Azra had never felt more slight or fragile standing next to another man. The fae’s form towered over him, his scent somehow calming despite how strongly it took over Azra. He wondered if the fae could smell him, too, or if his suppressants were enough to mask his own scent- it hadn’t been for Varyx. 

“We best follow our master,” the knight said in almost a whisper to Azra, gesturing for them to follow after Varyx’s quick, long strides. Azra hurried with a jolt, embarrassed he’d been so obviously captivated by the man in armor. 

While Azra was certain the knight could catch up to Varyx in a breath of time, the fae slowed his pace to stay by Azra’s side. They walked in tandem, the man looming over the slight prince as he carried his helmet under his arm, his shining armor reflecting the bright light of day. In the white of winter, the knight stood out of place. He was a dark kind of vibrancy- his skin and eyes filled with rich and inhuman colors.  

Azra’s breath was a swirl of smoke as he asked in a quiet hush, “Do I ask you for your name? Or should I remain silent?” 

Blinking up at the fae’s sharp and handsome features, he saw the ghost of a smile on the man’s lips. “There’s power in holding a fae’s name.” It was said in almost a warning before he uttered, “You may call me Galros. Though you need never ask my permission, Prince Lyroth.”

“So, you know who I am.” Swallowing hard, Azra tugged at his hood, hoping to conceal his heated face and traitorous rosy hair. When the stoic knight merely nodded, Azra found himself inquiring, “Why do I not need your permission… Galros?” The fae’s name slipped from his lips as his tongue curved around the word.  

He met Azra’s gaze sharply, saying with a careful tone, “I am to be your knight. I answer to you.” His smooth, deep voice made Azra shiver against the cold. 

The words grated at Azra’s composure, his voice heightened with an edge this time as he scoffed, “Who would have thought the first words you’d speak to me would be a lie.”

Galros’ red eyes slid to Azra with an air of curiosity as he murmured. “I am a fae. I cannot lie.” 

The notion made Azra pause for only a moment before he spoke again; his words were sour in his mouth as he found himself snapping, “You answer to Prince Vaniya…not me. Even if you have been assigned to me for my protection.” 

“I see,” the knight said, calm and unphased by Azra’s sudden venom. “Well, I suppose you’re right. Though I am under your command, we both have an obligation to His Royal Highness, don’t we?”

Azra grit his teeth as he tore his gaze away from the knight’s. His heart was pounding, hands in fists as his brow tightened and his hair turned black beneath his hood. As they continued up the pathway and through the castle gardens in silence, Azra saw Varyx waiting for them impatiently by the door. Standing with a regal air, Azra felt the piercing stare of Varyx’s hard green eyes. It sent a chill over him, biting into his very being as it settled in his bones. 

Galros’ words rang through Azra’s mind as he stepped away from the knight to return to his place at Varyx’s side. He had an obligation to Varyx, and no matter his personal wants or desires, soon he too would belong to the cold…and become another prince of Privillion.