The first day of meeting had been for important news, but the second day that Prince Tolké spent with his cousin and her wife was for the exchange of social news, which of course he greatly preferred. Over afternoon tea, they exchanged gossip from not only their respective courts, but also word from the queen of Tarraven, the third cousin in their set who was absent. They did not see her quite as often, as she was busy with not only state duties, but also young twin sons that made travel difficult. Because of the great distance, they had developed a system of sending letters among the three of them so that they were always in contact without leaving anyone out, but now that two of the three were together, things were now simpler. As Leara and Tolké spoke in eager, hushed voices, sharing word on engagements, fallings out, and other goings on among their mutual acquaintances, Felana took notes to be properly written in a letter later on. She herself was not invested in the gossip, but she obliged being their secretary for such conversations anyway as a favor for the trio of cousins.

Once their meeting had concluded, and the appetite for tea and rumors had been satisfied, Tolké excused himself to prepare for that evening’s banquet. After an indulgent hour in the bath house he shut himself in his private rooms to get dressed. As it was a banquet hosted by the king, he of course would be expected to dress in the color of the kingdom’s banner. That only narrowed his choices slightly, as he had many tunics, robes, sashes, and trousers in different shades of orange. As it was a more formal gathering, he chose a full length evening robe the color of persimmons with trailing sleeves and gold thread embroidery.

In the midst of a long debate with himself on which jewelry to pair together, there was a knock at the door. He called out to allow entry, and a messenger opened the door and bowed.

“Good evening, my lord. I was asked to alert you when the first guests had started gathering in the banquet hall.”

“Oh,” Tolké was surprised. He had not requested the reminder, but it was welcome, as he had indeed lost track of time. He thanked the messenger, who went on her way.

Finally making a decision, he selected small hoops of turquoise, putting them in his ears as he hurried through the halls to the great hall.

The banquet hall had been prepared beautifully for the occasion, with cedar boughs bound into long ropes spanning the high rafters, and large bouquets of sunflowers that graced the corners and pillars of the hall. A great fire burned in the hearth, upon which was roasting several goats, carefully seasoned with many spices from all corners of the Holy Empire.

The first person Prince Tolké noticed was Droln, who stood near the door as if waiting for him.

“I didn’t know you could look so nice,” Tolké teased him. “I only ever see you in armor or plain clothes for practice.”

The captain smiled proudly and twirled once slowly to show all sides.

“Oh no,” Tolké sighed suddenly, touching the sleeve of Droln’s robe. “You should have worn blue.”

“Red doesn’t suit me?” Droln chuckled.

“At official banquets, it’s traditional to wear your kingdom’s color.”

Droln’s eyes grew wide and he looked around the room anxiously. Indeed, the room was full of oranges, greens, blues, and even a few shades of purple as well.

“Heaven help me,” he muttered, embarrassed. “I didn’t know; this is my first royal banquet.”

“It’s my fault,” Tolké shook his head. “I should have told you.”

“Should I change?”

“It’s too late for that,” the prince sighed. “As it is, I hardly got ready in time.”

“Of course.”

“You sent the messenger,” he realized, laughing incredulously.

“I did. I’m sure you’ll forgive me for pointing out your habit of lateness. I thought it might be wise to prevent it tonight, with my lord King Gaon’s eyes upon you.”

At the mention of his brother, Tolké looked for him among the attendees. He found him easily, as King Gaon stood in the middle of the arrangement of tables, his wife on his arm. The room quieted.

“Good evening, friends,” he spoke loudly enough for all to hear, his voice echoing against the high vaulted ceiling. “There are two joyous causes for celebration tonight. First, to welcome my esteemed cousin to Aldren, Princess Leara and her wife Princess Felana.” He gestured toward them, and Droln could see that of course Leara was dressed in a gown of elegant forest green, while her wife wore a combination of both green and blue. The guests applauded and raised their glasses toward the princesses in welcome. “Secondly,” the king continued, a rare smile on his face. “I am very pleased to announce that my dear wife is with child. We anticipate the birth will be just after the new year.”

