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Dress for a holiday party, the invitation said. Handwritten, in Aster’s distinct script on whisper-green paper of striking weight that Dante had recognized among the stack when Gyro had brought the letters. Even in the places where the pen had rested, giving Dante the impression that Aster must have paused to think as he composed the note, the black ink hadn’t bled through.
The invitation did not specify what holiday they would be celebrating, nor what would be appropriate to wear—were the festivities indoor or out? Had Aster taken their constitutions into consideration? Unlike him, Dante was unused to cold climates and would likely fall ill if exposed to them for too long. But there wasn’t time to clarify the details before he departed for the Royal City in time for the Light Territory’s Wintertime Ceremony. He ordered his winter wardrobe shipped to Aster’s mansion ahead of his arrival.
Presently, he was sitting at the end of the dining table in a custom-tailored suit that Aster had presented him that afternoon. At the table’s center was the remains of a fine roast beast that Dante had brought with him from the Fire Territory, which had prepared by that snake spirit—Yakumo, the one who was quick to tears—as expertly as Dante’s own chefs could have done. A feat, considering the beast’s size, though Aster’s kitchen was certainly nothing to sniff at. Besides the roast were several types of spiced winter vegetables, a thick sauce made from meat drippings and an excellent port wine, an ample bowl of fresh salad from the greenhouse, an assortment of bread, and a platter of chocolates. More desserts were laid on the buffet table against the wall, along with polished silver pots of tea and something the Grand Sorcerer called hot chocolate.
The Christmas party, Aster had confided when Dante had arrived three nights ago, was the Grand Sorcerer’s idea—a gift, Eiden had said when he gave his toast at the beginning of the meal, to thank the clan members for all they’d done for him since he’d arrived. Dante could have done without such thanks. He would much rather have spent the evening in Aster’s bedroom watching him model the gifts Dante had brought him, but for Aster’s sake he had raised his glass.
Dante was the last one at the table. Even the old forest guardian, his final companion, had gotten up to look at the desserts. The others were gathered beneath the doorway leading into the main hall, where Eiden was attaching something to the top of the doorjamb.
“Aster, I’m afraid this is going to leave a hole in the wood,” Eiden said. “Is that okay?”
Even from a table’s length away, Dante could see the tension in Aster’s face despite laughing as he told Eiden to do what he liked. He’d ordered a new suit for himself as well, midnight blue, cut from the finest silk on the continent, and to the tops of his boots he’d added tiny polished bells so that every time he moved, a chorus followed. The bells just now were silent, the echo from an aborted half-step already faded. Could no one else tell he was distressed, least of all that so-called sorcerer? Imbeciles.
Dante shifted uncomfortably in the chair, soured by his incapacity to intervene. While Aster had gladly accepted gifts from a visiting sovereign, Dante did not think he would welcome an intercession that would, by its nature, expose how things stood between them. Or might the others dismiss it as arrogance on Dante’s part and spare Aster the explanation? Yes, if he played the scene correctly: scolded Eiden for his thoughtlessness—who defiled such fine mill work for the sake of a commoners’ game?—and demanded the forest guardian, the only other as tall as Dante, hold the thing instead.
Just as he opened his mouth to protest, Edmond called “Wait!” and produced something from his pocket. Turning a reddened cheek, he added, “Adhesive strips. I carry them for wardrobe emergencies.”
The fox brushed his nose twice in seeming amusement.
“You sure you don’t mind me using them?” Eiden said.
Edmond coughed. “Better than damaging the molding.”
Eiden took the strips with a smile and affixed the whatever-it-was to the center of the doorway.
“Darling~!” The e-droid was twirling to choral music that floated from an adjacent room. “How does the game work again?”
“It’s not really a game,” Eiden said. “I guess you could call it a holiday tradition. I worked part-time in a Christmas market back in high school. That’s where I learned about it. If two people find themselves underneath the mistletoe, they have to kiss. Mistletoe doesn’t grow here, but these berries Yakumo found are close enough!”
