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[ His hand slides into Liem's hair, eager to keep him there, eager for his kisses to swallow up the desperate sounds that escape Cardan's throat. Unfortunately, kissing Liem only makes everything worse: every time he does, Cardan feels the savage longing in his body burn brighter, like he's given breath to a flame.

It's a little alarming: how out of control he feels, how eagerly his hips rock into Liem's grip, how much he wants despite barely having been touched. He's never found the mixture of sex and drugs particularly dangerous, but then -- it will occur to him later -- he's never slept with anyone he'd recognize while under the influence. It feels oddly vulnerable, moreso because he knows too keenly that Liem sees and hears all of it: every hitched breath, every flutter of his eyelids, every needy arch of Cardan's body on the stroke of those cool fingers.

Thankfully, neither of them will have to be impatient for long. He'd been aroused since Liem's teeth first touched his throat; by the time his husband wraps his hand around his cock, he has few defenses left. Part of him wants to prolong this because he knows that the sooner they finish, the sooner his husband will turn to his duty, but-- ]

Liem--

[ But he cannot forestall the way Liem stokes his pleasure. He wishes to say something clever and funny about it, to play off how overwhelming the experience is, but his head is blank -- overtaken by the scent and feeling of his spouse, wrapped around each other as they are. ]

--soon.

[ That's all there is: pleasure upon pleasure, and a mounting, inescapable sense of urgency clawing its way out of his body. ]

[Liem did not realize until he had it how much he'd coveted the chance to give Cardan pleasure — just as he hadn't known how desperate his longing was for his blood until his teeth were in his neck. He hadn't let himself stop to consider these things before tonight. It was already so foolish of him to spend time wanting his husband at all, without dwelling on temptations his husband wasn't already waving beneath his nose.

But now that the taste of Cardan's blood is on his tongue and Cardan's body is arching beneath his touch, he cannot help but want those things, and the alarming thing is that he cannot imagine putting those wants away again. Cardan's blood is so impossibly more than that of mortal men — but even more irresistible is the desperate way Cardan kisses him, his sounds and caught breaths, the helplessly eager way he moves against Liem's hand. He is so alight with need, so abandoned, so—]

Lovely, [Liem sighs against his mouth between kisses.] You're so lovely.

[At all times, but especially tonight. His is the kind of loveliness that should rightly be unobtainable, but instead he is in Liem's lap, in his bed, letting himself be caught aflame at the mercy of Liem's mouth and Liem's hands.

He murmurs,] Come, then.

[He will pull him closer, arm around his slim waist, and kiss him again — on the mouth, on the jaw, tender and heated and insistent. He wants to feel him when he does, he wants his desperate breaths and the frantic beating of his heart, he wants the heat of him spilling over his hand as he strokes him relentlessly through his climax. He wants, he wants, he wants—]

[ Liem tells him he's lovely, and Cardan cannot help but grin, surprisingly charmed. He's not readily susceptible to compliments, but something about Liem's is strikingly earnest. It makes Cardan feel like magic, like a prince from a fairy tale, and not one of the ones that end in punishment and misery.

Which is silly, but he can't bring himself to care.

Though maybe it's Liem who has the real magic, because for the first time in their marriage, Cardan simply does as he's told. How can he not? He can't stop his breaths from staggering, hard and quick in a rising crescendo; he can't forestall the inexorable sweep of pleasure through his blood. And everywhere, all at once: Liem's gentle mouth and his unrelenting touch, inescapable, all-encompassing. He wants only this. He wants for it never to end.

But the wave of pleasure sweeps him, and he can only shut his eyes and clutch Liem close, all of his considerable strength focused on keeping him just-- right-- there--

And if his name is on Cardan's tongue, then he can hardly be held responsible for himself just then. ]

[Drinking Cardan's blood had been intimate — deeply, unassailably so — and addictively pleasurable, beyond anything he'd done with any other partner. But watching Cardan like this, holding him while he alone gives in to pleasure's demands, is compelling in a way Liem almost doesn't know how to describe. It feels rare, like a moment he's chanced upon and might not ever see again. His gaze remains fixed on Cardan's face, enchanted and insatiable, as he comes with Liem's name on his lips.