A louder wave of applause broke out, among pleased and surprised gasps.

Droln glanced at Tolké, who could not look more shocked. He managed to close his gaping mouth and speak to Droln, although his eyes were on his brother.

“Meet me in my room.” His face shifted from surprise to joy as he hurried off to embrace his sister-in-law in congratulations.

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Droln waited in the prince’s private chambers alone, anxiously standing near the open terrace doors, looking out into the starlit garden below and musing about the news. If the king at last had a child, things would be very different for Tolké. Droln could not be sure how the prince would feel about this new development; perhaps he would be glad that the burden of a gold medallion would pass to another, and yet over the months of their time together, there always seemed to be a hint of ambition lingering under the surface. It was possible that losing his title, even without shame, would cause Tolké distress.

It wasn’t too long before the door opened and the prince himself entered.

“Can you believe it?” he exclaimed, looking both excited and shaken by the announcement. There was an odd edge to his voice that was difficult to read.

Droln neared him, unsure how to approach him.

“Are you pleased?”

“Of course I’m pleased,” Tolké began, striding to a wardrobe and opening the doors to frantically sort through the contents. “Gaon and Yurí have been married twelve years now. There have been many losses.” He began to pull blue items out, draping them over his shoulder as he spoke. “Each time, they made the announcement later and later. There were probably some that even I never knew about; you can never be certain how things will turn out. But if she’s expecting in the new year then she must be fairly far along. Yes, Droln, I’m quite pleased.”

Droln was perplexed by the search through the clothing at first, until he realized that Tolké doing so to help Droln change into the appropriate color for the banquet. The captain came closer to help hold the growing pile of sky and sea colored garments.

“Are you… relieved? For yourself, I mean.”

The prince paused his endeavor and looked at him directly. He said nothing for a moment, but then nodded, taking the clothes back into his own arms. He now went to the enormous bed, laying them out to see them. It looked like complete chaos to Droln, but Tolké acted like he knew what he was doing. Every once in awhile, he’d hold a piece up against the captain and then toss it aside.

“Do you want my opinion?” Droln wondered tentatively.

“I know what I’m looking for, we’re just different sizes,” Tolké muttered as he sorted.

“Ah no,” he said slowly. “My opinion on the news.”

“I always want your opinion, Droln, you know that.”

“I think you should keep working. Keep studying. In the last few months, you’ve already broken some bad habits and picked up better ones. The pregnancy is good news, but as you’ve told me… you just don’t know what will happen. You’re still the heir. And, heaven willing, a healthy child is born and you surrender your gold medallion. And then you will only have improved. Maybe you can serve on the king’s council.”

“I will think about what you’ve said,” Tolké sighed, at last having chosen something for Droln to wear. “But I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Here.”

He held out a tunic and robe that were different shades but similarly hued; they would nicely contrast the red and black sashes that Droln was already wearing. Tolké had perfect taste, as always. Droln decided that they knew one another well enough now that he could untie his sashes in front of him, so he did, laying them aside. Removing the red garment, he shook his head at his mistake again.

“I felt so foolish,” he sighed, tossing it onto the bed with the rest of the pieces. It looked like a blood stain compared to the cool tones of the other tunics and robes. “I might as well have been on fire.”

“I’m sure hardly anyone noticed,” Tolké reassured him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “And I promise to look after you better.”

Droln nodded, but he couldn’t think of a response, as he felt exposed in front of him without a shirt. Whether Tolké noticed his discomfort or not, he removed his hand and stepped back so Droln would have room to put on the new, blue tunic, then readied the outer robe for him so he could find where to put his arms easily. When Droln began to place the first sash around his middle, he realized that the wide sleeves of the fairly traditional southern robe made it difficult to hold it in place while tying the second sash. Tolké watched him struggle for a moment, getting tangled in the silk layers before scoffing and stepping in.

