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The halls of the academy echo with frantic, hurried footsteps that shatters through the blessed silence of Guy Avari’s chambers.
It is evening, and he is tucked in on his settee, a book in hand, and a cup of red coffee freshly prepared by Jasper steams on the table before him. Most valets would have long since been dismissed, but Guy Avari is a night owl, unwilling to give into the stillness of sleep.
Guy knew who the dreadful, erratic footsteps belonged to long before they faltered in front of his door, knocking many insistent times.
Guy scowls, “Jasper.”
Jasper is already moving. Guy does not look up as the door swings open abruptly, and in a flurry of barely contained panic, bursts Valentino Maes, the perpetually anxious valet of Lynt Akedia.
“I am dreadfully sorry!” The words spill from him in a breathless gasp, though he continues further inside without any regard for permission. His boots squeak awfully on the floor as he practically skids to a graceless stop in front of Guy.
“Prince Avari!”
Guy finally lifts his eyes, cold as ice. "This better be important.”
It’s impossible to tell if it is. Valentino walks around with near-constant panic etched into his features… Though he looks more panicked than usual. Guy sits up straighter.
"I beg your forgiveness for my poor manners," Valentino wheezes like he’s run a marathon. "It’s Young Master Lynt. He’s sick, terribly sick!”
“Oh dear, that is no good,” Jasper says, entirely unphased by being pushed aside so suddenly.
Guy sighs, unimpressed. Valentino is wasting his time to tell him that Lynt… what? Had a case of the sniffles? He hardly sees how this could concern him.
"And?" he asks, his voice bored. "How does that concern me?"
Jasper glances over, his brow raised in quiet curiosity. "What are Prince Lynt’s symptoms?"
Valentino’s features darken with an even greater panic. "H-He’s feverish, delirious even! He... he simply refuses to let me care for him!”
Guy’s eyes narrow into slits, closing the book in his hand with a violent snap. “Why not simply drag him to his chambers?”
“He forbade me!” Valentino squeaks. “I have tried, Your Highness, but he refuses to be transported by magical means and will not allow me to carry him either!”
“He cannot refuse you,” Guy scoffs. “You’re his valet, it’s your duty to see to his every need.”
“He asked for you, Your Highness! He keeps mumbling your name insisting you can help him.”
A soft murmur escapes from Jasper, “How odd.”
Guy leans back in his chair, arms folding over his chest. “So, he’s sick, and you can’t take care of him so you expect me to come running to his aid because of his half-mad ramblings?” His voice drips with disdain. “Ridiculous. I have more important matters than coddling him.”
"It’s more than coddling he’s—he’s—well, just come and see," Valentino trails off. His frantic eyes beg Guy to read between the lines where his words fail to elaborate.
Guy raises an eyebrow. He’s used to being begged for things, but never has he been asked to be someone else’s nursemaid, let alone a Prince’s.
Jasper, sensing that his master might need a little pushing in the correct direction, says, “We should depart at once, Lord Guy,” he suggests. “At least assess the situation and see if there is anything I can do to aid him.”
Guy turns his gaze to Jasper before settling once more on Valentino, whose eyes are filled with unshed tears. With a long-suffering sigh, Guy rises to his feet, “Lead me to him.”
Valentino doesn’t waste any time. He scurries toward the door, his steps quick and urgent, leading Guy and Jasper down the hall until they reach the S-Rank Lounge.
Valentino, in his panic, nearly shoves Guy through the door, his voice a low whisper, “He’s in there.”
The lounge is dimly lit, the candles little more than smoldering embers, their wax exhausted by the late hour. It takes a moment for Guy to spot him, eyes adjusting to the dark, scanning the room until they see him in the corner of the room. Lynt Akedia lies sprawled on a couch fast asleep, which in of itself is not out of the ordinary, but he looks nothing short of dreadful. His skin is flushed, his golden hair damp with sweat. His breathing is shallow and ragged, and his lips move faintly, forming words that Guy can’t quite catch from across the room.