“Ah, in that case . . . !” Blade helped Eiden down from the chair he was standing on and caught him around the waist, dipping him backwards before kissing him on the mouth.
The reactions were varied: Aster smiled politely. Morvay twisted his mouth as though debating the merit. The priest had bowed his head. Garu (or was it Karu? Dante couldn’t tell them apart unless they opened their mouths) crossed his arms and frowned. The fox took a deep breath and with a roll of his eyes, glanced at the forest guardian, who hadn’t been watching at all, his fur-clad back to the room as he refilled his tea. Yakumo blushed but looked excited nonetheless, and Edmond had turned away completely to pick through the dessert selection.
Dante took a long drink from his glass. Aster had promised him the best bottle from his private reserve in exchange for Dante’s attendance tonight. He would have obeyed without the wine, but such an excellent vintage took the edge off of the evening, especially when Blade swept Eiden to standing and turned on his heel to plant a kiss on Aster’s lips.
“Oh!” Aster sputtered with a musical laugh and brought a hand to cover his mouth. A single gold bracelet shone where his sleeve pulled back.
“Little Aster was under the mistletoe too,” Blade said happily. “Darling, am I playing it right?”
“You’re doing great,” said Eiden, who had relocated to the hot chocolate pot and was pouring a mug.
Dante fussed with his collar to loosen it. It was suddenly scorching in here! Where were the servants? Someone ought to do something about the temperature in the room. The fire had been overfed. Careless. Dante tssked into his glass. He’d speak with Aster about reprimanding the staff once the party was over.
Across the room, Blade was targeting his next victims. The priest laughed and pressed his hands to Blade’s cheeks as their mouths touched. Yakumo accepted his kiss demurely, dark eyes fluttering closed as his cheeks flushed more deeply. As he and Blade parted, Yakumo touched his lips.
“Thank you, Mr. Blade,” he said behind his hand.
“Mm!” Blade said and bent over to kiss Garu-who-might-be-Karu before he could resist.
Since Blade was not attacked afterwards, Dante deduced that Garu must be the one in attendance. But a fight was brewing, for Blade had backed Edmond against the wall, arms bracketed on either side to prevent the knight’s escape, and had leaned forward with his lips pursed.
“What do you take me for?” Edmond demanded. “Release me at once!”
“Aw, don’t you want to play darling’s game?” Blade said with a pout. “Yakumo went to all the trouble of finding the berries. Darling, you said this party was a gift for all of us, right? And I read in one of the etiquette books you had me study that gifts should be graciously accepted. You’ll accept darling’s gift, won’t you, Little Ed?”
Edmond expelled the contents of his lungs and shut his eyes.
“Fine. In the name of celebration, I will allow you this favor. Once.”
They kissed, by Dante’s count, for a quarter minute. Edmond didn’t even appear embarrassed about it afterwards, still pressed against the same spot on the wall with his mouth half-open even after Blade had released him.
Shameless.
“Ahh,” Blade moaned. “Mr. Quincy has moved too far away.”
He fixed his eyes on the fox.
Kuya expertly avoided Blade’s lips, but to Dante’s surprise, thrust out a hand and allowed Blade to kiss that instead.
“Darling, is this kind of kiss permitted?” Blade asked, looking up.
Eiden was eating some type of fruit cake now and paused with a fork halfway to his mouth. “Uhh . . . there really aren’t any rules. It’s whatever you decide is okay!”
Taking Kuya’s hand within both of his, Blade planted a long kiss to the back of it.
“So boring,” Kuya said with a bemused smile and sashayed over to where the forest guardian was drinking tea.
Satisfied that the spectacle had ended, Dante reached for the bottle of wine with the intent to finish it and had just refilled his glass when Blade addressed him:
“Lord Jac—ah, I mean Sun Lord Dante, if you don’t stand up, you won’t get kissed!”
Dante cleared his throat. “I have no need.”
“But it’s so pleasant! There are all kinds of nerve endings in the lips. I read a book about it. Lord Dante, have you ever kissed before?”
