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Perl steps through the curtain, pulling Kerik behind him with a hand tight on his upper arm.

Passing through the silver rain is a strange feeling. It does not feel wet, but it prickles. A sweet sensation.

Beyond the archway is a canopied pavilion. Chairs and settles in fine silk face a large bed festooned with pale lace that sparkles as if encrusted with jewels and yet drapes as lightly as air.

On the bed is The Queen, her dress a great froth of fine white silk. Behind her, her wings are as wide as the bed itself, also shimmering white. Her thrall is with her, the dark-haired fae, dressed as Kerik is with his dark blue wings folded elegantly down his back. The Queen also has two female mortals, thralls dressed in tiny wisps of fabric around their hips and nothing on their upper bodies but jewels and glittering paint. It looks like a scene from a pillow house entertainment.

As they enter, The Queen reaches out to Perl with her pale arms. “Ah, Perlash-zeren-ai. My sweet exile. You took your time to come to pay respects.”

Kerik wonders what paying respects means here. He knows what it means in Azuria, a formal swearing of fealty. But here it could mean anything and likely will be something strange and twisted.

Perl approaches the bed and leans over it, touching his forehead to The Queen’s. Her hands dance down his back, stroking the place his wings emerge from his skin. As she moves her thralls both shift to caress her.

When Perl leans back, he says, “I have been simply making my way to you, my Queen. Many people wish to speak with me after my long absence from court.”

“Do they?” The Queen pauses to kiss one of the thralls deeply on the lips before continuing. “No great matter. You are here now. And you have brought that pretty thing. I see you have left it unbitted.”

Kerik doesn’t know what that could mean, but he is certain Perl would not be happy if he asked.

“I like his mouth available,” Perl says.

Oh. Bitted. Like a bit that a horse would wear. He is after all, wearing something akin to a bridle. Kerik feels relieved he is not wearing a bit in his mouth, although he bristles at the idea that the reason is so his mouth is available to Perl.

“Oh, its mouth.” says The Queen, sounding delighted. “Is that your preferred pleasure? I suppose it does look sweet. And a bit would mar its handsome face.”

“Quite, my Queen, just look at it. I have never felt such lust for another creature.” As Perl speaks he steps aside and turns so he can gaze upon Kerik’s face. He raises a hand and uses one crooked finger under the lip of the high collar to lift Kerik’s chin even further so they are staring into each other’s eyes.

Kerik can see something in Perl’s expression. A sense that he is doing all he can to communicate something. Something desperate. Likely, an insistence that Kerik behave.

The Queen sighs. “It really is quite a beast of a thing to have on its knees. But it is delightful how enamoured of your thrall you are. You must give me a demonstration. Take it. Take it before me. I want to see how it has bewitched you so.” She claps her hands “I want to see it fucked. A Queen must look out for her subjects, after all, and I need to ensure there is no dark magic at work in this delightful connection.”

Perl is still looking at Kerik and panic lights his eyes. “Mortals don’t like that sort of thing.”

“No. I’ve heard it said that they have different rules about public coupling. Although these ones of mine do love to be used any way they can get it. They crave it.” The Queen breaks off to slap the face of one of her thralls. The same one she kissed a moment ago. The thrall gasps as if rocked with pleasure. “But if your thrall has such concerns, it's a good thing we don’t care about what mortals want, isn’t it, Perlash-zeren-ai?”

“Nevertheless,” Perl says. “I would prefer not to.”

The Queen looks thoughtful. “You know, Perlash. I thought when you’d turned up with this creature you were making a strong statement about your true heritage. It would be a great shame to think that was all for show and that your father’s nature is strong in you, especially when your mother was such a perfect fae.”

Kerik sees a strange look cross Perl’s face. He has made no reference to his parentage, although he does seem to be of a high status here in the faerie realm. So they must be of some importance. Kerik wonders if Perl would answer him if he asked about them the next time they are alone.

Perl is so full of secrets for a creature that claims it cannot lie.

The Queen continues. “But if you are so bound by the strange conventions of mortals. At least show me your professed desire by kissing it. As you are so enamoured of its pretty mouth that you leave it free of a bit. Kiss that thrall you are so devoted to. Or fuck it. One or the other. Now.”

Kerik sees the way Perl shivers before he says, “Of course, my Queen. I can barely resist kissing it every chance I get.”

Kerik takes a breath as Perl steps closer. He looks scared. Kerik looks at him.

Softly Perl murmurs, “Please? I fear we must do this. Would you mind?”

Kerik raises an eyebrow.

“Please,” Perl says again.

Kerik moves close too, as if coming in for the kiss, but pauses and says, speaking just as softly, “You wish me to permit this?”

Kerik can see Perl’s already pale skin turn paler. Kerik isn’t sure if fae get nauseous if they never eat, but if Perl was a man, Kerik would think he was deeply sickened.