A scowl tugs at Guy’s lips as he stares at the pathetic figure. “Why has he been allowed in the lounge in this state?”
Valentino wrings his hands, “Young Master Lynt had tea with Prince Qelsum after his lectures concluded, but never returned to his chambers. I was busy with some extra work, but when hours passed and I still hadn’t seen him, I went to retrieve him and then…” He falters, his voice trembling. “I found him in this state with Prince Qelsum nowhere to be found. He was perfectly healthy this morning!”
Guy's scowl deepens at the mention of Qelsum, yet even he cannot bring himself to believe Toa would leave Lynt unattended in this state. It is more likely that Lynt simply fell asleep and Qelsum thought nothing of it.
Jasper kneels beside Lynt, beginning to perform an examination of the prince, but the moment their skin makes contact, Lynt recoils from his touch, his eyes snap open, wide and filled with fear, and a weak cry of protest escapes his lips.
“I can’t…I can’t..” Lynt whispers frantically, shaking his head empathetically as though trying to clear himself of the fever consuming him.
Valentino sinks to his knees beside Lynt, brushing the damp strands of hair away from Lynt’s fevered skin in a desperate attempt to soothe him. “You’re okay, Young Master. Jasper and Master Avari are here to help.”
Lynt’s eyes are glassy and unfocused as they dart around the dim room. When they land on Guy, there’s a flicker of recognition despite his fevered state. “Guy…?”
"Yes, it’s me," Guy replies, his tone as cool and unaffected as ever.
He kneels beside Valentino, his hand hovering for a moment before pressing against the burning skin of Lynt’s forehead. The prince shudders at the touch, his breath hitching as Guy’s fingers glide over his skin. Lynt leans into the contact, murmuring something incoherent.
“Guy,” Lynt whispers his name again, his voice faint but filled with desperation. “Don’t leave.”
Guy raises an eyebrow at the plea. He withdraws his hand from Lynt’s cheek, a disapproving sigh escaping him. "Allow Jasper to examine you." He turns his attention back to Jasper, signaling for him to continue.
Jasper complied, his voice calm, almost soothing, as he tries once more to examine the prince. “Master Lynt, I need to check your vitals. Would you please allow me to examine you further?” Lynt looks up at him, the fever still burning in his eyes. He nods weakly.
Jasper helps Lynt recline further on the couch, checking his forehead once more for fever, his hands moving to his face to check for signs of inflammation before taking his pulse. All the while Lynt whimpers at every point their skin connects, his body recoiling as though it cannot bear the sensation of another person’s skin against his.
Guy watches the exchange with a detached air, his eyes sharp and assessing. Something is amiss, as if there's more to the illness than a simple fever.
When Jasper finally finishes his examination, he rises to his feet. “His fever is quite severe. His sinuses are clear and uninflamed, but his heart rate is very high at 116 beats per minute. There are no signs of a cold or anything else that would point to a typical illness. Has he shown any signs of nausea, Tino?”
Tino shakes his head, face pale with worry. "No, he hasn't mentioned anything like that. I gave him some tea before I came for your aid, and he kept it down."
“We should get him to his chambers so that he can rest," Jasper says. “I know of a potion that can aid in reducing fever. I will prepare it at once.”
“I’ll transport him to his bed,” Guy summons his magic to the surface of his being with a flick of his wrist.
Valentino scrambles to his feet, "Magic is too rough! He needs—” He hesitates, visibly regretting the next words. “Gentler care.”
Too rough? The words grind on Guy’s nerves. It hardly matters at a time like this. He lowers his hand, staring at Valentino with a look that could freeze the sun itself. "Would you like to carry him yourself, then?"
Valentino flinches, but his gaze does not waver. "I told you that I have tried! He asked you to help him."
“Fine,” he growls, his voice full of ill-hidden annoyance. He leans down, gathering Lynt’s limp form into his arms. He stirs, mumbling incoherent syllables, his head lolling against Guy’s chest. Guy shifts his hold, one arm cradling Lynt’s knees while the other supports his back.
