The portal shimmered like liquid moonlight, its iridescent surface rippling as Ryaz stepped through. His skin prickled with the familiar sensation of realm-crossing—a momentary weightlessness followed by the subtle disorientation as his body adjusted to the different magical frequencies of the human world.

"Mind the threshold," he called back, extending a hand to steady Michael who followed close behind. The hybrid's fingers intertwined with his, warm and reassuring.

The human realm hit Ryaz's senses immediately—sharper air, heavier gravity, and the peculiar scent of magica crystals that powered their technology. The portal had deposited them in a private VIP arrival chamber within the Grand Luminance Hotel, the finest accommodation in Central Concordia. The room's walls glowed with embedded crystals, casting a blue-white light that attempted to mimic Fae illumination but fell noticeably short. Their Fae guard patrol had split into two groups; the ones they saw now had arrived prior to the Emperor and The Prince, and the second would follow through the portal after them. Their Silver accented uniforms leamed under the lights in the VIP arrival chamber. Human servants and staff worked to organise the rooms and areas for the gaurds and the royal family, making sure that the luggage that had been sent ahead of time was in the correct rooms and ready for use. 

Emperor Ru'unan emerged from the portal with characteristic grace, not a single silver hair out of place. Lord Pharraseus followed, his eyes sweeping the chamber with barely concealed disdain.

"How... quaint," Pharraseus murmured, brushing invisible dust from his elaborate robes. "I see the humans have attempted to accommodate Fae sensibilities."

Ryaz bit back a retort. His uncle's condescension toward humans was nothing new, but it grated more with each passing year. Especially with Michael standing right there.

A human dignitary in formal attire bowed deeply before them. "Your Imperial Majesty, Your Highness, My Lords. Welcome to Central Concordia. I trust your journey was pleasant?"

"Most efficient," Emperor Ru'unan replied with diplomatic warmth. "We appreciate the accommodations."

The dignitary beamed. "The Eastern Tower Presidential Suite has been prepared according to Fae specifications. If you'll follow me..."

As they traversed the hotel's grand lobby, Ryaz couldn't help but observe the curious blend of human innovation and attempts at magical aesthetics. Crystal-powered elevators hummed alongside enchanted plants imported from the Fae realm. Humans in business attire carried devices that glowed with magica energy while discussing stock markets and political campaigns.

Michael leaned close. "It's strange seeing my mother's world through your eyes," he whispered. "Half familiar, half foreign."

Ryaz squeezed his hand. "Is it difficult for you? Being between worlds?"

Before Michael could answer, a commotion near the hotel entrance drew their attention. A delegation of dragons had arrived, their imposing figures causing humans to scatter from their path. Ryaz's stomach tightened as he recognized King Thaleus Fyrestorm's ebony black hair and behind him, the unmistakable scowling face of Prince Kovax.

Ryaz felt something flutter in his stomach at the sight of the Dragon Prince. In previous renewals, the boy had been an absoulte brat toward all Fae kind. Sneers and snide comments about fickle-fae and having a fae-brain—a demeaning inference to fae's mentality being that of an air-headed ignorance—would fall from his lips like saliva falls from half starved beast being tempted with a raw steak. But as he stared at the Prince now, he couldn't help but feel a certain kinship to his position. 

For a brief moment, Kovax eyes met his. Amber slits widened as he recognised Ryaz from previous global meetings. a confused look fell about his features as the tug inside Ryaz pulled a little tighter but then Lord Pharraseus's voice broke the moment.

"Perfect timing," his uncle commented dryly. "The fire-breathers arrive just as we're settling in."

"Uncle," Ryaz cautioned quietly. His eyes darted back to Kovax but he was already looking away. The tug gone. Wierd.

The dragons pointedly took a different elevator, Kovax's amber eyes briefly meeting Ryaz's across the lobby again. Something else flashed in that gaze—anger, certainly, but something else that Ryaz couldn't quite identify. The moment passed as quickly as it had come.

The Fae's Royal suite occupied the entire top three floors of the Eastern Tower in the hotel—a sprawling arrangement of rooms decorated in an approximation of Fae aesthetic. Crystal chandeliers cast rainbow patterns across silk-draped walls, and the furniture curved in organic shapes that mimicked the living furniture of Fae palaces. The top floor was reserved for the Royal family only, and the two floors below were reserved for their entourage, including their guards and staff.

"The formal dinner begins at sunset," the dignitary informed them. "All delegation leaders and their primary representatives are expected to attend."

After the human left, Pharraseus circled the main chamber, examining the decor with a critical eye. "At least they tried," he said, trailing fingers over a synthetic flower arrangement. "Though I question the wisdom of holding the Accords renewal in the human realm. Their security measures are... primitive."

"The rotation of hosting duties is a cornerstone of the Accords," Emperor Ru'unan reminded him. "And the humans have proven themselves capable allies."

"Of course, brother," Pharraseus inclined his head. "I merely observe."

"Last I checked, eyes do not need vocal commentary to observe." The Emperor replied with a quick smile at his son that Pharraseus could not see. 

Ryaz shook his head and retreated to his and Michael's assigned chamber, loosening the high collar of his traveling clothes. A wave of warmth washed over him unexpectedly, and he steadied himself against a bedpost.

"Are you alright?" Michael asked, concern etching his features. He'd walked into the room ahead of Ryaz and happened to look up just as Ryaz swayed.

"Just realm-sickness," Ryaz assured him, though the sensation felt different from the usual disorientation. His skin felt unusually sensitive, the silk of his robes almost too much against his flesh. "I'll adjust soon."

