Page 15 of Set in Darkness
“There are many things I am looking to change when Iam king, of course,” Lucien said, unaware of Leander’s thoughts. “Though I am very impressed with your father’s efforts to develop this policy on free healthcare. The lives we will be able to save and improve with this novel idea will be too many to count. It is revolutionary, we will be the first nation on this continent to enact such a scheme. I cannot wait to see it in action.”
“It is a very good idea. My father came up with it?”
“Oh, yes. He has been working on it for months. Years, really. It’s been a long time ambition of his to see it to fruition. He’s very proud of it. Hey, if you want to see him animated and not looking at you as if you are griffin shit on his shoe, then ask him about that policy. He will talk your ear off, I can guarantee it.”
Even from this brief interaction, Leander knew instinctually that the prince was the genuine article. He couldn’t imagine him asking for Leander’s divine assistance, that was something the demigod knew for sure. It almost made Leander respect the prince more.
Lucien stopped walking occasionally to greet the odd guest with warmth. At these times, Leander took the opportunity to drink deeply from his sparkling wine flute. Lucien seemed to know not only everyone’s name, but the names of their children, or even that of their cat. When talking to them, he drew them into the conversation by making them feel important, by remembering key facts about them and making them feel seen.
It was impressive to watch.
That was why Leander cemented the thought that he liked Lucien—he reminded Leander of Verin. Leander’s eldest brother had the same gentle, mischievous charmcovering a keenly analytical mind. And Lucien was quite obviously exceptionally emotionally intelligent. Leander glanced over to his eldest brother, who was now talking to an old woman not far away from them. No wonder Verin and Lucien got along so well. They would make the perfect team in a couple of years.
Every time Lucien greeted a new person, he also diligently introduced Leander to them. The demigod tried to remember their names, and he did well at putting names to faces as the perfect social butterfly might, but he made no effort to remember the content of the conversations that he shared with these people. He could engage in frivolous, meaningless conversation but he would not remember it, as apathetic as he was to the lives of these mortals.
Ultimately, Leander thought as he downed his drink and picked up another, the plights of the wealthiest in Saeren were absurd, inconsequential.
He found himself forced, this evening, to listen to the complaints of these affluent few as if their problems were actually meaningful. Leander found it beyond challenging to have any semblance of sympathy for the people who did not know what real suffering was.
Their emotions were angry, frustrated, slighted. Not once did Leander sense anything akin to the fear and despondence he could feel seeping into his consciousness whenever a slave brushed past, tray of sparkling wine flutes or canapés in hand.
He needed a way to extricate himself from the endlessly circular conversations he was now trapped in. Meeting the gaze of his father, he found his escape from the inane dialogue in the most unwanted form. Leander excusedhimself from Lucien’s side to approach Flavian, who also left his conversation partner to address his son.
“I didn’t give you many instructions tonight.” Flavian commented coldly. “Perhaps it was wrong of me to hold your intelligence in higher regard.”
“Oh, you mean this?” Leander raised his new wine flute up. “I decided to ignore your guidelines.”
“They weren’t guidelines, Leander. You are expected to follow through when I give you an instruction. They are not for my benefit.”
“But that one was. You wanted me not to drink lest I embarrass you. This has everything to do with you.” The three glasses of bubbly had loosened Leander’s tongue somewhat, and he was vaguely aware of this fact. But he didn’t care.
After a parting smile, Leander turned on his heel, knowing his father would not make a scene and berate him for his disrespect. Not when so many people were eavesdropping on the fallen demigod’s every interaction.
Leander would suffer for it later, no doubt.
He had no idea where he was going, though. Having met Lucien, the list of people he knew at the party had gone up to six. Straining his neck, he was trying to find one of his brothers when he slammed into the side of someone.
That someone exclaimed their shock and spun around, holding a flute that had, until two seconds ago, been full. Steadying himself, Leander glanced upwards to stare into cerulean eyes. With pale olive skin, he was quite obviously not Vyrican. Raven coloured, wavy hair sat just below the top of his ears, framing his face and accentuating the high cheekbones that Leander now expected to find on theruling class of the mortal world. His cobalt blue eyes, chasms of emotion that they were, were warm, and inviting, as he looked down at Leander.
Last time he had looked upon such eyes, Leander had been inebriated. Worse, he had had tunnel vision, with the singular aim of being pleasured by Jasmine’s whores. He had not bothered with thewho are you, only thehow might you please me.
This time, dressed in aristocratic finery as he was, the demigod recognised the man.
Prince Jarryn Eleinium of Desanne, the exiled crown prince, now seeking sanctuary in a foreign realm, was devastatingly beautiful.
There was a long moment of silence as Leander tried in vain to marry up the scruffily clad person he had met the other night with the finely dressed prince in front of him now. Leander had been otherwise occupied with a beautiful girl whispering sweet nothings into his ear. It had not occurred to him to consider the possibility that he might encounter someone of the prince’s calibre in Jasmine’s whorehouse.
He tried to think back for what he had said, what he had done, that night in the pleasure house, what embarrassment he might have caused himself.
Fuck.
“Your Highness.” Leander bowed his head, just as he had with Prince Lucien Aguilar. “My deepest apologies. I was not looking where I was going. Let me… uh, let me find you another drink, please.”
He fought to remember, but the haze of that night was shrouded by alcohol and whatever else it was that Talia hadsuggested they try together. He couldn’t remember… which was probably worse in some ways. His only excuse was a humiliating admission that he had not been in his right mind.
Something like that would not fly if his father ever found out how he had insulted Desanne’s Crown Prince.
Leander sent up a silent prayer to any god who would listen to let him disappear from this nightmare.
