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From the upper balcony outside the domestic wing, the sounds of the few early cicadas in the trees hovered up like sweet smoke from a roasting fire, dancing and swirling around, tickling at the senses. The twin moons had come to full across these past few weeks, one great white disc with the smaller silver lingering around its tail; from where he sat Markus could look down across the entirety of the city, the lines of the streets like veins, the houses and other buildings bearing flickering warmth in their windows as the populace continued with their lives.

Tonight would be perfect for a bit of fun, he thought, tilting his glass back against his lips. The cool fizz of the Arro 20 sparkled along his tongue, smooth and sweet; he thought of that lacquered dragon mask sitting atop the drawers back in his own quarters, still with the scuff along the scales of the cheek. He had not worn it since Lan had unmasked him. But I do have more important things to do…

“_Mar_kus."

He jumped at her voice, then jumped again when bare footpaws brushed in across his own beneath the little table. Carefully trimmed toeclaws slid along short, soft fur, then joined by the gentle-firm squish of Rhea's pads… Markus turned his head the other way, rested his chin in his free paw, swirled the sparkling wine around within the glass.

“You can't just say that Father wants a word with me without telling me what. Right now?"

Lunch was exquisite, as he had come to expect within House Thorn, and then a needed nap made dinner later in the afternoon even more so. Markus treated himself to a quick walk around the city to see if he could find another batch of fresh stormberries upon learning that Rhea had stepped out for some quick errand or another, and then had returned only for the start of that meal to be delayed another ten minutes or so by the wolfess's absence. At first he thought that she had been avoiding his eye when she arrived, but then a paw sneaking under the table to find his and pat his leg put that thought out of his mind.

“No," he answered, with a flick of the ears. “Not right now. I imagine he'll contact you."

Rhea was quiet for a moment. “Contact me," she spat, then sat back in her own seat. “Like I'm a business associate. “Sometimes I really do tire of this… well, all of this."

“What?"

“Father's not a born noble, yet he acts like he was one all his life." Silver-blue eyes glittered in the moonlight. She took a sip of her own wine, the bottle sitting open between them. “Because he thinks that's the only way to give his family the happiness that he wants for himself. He-"

“I… don't think that's quite true."

“No?"

Markus turned to face the table more fully, set his glass down, and tapped his claws along the base. He rolled one footpaw over Rhea's, squeezed hers in between his own, slid back down along her smooth fur.

“He… is happy," the foxwolf went on, “I think. Or – he's content. We spoke today, and he told me a little of where he came from, and how he got to where he is now, and…" Arena. Oryon certainly doesn't have one. Does Leyo? “…I don't know. He's your father. But it seems to me, an outsider, that as long as you get what you want, then he'll remain happy."

“That's the thing though, Markus. He's not giving me that." Rhea reached across the table, spread her paw out, rested it atop the surface. Almost on reflex Markus shifted in his seat to reach out as wall and cover hers with his own, fingers brushing across the soft fur there, feeling the lines of her fingers, her claws beneath his pads… the engagement ring, smooth and warm. “He wants for me what he wants for himself, and that's a secure, stable holding over the city. It's safety within the name of the House. He… doesn't understand that I want, is…"

She trailed off, turned her head away, and bit her lip. Then a moment later Rhea half-raised her other paw, angling her fingers towards the sky; she seemed to concentrate for a moment, took in a breath, held it… and then again like smoke, Markus watched as gossamer wisps of steam first, then water took shape, coalesced, and hovered above her palm, forming a small crystal droplet that trembled and shifted with subtle movements. It seemed to glow from inside, then, and she turned her paw, moved the droplet towards Markus, nudged it in… and he felt his muscles relax with the sensation of the sweet, pleasant heat, soft and relaxing like a freshly drawn bath, though there was no wound there to heal.

