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“How did we get stuck decorating the dining room again?” Aster held up a strand of painted wooden stars, arms trembling as Dante affixed each end of the string to the fireplace mantle.
“The last time you left it to the others, they nearly damaged the woodwork.”
“The servants could've handled it again this year. It was only Master who intended to pin things.”
“Another,” Dante said.
It wasn’t often he asked to do something domestic like this. Not that he was opposed to it—his pride prevented such a thing, Dante stood down from no task—but the Sun Lord’s time was limited, and they generally found more thrilling ways to pass a free afternoon. With a little sigh (Aster wasn’t going to pretend he was enjoying this, but he wasn’t going to spoil the mood either), Aster lifted another strand of beads from the box where Eiden had carefully stored them last year.
The two of them had been at it for quite a while, transforming the mansion’s dining room into a wonderland. On the table, they had laid out a fine ivory cloth stitched with metallic thread that glinted in the flickering light cast by an armada of candles. Besides the traditional wooden ornaments that Eiden and the others had collected from shops throughout town, Dante had brought oil lanterns, which they had lined up on the mantle, and their colorful glass windows cast a warm jeweled glow around the room.
Other people in Klein City might have Solarian lanterns, but had theirs been brought by the Sun Lord himself? Aster smiled at his own good fortune.
Dante’s taste was surprisingly delicate. When he’d arrived with a carriage brimming with packages, Aster had anticipated monstrous beast heads that he’d be forced to exhibit in the main hall for a week, but the gifts had been hand-dipped candles and textiles and spiced candies that would be served later today.
They emptied the box, layering garlands of varying lengths so the fireplace appeared decked in the sort of fine, tiered necklace that Dante wore during festivals. As he lifted the final strand, Aster spotted something shiny in the corner of the box.
“Oh, what’s this?” he asked with a playful lilt, expecting that Dante had hidden it there for him to discover, but the following scowl contradicted that theory.
With two fingers, Aster pried the item from the box and held it up to examine. A ring, too large for his own hands, crafted in a perfect, smooth circle, the gold metal lustrous in the candlelight. Aster had specifically requested that finish when he’d ordered it. A stuffiness building painfully in his chest, he gulped.
“A ring?” Dante asked, coming nearer. “It must have fallen off of someone at the last party.”
“It was Master Huey’s.”
Although it had largely dissipated, Aster could feel, flowing into his fingertips through the warming metal, his old master’s essence. So like Eiden’s it was astounding, so unique his composure shattered. Aster stumbled into a chair beside the fire.
How embarrassing. He’d stopped crying over Huey years ago.
How had the ring gotten in there? It must have already been stuck in the box when the servants brought it out to hold decorations, a trinket Huey hadn’t realized he’d lost, which had probably not meant much to him in the first place. How very like him.
Aster didn’t realize he was shaking until Dante, kneeling on the carpet before him, wrapped a warm hand around his.
“It is normal to miss someone you loved.”
It wasn’t lip service. Dante had lost just as much with the deaths of his parents, perhaps more. Aster looked helplessly at their joined hands.
He nodded slowly. “I think I’ll give it to Master Eiden.”
Worried he’d just ignited Dante’s jealousy, he met his eyes, but Dante’s were surprisingly compassionate.
“I still believe he’ll come back,” Aster said in a quiet voice, looking toward the fire. “Master Huey.”
“What will you do then?”
Whipping his head back, he gazed forlornly at Dante. “I’m not leaving you, if that’s what you’re asking! Don’t even think that.”
Although he frowned at the outburst, Dante’s lips quirked at the promise. “I meant about the other sorcerer.”
Aster flushed at his mistake and shook his head. “Master Huey might be able to send him home.” That was probably for the best. Eiden didn’t belong here, not truly, yet the idea of losing him left Aster bereft. He sniffed as tears momentarily blurred his vision.
But Dante didn’t berate him for the display. He selected a prettily wrapped package from the pile of gifts stacked next to the fireplace and offered it to Aster, who brightened. He tucked Huey’s ring away in a pocket and carefully unfolded the paper.
“A new logbook!” Aster cried, lifting the leather-bound tome in both hands. Quality Solarian paper, thick enough to last at least a year.
“I know counting money pleases you.”
“I love it, thank you,” Aster cooed as he laid the book aside and raised a petite hand to stroke a certain cheek.
Dante did not protest when Aster’s arms looped around his neck, only crawled closer, pressing Aster into the back of the chair, their party preparations complete.
“My dear Sun Lord, you’re so good to me,” Aster whispered, fangs scraping the inside of Dante’s lip, teasing the flavor of blood. If they were quick about it, they could sneak in a teensy feeding before the others came downstairs.
As if he could read minds, Dante slid an arm beneath Aster’s knees and lifted him from the chair. He carried him out of the dining room and past Yakumo and Blade, who were waiting for the others in the front hall.
“Is something wrong with Mr. Aster?” Yakumo asked, eyes startled round. Blade’s mouth had formed a similar shape.
“He’s fine,” Dante replied, striding past them. Then more graciously, and with a smile at the vampire beaming up at him, “Get started without us.”