It seems impossible that the evening they'd spent on that forest hilltop was barely more than a week ago. Liem still expects the tenuous contentment settled over the two of them to evaporate at any moment — but unlike on that night, he is no longer under any illusions about his ability to stay aloof from his husband.

His blood high makes ignoring it impossible: the man in his embrace is terribly, hopelessly, unfairly irresistible. He can't stop noticing his beguiling scent, or the unreasonable allure of his warm, lean body, or how the sight of even the smallest and least trustworthy of Cardan's smiles makes him feel somehow short of breath. He wants to start kissing him and never stop. He wants to wrap around him and fall asleep to the sound of his breathing and the scent of him filling his senses.

He has failed, so spectacularly badly, not to fall for his husband. The fact that this is completely in character for him doesn't make it any less devastating. He has a full-blown crush on Cardan Greenbriar and he can absolutely never, ever admit it.

That doesn't mean he stops kissing him, of course. Liem still kisses him again as he holds him, wandering slow and lingering over his jaw, the side of his neck. He'd like to keep kissing him, but he can feel dusk fade to full dark outside, and he knows that sooner or later he will need to get up, to arrange for a night's worth of absence if nothing else.

The fact that this will grant him some small time away from his too-appealing husband does not make him at all happier.]

Well, Cardan. [He attempts nonchalance, his breath is soft against his husband's pointed ear.] Should I still be concerned? About being eaten.

[ For a little while, Cardan is in no shape to do or say anything particularly witty: he must remember how to breathe, first of all, and then release the death grip he has on Liem. His eyes remain closed even as he shivers, pleasurably, into the kisses his husband brushes against his overheated skin. He feels a bone-deep satisfaction, like an itch that had been scratched after months and months of discomfort.

The only direct response Liem will get is nonverbal. ] Mm.

[ It sounds mostly like assent, though to what?

Another few measured breaths see Cardan opening his eyes to look at Liem, his black eyes languid. Even this takes effort, though it’s worth it: Liem is still disarmingly handsome, particularly in his mussed, post-coital state. Perhaps it is Cardan’s wishful thinking that makes him seem a little less tired— but if so, he will take his self-deception as a welcome luxury.

Despite his better judgment, Cardan is going to move. He slips off of Liem’s lap, immediately ruing the loss of contact — though not for long, maybe. He will throw himself onto the pillows, momentarily heedless of the healing gash on his back or the awful state of its bandages, and reach to tug Liem towards him. His fingers trace the line of Liem’s sharp cheekbone; the look in his face suggests he’s trying to solve a puzzle he’s a little too sleepy for. ]

Stay a while longer.

[ Not long. Not the rest of the night, certainly — Cardan isn’t arrogant enough to think that feasible. But he’s loath to let go of his husband just now, when the stars are yet barely showing through the rosy veil of dusk. ]

[A nonverbal response is, Liem decides, probably one of the best he might have received, and he accepts it with satisfaction. He notes, in the calm quiet as his husband relaxes his grip and seeks a normal rhythm for his breaths, that his attentions have left a not-inconsequential quantity of bloody smudges on his husband’s mouth and jaw and throat. This, too, is satisfying, and when Cardan opens his eyes to regard him, the look he aims back at him is quietly pleased.

He has never wanted to get up and go to work less in his entire life.

Which is part of the problem, of course. Cardan should really be resting, and although he would be delighted to stay in bed, rest is far from Liem’s mind when he looks at him now. His blood is still humming with that which he took from his husband, and he cannot imagine lying with him without succumbing to the desire to map more of him with his lips, and with his hands. An unwise occupation, for Cardan’s energy and for his own ability to focus on anything but touching him.

Unfortunately, he is not currently in a good frame of mind to be making wise decisions.

He acquiesces easily when Cardan reaches for him, for all that indecision is written into the lines of his body, and remains in the restless attention of his eyes as he’s tugged nearer. And at the touch of fingers at his cheek, he lets out a soft sigh and closes his eyes, nestling more comfortably against his husband’s body.]

A little while, [he agrees.] Though I’ll need to put myself back in order in not too much longer.