“This," the wolfess continued, and pressed her palm there atop Markus's wrist. She looked up at him. “Putting my magic to use. Doing something that's actually, actively helpful to the people around me. Maybe the world needs its rulers, and maybe Leyo and Oryon need their Counts and Countesses. But they don't need me, because it's the people who need me, and I-"

Markus folded a paw beneath hers, to clasp it in his own grip. He slowly rolled the ring along her finger. “You need to be loved the way you deserve."

Rhea's mouth fell open. She looked at him, eyes focused, ears up, twin moons hanging behind her. “Markus…"

“And that's why… I told Volo – I told your father…" He couldn't hold her gaze, though. The foxwolf glanced away, down towards the flickering lights of the city spread out below them. “Well, he… has agreed to write my mother, to try to get the marriage called off." He wanted to look at her, but at the same time, didn't: what should I expect to see there? Relief that she won't be stuck with me? “And that's what he'll want to speak with you about. Your thoughts and opinions. Because he… values these from you, and wants to be sure he's doing the right thing by you."

The sound of the cicadas rose, and fell, and rose again. Gradually Rhea slipped her paw out from in between his, and she shifted in her chair to face partially away from him.

Markus swallowed. “I thought you might be… relieved."

“I am. I am." The wolfess's ears flicked back, then up again. Her tail swished behind her, coming just above the stone floor. “I'm just… shocked. I was always… scared to say anything to him, because I knew where he had come from and what he expected, and… it's not that I don't trust you on this, Markus." Her eyes flashed again. “It's just that, I've spent my whole life bracing myself for this, and now it's been turned around so easily… I suppose hinging on what Her Excellency says."

“They already had a plan for my brother, Mercutio. I suppose he was intended to take Leyo, and you and I would hold Oryon." Markus coughed. “Would have held. You know I've always been against it. And… I'll… if it means anything…" He folded his paws back into his own lap, touching at his fingers, his knuckles. He had left his own ring back in Oryon. “Use my position… whatever that might mean after this, as the son of a Countess, to – ensure that you can do what you desire."

She nodded slowly. “I would… appreciate that."

Then Rhea trailed off again, chin resting in her paw, gaze looking out across the city below. Markus waited, tilted his head, flicked his ears, then reached for his glass to finish it off. They still had half the bottle left; it would be a shame to let those bubbles go to waste.

“I suppose you'll be returning to Oryon soon, then?"

Markus looked up from pouring himself another. Still Rhea faced the city, though one ear remained cocked towards him. She glanced his way and then looked back again.

The foxwolf held his breath, then sighed. He waited for the fizz in his glass to die down a little bit. “That… was my initial plan," he began, “but…" and saw her other ear perk as well. Paw folding down, Rhea turned to look at him again. “I don't… really see the point, I suppose. I could speak to my mother, and see my brother again, but… there's nothing there that I don't already have here." His chair creaked softly as he sat back in it. “Lura's long gone by this point, I would think. It's for the best, really. I'm… frustrated with myself for that, because I had everything I wanted, right there in my grasp, and then just – threw it all away, because I couldn't think further ahead than what might happen tomorrow. I came up here to get away from him, and then he gave me exactly that. So I have only myself to blame."

Markus looked down into his glass, watching the way the bubbles streamed up from a few certain points within the bowl. When he tilted it this way, still they reached straight up and away; then on tilting the opposite direction, the stream still remained relatively straight, as though the bubbles were following the line of some invisible string tugging down from the sky.

“And I… wouldn't want to do that again," he finished, quietly. The foxwolf risked a glance over the rim at Rhea, watching him with those sharp, wild predator's eyes. He waited, then: “What? No sassy, backhanded remark for me this time?"

Rhea shook her head, lips pursed. Then she, too, reached for her glass, and tilted it his way. Markus scooted in his seat to pour her another.

“It's your life," she said, shrugging with her other shoulder. “You deserve to lead it the way you see fit. If I remember right, that was one of the first discussions we had when you arrived. Down in the cellars, and the wood outside?"

