Chapter Six

A nice dinner would have pleased Remus before. Now, he dreaded it.

He'd eaten in his room since it wasn't like he'd be permitted to properly sit and eat at the High Table with royalty. While he kneeled on the Prince's left, he had nothing to look at besides the Prince's legs and the purple tablecloth.

Sébastien dropped a piece of meat on the floor. "Try that."

Remus burned with shame as he stared at it. He wasn't a damn dog. Fuck him. Fuck this whole place.

Sébastien looked down at him to hiss. "Eat it, and don't ever be so ungrateful when I give you something. Maybe I should whip some respect into you."

The threat in his tone was obvious. Remus forced himself to pick it up and pretended to nibble the edge. Why was it so dry? Some treat. Sébastien went back to eating, and when Remus was sure he wouldn't be noticed, he slipped the meat under the tablecloth. He felt rather sorry for the servant who'd find it later while cleaning, but he wasn't eating food that had been on the floor.

Thankfully, he was mostly ignored. The meal dragged on. There was dancing and dessert before whoever had been paid to come and sing performed. Remus couldn't see the singers, but most of it was decent except for one woman who sounded more like a yowling cat. The courtiers all sounded like they were having a grand time.

A few lords came to speak with either the Prince or the Regent while the singing went on. It felt like ages had gone by before it was over. Someone finally announced that the main entertainment of the night was ready, and those who wished to watch it could come. More refreshments would be served.

Remus was led to another Hall. Instead of a High Table and smaller ones for courtiers, the table was an enormous square around the perimeter with one side open. In the center was a fire on a rectangular hearth, and crystal lanterns on the ceiling gave plenty of light. Doors to one side led out to a balcony, and the pleasant night air, tinted with flowers from the garden, drifted in.

Surprisingly, Remus was permitted to sit on Sébastien's left. The Regent was on his right, and directly ahead were the wide, open doors leading in.

"Eat if you want," said the Prince.

Servants brought trays of little cakes and sweets along with wine. Sébastien didn't seem interested in either, and he spoke of mundane topics with his Uncle.

About half of the court had come. Slaves stood or sat with their owners. Or on them. More than one was in a lap. A man with pink hair barked something at his slave who hastily stepped back and lowered his head. A frown and a gesture made him kneel, and the man turned to the woman by him, presumably his wife. They were all smiles for each other.

Remus expected a large werewolf to be brought in. Thoroughly muzzled and restrained so he couldn't attack, he'd be teased, poked, made to do tricks, and turned into a laughingstock. What a fucking disgrace.

How could Sébastien and Corentin stand to be near one? Both hated the creatures and had lost family to them.

Maybe seeing one tormented was amusing in a cathartic way. Like an eye for an eye. Which made them even more fucked up in Remus's view. Loss and pain of that sort shouldn't turn people into monsters who tormented others.

He tried a piece of candied ginger which was quite good. His appetite vanished when a handler walked into the hall with the werewolf. A grown one was bad enough.

"Good evening, lords and ladies." The handler lifted a coiled whip in one hand to gesture at the room before giving a deep bow to the center where the royalty sat. "At last, but never least, Your Highnesses. Tonight, I present a pup."

Some of the courtiers applauded while the werewolf puppy stood on his hind legs with slumped shoulders. He was barely three feet tall. All he had for claws were little black nubs since they'd been filed down. He was covered in brown fur, although a few patches had fallen out to reveal pinkish skin.

Stress maybe. Or someone had ripped it out to be cruel. Remus didn't consider them to be dogs like some, but they had a face very much like one, including a black snout. His ears drooped as he looked around the room and huddled in place. A shackle around one ankle led to a heavy metal ball.

He could drag it, but he wouldn't be running anywhere.

The handler acted like he'd battled hoards of werewolves to snatch the little one for their amusement. Some of the courtiers ate up the story, and one shouted that fewer beasts for the realm to worry about was always a good thing.

A couple got up to leave, clearly not interested in watching a child be made into a spectacle, even if it was furry and non-fairy.

The werewolf had to shuffle along each side of the table so everyone could stare at him. A couple stood and reached over to poke him, and he always flinched. He barely got halfway along one side before he started sniffling, and his grey eyes grew watery.

Remus didn't want to watch this anymore. A couple of others got up to leave. As the child came along the main side, he started crying, and his mouth moved as he mumbled to himself. He still kept shuffling along as he dragged the ball, and someone threw a sweet at him.

"He's a big crybaby puppy."

"Dumb beast."

"They're not sad when they tear apart a fairy."

