Oly knew he was just up by the throne to artificially inflate the audience’s sense of value for him. Maybe it worked for everyone else in attendance, but personally it rang pretty hollow. It’d been made fairly explicit to him that he was the least valuable option to present to LonDwuat, if he’d indeed read the room right and that’s who he was going to be gifted to.

He couldn’t see why not. Several allied or neutral nations gave LonDwuat coronation gifts (Oly’s parents sent that amber hair ornament, he could dimly recognize it now), and there were rumors that some nation (Oly couldn’t bother to remember) sent a pleasure slave, more beautiful than a sunset at sea. Reports varied on whether he abused or spoiled her, whatever the gossip thought was juiciest at the time. Nevertheless, there was one consensus. He rarely touched her. That added up with what Vendon said about Laya and Mavani too, and it was a good reason to get a wide selection of slaves: If you didn’t like her, what do you like? 

Regardless, he was only up here on display to generate mystery, and Oly had to admit that he was preening under all the attention and intrigued glances he was getting.

Oly sat up straight for as long as his energy would allow, but the restlessness inside him was desperately eager to lift off and join the fun. After a while he’d successfully shoved it all down, but then the voices of conversations he couldn't join grated on him, and the energy of a crowd he couldn’t dance with drained him. Maybe it was the sadness, but boredom felt much the same, and he found his eyes drifting shut after a few hours of looking at the forbidden.

“Olymarté.” Vendon snapped, making Oly jerk stick-straight again. He looked up at the gathering of men in front of him, his thoughts swimming into slow focus: Hesiat, his attendant, another man with a blue cane in regal Sundentan clothes, and Vendon. He blinked hard and smiled.

“Forgive me, gentlemen. The fun of watching you is exhausting.” He thought he saw a smile flicker across Hesiat’s lips, but Vendon sniffed and gestured for Oly to get up. The attendant offered his hand, which Oly gratefully took.

“Let’s move our discussion somewhere more private.”

--

The attendant and other guest (LonDwuat’s advisor, Oly guessed) did not join the room, so it was just him, Vendon, and LonDwuat. The lounge was dim with muted lamplight, and the furniture all had the lingering smell of pipe smoke. Vendon sat down in an armchair facing the door, gesturing for Oly to kneel on the floor in front of LonDwuat, where he was reclined in a loveseat. Despite being the visitor in unfamiliar territory, he had no qualms with taking up space with wide, open posture.

“What’s this about, Vendon?” He asked, trying to ignore Oly.

“It’s for you!” Vendon scoffed, just out of Oly's line of sight.

“I have to say,” the visiting king began, looking down at Oly with a halfway-concealed wary expression, “Given our history, a slave is a bold gift.”

“Do you dislike it?” Vendon asked airily. He put up the flawless appearance of relaxation, that pleasant state right after a few glasses of wine where logic remained but cold and worry left.

LonDwuat leaned forward and reached down to cup Oly’s chin in his hand, making the slave pull up to one knee so he could study his face. Oly's heart pounded like a war drum, and though he’d more than grown used to being inspected like this, he still felt his cheeks grow warm under the scrutiny.

“I’d heard of grey eyes, but I’ve never seen them. They glow like silver in this light.” He remarked, rubbing his thumb along Oly’s thin, strong jawline and gently directing him to look to the side. His hand left with a lingering touch to Oly’s throat. “Quite a find. What is he good for?”

Oly was careful to target his brief glare at the carpet. Oh, I’ll show you what I’m good for you arrogant piece of-

“Whatever you want. It has not gone unnoticed that you leave your current toy a bit cold, so there’s no obligation to engage with the boy carnally or sensually.” Boy? This idiot. Come to think of it, Oly was fairly certain he and LonDwuat were only a few years apart. “We focused its training on being pleasant company for you.”

Oly turned his gaze back to the foreign king, eyes fixed on LonDwuat's chest when he wasn’t looking up through his eyelashes with a shy little smile. When he caught LonDwuat looking down, he broke eye contact before it could be made with a coy bite to his lip. Will you like that, or do I have to pull out some of the better tricks?

“What do you mean by pleasant company?” LonDwuat’s voice was ever-so-slightly harder.

“Conversation, companionship, confidence. A pretty little thing to hang on your arm as you go about.”

“Confidence?” LonDwuat laughed, getting out of his seat. “A slave I’m meant to tell secrets to. I won’t spoil our night by saying it, but surely you can see how this looks, my friend?”

Oh, Oly could only imagine the look on Vendon’s face when LonDwuat called him friend. It made a smile curl onto his lips, even as the foreign king rested a hand on Oly’s head in an almost possessive gesture.

“A little thing like this isn’t worth your fear.” Vendon sighed. “If the gift scares you so, then you can think of any number of ways to keep it from betraying you.” With both men facing each other and his back to Vendon, Oly took a deep breath and pressed his lips thin. “Perhaps you could test its obedience? Is there anything you’d like it to do for you?”

LonDwuat’s touch abruptly left as he walked to the door. “No.”

He opened it and gestured for the two others to come in.

“So you’re turning it down?” Vendon asked, his voice deliberately wiped free of tone, but Oly felt a stone form in his throat and his heartbeat in his ears. He’d been so focused on making sure he could do the mission set out for him, he didn’t anticipate it being stillborn. His back ached with the dread.

“Oh, no, no. I have gifts for you as well, and much to discuss! Olymarté, was it?” Oly startled and turned his head to LonDwuat, trying not to seem too desperately hopeful. By the amused smile he got, he failed. “Could you please wait outside? I’m sure King Vendon has much to tell me about you, I’d hate to make you embarrassed.” Hesiat turned to the attendant outside and spoke, something about bringing in the gifts, while Oly was trying to stand up with any modicum of grace while he was numb with relief. He managed, though he swayed a little on the way to the door.

He did not bow or look at Vendon as he left the room, only Hesiat.