[If he doesn’t sound enthusiastic about it, it’s because he’s not. But needs must; he couldn’t stay in bed all night without someone coming to seek his attention, regardless. And there are some matters that do require his attention, at least briefly.]

[ It’s as much of a concession as he could have expected, and Cardan isn’t going to complain about it. From the night of their wedding, he had known Liem to be dutiful to a fault; he can hardly blame him for needing to tend to his work, especially since Cardan plans to be absolutely useless for the rest of the night.

That doesn’t mean he’s going to make Liem’s duty easier. As his husband settles in against his body, Cardan will wind an arm around him and use the other to pull the covers over them. His tail, for once, seems to be on the same page as he — it, too, curls loosely over Liem’s waist, the soft tuft whispering over the small of his back. It feels like— contentment. His limbs are pleasantly heavy, as are his eyelids. They hadn’t had much sleep, either of them, he realizes — and ignores the brief pang of guilt at the thought of Liem working through it anyway. Well, what good would it do his husband to have Cardan crabby and inattentive, even if he showed up to the office in his current state?

No, better to take what moments he can to rest, and trick Liem into doing at least some of the same. His fingers find their way into soft brown hair, petting contentedly as his own breath and heartbeats slow. Cardan’s eyes slide shut. He knows he should get off his back, but he doesn’t particularly want to, and it doesn’t hurt, anyway.

It takes him an alarmingly short time to start drifting off into sleep. ]

[Liem has quite often found Cardan’s nearness distracting during the long weeks of their acquaintance. Often it has seemed clearly intentional on Cardan’s part, paired with an undercurrent of menace or at least petty mischief, and his preoccupation has seemed justified by his husband’s deliberate provocation.

He does not have that excuse now. Cardan’s embrace is warm and comfortable; Liem is wrapped cozily in the feeling of being held, the soft tickle of the tail draped over him and the idle stroking of fingers in his hair. Scant hours ago, he had fallen blissfully asleep to the slow and gentle beating of Cardan’s heart, wrapped tenderly around him just like this.

Scant hours ago, he had not just drunk Cardan’s blood.

It’s not consideration that has Liem stroking idle fingers over Cardan’s skin as he listens to him breathe, but simply a needy desire to touch, still unsatisfied even now. His skin feels electric where their bodies touch; the steady beat of Cardan’s heart in his ears only makes him wish to press his mouth to the warmth of his chest and tease that gentle pulse frantic again. He still, still can’t think of anything else, and only his awareness of his husband’s exhaustion keeps his touch comforting and his mouth safely to himself.

Even so, he stays longer than he should. Even though lying here like this is its own special kind of teasing, to no real end, Liem is still loath to tear himself away, to leave his husband alone so he can attend what small amount of work and delegation needs to be seen to before the sun rises again. Night has well and truly taken hold before he forces himself to slip out of Cardan’s grasp and disappear into the adjoining rooms to wash and dress.

He does it alone, and when he calls a servant to help him shave and to style his hair, he allows him entry no further than the front room.

The business of the night takes him longer than he’d hoped. Gusairne tries to interrogate him about every aspect of the duties Liem has relinquished, and it is coming up on midnight before he sets foot in his rooms again. He can’t imagine Cardan has been up since he left, so he instructs the staff to bring food to their sitting room — something uncomplicated, on a tray, so he can bring it to their bedroom if his husband refuses to get out of bed. He knows intimately that Cardan could get up to eat if he wanted to, but he’s not convinced he’ll be bothered, especially since he doesn’t know what that mystery drug might do to his appetite.

For the time being, he lets himself back into their bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him and leaning against it to pull off his shoes. Then he goes about the business of trying to rouse his husband, so he can put something in his body that isn’t drugs.]

[ Cardan dreams of smeared grey shapes and the scattered flapping of bird wings too close to his face. He had stirred, briefly, when Liem had excised himself from his embrace, but not for long-- watching his husband leave would not have made the bed seem smaller or less lonely.

And he is tired. Tired enough to curl up in a nest of sheets and give himself over to his dreaming. Tired enough that someone's presence only registers once the bed dips with another person's weight. For a moment, he assumes it's a servant, before his sluggish thoughts catch up with reason: no servant would dare come so close to touching him.

