“Lucien’s right, today is for celebrating.” Rakos lifts his glass in toast. “How about a song, minstrel?”
Bellamy hides behind his glass. “I think that would count as an act of war.”
They abandon Rakos and Bellamy to debate whether the hired musicians would allow guest performers. Kazia forceshimself to drink slowly, instead of nervously downing his wine just for something to do. He doesn’t want a repeat of his last overindulgence, even if he enjoys Lucien taking care of him.
“Are you good alone here?” Lucien says. “I need to let Audric ridicule me for five minutes.”
Kazia sighs dramatically. “I’ll try not to despair in your absence.” He chews his lip, sarcasm faltering. “But don’t take too long.”
“I won’t,” Lucien promises, and swoops down to kiss Kazia’s cheek.
Kazia stands frozen as what feels like every eye in the hall turns towards him. A grin tugs at his lips. He’s always loved a performance, and he wants everyone to know how much Lucien belongs to him.
Before he can grab an ill-advised refill of wine, Sei appears in a flurry of blue and white hair. “What happened to your speech? Weren’t you practicing last night?”
“I did, but it sounded stupid. Nobody likes long speeches anyway.” Kazia finishes his drink, then pauses. “What the fuck are you wearing?”
Sei has foregone his usual dragonriding gear for a sleeveless tunic in elegant black—exposing the new tattoo on his left arm. Isanthera blossoms spiral from wrist to shoulder, gold ink shimmering at the edges of the blue petals.
“Do you like it?” Sei turns, showing off the tattoo. “I wanted to get a fellcat, but Osric said it would be weird for him.”
Kazia frowns. “The tattoo is pretty, but did you bring a coat? You’re going to be cold.”
“That’s fine.” Sei leans in conspiratorially. “Marek can always warm me up.”
Kazia refuses to dignify that with a response.
Sei looks around the hall, arm braced on his hip to show off the tattoo. “This place looked prettier for our wedding. You know, Marek blew me on the altar, in this very room.”
Kazia can’t believe he ever worried about this poor, pitiful grail. “I didn’t know that, and I still don’t know that. Goodbye!”
He shoves his empty glass into Sei’s hands, then retreats before he hears anything else horrifying.
Lucien is nowhere in sight, which is fine. Kazia survived plenty of parties before he met Lucien. He smiles at random nobles, who nervously smile back, until Daromir catches up to him.
“Vana is looking for you,” Daromir says. “He’s over by the wine fountain.”
“Thanks,” Kazia says.
Daromir appears stunned by the response. Who knew simple politeness could be so entertaining?
Kazia finds Vana at the wine fountain with Marek. He’s never been so relieved to hang out with his brothers. Vana hands Kazia a plate of tiny hadarnut cakes. Not his favorite, but he doesn’t hate them.
“You did well today,” Vana says.
“Don’t sound so surprised.” Kazia pokes Marek’s arm, then brushes off the crumbs. “Your husband is a menace.”
“I know,” Marek sighs dreamily. Then he nudges Vana. “Speaking of husbands, Vana Azri. Are you really making Daromir work today?”
Sure enough, Daromir lurks on the outskirts of the gathering, ever the watchful guard.
Vana just laughs—far more easily than he used to during their childhood. “No, I gave him the day off. Turns out Daro actually just hates parties.”
Marek snorts. “You call this a party? I haven’t seen a single kegstand.”
As Marek and Vana chat, Kazia realizes he’s happy.
There are still occasional awkward undercurrents, but turns out Vana and Marek aren’t so bad. When they aren’t being turned against each other. When none of them are being held against their will. When Kazia isn’t afraid they’ll hurt him.