“Yes. There's no way I could forget. But, besides that – Lan is teaching me how to properly swordfight, and I wouldn't want to interrupt those lessons. So that's keeping me here until the end of this week, at the earliest." He took a sip. “And I still haven't met your lions. I can't leave without having done that, right? And then, there's… well, it's…"

He glanced away, but the wolfess across from him could not be dissuaded so easily. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her ears perk again, and her whiskers came forward, and her nose twitched, twitched again. Markus shifted and scratched at a spot on his cheek, trying to cover the embarrassment of his changing thought, yet knowing that this would just ooze out further. That was something that he still hadn't fully figured out about full-blooded wolves: the depth of their scent perception. It seemed that every little thought manifested itself just enough within his aura, that she or Lord Thorn or any of the other attendants could pick it up immediately and just short of read his mind, and – Rhea tilted her head, her expression suddenly softer.

“Markus," she purred. “Tell me. I know you want to."

“Well – it's…"

“Come on." This time when she reached for him, it was to poke at his wrist with her claws. Markus swept his paw away, but she just leaned further forward to do the same to his shoulder. “You're embarrassed! That means it's about me, isn't it?"

“Stop! Stop that, you – you'll make me spill-" And he laughed, and just barely managed to place his glass back down on the table before managing to grasp her paw coming in for another poke. “Rhea! Okay, okay. You're right. It's about you. It… well…" Then he released her again, and she sat back. “It is you."

She tilted her head the other way. Markus swallowed, heart thumping.

“It's… well, it feels like we're just now getting to know each other. We had the engagement, and, yes, I was against the arranged marriage – I still am; you know that, and I know that you are too – but… like you said, when you took me through the cellars to the wood? And then the time we spent in the city, and in the library, and during your lessons? Lunch together, just you and I upstairs… and going berry-picking, and…" Even without looking, he could feel her gaze still on him, her expectation. The cicadas rose and fell, rose and fell.

Markus huffed softly, trying to find the words. “Whatever's happening here, whatever… this… is, I… think I like it." Now he was the one to reach forward and spread his paw on the table. Rhea eyed it like it was some strange animal, then gradually returned the gesture, this time entwining her fingers with his. “Under different circumstances? Without the pressure of the arrangement, and our parents' expectations? I really think that… something between you and I could actually work. I'll want to meet your lions, and speak about it with them, but I mean, if you're willing…"

“Markus, I…" Rhea trailed off, her lips parted, her ears splayed to the sides. She looked across his muzzle for any sign of a tease or a joke, glanced to the side to run through her own thoughts, brought her other paw up to cover his. The vulnerability that he still saw so rarely came through in her gaze and expression: the mask she kept on throughout most of her day, that sassy, self-assured viscount's daughter – daughter of a warrior, the foxwolf reminded himself, of two gladiators – trickled away to show the cool truth of her presence underneath. She leaned in a little bit, the surface of the table tilting just slightly beneath where she braced her elbow; she tilted her head, swallowed, shifted in her chair, breathed out a slow, gentle sigh…

…and then just as quickly stiffened and drew herself away, leaving Markus a little bit lost there with his eyes half-closed and his mouth half-open. He blinked and looked after her: Rhea had turned fully away from him, arms crossed in front of her chest, one leg over the other, head angled away, lips pouting.

“A pleasant offer," she began, “but it offends me and my good name and virtue that you claim to only realize this after you figure your previous relationship is done."

“What are you – I-" Markus swung forward, paws impacting the table so suddenly that his glass bounced. He moved to catch it, knocked it further off balance, and sloshed about half of the wine across his own paw before managing to hold it steady. “That wasn't… I mean, I thought we talked about how I would be willing to talk about it, and we can figure out what's – really happening between us, I mean you and me, and I mean, if Lura's still around and still willing, I'll talk with him too, and then there's… there…"

Then he, too, trailed off: just as Rhea had been able to pick up his embarrassment a few moments earlier, now Markus felt something strange wafting off of her as well. Despite his attempts to keep it subtle, he found himself tilting his head, twitching his nose, and leaning in closer to her, drawing her scent out of the still, early-summer air. There was the thick, cool touch of the forest as usual, strung through with gardenia nectar and blossom, and then… it was hard for him to pick out for the way it blended so easily, so well with the notes that he recognized as centrally her, but still it stuck out for its familiarity.