He had moved back onto his stomach as Liem was leaving, though it is barely possible to tell: the only part of him that peeks out from the duvets and pillows is his hair and the point of one pale ear. Now, however, he will stir, still too weary to be alarmed, lifting his face and expecting to see-- well.

Certainly not his husband, looking sharp and put-together as ever. For a moment, Cardan's body is thrown into confusion: as strangely as time stretches in a dream, it doesn't feel like-- ]

Is it morning already?

[ He cannot say he feels particularly well-rested. What he feels like is pulling Liem into bed and keeping him there for another night or two, responsibilities be damned.

He extends one sleep-warm arm from his duvet cocoon, intending to do just that. ]

[Liem debates briefly whether to simply let his husband sleep, when his silent entry causes no stirring from the depths of their shared bed. Certainly neither of them had caught much sleep during the day, and the speed with which Cardan had drifted off before he got up suggested he well needed it. On the other hand, he's aware that his husband hasn't eaten anything since their dinner at the Count's manor, although Liem has since supped from him.

He decides to at least inquire. He always feels better after a good meal, after all.

Because Liem is a realist, he takes off his jacket as well before coming to the bed and sitting down next to his sleeping husband. But he is not quite ready to be pulled straight back in with him just yet; he catches Cardan's reaching hand instead, lifting it so he can press a kiss against his warm, uncallused palm.]

No. It's not quite midnight.

[He keeps Cardan's hand caught in his own as he looks down at the face peering sleepily out from the covers, lit only by the dull orange glow of the untended hearth. Does he seem a little paler than usual, or is that simply the look of sleep clinging to him?]

Are you hungry at all? I know it's been a while since you last ate.

[ Cardan is starting to realize that he's suffering from a rare affliction: whenever his husband's lips touch any part of him, no matter how tired or alarmed or inconvenienced he might be, his treacherous heart skips a beat. If there is a cure for such a thing, he has no thoughts on what it might be.

More kissing, he hopes. He draws in a breath and curls his fingers to the shape of Liem's cheek, which is more smooth than it was this morning. His husband is answering his question, he realizes, and Cardan ought to stop being distracted by his mouth and pay at least some attention. Probably.

Liem's answer makes him blink, then frown, then push himself into a sitting position, letting the covers pool at his waist. ]

If it is not yet midnight, [ he starts, slowly, as if arranging the words in his head, ] why are you here?

[ ...had he slept through the day and into the next night? No. Surely not even Cardan can manage such an excess of languor on accident. Maybe Liem merely thinks Cardan so convalescent that he must be checked on every few hours. ]

[This is at least the third time now by Liem’s reckoning, maybe the fourth, that his husband has been bewildered by his decision to do something nice for him. He wonders briefly if this is going to be an ongoing pattern; if suspicion lies so close to Cardan’s bones that he cannot help but mistrust any attempt at thoughtfulness aimed his way. Though rather than his suspicion, perhaps Liem should be laying blame at the feet of Cardan’s fatigue on this particular occasion.]

I’ve finished my work. Such that couldn’t wait.

[The look he aims at Cardan as he emerges from the covers stops short of being solicitous, but he does note the severely bedraggled state of the bandages covering his wounded shoulder. He doesn’t know what the house doctor might say about that; all he knows is that his husband still smells as he should, so he assumes his wound isn’t doing anything untoward. Ultimately, Cardan does not really look to be in need of tending. He just looks tired and rumpled and exquisitely edible.

Liem is, however, aware of a certain similarity he’s noticed between the two of them. His husband’s care for his own physical needs has often seemed haphazard to Liem, like he can’t be bothered to worry about such mundane things when he’d rather be drinking and involving himself in Liem’s business. Hypocritically, he’s displeased by the idea of leaving Cardan alone with himself when he’s tired and suffering injury.

He says, sensibly,]

I’m here to keep you company. And to see if you want lunch.

[ It's hard not to draw parallels to the day at the stables, when Liem had strolled in and announced he'd cancelled meetings to romp through the woods with Cardan instead. He's as blind-sided by it now as he was then -- perhaps more so. Whenever Cardan had to retreat to nurse his wounds in the past, he would do so alone. He had always thought it preferable to having someone else witness his most pathetic moments, anyway.