“This,” Guy mutters, tightening his grip, “is beneath me.”
“Of course, Your Highness!” Valentino agrees, who has the audacity to look grateful as he trails behind. “You are m-much appreciated!”
Every step during the trek to Lynt’s chambers is an attack on Guy's dignity. Valentino opens doors and clears paths while Guy marches onwards with Lynt in his arms, his expression never wavering from his mask of irritation.
By the time they reach Lynt’s chambers, Guy’s patience is hanging by a fragile thread. He lays Lynt down on the bed with a gentleness that speaks more of obligation than affection.
Guy stands at the edge of the bed, his cold gaze fixed on Lynt as he curls up into a ball and burrows into the warmth of the blankets. The sight gnaws at something deep inside him, but Guy only allows it to surface for the briefest moment before he buries the emotion.
"There," Guy announces, dusting off his hands as though the act itself has physically sullied him. "Jasper will be in shortly with a potion to lower his fever.”
"Please accept my humblest of compliments, Prince Avari," Valentino says with a bow of his head. "I'll make sure he stays in bed."
Guy acknowledges this with nothing more than a terse nod. He turns to go, but as he rises, a pale, trembling hand grips his sleeve.
Lynt’s fevered eyes are looking up at him, glassy and far too earnest.
“Stay.”
"No," Guy replies flatly.
"You run hot," Lynt whispers, his hand weakly clutching at Guy’s sleeve. “It’s… comforting.”
Of course this would happen. He’s already stooped so low as to drag himself from his chambers to come to Lynt’s aid, carried him across the academy like a child, and now he’s expected to stay? Why is Lynt so fixated on him? His frustration rises like a storm.
"You have a fever," he snaps. "My body heat will only worsen it. Not to mention I have no intention of catching whatever you’ve got."
But Lynt’s hand tightens, his voice barely a whisper, “Please.”
The plea is enough to catch Guy off guard, stilling the protests on his tongue. He exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is absurd,” he mutters, more to himself than to Lynt.
Guy sinks onto the edge of the bed, his body stiff with unwillingness. Lynt instinctively shifts closer, his head coming to rest against Guy’s shoulder.
“I am leaving the moment you are asleep,” Guy grumbles, the sharpness in his tone has dulled somewhat. But Lynt is already drifting off, his breathing slowing.
"Valentino," he says softly, without turning his head. "Get a cold cloth."
Valentino rushes to obey, and Guy, still stiff as a statue, reclines against the headboard. He does not move. He should leave. He said he would leave… But no matter how hard Guy wills it, his hand refuses to obey. It twitches minutely at Lynt’s back, a slow barely there movement, yet the effect is immediate. A faint whimper escapes Lynt’s lips, and his head tilts into the crook of Guy’s neck, burrowing deeper into his shoulder.
“Guy…” Lynt murmurs, his voice so soft it is barely audible.
“Silence,” Guy demands, though it’s unclear if it is a true threat. His gaze lingers on Lynt’s fevered face, watching the flutter of his blonde eyelashes against flushed skin at the sound of his voice even as his body gives in to the pull of sleep.
The door creaks open, and Valentino reappears, a damp cloth draped neatly over one arm. He hesitates at the threshold as his gaze lingers on the scene before him—his master cradled in the arms of the ruthless Prince Avari.
“Finally,” Guy says with an indignant huff as he snatches the cloth from Valentino’s hand, though he makes no move to stand or relinquish his position.
“Your Highness,” Tino says gently, almost too gently, wringing his hands as he watches Guy press the cool cloth to Lynt’s fevered brow. “If you’d like, I can take over. It’s my duty, after all. You’ve already done more than enough.”
Guy’s fingers pause for the barest moment, as though he’s considering it, but in the end, he resumes his work. “That won’t be necessary,” he replies coolly.
