"What's wrong, Fairan? You need to eat to keep up your strength." I nudged the plate of pork and noodles closer to my consort. The body of the assassin had already been removed but a stain that had dried a reddish-brown remained. Fairan had been staring at that spot for over fifteen minutes now. His eyes blinked so little I had begun to half wonder if he was secretly a serpentfolk. The prince didn't respond or even twitch at the sound of my voice. I thought that Fairan would've witnessed and been subject to an assassination or two, but apparently the princeling was more sheltered than I first believed.

"I'm not making a habit of this," I warned as I picked up his chopsticks for him. "You must eat, no matter the circumstances." After stressing my personal philosophy, I plucked up a small amount of noodle and pork with his eating utensils. I patted his back as I poked the food past his lips and left it on his tongue.

I ordered him to chew, and when he obeyed, I soothed him by rubbing circles on his back. I fed him like a babe for a few more minutes. The very second he started to stir on his own, I placed the chopsticks back onto his plate. He stared at them a moment, shifting his weight to one side as he leaned an elbow on the table.

"Do you have forks?"

"Have you never used chopsticks before?"

"Not once. I've never been in charge of diplomatic matters, so there's never been a need to learn."

"I'll teach you. Here, I'll show you." I plucked up my own chopsticks to provide a demonstration. It had taken my clumsy cub fingers most of my lifetime to learn how to effectively use utensils, let alone learn the proper form. Thus, I was quite proud of my progress. "Hold one like you would a pen, so the thicker end rests on your hand. Rest the second stick on the last knuckle of your ring finger, and the base of your thumb."

"Like this...?" His voice lilted with curiosity. He copied my example, glancing between his hand and mine. A smile tugged up the corners of my lips, and a bubbling chuckle broke the lingering tension in the air. Fairan's shoulders relaxed, and his dark blue eyes darted over to me before they lowered back to his eating hand.

"Yes, just like that. You use the top stick to pinch food between the ends. Now try it."

I did a fair job of holding in my laughter at his first few fumbling attempts, but was unable to wipe the smile from my face. I wondered if Natsuki felt this swell of pride after I'd come running to him one day with a plate full of noodles and a belly filling with properly acquired food. He probably had a rush of pride, as it had taken me years to get to Fairan's level of proficiency. I was both jealous and proud when he so quickly succeeded in his impromptu education.

"This is hard," Fairan admitted, his humble modesty warming my heart but also eliciting a small scoff.

"You've picked it up in seconds, Prince Fairan. I dare say you're a genius of etiquette."

"You say the strangest of things, Your Majesty."

"I did warn you of how I'm an eccentric. But my praise is genuine. I hired a southern etiquette teacher from Adellias some years back, and despite his best efforts I struggle with all the confounding silverware humans use."

"Maybe I'll return the favor and try to succeed where he failed, then. Since I'm a genius and all."

"Maybe you shall. I warn you however, I'm an awful student."

"You can't be that bad. Maybe you just haven't found the right teacher."

"Your Majesty, you must sit upright," the Adellian tutor lectured, giving the table piled high with books a firm smack with his ruler. I glared at him, slumped over like a leaning tower with one hand propping up my head.

"I must? I'll sit wherever and however I damn well please."

"It is my job to instruct you on these things, Your Majesty."

"Must I follow your teachings at all times? Thankfully Kavash is not nearly as rigid and superfluous as Adellias. You're to teach me how to do as the Adellians do, for when I am in Adellias. Do not think for a second that I will conform to this entire life to these rigid ideals."

The tutor stormed out in a huff, and number three was summoned by Wie shortly after. In total there were nine tutors that were hired for the job by the time I was deemed ready to attend diplomatic excursions like I wanted.

"It may have been partly due to a lack of personal interest," I admitted. "I've only known one person who could handle my stubborn and smart mouth as the tutor called it."

"Who?" Fairan's question made me pause, my chest clenching up in an old and familiar vice of grief and regret. Meanwhile my soon-to-be consort innocently ate his food, already an expert with chopsticks. Even the light pang of jealousy wasn't enough to distract my mind from old and painful roads. I hesitated to respond, the wound still as fresh as ever.

"Natsuki," my tongue answered ahead of my mind. I picked at my claws, finding a chip on an edge and rubbed it with my thumb. "Humans might call him my guardian, or an adopted father. Beastfolk don't have such a concept, however."

"You don't adopt or have parents?" I laughed a little at the second part of his question, and patted his knee.

"While some clans have a quick childhood, we do in fact, have parents. It's adoption that is hardly a concept here. When there is a young orphaned beastfolk, they are typically looked after by a village, but such nurturing and education is a formality, as it's what's expected of them. So the quality of care varies from case to case. For me, there was no village, thus no care for most of my cubhood."

"Until this Natsuki came along?"

"Yes..." I trailed off before I briefly recounted the story of meeting Natsuki to the human prince, rhythmically tapping my thumb on my chipped nail. The only part I left out was my less than stellar skills in stealth.