But if Liem had wanted to gloat about Cardan's injuries, surely the most opportune time has already passed.

Still, he's caught between discomfort -- because it's unnecessary, and because he doesn't want to owe Liem for unnecessary things -- and a strange, insistent delight. He had taken it for granted that Liem would leave and come back in the morning, at which point Cardan would have composed himself into some semblance of being awake. To have him back is novel, and unexpectedly flattering.

At least, Cardan will choose to take it as such.

As usual, he takes refuge in audacity most easily. The grin he directs Liem's way curls with sharp licentiousness, even as his fingers travel down to hook into Liem's collar.

Once again, Cardan will attempt to tug him closer. ]

Is your intent to nurse me back to health, husband?

[ Of course, Liem has expressed no such desire, but he's here, and he appears to be trying to get Cardan to eat, which is basically the same thing. ]

[This time, when Cardan attempts to bring him nearer, Liem allows himself to be tugged close. His husband looks and smells much as he did when he'd left him, save that the blood-scent on him has gone flat — but fortunately, although dishevelment has not lessened Cardan's allure, the intervening hours have returned to Liem his ability to function in the face of it.

His nose brushes Cardan's as he leans closer, gently conversational.]

Do you wish for me to?

[Is that what he's come here to do? He hadn't had such a concrete intention in mind when he'd given the night's matters over to Gusairne, or when he'd directed the servants to bring food to their rooms. He'd simply wanted to be thorough. He'd simply thought that Cardan shouldn't have to be alone.]

I cannot say I have much experience with nursing.

[He probably has about as much experience as Cardan has interest in it, as he doubts his husband has much tolerance for being fussed over.]

Nor I with being nursed.

[ Unlike Liem, Cardan has failed to acquire any additional immunity to his husband in the interim. When Liem leans close, when his face brushes Cardan's, his only defense to the little thrill that sings through him is to go on the offensive. He runs his hands down the front of Liem's shirt and turns his head just enough to breathe a kiss against his jaw, almost as if by accident.

Then he posits that if Liem is concerned about his appetite, he ought to feed Cardan by hand.

That lasts him about half a breath, because as soon as food touches Cardan's tongue, he realizes he is ravenous. He forgets his fine manners, for a moment, forgets flirtation, too busy devouring the tray of refreshments. He cannot remember feeling this feral about food since he'd been a child in rags, stealing fresh buns from the palace kitchens.

Once he's done gorging himself, sleep becomes inevitable. Still, even with his eyelids leaden and his limbs sinking into the sheets, he does his best to trap Liem there with him, draping long limbs over him before slipping back into slumber. He will sleep for some time longer, and when he wakes, he is sure that morning is no longer far off.

He knows he should get out of bed and knows just as well that he doesn't want to. For some time, he will put it off, busying himself instead with a lazy inventory of his husband's face, fingertips tracing along the lines of Liem's brows, his nose, the hollow of his throat--

But eventually, Cardan sighs, pulls his hand away, and asks, ] Can your house run me a bath?

[ Though he's generally not averse to being covered in traces of licentious activity, even he has to admit that he feels stickier than he prefers. ]

[Cardan's suggestion puts a smile on Liem's face, for its novelty as much as for the charming intimacy of it. He can't remember if there was ever a time that someone asked such a thing of him. Most of the times he's shared any kind of meal with a lover, their snack had been in the form of a person.

He is happy enough to grant Cardan's wish; happier still to see him demolish the tray of food sent from the kitchens, even if he does fall upon it like a starving animal. If Liem had harboured any uncertainties about whether his husband actually needs food as mortals do, they are soundly erased. He makes a mental note to be more proactive about ensuring that he isn't the only one who ends up fed when he sups on his spouse in the future.

With his work seen to and his worries about his husband's hunger quieted, Liem allows himself to be lured back to bed for a much-needed nap. He wakes burrowed so snugly between Cardan and the pillows that he cannot even properly draw breath, so it's just as well that he doesn't need to. But although he shifts to a slightly less suffocating position, he is in no hurry to drag himself once more out of bed and into his clothes.]

Yes, [Liem answers, not yet bothering to open his eyes.] Hot water, at least.