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“You need to learn how to ask for help,” he scolded gently, taking the long, narrow sash from him and wrapping it around him twice.

“Perhaps,” Droln mumbled, his face hot. He was glad that his dark skin did not easily betray him with a blush, but he kept his eyes lowered, as if the prince would be able to guess his thoughts if he looked at him directly.

Holding the ends of the sash to see if they were even and adjusting accordingly, Tolké began to tie a decorative knot, humming as he did.

“Ah, that looks complicated,” Droln protested. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to undo it tonight.”

“I’ll help you,” Tolké replied lightly. “We should get back while there’s still food. If I don’t eat, I’ll get too drunk.”

Without waiting for a reply, the prince turned and headed for the door. Taking a few deep breaths, Droln hurried to catch up, following him back to the banquet hall.

Each table was laden with heaping platters of the honored guests’ favorite foods; beautiful rice buns were served, temptingly arranged in baskets, their egg-brushed tops shining in the firelight. White fish lay upon thinly sliced lemons, and a bowl of sweet summer squash stew sat at each place of every table. Many of the guests had already finished the course, and were up and about, socializing in clusters throughout the hall.

Droln and Tolké took their seats together and began to eat; fortunately the stew was still warm. They didn’t speak as they ate, but they did pass dishes for one another to try; Droln knew that Tolké preferred the dark red sauce with goat, and Tolké was careful to only give him dishes that had no meat in them.

“I should speak to my brother,” the prince said when he had finished, rising from his seat. “You’re alright alone?”

“Yes, I know enough faces here,” he nodded as noticed Alís Rinak with her husband-to-be across the room, both dressed in a matching bronze-orange shade. Before he had a chance to get up to greet her, he was joined by Lady Andra, Princess Yurí’s attendant.

“Good evening, Captain,” she sat in Tolké’s now empty seat.

“Lady Andra,” he turned toward her. “Such wonderful news for the princess. Please give her my best wishes.”

“Of course,” she nodded, but then immediately changed the subject. “I was watching you just now. You seem nervous.”

“Do I?”

“He makes you nervous?” she asked slyly, nodding her head toward the prince.

Droln closed his mouth tightly, and looked down, fiddling with the intricate knot that Tolké had tied for him.

“How wonderful,” Lady Andra laughed, but then softened her voice. “I’m not teasing you. You are so lucky. Being in love is the greatest thing in the world.”

“Love?” Droln looked up suddenly. “I’m not-”

“Do you want to be?”

He didn’t answer, his throat feeling suddenly quite dry. He took a drink from his water, but Lady Andra held a cup of wine before him. He took it hesitantly.

“Drink this instead. It will help a lot more.” With that, she rose from her seat and left him.

Droln sat alone for a moment, wondering if a drink would actually ease his nerves; but he decided against it. It was not worth breaking a long-kept habit over. Instead, he decided he would rather seek the companionship of a dear friend. Setting the untouched cup on the table, he approached Alís, who was alone now.

“Good evening,” he greeted with a bow and a smile. “You look so lovely tonight.”

“I hope so,” she laughed, touching her elaborate hairstyle adorned with white jade combs. “It took ages to get ready. You look very nice too. The blue is an improvement.”

“Ah, you saw my mistake?” he leaned his cheek against his hand in embarrassment. “No one else is wearing red.”

“Well no one here is from Aris,” Alís teased, but then put on a more comforting tone. “I’m sure hardly anyone noticed. I only saw you because I was seeking you out.”

“I wish I had known better. This is my first royal banquet.”

“And mine,” she smiled, taking his arm and looking around at the beautifully decorated hall, filled with beautifully decorated people. “Isn’t it all wonderful? Look how happy the king is; I’ve never seen him smile like that. And the food so far has been heavenly, but I am most looking forward to dancing. I imagine you are as well.” She nudged him as she spoke, nodding her head toward where Prince Tolké was standing with a group of friends.