"He sounds like an outstanding person." Fairan shot me a small smile that quickly fell, replaced with concern. "Are you alright, Your Majesty?"

"Pardon?" A cold wave of clarity swept over me, and I sat up straight. I took stock of my expression, finding it to be as honest a reflection of my heart as the day's long. Immediately, I rubbed at my face with the flat of my hands, coming away with wet streaks on my fingers and palms. "Yes, I'm fine. I don't often speak of Natsuki aloud, so the memories came flooding back." I never allowed myself to recall my memories of Natsuki for so long. Because when I caught myself, my eyes would run like a river, and my skin would turn a blotchy red. Just like it was doing now. Damn.

"You are not alright." Fairan reached for me, but I pushed his hand away from mine. The sting of hurt shown in those pretty blue eyes of his, a squint to them. He scooted away from me, providing blissful space, and finished the last bite of his rice. "If Your Majesty doesn't wish to speak more of Sir Natsuki, I'll drop the subject. But it might be good for you to remember him more often."

"Elder Natsuki, and... I do remember him. Every day. There are effigies of him in the palace so I never forget. Among them is the stained glass in the library."

"Ah..." Fairan placed his chopsticks down on the table. I picked them back up and placed them diagonally across the corner of the plate.

"This is how you place them if you're done."

"Thank you, Your Majesty. I'll remember from now on." I could feel Fairan's stare on me as I rang the bell for the servants. "Would you mind telling me how Elder Natsuki died?"

It was a query given out of mere curiosity, but the presumptuousness of it sent me reeling. I put a hand to my temple and rubbed the sudden spike piercing my skull.

I was twenty-two when I finally slew Olgar, the lionfolk chieftain that had put up the strongest resistance to uniting the clans. Between the lucrative slavery business he owned by selling other beastfolk to Nyxian and his own thirst for power, he wanted nothing to do with Natsuki's dream. Truly, never had I had the displeasure of knowing a worse villain. It had been three years since he had captured Natsuki during a so-called negotiation. With Olgar's head hung from his city's gates, and his closest clansmen having bent the knee, news of Natsuki's prison reached me.

I sat on the blood soaked throne Olgar had made for himself, a lion's snarling head molded into the brass framing above my head. I had been speaking with Wei about the next steps when a soldier came running in carrying Osil's message.

Immediately, I flew off the betrayer's seat and sprinted after the poor soldier guide, urging him to hurry ever faster. Wei was hot on my heels admonishing me for being unreasonable, but he was stubbornly ignored.

"Natsuki!" I cried out as I swung myself into the prison cell. It was a dingy, filthy, cramped place that stunk of fecal matter, piss, and rot. There were no windows, but a few lanterns cast the cobwebbed stone walls and floor in an orange glow. Sitting slumped over on the ground with his back to a wall was a frail, thin man.

A once lush mane of hair was now oiled patches, large bald spots here and there on his head. His brass colored eyes were sunken in, staring at nothing without a hint of the mischievous twinkling that I remembered. His clothes had been torn apart and allowed to decay, leaving his skeletal body exposed to the cold and filth.

"Natsuki," I wept freely, kneeling down in front of him and holding his face in my hands. "We'll get you out of here. Osil, why haven't you helped him to the infirmary yet?"

"Chesire..." Osil, who had been in charge of recovering Natsuki once we had occupied the lionfolk city, put a hand on my shoulder. "We tried. He refuses to move, and... I don't think he'll recover from this. Whatever Olgar did to him, it might be more merciful to give him a quick death."

"What are you saying? We don't know if he'll recover yet."

We argued back and forth like that until Wei broke it up with his best guess as to what happened. A poison that rotted holes in the brain, taking away memories and eventually all functions of the body. Still, I insisted, and ordered soldier to carry him out. Perhaps I could help him remember, or find a miracle cure.

However, nothing I tried worked. He was cleaned, his sores and aches tended to, but still he sat unresponsive. No doctor or shaman knew of a cure at such a late stage, and insisted there was no way to reverse the effects. I spoke to him everyday, recalling shared memories and informing him of goings on, but he continued to sit in his chair by the window and stare into space.

He died six months later in his bed, in the wee hours of the morning, with no one around to witness or comfort him. Osil and Wei arranged for his funeral pyre, while I remained grief stricken and bed bound. He was burned at noon, his ashes scattered in the garden of his family home.

"He died in a cell, captured by an enemy," I answered Fairan in a stoney voice. I stood up and strode to the door. "The next time you call me Your Majesty, I shall punish you."

"With what exactly?"

"Pitting you against Wei and Osil in a sparring match. Yes, I think I'll do that."

"Who's Wei?"

"My war advisor, and one of my generals. I must go see to matters of state now. Be sure to practice using my name from now on."

Once I left my consort's chambers I sighed and rubbed my temple, then my eyes. I hadn't lied— Natsuki had died in that cell, and all I had been able to save was a husk.