“Time to put him to bed.” An elf slapped her hands onto Greyun’s shoulders and pulled him up. “Come on, let’s go.”
“What, just ’cause I’m not willing to suck the pretty noble’s cock?” Greyun’s words slurred, but he wasn’t fighting his friend’s insistence that they needed to leave.
“It’s because you’re too drunk to keep your rudeness to yourself.”
“I’m Kidd, by the way.” The goggle-wearing elf held out his hand while the other two left. Once Durae held his out in return, Kidd grabbed his and shook it. It was a strange custom, but not unpleasant. “Please forgive our friend. He takes stabs at what he can’t have.”
Durae smiled politely while he sipped his wine because he had no clue what to say. He couldn’t suddenly uplift every commoner he met to his status. He didn’t have that sort of money or power. Assuming that was what Kidd was even referring to. His tone implied something else, but what else he could mean was even more of a mystery.
One of the remaining elves slid into the seat Greyun had vacated. “What’s a noble like you doing out on the Glaesflod anyway? Shouldn’t you be at some hoity-toity party?”
“I wanted to explore everything the market has to offer,” Durae replied primly.
The elf gave a mischievous grin. “So you were looking for the brothel?”
The next sip of Durae’s admittedly too-sweet wine caught in his throat. He coughed. “Why would you guess that?”
“Because you wouldn’t be the first noble who wandered in looking for the pleasure house that used to be here,” Kidd said. “I’d wager you’re not even the first in the last hour to do so.”
“Is that what your lordship was looking for?” the other elf asked.
Words tangled on Durae’s tongue. None made it to his lips, and a fierce heat enflamed his cheeks. Was he supposed to admit to strangers that he fantasized about using his groin for more than bodily functions and self-pleasure? But then, how could he talk one into bed if he didn’t? And how could he gain Blaze’s attention? He was the one Durae liked most, but he was still busy.
“No shame if you were, and our apologies if you weren’t,” Kidd said kindly. “And please forgive our bluntness, my lord, if your people don’t discuss the subject of sex so openly.”
“My mother makes announcements on which nights have the most ‘sensual potential’ according to the alignment of celestial bodies,” Durae replied. “She would be horrified that I followed a rumor on a map for the chance to align my body with another’s because I didn’t consult the stars to discover which position would be the most euphoric.”
Blaze’s script spell flickered. He blindly groped behind him, and his hand collided with Durae’s. His spell grew fainter. “Crap. Kidd?—”
“Got ya.” Kidd pulled a scrap of parchment from one of his many pockets and flicked his wrist. A spring-loaded pencil landed in his hand. He began to copy the runes.
While Kidd worked, Blaze remained perfectly still, which meant his hand stayed on top of Durae’s. Such a small amount of contact should have been ordinary, but Durae had to fight the wriggling in his guts. A flush crept into his cheeks—he could feel the heat like sunlight from the inside. He kept his breath soft so not to disturb Blaze’s concentration further, but his spell continued to fade.
“Done,” Kidd announced.
Blaze let out a relieved sigh and sank onto the stool beside Durae. Only once he was seated did he notice that he’d kept his hand where it had landed on Durae’s. He quickly pulled it away with a sheepish guilt. “Please forgive me.”
“I don’t mind,” Durae said quietly. His stupid throat was far too tight to speak louder.
Somehow, the tightness in his throat and the heat in his cheeks were made worse by being able to see Blaze’s eyes more clearly. In the depths of brown, he had tiny flecks of gold, like tiny stars waiting to be mapped into constellations.
“Thank you for your help,” Blaze said.
“I was happy to.”
Blaze opened his mouth, then shut it, then shook his head and laughed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to strike up conversation with you. Asking where you learned cosmomancy seems a poor beginning. Judging from your attire, you’re clearly from Dun Steorra. Cosmomancy is the magic of your people.”
“True. Though I do wonder how everyone keeps assuming I’m nobility.” Durae looked down at his clothes. “I thought my attire was appropriate.”
“It’s the materials. Length of your hair. General softness,” Blaze said. His cheeks became ruddy on the last word, and he busied himself in refilling his cup of ale.
“What is general softness supposed to mean?” Durae asked.
“I don’t mean it as an offense!” Blaze squeaked.
Durae furrowed his brow. “Why would I be offended? I still don’t know what you mean!”
Kidd leaned in, which made Durae realize that he and the other elves had circled around the other end of the table. They seemed to be watching Blaze and Durae with the interest usually reserved for plays or meteor showers. Kidd said, “He means you seem the sort that enjoys long bubble baths of hot water, rarely does manual labor, and likely has a whole cabinet of creams and oils to maintain your appearance.”