[Unfortunately the manor is not magical enough to tip any flower petals or scented bath products into the water, so if Cardan desires such things he'll need to do that himself. Personally, Liem considers a bath that's just filled with water to be a little spartan, but for the time being, he asks the house to tend to it. The sound of pouring water comes muffled from the direction of the washroom.

He feels a little groggy — probably a symptom of napping while the sun isn't even up, if he had to guess. Liem gives his husband a gentle squeeze around the waist before blinking his eyes open and pushing himself onto his elbows to ease back into wakefulness. He regards Cardan for a moment through the dark.]

Would you like any assistance?

[ In the past few hours, Cardan has gotten used to emoting through pitch blackness. It's not so difficult when he can read where his husband is by the glowing embers of his eyes.

When they're open, anyway.

He'll sit up reluctantly, rolling his injured shoulder with a frown. It's still a little sore and stiff, but it no longer feels quite so raw underneath the rumpled bandages, which he will reach for and start unwinding as he waits for the tub to fill.

His considering stare finds Liem's. ]

If you help me bathe, [ he points out, reasonably, ] we are liable to end up fucking again.

[ Not that this would be an unwelcome thing. It's got to be close to morning, and no work meetings will demand Liem from him in the immediate future. He doesn't want to think about the serious conversations they should have, nor about Dain or the foolish things they've promised each other. If it were up to Cardan, he would simply ignore this whole sordid affair and spend as much time as possible squeezing pleasure out of his remaining months in this world.

But Liem has decided to throw his lot in with Cardan's cursed one, and now he -- quite despite himself -- feels responsible. ]

[Liem huffs out a small laugh at the sound of Cardan's observation. The idea of fucking in the bath sounds alarmingly tempting right now, and given their activities for the last day, he has to admit that he's been in the kind of mood to give in to temptation. It would be much easier than addressing the more serious matters that still demand their attention.]

Well, I cannot disagree. And we have other things yet to do tonight.

[Seeing as tonight is already almost over, it would probably be for the best if he got dressed. Feeling put together might not stop his eyes from lingering over Cardan's every movement, but it's hard to feel especially confident in his self-control when he and his husband are nude in the same room.

But he slides over to the side of the bed and goes about lighting the candle there before he attends to anything else.]

Perhaps another time.

[On a night when they have fewer pressing things to discuss — if that night ever actually arrives. For now, Liem rises to investigate the idea of becoming clothed.]

Oh, perhaps.

[ The sharp little grin he directs Liem’s way has as much to do with the denial as it does with the shape of his lean body, shaded attractively in soft candlelight. Cardan doesn’t bother hiding the deeply interested way he’s watching Liem dress; after all, his surfeit of desire is hardly news to either of them, and why else would his husband give Cardan the benefit of light?

It’s almost distracting enough to make him forget about his own purpose. Almost — though eventually he’ll have freed himself of the bandages and rolled out of bed himself. The mirror reveals a truly bedraggled picture: his hair is curling at wild angles, his neck a mess of bruises. Smears of his own blood still persist on his skin. Cardan takes a moment to press his fingers to the twin wounds Liem has left on his throat; they are still a little tender, which is surprising, but sends a soft little throb of wanting down Cardan’s spine.

A cursory glance at his back reveals better progress. It’s still an angry red, and swollen along the ugly scar, but the skin has knotted together around the stitches, as he’d suspected. He vaguely remembers something about getting them removed — a procedure that he’s sure is bound to be as barbaric as putting them there had been — but surely that can wait a bit.

The bath feels nice. He doesn’t bother improving on the house’s contribution of hot water before he sinks in, though he will soap up to scrub away the remnants of the night from his skin and face. On a whim, he will steal Liem’s shampoo to lather into his hair, not that it will make much of a difference — Cardan’s hair looks the same no matter what he washes it with. It’s a nice reminder, anyway, of Liem’s scent on his pillow.

Half an hour later he’s damp but clean, and pulling on clothing. He doesn’t go so far as to affect any formality: just dark trousers and a billowy shirt made of spidersilk, the collar of which leaves Liem’s handiwork exposed. Cardan will worry about how to hide his neck later.