There was amusement, there, hovering at the fringes of her scent. Markus paused, his complaints dying in his throat; mouth still open, he stared at her, noted the way she flicked one of her ears and then turned further away, at the same time covering her mouth with the back of a paw.

“Wait a second." He pushed away from the table, stood up, took the step and a half around towards her. Rhea's tail swished and she made a little noise, then scooted in her chair to continue facing away from him. “You're playing with me, aren't you?"

“Don't come any closer," she purred, now turning the other way. The corner of her lip twitched with trying to suppress a smile; Markus caught a glimpse of yellow-white fang flashing amid pink gums before she covered it with her paw. “I'm still holding my wine. Markus! You-"

“You did it to me!" He poked at her shoulder, then her arm, then her thigh as he dropped down into a half-kneel in front of her, to put himself level with where she sat. Rhea tossed herself this way and that, unable to keep from laughing now, tail wagging behind her. “You almost had me there! Don't joke about something like that. I was being serious. I've never – no, you hold still – I've never done anything like this, and I wanted to make sure that – I was-"

“Stop! Now you'll make me spill, and there's nowhere for me to spill except-"

“Oh, like the ink again, right?" One paw on her wrist, Markus straightened up and leaned in even closer. Rhea straightened up and leaned back out of his range, but couldn't help but chuckle again. “I know how this one goes. Come here, you – damned wolf-"

And it was easier than he had expected to tug her down to him, her muzzle bumping sideways against his, her throat pulsing with quick breaths and half-stifled laughter. Rhea squirmed, playfully caught within his grasp, then suddenly gasped and shivered as the foxwolf shoved his nose up into the smooth expanse of fur and tender skin between her neck and her shoulder.

“O-oh, Markus…" she breathed, back going rigid. Then she swallowed – he felt it pulse against his nose – and shivered against him, the foxwolf nuzzling up towards her chin from slightly underneath, then back down again… then froze, frowned, dug his nose into the fluffy puff of fur there at the base of her neck revealed in the low-cut collar of her shirt. She gasped again, chest swelling against him, warm softness of her breasts nudging against his chin. One paw slid up along her lower back, pulling her forward against him so he could bury his nose deeper, drawing further of her scent, picking through the different notes and layers and finding something there that tickled at his memory, that tingled into the back of his awareness and trickled down his spine, making his tail flick, his ears twitch… his loins stir, even beyond what he already felt from the intimate closeness with her.

The foxwolf drew back, senses sparkling and heart fluttering. His tongue danced out across his parted lips. “You smell like otter," he stammered, then frowned. His head tilted the other way. “Your House doesn't… employ any otters."

Silver-blue eyes widened. The shock passed across Rhea's features like a ripple upon a pond; she bit her lip, cursed under her breath, and turned away again, though now made no attempt to hide the veneer of amusement. “Gods," she hissed, “I thought I'd gotten all of it with the perfume… but I suppose you would be able to pick it out better than me."

She shifted in her seat, finally facing him again. Markus sat back on his haunches, one paw coming up to hold onto the nearby table for support where he knelt. The wolfess leaned forward, angled her head so that one of her ears flopped partially over, then reached forward with both paws to caress his chin. Markus raised up into the touch, his own ears reflexively flicking back, his tail swishing about him; gentle teasing of manicured claws coaxed him forward, and then he felt her breath on his nose, his snout, his lips, and then his eyes drifted shut even with that hot, intense thought vibrating at the forefront of his awareness.

Rhea moved in to kiss him, her lips pressing against his, holding, locking, then slipping back, and then did so again, and again, each time pushing a little bit further, a little bit deeper. Markus felt himself melt into the affection all over again, though still sensed his urgent curiosity nudging at him, trying to pull him back out of the kiss, trying to get him to slip his tongue back out of her mouth, to stop his gentle yet hungry sucking around hers. She tasted of sweet sparkling wine, with a touch of the meaty richness from the meal just before, and then further back Markus also sensed something of the delicious sharp strike of the berries-

-and then she drew back and he nearly tumbled forward for the lack of resistance, his lips pursed, his mouth open, his tongue out. Markus's eyes flashed open and he just barely caught himself, then swallowed, caught a breath, and looked up at her again. Still her paws rested beneath his chin.