"Ugly mutt. They can't take what they dish out."

"Elira should have put down the first of your kind when they came here."

Remus looked at the table, struggling to push down his shame. He wouldn't be watching this ridiculous spectacle if it wasn't for the fucking idiot beside him.

"I want to go home." The pup wiped his forearm across his moist nose as he came closer.

Werewolf or not, the pup was a sentient being much like a fairy child. Remus nearly shoved his chair back and had to stop himself from standing. At least half of the court was there to watch this shame. The Goddess had said the young were to be protected, and she'd never said that only went for fairy children.

Sébastien glanced at him when his chair scraped. "Sit much?"

"I had a cramp, Prince Sébastien. Sorry. It startled me."

Sébastien rolled his eyes. The child shuffled back to the handler who made him do tricks like rolling over, sitting, and sitting up pretty for a treat. He was too thin and needed several good meals, not a fucking morsel of whatever. Remus watched the fire instead.

Sébastien yawned and stretched before he leaned over to whisper. "To leave you here or not? Hmm."

Guards could take Remus back to his room later, but he didn't want to stay there.

"Should I leave you here? This is quite long."

It was probably a test of how subservient he was willing to be. Remus stared past his head. "Whatever you wish, Prince Sébastien."

Sébastien came close enough for his breath to tickle Remus's cheek. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

Fuck, no, he wasn't. A damn kid was being forced to dance to a tune the handler played on his flute. The Prince would have a hissy fit if Remus said no and appeared ungrateful.

"Thanks for the opportunity."

Neutral, and not an outright go fuck yourself. He waited for a hissy fit anyway, but the Prince took the lead and stood.

"Come along. Goodnight, Uncle."

The Regent blinked up at him. "You don't want to stay for a bit longer?"

"I'm tired."

"Goodnight."

They had to walk by the baby still being humiliated. Remus was quite tired and not his full self yet, but he had a feeling that sleeping wouldn't be easy tonight. They were nearly at the doors when Sébastien suddenly turned to him and planted a hand on his chest. Through the tunic, his slim fingers were cool on Remus's skin, and the gesture, too intimate from someone who hated him, nearly made him back away.

"Pick me up."

"Huh?" was all Remus could say.

"Pick. Me. Up." Sébastien leaned over in an almost sensuous way, although his eyes said something else. "Like a bride, not that you'll ever be marrying someone. If you did, I'd feel sorry for them."

"Have your legs suddenly stopped working?"

"Do it. You might as well do something useful for a change with those muscles

This fucking prick. Remus carefully picked him up like a bride with an arm under his legs and the other supporting his back. He didn't dare let his hands get near his rear in case his eyes got scratched out.

Why would he even want this? More shame for Remus to get through.

Sébastien was rather light but dense enough. The sword he wore at his side would be lethal in his hands, especially with his speed, and he'd already shown he could fight hand-to-hand. As they exited the room, the two guards outside made to follow.

"Fuck off," said the Prince. "I don't need you."

"But-but Your Majesty." One guard glanced at Remus as if he expected him to roar, lift the Prince, smash him down over one knee, and break him like a toothpick.

"But-but," mocked Sébastien. "Go to bed or whatever you do after a shift. I certainly don't need you, and I doubt you need to stand there and watch the pup."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

They marched off to take a different hall, and Remus headed for the stairs. If he thought he was going to have Remus's ass tonight, he had another thing coming. He was tempted to drop the Prince right there with an "oops." Maybe a stomp to the gut would make the Prince rethink a few life choices.

No. Remus would play this by ear. If they were alone, and it came down to it, he'd fight back then. Not before.

After a couple of flights, Sébastien's neutral face grew disgusted. "Put me down."

Remus set him down. "Do your legs work again?"

"Pfft. I was just checking to see if you'd do it or bitch about it. Don't ever pick me up or touch me without permission, or I'll have the skin flayed from your back."

"I don't think your Uncle will approve."

"It won't save you if he doesn't know beforehand, will it? After it's done, I'll say sorry and kiss your nasty cheek." Sébastien jerked the chain. "Follow."

At the main hall that led to his chambers, Sébastien forced the guards to go away. They did so, and Remus's heart started to pound. Outside of his double doors, the Prince forced those two away as well.

"We're going to be loud, and I don't want to be heard."

As soon as Sébastien had Remus in and the door was shut, Remus made a fist and started thinking of his options as his eyes scanned the room.

Sébastien planted his hand flat on the door and altered his grip on the end of the chain. From the subtle change in the positioning of his feet, he was anticipating some form of violence, and the chain would likely end up whipped into Remus's face or wrapped around his neck.

