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Vane leans towards Perl, so close his fall of jewelled hair brushes Perl’s cheek. His voice drops low. “Oh, I think you do.” His eyes slide to Kerik. They linger for a distinct moment over the writing on Kerik’s chest. “Bring that thrall.”

Perl glances at Kerik too, then says, “Very well.”

Vane looks delighted. “Seridil, fetch some twilight-fine.”

“Master,” Seridil says, twirling elegantly away.

Vane steers Perl with a hand on the small of his back over to a small alcove, filled with a curved settle of white wood. Perl and Vane sit down on the settle’s cushions of pale silk and lace. Vane’s thralls kneel at his feet so Kerik does likewise before Perl.

Seridil reappears with two tall flutes of the strange black liquid that sparkles with oily colours. Is it wine? It looks nothing like any wine Kerik has ever seen in Azuria. Nevertheless he would like to try it, but he isn’t surprised when the flutes are given to Perl and Vane.

“Now, this amusing rumour,” Vane says as Seridil slides elegantly into position, kneeling alongside the other thralls at Vane’s feet. Vane strokes his coppery hair idly.

Perl takes a sip from his flute and says, “Do I wish to hear this?”

“Oh, you really do,” Vane says, leaning forward to tap Perl’s leather covered knee. “It will interest you.” He pauses for a moment, before announcing, “Some here are gossiping about you and your thrall, saying that you take that mortal thing,” he points down at Kerik, “back to your chambers and strip to kneel before it just as it is pretending to kneel for you now. Isn’t that delightful? A fae kneeling before a mortal. Such a vile depravity.”

Kerik can see the tension in Perl’s body. His finger tips are white on his wine flute. Not only are Perl’s true tastes clear to Kerik, it seems the Ice Court of Vylenor suspects the truth enough that it is the subject of gossip.

Although from Vane’s tone, Kerik thinks it likely he started this current rumour about Perl himself.

“Quite ridiculous,” Perl says tightly. “The creature is my thrall.”

“Yes,” says Vane. “Indeed.”

Vane says, “Oh, don’t be sour with me, Perlash. Let us have some pleasure. Won’t you use your thrall alongside me? It has been so long. Seridil, come nearer.”

Vane takes Seridil by the hair and pulls him in close so he is kneeling between Vane’s legs. Kerik watches half-shocked, half-fascinated as Vane removes his codpiece, setting it aside before he unfastens his breeches and takes out his roused cock. Kerik is a little surprised to see it looks exactly like a mortal man’s cock. He’d half expected fae cocks to be strange in some way. To have barbs or move like snakes.

Vane offers his cock to Seridil, with an elegant beringed hand curled around its base. Seridil’s mouth falls open obediently and Vane slides himself between Seridil’s lips. “Just hold it,” Vane says idly, stroking Seridil’s hair. He turns to Perl, “Won’t you join me? Let me see how that creature has bewitched you so.”

“I have already told Queen Exeinil that I prefer to take pleasure in private.”

Vane narrows his eyes and strokes Seridil’s hair again, watching Perl idly. “Is that so? And why would that be? Because you have developed mortal tastes for privacy in your hundred year exile or because the rumours are true and you would still prefer to kneel and suck?”

Very suddenly, so suddenly he almost knocks Kerik backwards, Perl stands. “I have had enough of this diabolical place,” he says, quite loudly, as if he is announcing it to the entire room.

“Then you should return to wherever you have been these last hundred years, Perl,” Vane says. “Or you might end up where you really belong.”

Pointedly, Vane looks up, right up to the highest point of the domed ceiling of the hall. Perl’s gaze follows. Kerik’s too. It is the first time he has really looked at what is up there. It seems so high and distant. The Ice Hall is well lit by the strange light that illuminates Vylenor, but it does not reach as high as the ceiling. There are only dancing shadows, lit by the flames. But there appears to be something inside the cage. A figure. A man. Kerik blinks. He cannot be sure what he is seeing. Perhaps it is simply some faerie illusion.

But perhaps not.

That is where Vane thinks Perl belongs? Is that cage some kind of fae punishment?

Perl’s cheeks are lit with anger. “How dare you—,” he begins.

But Vane cuts him off. “Sit down, Perlash,” he says. “Sit down and calm yourself by having that creature warm your cock.”

Perl looks as if he is about to say something else, but he says nothing. He sits down and puts a hand on Kerik’s head.

Kerik is waiting for Perl to open his breeches and do as he is bid. But Perl issues no order, he simply says, “Queen Exeinil decreed that my thrall be bitted for the evening.”

Vane gives Perl a narrow eyed look, but does not insist. Perhaps this is an end to the matter. Instead, Vane snaps, “Seridil, stop,” at his own thrall. “Get out of my way.”

Seridil takes his mouth off Vane's cock and moves aside, giving Vane the space to lean closer to Kerik. It leaves Vane’s cock exposed, jutting spit-wet from his breeches.

Vane slips his cool hand between the top of the high collar and Kerik’s chin.