“I'd love to discuss this with you some more," the wolfess went on, voice soft, “but… there's someone in your quarters I think you should speak with first."

For a moment the world spun, and Markus knew it was not just the wine. With some effort he pulled himself back up to his full height, both paws now bracing on the edge of the table. Rhea sat back and crossed one leg over the other.

He flicked his muzzle towards her. “You're – kidding. You didn't."

She showed her teeth again in a bright, wide grin, but then just as quickly hid it beneath curled lips. Then she shrugged, winked, and reached for her wineglass, tongue dancing out to catch a dribble staining the corner of her mouth from the string of kisses.

“Well…" she drawled, then took a small sip. “It's easier to learn the manor's secret passages from the inside than the outside, so I just… lent a bit of a helping hand."

Markus's paws came up to his muzzle, and then he turned, and he felt his tail brush against the stem of his own glass, and he spun back around to catch it just after he spilled half of the remaining half, and then with great care he pushed it to the center of the table.

“I'm… not done with this, yet," he said to the wolfess, tail wagging behind him.

“I know you're not. I wouldn't expect you to be; we still have half the bottle." She took another sip, lounging back in her chair, ears angled to the buzz of the insects. “Run along, now. I know you know where to find me."

“I'm not-" He took a few steps back, muscles twinging, aching to move. “-prioritizing him over you, I'm just-"

“I know you're not! Go ahead."

“I just want it to be clear that-"

“Markus."

The sudden steel in her voice yanked him back like a thick, woven cord. His tail slowed, and stilled; Markus turned back to face her, then returned those few steps. Legs still crossed, Rhea straightened up, leaned forward, angled her muzzle down so that he had no choice but to look into her eyes…

…and then she was the one to suddenly turn and push her nose up against his neck, breath coming out hot and soft before her lips pursed, and pressed in, and suckled gently at skin and fur. That first, and then a second, and a third, drawing in the foxwolf's scent, letting her breath waft back out across his pelt.

“Go to him," she urged, her free paw finding his to give a squeeze. “He's been waiting since before dinner. And he's an otter; who knows what kind of trouble he's getting up to. But don't run. The guards will think something's wrong."

“I – thank you – I was just – um… if I'm not back, we'll talk tomorrow, okay?" He grasped her paws, tail wagging so hard it made his rump swing, then wet his lips, swallowed, smiled, and turned to make his way back.

It's a trick, he thought then, taking the corner so hard that he had to reach out and grasp the threshold to keep his footpaws from skittering out from beneath him. It has to be. But… no, she wouldn't do that to me. Nobody here would. Then he smirked: It can't be an assassin like in the books Mercutio reads, because Rhea would've made sure to marry me first before killing me off. That's how it always goes in those stories. There's nothing from her to gain from me at this point. No wealth, certainly no reputation, no property of any kind… but, completely unrelated, the consistent string of petty thefts along the roads in and out of Oryon would suddenly cease.

_ _

Gods, what am I doing with myself?

He narrowly avoided bumping into the white fox servant who had first introduced him to the manor, Markus just barely issuing a greeting nod before continuing on his way. The warmth of the wine sizzled sweetly through his system, nowhere near enough to dizzy him, yet still certainly present: he kept his paws shoved into his pockets so that they would not fidget, reminded himself to plant one footpaw before lifting the other so it wouldn't look like he was in a rush, and kept his tail wrapped close around one leg.

She ­had been a little bit tight-lipped during dinner, but had a response already prepared when her father inquired about her errands. Rhea had said she had run down to the chapel in town to briefly help with some of the services there, which Markus believed: she did have the touch of incense about her, the same kind that they burned in their own Church of Vaska back home. That must have covered Lura's scent during the dinner, and then they broke briefly to rest and prepare for the night, and then just as arranged the wolfess sent a servant to fetch Markus for their now twice-weekly meeting, just the two of them.