The finality in Guy’s tone leaves no room for argument. Still, Valentino lingers, his concerned gaze flitting toward Lynt, who stirs slightly in his sleep.
“You have my gratitude,” Tino tries again. “But it really is no trouble—”
“Do not make me repeat myself.”
There is a beat of silence before Tino bows deeply. “Very well,” he says, retreating toward the exit. “I will be next door. You only need call if he worsens.” He pauses just before exiting, his gaze lingering on Lynt one final time before the door clicks shut behind him.
Guy is left alone once more with Lynt. His fingers remain lightly pressed against his forehead even as the soft heat of the prince’s fever heats through the fabric. Lynt shifts slightly, murmuring under his breath, but still, his eyes remain closed, too deep in fever to rouse.
"This is beneath me," Guy mutters once more, though the words hold less bite than they did when he'd first taken Lynt into his arms. He huffs, exasperated, but he doesn’t withdraw his hand. Instead, he trails the cool cloth along Lynt’s jaw, the act as involuntary as it is tender, feeling the tension in the Lynt’s body slowly fade away beneath his touch.
The minutes stretch on, long and seemingly endless. Guy doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, his focus solely on the man in his arms as his hand continues its gentle ministrations–adjusting the cloth, smoothing back strands of Lynt’s damp hair. Each movement is deliberate, controlled, as though his very touch might be the only thing saving Lynt.
Guy clenches his jaw, refusing to acknowledge the odd flutter in his chest at the thought.
Just as he’s about to let the feeling slide away into the secrecy of his thoughts, Jasper enters with the potion in hand though pauses momentarily in the doorway, looking as though he’s seen something truly bizarre. Once recovered, he sets it down on the small table beside the bed with a quiet clink.
"Here," Jasper says, "This potion should help diminish the fever. I’ve enlisted Knight’s help and we should know what ails his Highness by the morning.”
Guy’s gaze flickers to the potion, then back to Lynt, he nods, “Good.”
Guy eases his arms beneath Lynt’s shoulders, lifting him just enough to prop his head up slightly with a pillow. He picks up the vial, uncorking it, the faint scent of herbs rising as he brings the vial to Lynt’s lips.
“You need to drink this,” he tells Lynt, his tone softer than he intends, but firm nonetheless. “It will help.”
Lynt stirs, a weak shudder running through him as his head lolls to the side, the strain of sitting up too much for his feverish body. For a moment, Guy thinks he might not wake. But then, Lynt’s eyes open, just barely, his delirious gaze meeting Guy’s for a brief moment before closing once more.
“Drink,” Guy commands, his voice a little sharper than necessary, but he holds the vial steady.
Lynt’s eyes remain closed, but his lips part in response to the command, and Guy carefully pours a small amount of the potion into his mouth so as to not choke him. Lynt’s throat moves in a faint swallow, the action weak. He shudders, the warmth of the liquid doing little to quell the intense heat radiating from his body.
Guy holds the vial steady, watching Lynt’s face, his hand firm but gentle in its grip as he waits for the prince to take more. But Lynt has always been sluggish, and his fever worsens his already slow pace, and Guy’s patience thins as he waits for Lynt to take another sip.
“Lynt,” Guy says again, this time gentler. “You need to drink.”
Lynt’s hand shakes as it reaches for the glass, his fevered state making every movement a struggle. Guy steadies his hand as Lynt’s fingers curl around the vial, and he seizes the opportunity. He lifts their combined hands to Lynt’s lips once more, this time coaxing him to drink until the last drop is gone.
It’s a strange thing, this—hand entwined in feverish hand, Guy watching Lynt take in each slow, labored sip. It’s ridiculous—utterly absurd—but there’s a strange relief in the action, knowing this is all to make Lynt feel better.
Jasper’s voice breaks the moment, warm with a touch of humor. “You’re surprisingly gentle with him, Lord Guy,” he remarks, his arms folded, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Guy doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze lingering on Lynt, whose face has softened slightly in his sleep. He glances down at the empty potion vial in his hand, as if considering the act for a moment.