He'd have to be swifter, and if he couldn't, stronger might save him.

"The entertainment will go on for quite a while with tales and more music while the pup dances around and acts out bits," said Sébastien. "I believe I was quite clear on what you're supposed to do when you're brought into my quarters. I haven't given you another command." He dropped the chain, and his eyes grew challenging.

A steel plate was set into the marble in one corner of the expansive sitting room. Half of the room was on a dais and decorated with more useless frills than Remus had back home. The fireplace was cold since the weather was pleasant and warm. Another set of doors led out onto what he assumed was a loggia or a balcony. They each had a little window, but he couldn't properly see through them. They were too high up for Remus to jump. Perhaps he could climb down, but if the sides were too sheer with no foot or handholds…

It wasn't like the Prince would be content to allow that. Not while alive.

"Nobody will hear you," said Remus.

Sébastien didn't move despite the clear threat. Remus knew to watch for the trick that would leave him on his back, not that it'd be impossible to get the Prince's boot off of his throat. He didn't have any lackeys ready to step in.

If Remus could get the Prince's sword, he could end things much faster.

"What are you going to do?" Sébastien's slight smile grew predatory. "If you hurt or kill me, you'll never get out of here alive. Even if you stuffed yourself into my clothes like a sausage and tried to walk through the gate, you'd stick out like a sore thumb. You'd never get out of the city with those cuffs and collar because they mark you as a slave. Any imaginings of you getting to the docks and onto a boat to go back to your barbaric homeland are nothing more than a turf dream."

"Even if I get caught, it won't save you, will it? I'll kiss your cheek and say sorry."

Sébastien narrowed his eyes. "Go ahead and underestimate me. Remere taught me more than a couple of tricks to put people on their backs. Don't forget, the Regent can also slit throats if needed, and he'd certainly slit yours if you killed me. He might even kill the ones here. It's not like we particularly cared to have them."

"They're commoners," said Remus.

"So? They're five lives from your homeland, a place that means nothing to us."

Sébastien's sword was tucked in a black scabbard that hung at his side. With his austere clothing, the gold and silver angelic wings below the handguard stood out and drew more attention to the ruby set in the forte. Fitting for a Prince. It would look lovely sticking out of his chest too, and the realm would be safer without the future King who'd likely start another war.

If he left, he had no doubt five innocent people would die due to petty spite.

Remus marched over to the steel plate in the corner. A lock lay loosely around the metal ring in the center, and the message was clear. He'd lock his lead to it and wait like a damn dog.

"If you touch me, I'll still wring your neck," said Remus.

"Like I'd ever dip my cock in such filth. It's probably stretched out from werewolves. I doubt anyone could even satisfy you now unless they have a knot in their dick."

"You know damn well a werewolf has never touched me. Someone needs to take you over their knee and spank some respect into that spoiled ass of yours. I bet you'd think before opening your mouth again."

If looks could kill. Sébastien took the three steps up onto the dais and skirted around the couch. The table in front of it contained a few books. A tray held a pitcher and a few cups turned upside down to keep out the dust. To one side sat an ornate candle holder of twisted metal.

Behind the couch stood a small pillar with a statue of Elira in blush marble. A piece of that cost a ton. Her pinkish body was posed as if dancing with her arms above her head, and her skirt was carved to forever billow in an unseen breeze.

"If you think I'd ever bring you in here to lie with you, you think far too highly of yourself," said Sébastien. "I'd rather have a lowly street whore from a random corner. At least he wouldn't complain. I'd be too busy fighting with you to get my cock in."

"I don't bottom anyway, but you'd be welcome to turn over for me," Remus said, just to jab at him. "I'd try not to break you."

Sébastien placed his hands on the back of the couch, and the cocky look melted from his face. Blankness. His fingers pressed into the cushion. The calm before the storm. Remus, kneeling on the floor, started to think he should have kept his mouth shut, and his eyes flicked to Elira with her serene expression.

"You think so highly of yourself, you don't seem to have truly figured out how much I hate you," Sébastien said in a low voice.

"I didn't do anything," Remus said even though it was hopeless. "I am Giorgio's son, but I'm not him, and I did nothing to your family. Not personally. I-"

He didn't have an explanation for Calmerra or the sudden madness. Sometimes, he wondered if someone else had caused that incident.

"You're his spawn. You're the spawn of a man who slaughtered my Father at peace negotiations and raped his corpse. Even a werewolf wouldn't go that far. Your Father couldn't even let mine lay dead in peace. We got back a mutilated body-violated-" Sébastien cut off as his jaw tightened.