Droln said nothing, causing Alís to look at him with concern.

“What is it? Don’t you want to dance with him?”

“Of course I do,” he replied, his eyes still on the prince across the hall. “There’s just more people here than I imagined. And I’m not a very good dancer.”

“Is that all?” she laughed. “Come along.” Her arm still linked with his, she led him out of the banquet hall into the garden, where it was dark and cool. “I don’t know why you didn’t ask for my help,” she scolded. “Is it pride? Ah, never mind. Hold my hands.”

He obeyed, and she began to count, leading him in the steps of a popular dance. He knew how the dance went, of course, but he was stiff and his feet shuffled as he struggled to keep up with her. Once they completed one round of the first part she stopped, looking him up and down.

“I thought you were being modest,” she mused. “You aren’t a good dancer. I can tell you know the steps, but you don’t know what to do with your body. Isn’t it like swordplay?”

“Is it?”

“I don’t know,” Alís shook her head with a smile. “I don’t know anything about swordplay. Maybe I should find Pel.”

“Pel Usul?”

“She’s a wonderful dancer,” she explained quickly. “And knows how to teach it.”

“I don’t know her well,” Droln hesitated.

“Never mind,” Alís changed her mind. “We can keep this between us. We’ll do it again, but relax your shoulders. And try to stay on your toes. If you can, don’t look down so much.”

“Where do I look?”

“At me,” she stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed, doing his best to loosen the tension he was feeling. “This is supposed to be fun,” she reminded him.

They tried again, and although Droln stepped on Alís’ toes more than once, they finished the steps on rhythm.

“Well it was an improvement,” she tried to encourage, but she was still laughing at his awkward stance. “Don’t they have dancing in Yannua?”

“I cannot speak for all of Yannua and her many islands,” Droln chuckled. “But in my home, we prefer singing.”

“You sing?” she repeated with delight. “Come now, I must hear you.”

Before he could protest or oblige, they were joined by a third.

“Good evening, my lord,” Alís bowed when she recognized the prince.

“Miss Rinak,” he greeted, seeming a little surprised that she was there. “Droln, I thought I would find you out here alone.”

“I will gladly make it so,” Alís said quickly, bowing once more before heading back toward the banquet hall, casting an encouraging look at her friend before disappearing.

“What were you two doing?” Tolké asked, sounding both curious and cautious.

“I’d rather not say,” Droln replied, embarrassed.

“I see.”

There was an uncomfortable silence between them, causing the prince to revert to polite small talk.

“She’s getting married soon, isn’t she?”

“Yes. Mid autumn.”

“You don’t sound happy about it,” Tolké crossed his arms.

Droln was caught off guard; Tolké seemed colder than he ever had been towards him. He considered concealing how he felt about Alís’ husband-to-be Jallés, as he and the prince were practically family, but he decided that Tolké would know he was lying.

“I don’t think it’s a good match,” he confessed.

“How so?”

“I don’t know,” Droln started to fidget with the knot of his sashes. “I don’t really know him, but I don’t like him for her.”

“So you’d rather she not marry?”

“It isn’t my decision.”

“You wish it were.” There was an accusatory edge to Tolké’s voice, but behind it was the threat of tears, as if the sky were filling with great clouds.

“I want her to be happy,” Droln defended. “She’s very dear to me.”

“I can see that,” the prince scoffed.

The captain was quiet for a moment.

“You’re drunk,” he said softly.

“I’m not,” he scowled. “You told me not to drink, remember? Because of that stupid plan. Well, forget the plan. It clearly did not turn out the way we intended.”

“Because of the baby?” Droln blinked. “I told you, you should still study.”

“I’m not talking about that.” His arms still crossed, he looked up at the night sky, his irritation melting into a forlorn gaze heavenward.

“What did you intend?”