“The last thing we need is for him to choke to death." Guy mutters, his voice hardening, his face closing off, as if to shield himself.
“Clearly.” Jasper says, stepping closer to take the vial from Guy’s hands. “I find it interesting that he won’t let anyone else near him. Only you. You’re the only one who can bring him comfort.”
“Comfort?” Guy repeats, his tone almost mocking. “I’m not here to comfort anyone. Lynt has asked for me, hence, I am here. He will regret his fevered-demands when I come to collect a favor in exchange.”
"I see now, Lord Guy, you are simply being practical," Jasper chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Though, I believe this situation may bring more advantages than the promise of future favors.”
Guy’s eyes narrow, his jaw clenching tight. “You are insufferable when you act mysterious, Jasper. Get to the point.”
Jasper smirks, something about this entire exchange deeply amusing to him. “As you wish, Lord Guy. I only mean to say that, when one is weak, they are often more open. It's a rare opportunity to learn more about their weaknesses."
Guy's expression turns thoughtful. He’s silent for a moment, turning Jasper’s words over in his mind.
"I see," he says slowly, “I will keep that in mind.”
"Then I shall take my leave now.” Jasper gives a small bow, his expression now more neutral, though his eyes linger on Guy for a moment longer. “Do you plan to stay here the entire night or shall I prepare your quarters for you?”
Guy hesitates, staring at the door for a moment before he looks back at Jasper. "I plan to stay here until his fever breaks," he says after a moment's consideration.
Guy’s jaw tightens, his resolve hardening once again. He will remain. For now. But when Lynt’s fever breaks? He will return to his chambers and his own routine. He will continue his life surrounded in a cast of indifference and cold detachment until it is time to cash in on what he is owed.
"I'll make sure that everything is in order,” Jasper gives Guy a deep bow, “Good night then, Your Highness."
Jasper departs, closing the door softly behind him, Guy sighs, running a hand through his hair.
He calls on his magic to open the window just a crack, the night breeze filtering in and cooling the room and, hopefully, easing Lynt’s fever.
He looks down at Lynt, checking to see if his aid has been of any use. He stares back at the same flushed skin, the same restless body. Guy shifts his free arm, wrapping it more securely around Lynt’s back, easing him closer so that his head rests more comfortably against his shoulder.
For a long while, the only sound is the rhythmic rise and fall of Lynt’s chest. Guy’s body remains stiff, as though by holding still enough, he can convince himself that the moment is nothing more than a necessity.
That reasoning starts to slip away as Lynt shifts in his sleep. His body turns inwards in a slow, lazy roll as though he is seeking comfort, or perhaps something more. His chest presses gently into Guy’s side. It’s an innocent enough movement, one that could be dismissed as mere coincidence, but then Lynt’s lips brush faintly against his neck, barely there, a light, lingering kiss just below his jaw, and then—lighter still—a quiet, desperate sound slips from Lynt’s lips.
“Guy…”
His name, faint and trembling with exhaustion as Lynt speaks it, sends an unbidden shiver through Guy’s body.
Guy’s pulse thuds in his throat. He curses inwardly, his fingers twitching with the urge to pull away. He wants to move, to push Lynt away, to force distance, but there’s no space left. Lynt has already pressed so close—his chest now flush against Guy’s side.
The absurdity of it all! Guy Avari, unfeeling and cruel Prince of Avari, reduced to this—laying beside a feverish, insistently needy Prince of Akedia. He has half a mind to just march out, to leave Lynt to his delirium and let Valentino handle the rest. He’s not meant for this. He’s not meant to be someone’s nursemaid.
Guy’s pulse hammers faster when Lynt’s hand slips, just a little too far, his fingers grazing the curve of Guy’s waist. Guy’s breath hitches, the unexpected touch sending a jolt through him.