He’ll acquire a new glass of wine before he settles into the couch of their sitting room. His head feels clearer than it has at any point in the past twelve or so hours, but he cannot help the anxiety that gnaws at him. After all this, he still isn’t sure of what Liem might want. Worse, he doesn’t know if Liem is certain, himself.

His fingers tap on the stem of his glass, restless. His wedding band is still the only ring he’s wearing; he catches the glint of the blue gems, a colour close to that of Liem’s eyes. How had Elfhame’s artisans known…?

That’s, admittedly, not the question he should be asking. ]

[Liem cannot be surprised by the sharp, pointed smile he earns from Cardan, but he still manages to be a little distracted by it. His gaze catches on the angles of that handsome face, the unflinching interest in those dark eyes. Despite his husband’s dishevelled state, Liem thinks, he still wears his pride like a crown.

And he should really be getting dressed.

They have work to do, so Liem dresses again for work — though he remains in just his waistcoat and shirtsleeves, as a concession to the privacy of their meeting. While his husband bathes, he pours himself a glass of wine, lowers himself into one of the sitting room’s cushioned chairs, and directs his thoughts properly to Cardan’s would-be murderer for the first time since the previous night.

There is much he does not know about Dain, just as there is much he does not know about all of Cardan’s relations. This needs to change. He cannot wage a war against someone who exists to him only as a name and handful of facts. But he cannot make up for what he does not know in the span of one morning’s discussion.

And there also exists the trouble of waging a war against someone without his father finding out. That will not be as simple as using his own funds to fund his activities. His father is meticulous in keeping track of his investments. Liem will need to be careful about where he goes, and whom he invites where. He will need a cover story to explain what is taking all of his time.

He is still thinking when Cardan reappears, damp and clean and clothed, though casually. As he regards him, his eyes cannot help but wander to his throat. The marks there seem starker without the smears of dried blood camouflaging them. Fascination tugs inconveniently at the direction of his focus.

He forces his gaze back up at Cardan’s face.]

Cardan, [he says, musingly.] What can you tell me of Elfhame’s trade relations with other countries?

[ Cardan feels Liem’s glance like a caress on his skin; it is difficult to tell what his husband is thinking, however. Does he regret his work? Delight in it? He had seemed so reluctant to bite Cardan, and for so long, that he’s not sure if they’re fully over that particular hurdle, much as he wishes to be so.

The question Liem poses is not one he expects. He blinks, momentarily off guard. He had not imagined this conversation to test this particular part of his palace education. ]

For one, that there is no such thing as a country.

[ It seems a fussy thing to point out, but if they are going to get entangled in Faerie — if Liem is asking for the reason Cardan thinks he might be asking — he will need to get used to how much difference a misplaced word can make, and quickly. ]

Elfhame trades with the lower courts under its purview, but it is more tithing than what you might consider trade — agreements that were made centuries ago, and debts of much the same vintage.

Then there is the Undersea.

[ He’ll swill the wine in his glass… then wriggle his fingers, looking like he’s concentrating. There is a ripple from the surface of the liquid, and then a fine red mist rises into the air between them, forming the shapes of three isles. It’s an illusion, of course, though not one meant to deceive. ]

The isles of Elfhame are surrounded by it, and so we have treaties with the Undersea’s Queen. She trades us salt and fish and pearls the size of grapes, so perfectly round you could use them as marbles. And in return, we send her gold for her adornment and steel with which to keep her enemies in line.

[ This is probably both more and less detail than Liem requires, but Cardan has no idea what specifically he’s looking for, so he mentions the things he thinks interesting first. ]

Edited 2023-02-02 21:48 (UTC)

[Liem accepts Cardan's initial response with a small frown. He had chosen what he thought to be a broad enough word, one that might describe regions of a number of different sizes and sovereignties. Apparently this concept is not as universal as he had imagined.

It makes little difference at the present moment. He watches his husband conjure miniature islands from his wineglass, eyeing the representation with interest. He has not yet seen a map of Elfhame; to see it represented in this way piques his curiosity.]

There are many things I do not yet understand about the place you come from.

[His observation is distracted, almost as though he is speaking to himself. His eyes remain fixed to the curious shapes of the three islands.]

