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Lyr finds it strange to see such a thing, especially when it only feels like moments ago that Damon had held him to the wall in that room with the giant tapestry and kissed him like he wanted to drown in it.

Damon leads Lyr down the stairs of the Tower of the Heir to a suite of rooms on one of the lower floors. Before they even pass through the wide black doors, Lyr can hear the sounds of revelry. Pipes and drums and singing ring out under shouts and cheers. Damon and Lyr enter the chamber to find it full of people drinking and puffing on pipes of moonleaf. The crowds appear to be mostly whores and soldiers. The whores are dressed very indecently, loose fabric that covers little skin.

Damon greets Trysta with a firm embrace. She wears her black leather jerkin and has Razelii on her arm, dressed in wisps of gauze. Across the room, Lyr can see Opeth is here too, on Atticul’s arm, in a garment so brief she is practically naked.

“What do you think of your first Pleasure Night, King Ramel’s pleasure slave?” says Trysta.

“It is surprising,” Lyr says. “Azuria thinks Jur-Mattan depraved, but in Pellex – although Ramel had a harem of women he took as often as he took his Queen – there was nothing like this. No public coupling. But since I have been here I have seen The Feast of Surrus, and now this. Both things that would never happen in Jur-Mattan.”

Trysta laughs. “Welcome to the hypocritical bosom of Zai,” she says, lifting a flagon of ale.

Before long Damon has his own heavy flagon of bitter argent and Lyr is drinking pearl tonic. The taste is still unpleasant, but he chose it because he enjoys the way it makes his head feel light and his limbs go soft. He takes it slow, however. He wants to feel calm, but still be able to be vigilant. Lyr enjoys having time to talk to Razelii and Trysta, standing close to Damon, laughing when Trysta mocks him. When they start telling old stories, his mind drifts a little and he thinks of what it would have been like if Damon had let him go to his knees in that small room with the tapestry, the desire he’d have seen on Damon’s face even as he would have looked down and said no, that they shouldn’t. How beautiful he would have looked when he succumbed. The taste of him.

He thinks of the salt-musk taste of Damon’s cock. How big it is. How easily it fills his mouth. The feel of it deep in his throat. The way it makes it hard to breathe so his skin prickles all over.

Lyr might have only experienced it once, but he feels like nothing in the world is as good as Damon’s cock in his mouth.

Trysta and Razelii take their leave, keen to see more of the Pleasure Night. The urge to kiss Damon is sudden and overwhelming. He knows he can’t. Not here, but he aches to.

He should be used to this feeling of frustration by now, but he isn’t. He satisfies himself by pressing close to Damon’s side.

He is shocked when Damon turns and does kiss him, pressing his lips to Lyr’s. His lips are cool and taste of bitter argent.

Lyr pulls back in shock and frowns at him. “But we must not,” he says quietly. “We must be discreet.”

Lyr licks his lips. He tastes the bitter argent and something else. He looks into Damon’s eyes. He doesn’t look quite right. Lyr’s belly sinks with a cold feeling. Is Damon simply drunk? Has he drunk so much, so quickly? Surely Damon would not allow himself to get drunk in a situation like this.

Is he drugged?

Damon laughs. He strokes Lyr’s face. “This is a Pleasure Night,” he says, “and you are my pleasure.” Lyr can hear a slight slur in his words.

Lyr grabs Damon’s wrist. “Atticul is here,” Lyr says urgently, through tight teeth. “He would have many witnesses to anything you do.”

Damon smiles. “He is. And there is nothing he can do. Pleasure Nights are sanctioned by the Emperor himself. Sins are permitted. I cannot be condemned for anything that I do in this room.” He strokes his other hand up Lyr’s thigh, over his breeches and under his shirt. “The same rules apply as the ones on The Azuria Ascendant. Sins are permitted. You are permitted.” Damon leans in and kisses Lyr again, deeply this time, his tongue slipping into Lyr’s mouth.

Lyr’s head spins. He fights to struggle out of Damon’s arms, pulling his mouth free, although he wishes with all his heart he didn’t have to. He aches for this too. He aches so much. “You would not,” he whispers, “have done this on the Azuria Ascendant.”

“But I should have,” Damon says, voice deep with lust, “I wanted to. I wanted you. When Atticul dosed you with foribunda, I don’t know how I controlled myself. But I was worried about rumours then. I was scared of people knowing what I am. Now, I care not. I will be named Warden of Vashti. I will take you to Felgrace. I will spend every night of my life drowning in your body.”

“But that has not happened yet,” Lyr whispers tightly. “We are not safe yet.”

But when Lyr looks around the room. It seems Damon is right. There are many whores present, many crimes against Zai being committed. He cannot see any other men kissing men, but Razelii and Trysta are entwined together on a settle, only partially hidden from the room by some blue gauze curtains. Many of the men in the room are watching them keenly.

Atticul is nearby, but even he is saying nothing about Damon kissing Lyr. He does have Opeth on his lap, nuzzling his neck, so perhaps he is distracted.

“Azuria is much more decadent than it appears,” Lyr says.

“Do you think so, slave?” Damon says, fingers dancing up and down Lyr’s flank under his shirt. “Do you like it here? Would you let me take you behind one of those curtains?”

“In public?” Lyr exclaims. “In front of all.”

Damon says, “I should have taken you at The Feast of Surrus, in the grove, in front of everyone. Made you scream. Shown them how you scream on my cock. I should do that now.” His hand slides down, into the front of Lyr’s breeches. “Show every man here the pleasures of sins of the body.”

“Damon?” Lyr says, stepping back before Damon’s hand reaches his cock. He has never heard Damon speak like this in a public place. He snatches the cup from Damon’s hand. He sniffs it. The scent is mostly bitter argent, but there is more. “There’s something in your drink,” he says. “What’s the drug that’s in pearl tonic and poppy cake?”

Damon looks at Lyr with glassy eyes. “Sofi?”

“Yes. Damon, there's sofi in this. A lot of it. Do you feel strange?”