The shame of that had weighed more than once even though Remus tried not to imagine how that happened. That Giorgio wasn't the one Remus had grown up with.

"You know that wasn't normal," he said. "He wasn't like that. Everyone went insane, including your Father. The few survivors said so."

At first, he truly thought that King Jean had intended to poison the Rowland side, except someone had fucked up. All of the wine for the appetizer course had been polluted. A third party was possible, but he couldn't imagine who since other Kingdoms had remained out of the conflict. If someone else had done it, they'd likely never know, and he couldn't see the advantage it had brought.

One potential possibility was a bit far-fetched, but not impossible. If King Jean had paid someone to poison the wine for the Rowlands there, he supposed that person might not have liked the treachery. As revenge, they could have purposely poisoned all of the drink as a sort of "fuck you" to King Jean for stooping so low.

He was sure they'd never know.

Sébastien didn't move for several seconds as he gripped the cushions, and his knuckles whitened.

Something in his eyes was off. Remus had killed, faced men ready to kill him, seen them die, heard them screaming in battle, and braced himself for a possible brutal death. Whatever was in Sébastien's eyes, it almost seemed like it wasn't him. He turned his head, and his hair fell forward to block one side of his face as he gazed at Elira.

He suddenly straightened up and rubbed a finger in a tight circle on his chest through his clothes. "Mother said anger only hurts the wielder and to give your troubles to the Goddess. Do you see her?" He brushed a finger along Elira's skirt.

"Yes," said Remus.

"She doesn't protect everyone, and it doesn't matter what your troubles are. I doubt she listens to half of us. You'd best remember that." Sébastien pushed her, and she tipped toward the edge before falling off.

After an eternal second of silence, Remus heard the deep crack of the breaking marble. On the other side of the couch where he couldn't see, he imagined her broken into chunks and no longer serene.

Without another word or a look at the mess he'd made, Sébastien swept toward his bedroom. Whatever Remus had seen was pure hatred. He'd known it was there, but something was frightening about seeing it so raw and aimed at him because it wouldn't be the last time. It wasn't the same as the bloodlust of soldiers on the field. They wanted to slaughter, but afterward, they mostly only wanted to live and go home.

Remus, who must have been brought in as a show of power, made himself comfortable on the floor. Everything was a show of power for the Prince. He'd even break a priceless statue like a child having a tantrum and throwing down a toy.

Mentioning Calmerra always brought a nasty pit to his stomach. A couple of survivors who hadn't partaken in the wine said it was like sudden madness had gripped the people from both sides including the Kings.

Giorgio wasn't underhand or the type to poison a man while sitting and having a peace talk. Jean must have decided it was worth it. Whatever combination of drugs he'd used had caused the sudden frenzy of killing and driven everyone mad. The Rowlands had overwhelmed the Soleilians by chance, who had been just as insane according to the survivor's account.

Leftovers had gone at each other. Siblings, spouses, and best friends. No one appeared to recognize the other as they killed with weapons, whatever they could get a hold of, or their bare hands.

The few survivors, from both Kingdoms, had been momentarily united in their panic, so they'd gone to fetch others for help. After returning, they'd had no choice but to use bows to take out the last few living men who had continued to attempt to fight even as they bled. The pain hadn't seemed to bother them, and they wouldn't listen to anything said. It had been a kindness to put them down.

Afterward, they'd hauled out the dead, divided them, and parted. Both Kingdoms had proceeded to point the finger at the other.

Sometimes, a little whisper of doubt said Giorgio had planned the betrayal and paid someone who had screwed him over instead. Occasionally, it even whispered that some form of darkness had run through Remus's Father, although he always quickly pushed away those thoughts and focused on the man he remembered. Not the one who'd raped a corpse.

Remus sighed and settled against the wall since he figured he'd be stuck there for a while. Sébastien must not have had anything better to do and intended to let him sleep on the floor all night. It was something small, but it was a way to humiliate him and make him feel as if he weren't even a fairy being.

He stared at a little bottle of bright blue liquid that caught his eye on the sideboard across the room. All of the bottles of wine upon it appeared to be various reds. The blue liquid was tunfira, although Remus didn't see any vodka to put it in.

Sébastien had quite a lot of books on his shelves, and Remus spotted more than one worn spine that suggested the book had been read a lot. He couldn't reach any, and the Prince would have a fit if he caught his slave reading to pass the time.

Remus tipped his head back and closed his eyes although sleep wasn't about to come.