Though he did not alter his expression, inwardly, Dante was annoyed by such an intimate question, and further annoyed that both people with whom he had experience doing such a thing were standing in this very room. He mustered his self control and fixed his gaze on Blade. The e-droid was merely following its programming. Showing anger would only provide the rest of them a topic for gossip.
“I have,” Dante said.
Blade’s eyes widened. “Ahh, then do you have a lover? I’ve read that people who have lovers don’t always want to kiss other people, since kissing can be seen as a sign of affection.”
As an experienced tactician, Dante should have expected the follow-up question, but it rattled his composure and he disturbed the glass he’d been about to pick up. A dark circle formed around the base where wine soaked into the white tablecloth. The easiest answer was “no.” Who would question a king? But for a monarch to lie, unless paramount for the safety of the nation, was to break faith with the people. His mother’s counsel.
And had she not left him with that principle, he still could not bring himself to disgrace Aster, even indirectly.
“I do,” Dante said.
Every eye in the room turned toward him—every eye but two. Aster had become suddenly curious about the dessert spread and was piling chocolates he would not eat onto a plate.
“I didn’t realize!” Eiden said. He pulled out his chair and returned to the dining table. “I hope I haven’t caused any trouble for you.”
“No,” Dante said with a light cough into his fist. “It’s . . . recent.”
“What are they like?”
There was no getting out of this. Even the old fox seemed intrigued. He had a hand on the forest guardian’s shoulder and was looking at Dante with a glint in his eye, almost a challenge. What was the harm in answering honestly? They weren’t in Solaria. The people before him were not his subjects. Some might say they were his equals. If not for their connection through the gemstones, he might never have come here. He might never have met Aster. He would not know the feel of arms tight around his neck after significant time apart, the peace found in listening to someone sleep, the thrill of seeing his gift—and only his gift—on Aster’s wrist. What was the harm in boasting about him a little?
“Sophisticated,” Dante said. “Intelligent.”
“Are they from the Fire Territory?”
Dante paused. “No.”
Eiden blinked in surprise. “Oh! I figured it was another royal. Will we get to meet them sometime?”
Before he could stop himself, Dante glanced at Aster—only a flick of his eyes, though when he returned them to his glass, he felt that he had emptied the contents of his heart onto the table along with the food. They had never discussed what to do if the other clan members learned of their relationship. It was known to the palace guards and Dante’s advisors—anyone who was likely to see Aster around the palace—but Aster had given no indication that he desired recognition of their affair, nor would welcome it.
At a rare loss for words, Dante wet his lips to buy precious seconds. “I cannot speak for them.”
The bells on Aster’s boots twinkled as he returned to the table and pulled out the chair opposite Dante’s. “Sophisticated, you say, my lord?” Aster cooed, his chin supported by a gloved hand.
Heart pounding, for he could not be certain if Aster was irritated or being playful, Dante nodded. Aster smiled.
“I suppose they’re also very beautiful.”
His eyebrows ticking up, Dante replied, “Exceedingly.”
“I wish you had let me know. I would have been all too pleased to extend another invitation . . . if you would have wanted them to accompany you, of course.”
“Then I’ll send word next time.”
“You seem terribly fond of them,” Aster said and coyly batted his eyes. “Almost like you’re in love.”
Dante lifted his chin. “And if I am?”
“Do they love you in return?”
“They need me.”
“You’re satisfied with that?” Aster asked.
“I am.”
Aster’s placid expression folded into contemplation. He motioned to the e-droid to fetch the plant that the Grand Sorcerer had hung in the doorway and sprang to his feet again, skipping down the length of the table in time to the music. When he had reached the opposite end where Dante sat, Aster held the sprig of greenery above their heads, and with his free hand, angled Dante’s face so they gazed at one another.
Aster’s eyes reflected the candlelight. “My lord, it seems you’re beneath the mistletoe,” he said.
Though Dante’s lips trembled, he sat straighter. “Is this a challenge, vampire?”
“Uh, Aster . . .?” Eiden said. “Maybe we shouldn’t tease him.”