But then Lynt sighs softly, a long, drawn-out sound of deep weariness, “Please,” Lynt whispers again, his breath hot against Guy’s throat.
There’s a desperation in his voice now, a rawness that goes beyond the fever and it stirs something deep inside Guy.
“Be still,” Guy says, though his voice is quieter than he wants it to be. He swallows hard, his gaze fixing on the ceiling as he curses every living being.
For a long moment, neither moves, but then, as though the world itself conspires against Guy’s resolve, Lynt shifts his leg, sliding it between Guy’s, pressing closer still. The contact is almost innocent in its slowness, but Guy feels the weight of it all the same. His breath catches as Lynt’s knee brushes against his inner thigh and every nerve in his body screams for him to wake Lynt, to put an end to this compromising position.
But his body betrays him, staying still, unmoving, even as Lynt’s head shifts against his chest, the prince’s lips brushing against the curve of Guy’s neck again and this time it’s not a fleeting touch. It’s longer, more deliberate, as though Lynt can’t help but seek comfort in the warmth of Guy’s skin.
The weight of Lynt’s body is pressing against him so heavily now, his movements so soft and innocent in their unconsciousness. It’s too much. Guy can feel it in every inch of his body and still, despite every rational thought screaming at him to stop, Guy’s hand, frozen in place on Lynt’s back, twitches, as if it’s reaching to pull him even closer. He forces it still.
He’s not supposed to want this. He shouldn’t want to feel the delicate warmth of Lynt so close to him. It’s just the fever. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s delirious. But even as he rationalizes it, he doesn’t pull away. He stays there. Holding Lynt. Letting him curl further into his side.
Lynt sighs, a deep, contented breath. Guy’s arm tightens almost instinctively around Lynt’s waist, drawing him closer. But Guy doesn’t look at him. He can’t bring himself to meet those fevered, half-lidded eyes that would surely hold more than just the madness of illness if he looked too deeply. He doesn’t want to think about it. He won’t.
Slowly, too slowly, Guy feels Lynt’s body begin to slacken against him. Lynt, entirely unaware, has fallen into a deeper sleep, coaxed into it by the reassuring pressure of Guy’s body.
So he stays.
The night creeps on, the soft breeze from the window cooling the feverish warmth of the room. Guy tries to keep himself distant, upright, but despite everything—despite the confusion, the heat, the strange feelings inside him—fatigue has a way of eroding one’s will. His own eyelids grow heavy, and the stiff lines of his body soften. Lynt, still nestled against him, lets out a contented hum in his sleep, his arm tightening faintly around Guy’s middle.
His mind is too tired to keep fighting, and before he knows it, exhaustion pulls him under.
When Valentino returns at dawn, he finds a surprisingly serene sight awaiting for him. Lynt is sound asleep with his long limbs sprawled out haphazardly around Prince Guy Avari. His fever has broken, his breathing is regular, and he looks remarkably better than before. The flush on his skin has faded, leaving him with a soft, rosy glow.
Guy is fast asleep as well, his face, usually severe, is softened, his head tilted back against the headboard. One arm is loosely draped over Lynt, who is curled up against his chest. His head rests against Lynt's hair, his breathing slow and steady. There’s a faint blush to his cheeks.
Tino hesitates, unsure of what to make of the sight before him. He’s never seen Guy Avari so vulnerable, and the sight of him like this is both unsettling and strangely moving. A part of him wonders what exactly happened during the night that led to this.
Jasper chuckles softly from behind Tino and gives him a nudge with his elbow, “Well, I see that the situation has resolved itself.” His voice is full of laughter as he steps forward, peering down at Lynt and Guy.
"Indeed," Valentino agrees with a small knowing smile, "it seems Young Master Lynt knew just what to do by requesting Prince Guy." He nods towards their sleeping forms, “Shall we wake them?”