“Friendship,” the prince sighed wearily, but did not continue.

“But?” the captain prompted.

“Don’t make me say it,” Tolké looked at him. “If Alís is dear to you, then we will leave it at that, and… we shall remain friends.”

“I don’t want to be friends,” Droln said before he could stop himself, but then he found that he had talked himself into a corner, and could not think of the right words to go on. Instead, he reached for the prince’s hand, his heartbeat quickening when Tolké’s slender fingers immediately returned the tentative grasp, clasping them together more surely.

Once Droln had gotten used to the feeling of their hands touching, and it seemed that their hearts were beating in rhythm, he lifted his face to look at the prince. Tolké had been gazing at him directly the whole time, a soft look in his dark eyes.

Droln quickly averted his eyes, taking a breath on purpose, and squeezing Tolké’s hand on accident.

“What is it?” Tolké wondered in a near whisper. “Why can’t you look at me?”

“It’s like looking at the sun.”

“Well if I’m the sun then you’re one of the moons,” he teased back.

“What can that mean?” Droln managed to look at him, trying to relax. Perhaps he should have had that wine after all.

“Oh, many things,” Tolké began to stroll along the garden path, and Droln had no choice but to come along, as their hands were still joined. “First, that I seem to think of you at night.” He gave Droln a sideways look, but mercifully didn’t leave too much silence afterwards. “Second must be that you are predictable, like the moons’ phases. For better or worse, I have had little difficulty understanding how you will act; or react for that matter. And yet,” he paused, or perhaps hesitated. “There is a side of you, like the moons, that I fear I will never see.”

There was another long silence between them. Droln wished to speak, but he had no plan of what to say, and Tolké seemed to be giving him as much time as he needed to figure it out. They were now quite far from the palace, beyond where the music could reach; their only accompaniment was the constant chirping of the crickets.

“I do not wish to hide any side of me,” Droln said at last. “Not from you.”

“I hardly know anything about you, Droln,” the prince sighed wistfully. “Only that which I have observed for myself. Why don’t you tell me anything?”

He looked down in shame.

“Knights are supposed to be brave,” Tolké chuckled, stooping to look him in the eyes.

“Don’t make me laugh,” he protested, although he couldn’t prevent a smile.

“I must! Your laugh is precious to me. Now tell me something. Anything you wish.”

“Well,” Droln looked up at the sky. “You are not the first to compare me to a moon.”

“No?”

“When I was a child, my family often called me Diren.”

The prince also looked to the smaller of the two moons, who bore the same name.

“Diren,” he repeated. “May I call you that?”

“No,” Droln replied quickly. “Not anymore.”

Tolké now looked to the other, larger moon, then to Droln, who stood quietly, his jaw clenched.

“If you went by Diren,” the prince wondered softly. “Was there also a Sere? A twin?”

“We were both ten years old,” he murmured. “And now I have grown, but she will be ten forever.”

“I’m so sorry,” he shook his head. “I know nothing I can say can help you heal."

“I just wanted you to know,” Droln said with finality. “And now you do.”

By now they had changed course to near the palace once again, but Tolké couldn’t tell if Droln wished to rejoin the banquet or not.

“If you would dance with me,” he said. “It would bring me great joy.”

“Ah,” Droln sighed, looking quite sheepish now. “I suppose I might as well tell you; I cannot dance. That’s what Alís was trying to help me with.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I don’t want to look foolish.”

“Never,” Tolké shook his head. “I admire you too much.”

Droln was so embarrassed that had to shut his eyes for a moment, but he couldn’t help smiling, and the prince laughed.

“When I first saw you,” Tolké began, speaking softly. “I thought you were all steel. Discipline and honor. Responsibility. I didn’t realize that your heart was so…” he trailed off. When Droln looked him in the eyes he saw that Tolké was near tears. “I don’t know what I want to say.”

“I do,” Droln assured him, and before he could change his mind, he reached up and kissed the prince.