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“This is not the Timeless Court,” says the Queen. “This is Vylenor.”
“Your Majesty, Prince Vanel,” says Perl with another bow. “I am here to beg forgiveness for leaving the Ice Court so abruptly and make my peace with the realm of Faerie before I return to the mortal lands. And before I do, I wish, humbly, to request a boon.”
The Queen’s face turns sour, “You are not here to stay?”
Perl looks uncomfortable, “Majesty, I cannot. My place is not here.”
The Queen’s face hardens slightly. “But you will stay a night at least. I will have your chambers prepared. Prince Vanel, see to it.”
“Me?” The golden-haired prince sounds quite indignant.
“Yes, you. Surely you are as delighted as I to have Perlash here. You can show him how welcome he is by ensuring he is comfortable.” She claps her hands. “And to mark this moment, my own sweet family together and whole, I will throw a grand Silver Ball on the morrow in honour of this most blessed day.”
A murmur of excitement goes around the courtiers at this declaration. Kerik glances at Perl. He looks absolutely horrified. But he bows again, saying. “You honour me, Queen Exeinil, Perfection Beyond Comprehension.”
“And at the ball,” the Queen says, “you may request this boon of me.”
5
PERL
Swiftly, Perl urges Kerik back to his feet and lets him walk behind him as they take the glittering passageways of Vylenor to his old chamber.
His heart sinks at the thought of a formal ball and all that will entail, just the type of event he had hoped to avoid. But he takes a breath. He can manage one night of fae revelry. And overall that went better than he had expected.
For some reason Queen Exeinil is very taken with Kerik. It may be that she can sense the latent power from his fae blood and finds him enchanting because of it. He has heard that many fae find mortals with some fae blood strangely attractive. Which will certainly be helpful. So long as no one realises that is the reason.
When they reach Perl’s own chambers, he is surprised to find himself quite pleased to see them. They are simple and functional, very much to his taste, the walls are white and unadorned, free of the gilding and jewels that cover most of Vylenor. The large bed has a frame of glossy black archenwud. There is a black fur rug on the white floor. And he will be able to speak with Kerik here in private. Now they are in Vylenor, he needs to make sure Kerik knows what is required of him.
Kerik walks into the chambers after Perl and looks around, staring wherever he pleases in a manner that is really not acceptable for a thrall.
“What do you require?” Vane asks, lounging in the chamber doorway, making no attempt to hide how much he resents being asked to wait on Perl. It is heartening, in a way, to see how little he has changed. His thrall, Seridil, has followed him from the Ice Hall and stands behind him, beautiful as ever with his red-gold curls and a matching copper-coloured collar. He is well trained, his gaze on the floor. Perl tries not to look at him.
Perl wants to be rid of Vane, and especially Seridil, as soon as possible, but he quite enjoys saying, “Hot water, fresh linens. That should be all.”
Vane waves a hand in the air. Perl feels the soft, easy crackle of Vane’s magic — the lazy power of a fae who spends all his time in Vylenor — as he adjusts the washroom behind the closed door in the corner of the chamber.
“And you will require a thrall bed for that,” Vane says, looking at Kerik with his lip curling in distaste.
Perl feels himself flush. Of course he needs a bed for Kerik. “Oh, yes. I suppose,” he says, trying to sound airy as if he simply hasn’t given a thought to where his thrall might sleep.
Vane waves again. A small pallet appears on the floor beside Perl’s bed, which makes Kerik startle.
When Perl looks at Vane, he notices that he too is amused by Kerik’s shocked reaction to magic. “You’re spoiling this thing,” Vane says, looking at Kerik but clearly addressing Perl. “Do you actually permit it just to stand there staring. Shouldn’t it be facing the wall at least if you are not using it?”
Perl shrugs idly. “He’s rather new. He’s still learning the rules.”
“Learning?” Vane looks Kerik up and down. “I know you think this creature pretty, but I’d give it a taste of the strap for standing gawping like that. It should be in the corner, silenced, or kneeling with its forehead on the floor. Wherever did you find it? Does it even know its positions?”
Perl takes a step closer to Kerik. He touches Kerik’s bare waist protectively. “Don’t tell me how to treat my own thrall, Vane.”
Vane laughs. He steps forward and grabs Kerik’s upper arm. He squeezes it hard enough to hurt. Perl notices the way Kerik swallows a yelp.
“Mortals are so very meaty,” Vane says, still mauling Kerik’s arm, Perl can see Vane’s pale fingers digging into Kerik’s muscle. “Is that what you like? Hot meat? Brute power on its knees?”
“I like what I like,” Perl says tightly.
Vane loosens his grip, but he doesn’t take his hand from Kerik’s skin. He walks around Kerik, trailing a finger across his back, his other arm and then his chest, skirting round his nipples. Kerik stands tall for the inspection, chin lifted and shoulders back. He looks very fine. “Could I have it for the night?” Vane says as he completes his circuit.