But then this time there had been that third, silent and invisible waiting in between…

The foxwolf's heart thumped faster the closer he came to his quarters. Down the stairs at this annex and then back up at that one, as the twisting of the hallways in between took less time on the ground floor, and then he slowed just before the turn that would take him into his hallway. On instinct he paused there, waited at the corner, and took a look around, nose lifted to the air, testing for any strange or new scents.

One of the nearby tapestries had caught on the corner of its alcove, he noticed. And then was that some mud, or dirt, crumbling along by the foot of the wall? And he thought – thought – that the closer he came to his door, that he could detect the presence of the air changing around him, taking on a somewhat familiar note thick like the outside humidity, cool and sweet almost like mint, and…

Markus brushed his fingers over the surface of the door, slightly ajar. Did I leave it that way? he thought, then pushed it open, stepped in… and paused there, holding his breath. The window was slightly open, as he knew he had left it, but nothing else had changed. The clothing he wore for the swordsmanship practices remained folded on the table beside the remains of his breakfast, taken in here; then by the window, a small potted plant that Rhea had brought by earlier in the week, the soil still glistening wet after being watered by – he assumed – one of the servants making their usual rounds; and his mask… missing from the top of the drawers beneath the mirror, though the practice sword Lan picked out for him remained.

Utilizing the slow, careful, full-footed steps that he had perfected for sneaking out of the Oryon manor as a pup, Markus crept around first to the doorway leading to the next room, peeked in, saw nothing, then turned to try to the bedroom. Again he drew and held a breath, willing his tail to still, his heart to slow. Focus inward, he reminded himself: feel these sensations, but don't let them control you. Separate yourself from the nervousness, the anxiety. What happens, will happen. It is out of my control: what is done is done, and the only way to look is forward, and-

And like something out of a dream, there he was, the Lord Lura Strade sitting at the edge of Markus Kalla ef Solm Maldeth's bed. The slim, sleek otter clutched the glittering dragon mask in his paws, one thumb rubbing at the scuff mark along the scaled cheek. His little teacup ears flicked at the gentle tk-tk of Markus's toeclaws tapping along the floor, and his broad whiskers twitched, but he did not look up. His thick rudder, draped over the edge of the mattress, twitched its tip near the floor. The otter wore a clean, stark outfit, collar holding close to the thick fur of his neck, sleeves measured and trimmed for his size, tails of his coat flared out to drape over the base of his rudder, and… in cool navy fringed with sweet grey-green and cool, shimmering black for ornamentation, with a familiar crest emblazoned upon one shoulder.

House Oryon colors.

Markus's breath puffed out in a great rush and he took another, one paw coming to his chest, the other reaching out to support himself on the dresser. Lura's ear flicked again and finally the otter looked up at him, and this time instead of oddly colorless grey like distant storm clouds seen through a dusty window, it was instead – cool, deep blue, hard to see in the dim light.

“I thought I'd…" Markus didn't know where to look. Try as he might to hold the otter's gaze, he just could not. “Never see you again…"

Lura's shoulders shook in a quick scoff. He looked down again, rolled his head from one side to the other, then straightened up, stretched a little bit, sat back. The light from the candles around the room flickered across his muzzle, showing the familiar stout snout, the smooth, sleek lines of his face, the little scratches and scars he had acquired over the years… and that he had one blue eye and one brown, perfectly, cleanly split.

Thin lens of Air and Water, Markus recalled his mother saying. Grey to hide the heterochromia. Rare, and easily identifiable.

“Funny." And his voice sounded the same, too, that familiar, warm tenor, soft and sweet with its own depths. “That's my line. Although between the two of us, I'd think-" Lura lifted the mask enough for the individual scales to catch and reflect the light of the candles. “-you're supposed to be the ghost. You sure did disappear like one."