“It’s alright,” Aster said on a laugh, close enough that Dante caught the scent of his own blood. “His lover won’t mind.”
Aster’s cool lips pressed to his and for a while, Dante forgot there were other people in the room. As they had dozens of times, his hands sought out Aster’s waist to draw him closer, and only when they’d settled on his hips, over the fine blue silk, did he realize what he’d done. But it was too late to undo it. He held still and allowed Aster to do as he liked. The kiss outlasted all of the others. When Aster finally broke away, he had a healthy flush to his cheeks and traced the side of Dante’s face with gloved nails.
“I like this suit on you,” he murmured, quietly, so the others would not hear. Trapped in the chair beneath him, Dante felt feverish.
“You chose it.”
His smile complacent, Aster lowered the sprig and laid it on the table alongside Dante’s glass. He pressed his lips together the way he did when reviewing contracts. Dante had seen that face plenty of times whenever Aster stayed at the palace. The other clan members were quiet, watching, except for the forest guardian who had nodded off against the wall, and the fox who seemed content to regard him instead.
Aster re-positioned a branch in the nearest table arrangement. “My lord,” he said in his regular tone of voice. “I’m certain that you are loved.”
Rare events moved Dante to tears. His parents’ funeral, though he’d refused to allow anyone to see him break down. The morning that Aster had arrived, near death, at the palace. And now. He blushed at the foreign sting in his eyes.
“Little Aster,” Blade said. “You know Lord Jackass's lover?!”
“Silly,” Aster said fondly and returned his hand to cradle Dante’s face, brushing at the corner of his eye where tears had gathered. “You all know me.”
An hour past midnight, Aster was still congratulating himself on the spectacle as they lounged on his bed—Aster giddy on fresh blood, Dante enjoying the pleasant lethargy that came after feeding.
“You taste like spice today,” Aster said, outlining the bite marks on Dante’s neck.
His thoughts hazy from blood loss and the the wine at dinner, Dante made a sound of acknowledgement in response and adjusted the pillow under his head.
“Word will spread,” he said when he found the energy to speak.
“Does it bother you?”
“If it did, I would have ended things before now.”
“Such a romantic.” Aster ran a fingertip from Dante’s forehead to the tip of his nose. “Did you think I meant to hide it? If so, I apologize. The discretion was for your sake.”
“Gyro will want to issue a statement,” Dante said.
Aster giggled and burrowed into Dante’s side. “Will I receive a Solarian title?”
“If you desire one, you only need to ask.”
“Which do you think would suit me best?”
Not for the first time, Dante imagined Aster on his arm at a state dinner, the drape of desert-light fabric over one shoulder, the other bare, a second bracelet like the first on his arm and a circlet in his hair. He would float through the room, disarming anyone he spoke to, and leave a wake of admirers who had forgotten they had come for an audience with the Sun Lord. And when the evening had concluded, they would retire to the Sun Lord’s personal rooms where Aster belonged only to him.
Inhibitions lowered, the words slipped effortlessly from Dante’s mouth:
“Prince Consort.”
Silence. The pressure of Aster’s finger lifted from his nose. Dante cursed his misstep and turned his head to apologize—he’d pushed too far tonight and offended him—but he stopped at the stunned look on Aster’s face, his wide red eyes. The smirk he’d worn all evening had vanished.
Dante drew a breath. “I spoke without thinking. Don’t take it to heart.”
“Are you withdrawing the offer?” Aster asked carefully.
Not the rejection that he had anticipated. “No,” Dante said. “Do you intend to counter?”
Aster shook his head. “No.”
“You’re satisfied with the terms?”
“What about my mansion?”
“Things can stay as they are in that regard. I don’t ask for your freedom.”
A faint smile returned to his lips, and Aster bent to kiss Dante’s cheek. “Prince Consort. Now that would be quite an arrangement.” He blew out the candles beside the bed, plunging the room to shadows, and curled up against Dante’s chest with a sigh. “I’ll consider it.”