Jasper smirks, his eyes lingering on the pair for a moment longer, clearly reluctant to interrupt. “Lord Guy does tend to get a bit cranky if he’s woken after dawn,” he muses, stepping back. “As for Lynt, I’d recommend a soothing bath to help him recover fully from the fever.”
"We must ensure that he wakes then! We cannot have him more grouchy than usual! I will prepare Lynt’s bath while you rouse Prince Guy.”
Valentino begins gathering up the necessary items for the bath, while Jasper slowly lifts Lynt's legs from around Guy, taking care not to disturb them too much.
As Lynt shifts slightly in his sleep, Guy's arms tightens around him protectively, but he does not wake up. Jasper can’t help but smile softly to himself. The sight is heartwarming, almost enough to allow them to continue sleeping.
Tino carefully extricates Lynt from Guy's grasp, being mindful not to disturb their sleep. As he settles Lynt onto his own shoulders and Lynt does not let out a single protest, Tino lets out a sigh of relief. He is truly feeling better.
As Valentino and Lynt disappear into the bathroom, Jasper waits for the sound of the water’s steady hum to fill the air before approaching Guy.
With a quiet sigh, he gently shakes Guy’s shoulder, his voice soft as he murmurs his name. “Lord Guy. Time to wake up.”
Guy stirs slightly at the sound of Jasper's voice, his eyes fluttering open blearily. He blinks up at Jasper, trying to orient himself.
“Where is Lynt?” He asks, his voice rough with sleep.
Jasper smiles down at him, “Lynt’s fever broke in the night. He’s now in the bath.”
Guy nods, pushing himself upright with a grunt. “Good. And what of his sickness? Did you and Knight figure out what it was?”
Jasper’s smile turns from soft into teasing, “You expect me to believe that you are unaware?”
A formidable scowl finds its way in Guy’s face, all signs of him being fully alert and back to himself. He glares at his valet.
“I had suspicions, but the confirmation was your job. You tell me Jasper, It is nearly time for that infernal aphrodisiac to begin circulating in the marketplace, is it not?”
“Indeed, Lord Guy. You have the right of it. It appears that Master Lynt unknowingly purchased a tea laced with it, and Prince Qelsum, unfortunately, partook as well. Toa rushed back to his chambers, and by the time Knight had pieced together the situation, we’d already moved Lynt to his rooms.”
"Qelsum, too?" Guy inhales sharply, irritation seeping into his features. “And the tea,” he presses. “How long has it been circulating in the marketplace?”
"A few days. Apparently, the seller was determined to make this year’s batch particularly potent—rumor has it, they’ve succeeded beyond expectations. It’s been spreading quickly."
A dark flicker of concern flashes in Guy’s eyes. He leans forward, his gaze sharp. "I assume you and Knight have dealt with the seller?"
Jasper nods solemnly. "Of course, sir. The Headmaster is handling the matter discreetly. It will be dealt with."
Guy exhales, leaning back against the headboard. He’s not sure what part of this situation bothers him more—the fact that it happened at all, or the fact that he’s been forcibly pulled into it.
“I have even heard reports that its effects can be transmitted through skin-to-skin contact.” Jasper continues, his tone lowering a bit as he explains further. “Those effects will, of course, be made even stronger with pre-existing favorable feelings. Especially of the mutual variety.” He gives Guy a pointed look.
Guy’s expression hardens. "Skin-to-skin. Mutual emotions?" he echoes, his voice dropping to a near growl.
“Yes, sir,” Jasper confirms, his voice softening with a touch of sympathy. “And I’m afraid I must report that your own skin is a little flushed.”
Guy’s eyes narrow dangerously. “Keep your observations to yourself, Jasper.”
“My apologies, Lord Guy. I merely thought it would be a good time to call in that favor from Prince Lynt.”
“I am perfectly capable of handling it myself.”
Jasper’s smile softens into something more knowing. “I’m sure you are.” He tilts his head as if appraising Guy with an almost tender amusement.
“Perhaps you should check on Master Lynt in the bath. Just to be sure. He might be in need of... assistance."