone who knew anything about King Tennul knew his eldest son, Oriel, was part faerie. Something Oriel hated about himself and rarely spoke about.
Though he was hornless, Oriel looked mostly demon, but he deliberately kept his faerie-like wings folded in as much as he could. He said it was to attract less attention, but Lephas had a hunch that the prince was ashamed of them. It was only when Lephas had begun to spend a lot of time around Oriel that he had noticed the little details... The subtle faerie traits that betrayed his true lineage.
“C’mon ’en, Faerie Princess, show me wh–” the bloodied demon goaded.
Before he could finish his sentence, Oriel had launched a full-force punch at his face. The demon dropped like a stone. He was out cold.
Lephas fought his way to his friend and grabbed his shoulder. Oriel was shaking his hand, rubbing his knuckles.
“Come on, we need to get out of here!” Lephas yelled over the commotion.
“Yeah...” Oriel paused, glancing around. “Have you seen my drink?”
“Oriel!” Lephas exclaimed, exasperated.
“Yeah, yeah, okay– let’s go.” The prince shrugged and allowed Lephas to escort him out onto the dark streets.
The snow was falling heavily but the cobbled streets were too damp for it to stick. Instead it just turned all the murky puddles thick and slushy.
“Did you have to?” Lephas asked with a heavy sigh.
“I dunno, it wasn't really worth it.” Oriel shrugged, still rubbing his fist. “I thought a big fella like that would put up more of a fight, to be honest.”
“Come on...The inn isn't far from here. Thankfully I know you well and picked one that wasn't going to be too much hassle to drag your drunk ass back to in the wee hours.” Lephas steered his drunk friend down a side street. Oriel stumbled carelessly, but the commander continued to drive him forwards.
“Your brother isn't going to be happy to hear about this. You know that, right?” Lephas sighed.
Oriel let out a short laugh. “Oh, what a shame.”
“I don't suppose he'll be that surprised though,” Lephas continued.
“Hey, c'mon, don't be like that... Are you my friend or his?” The price scowled. He looped an arm around Lephas's shoulders and leant on him.
The pair trudged on towards the inn they were staying in, and Lephas fought to keep his friend upright.
“You must know Zelrus won't be happy to hear you've started another bar fight?”
“Zelrus–” Oriel hiccupped.“Zelrus isneverhappy about anything I do, Lephas! But I'm better at fighting than him, so he keeps me around.”
“And you're his brother.”