I will need to ask you to explain what you mean at some point.

[Perhaps not right now. The specifics of what Faerie is made up of if not countries likely fall beyond the scope of their current discussion.

Finally, he looks back up.]

I will need an avenue of influence there, to accomplish anything of use. An excuse to visit, and to establish regular communications. If my father discovers what is demanding so much of my time — and he will, eventually — what he finds must be no more interesting than a private business venture.

Does Elfhame do business with… Ironside? Generally speaking.

[ Cardan eyes Liem instead of the islands -- they are hardly a novelty to him, after all. A lazy wave of his fingers soon renders them back into the glass. For a moment longer, he will say nothing, and his gaze on Liem's face suggests he is sizing up a riddle.

They are, at least, of one mind on the fact that Iago should not know of this. Still, something about this level of subterfuge strikes him as odd; a half-formed idea circles his thoughts, uncertain as a shadow beneath waves. ]

Not in the way you imagine.

[ Does that need an explanation? It occurs to him that he has no idea how much Liem knows about Faerie, how much he would have been told. Perhaps Cardan is not the only one who is ignorant about his spouse's true nature.

It shouldn't make him feel better, but it does. ]

Humans trade with us for things they want -- or think they want. Fortune. Beauty. Lost love's return. A male child to inherit the family name. Not bargains that, I would think, would be useful to you. [ And they come with a price, he doesn't say, but of course that much should be obvious. ]

But you are not mortal, which should be to your advantage. Still, I would not set your sights on the isles themselves. For one, you are in the unenviable position of being wed to Eldred's least favourite child.

[ He says this drily, like he's not trying to be particularly bitter about it. ]

For two, a lower court will be easier to navigate. The Alderking in Fairfold treats with the local humans, so he may be open to hearing out a foreigner. And it is far enough from Elfhame for neither of our fathers to hear about it immediately.

If you wish to do business, I would start there.

Edited 2023-02-03 05:02 (UTC)

[The bargains that Cardan speaks of do not sound especially related to the kind of business that Liem is most familiar with, and that he wishes to conduct. He cannot build a business on the ill-conceived wishes of desperate mortals, nor would he want to. But that is clearly not the only kind of trade that Elfhame conducts, even with the residents of Ironside.

After all, that is why they two were married.

He regards Cardan in silence for a moment, thinking. The reminder that his husband is not well-regarded in his family no longer comes as any surprise to him, though he tries not to dwell on the dry way in which Cardan brings it up. It has the familiar smell of an old wound, plastered over to keep the evidence of it hidden from sight.

It would be best, he has to admit, for them to stay away from the isles. He is of course loath to draw attention from his father, which he surely will if he attempts to do business somewhere Iago has already set his sights, and he does not know what kind of reaction the High King would have to the sudden return of his star-cursed progeny. But he is most concerned about the prospect of taking Cardan there because it seems like treading into the centre of a spider’s web, and he suspects that it would make Dain’s designs on his husband’s life all the easier to realize.]

I will defer to you on this. It is best to be cautious.

[A single blunder could easily prove disastrous given their circumstances, so he is inclined to be patient. Rushing will not help him accomplish what he said he would, in any case.]

We already have targets painted on our backs, so I don’t wish to draw too much attention too quickly. But this seems to me like the best way to begin.

Though I also welcome any insights you might wish to provide, considering my paucity of knowledge about your family and your home.

[ Cardan doesn't bother pointing out that the one who's painted the target on Liem's back is Liem himself. He's not entirely sure they are done having this argument, but he cannot see an immediate advantage in bringing it up just now.

Well, not that there are any advantages in it for him. A pity his sense of guilt is averse to reason. ]

I do not rightly know where to start.

[ It's hard to put himself into the shoes of someone who has not grown up in a fey court. Liem is starting with an advantage over mortals -- he is, at least, a member of an immortal court, and slightly less susceptible to magical deception -- but the rules and mores of Faerie are as riddles, meant to deceive and confound. ]

Perhaps with this: make no deal nor agreement with any of my kind, no matter how small, until you've given me a chance to examine the terms.

[ Though he is trying to look casual about all of that, there is something a little tense in his jaw when he looks at Liem. ]

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