The Grand Ballroom of the Luminance Hotel had been transformed for the pre-Accords dinner. Chandeliers of magica crystal cast a warm glow over tables arranged in a perfect circle—a symbolic gesture of equality among the races. Ryaz, dressed in formal court attire of midnight blue with silver embroidery, entered alongside Michael, whose hybrid heritage was honored in his clothing; a fae-cut jacket over a human-style suit.

Emperor Ru'unan and Lord Pharraseus followed, commanding immediate attention. The human Prime Minister hurried forward to greet them, flanked by her cabinet members.

"Your Imperial Majesty, what an honor," she said, executing a perfect fae greeting bow. "We've arranged seating to promote diplomatic exchange."

Ryaz noticed immediately what this meant—the fae delegation was positioned directly across from the dragons, with humans and other races creating buffers between. King Thaleus and Prince Kovax were already seated, the latter slouched in his chair with deliberate casualness that couldn't quite mask his tension. A small tug pulled inside Ryaz again but he ignored it.

As they took their places, Michael leaned close to the human dignitaries, easing into conversation with the natural charm that made him such an effective bridge between worlds. Ryaz watched him with quiet pride, even as he noted the subtle looks of disapproval from a certain traditionalist fae noble.

The first course arrived—a delicate human interpretation of sylph cuisine. Ryaz found himself unexpectedly hungry, the flavors sharper and more vivid than usual. Across the table, he caught Kovax watching him, the dragon prince's gaze flickering away when discovered.

"I understand congratulations are in order, King Thaleus," a selkie ambassador called from several seats away. "I hear your son demonstrated extraordinary fire-breathing capabilities at the last elemental tournament."

King Thaleus nodded proudly. "Indeed. Kovax's flame reached unprecedented temperatures."

"A shame such heat isn't matched with equal warmth of diplomatic temperament," Lord Pharraseus commented, just loud enough to be heard.

Kovax's scales darkened along his jawline, a sign of embarrassment or anger—possibly both.

"Perhaps the Fae could offer lessons in diplomacy," another dragon commented, his tone deceptively light. "They're so skilled at saying nothing while appearing to speak volumes."

Emperor Ru'unan sipped his wine, ignoring the conversation. 

"Perhaps," Pharraseus commented smoothly, "some confuse restraint with weakness, and volume with strength."

Tension crackled across the table. Ryaz felt a flush of heat rise to his face that had nothing to do with the barbed comments. His skin prickled uncomfortably, and the room's temperature seemed to have risen several degrees. He loosened his collar discreetly.

Michael noticed, placing a concerned hand on his arm. "Are you feeling well?"

"Just warm," Ryaz whispered back. "The realm transition, perhaps."

The dinner proceeded with alternating courses and conversation, the undercurrent of tension never quite dissipating. The dragons made several more pointed remarks about Fae "pretentiousness" and "ancient arrogance," while the Fae delegation maintained their composed silence, responding only with polite deflection.

When the formal portion of the evening concluded, the center of the ballroom was cleared for dancing, and buffet tables appeared along the walls. Musicians played a careful blend of music from all realms, currently featuring a human-Fae fusion piece.

Ryaz excused himself to get some air, feeling increasingly overheated. He found a quiet alcove near an open terrace door and leaned against the cool stone wall, breathing deeply. The night air helped, but the strange warmth beneath his skin persisted.

"Hiding from your adoring public, Prince Ryaz?"

The voice sent an involuntary shiver down his spine. Ryaz turned to find Kovax leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed over his chest. The dragon prince had abandoned his formal jacket, his crimson-streaked hair falling loose around his shoulders.

"Prince Kovax," Ryaz acknowledged with a carefully neutral nod. "I was simply seeking cooler air."

"Too hot for you?" Kovax's lip curled. "I thought the Fae were always perfectly comfortable, perfectly composed, perfectly... everything."

"We experience discomfort like anyone else," Ryaz replied evenly. "We simply don't feel the need to announce it to everyone within earshot."

Kovax pushed off the wall, moving closer. "You know what your problem is, Lysideas? You hide everything. Your feelings, your thoughts, your true intentions." He switched to Draconic, the harsh syllables scraping the air between them. "Fae-kind speaks with forked tongues and empty hearts."

The insult was ancient, dating back to the Great Divide. Ryaz felt anger flare inside him, hot and urgent. He maintained his placid expression through centuries of diplomatic training, but his voice acquired a razor edge.

"And dragons mistake volume for substance, Prince Kovax. Always roaring, seldom saying anything worth hearing." He tilted his head slightly. "Is that why your father keeps you on such a short leash? Afraid you'll burn bridges before they're even built?"

Kovax's eyes flashed dangerously, amber irises glowing with internal fire. He stepped closer, close enough that Ryaz could feel the heat radiating from his skin. "You know nothing about me or my father."

"I know a tantrum when I see one," Ryaz replied, his heart racing inexplicably. The proximity to Kovax was making the strange heat under his skin intensify, spreading through his body like wildfire.

Kovax opened his mouth to retort, then froze. His nostrils flared, and his pupils dilated suddenly. He inhaled deeply, confusion replacing anger on his features.

"What..." Kovax began, then stopped. His gaze traveled over Ryaz's face, down his neck, lingering on the pulse point visible beneath his collar. "You're..."

Without finishing his sentence, Kovax abruptly stepped back. His scales darkened dramatically, spreading across his cheekbones. Without another word, he turned and stalked away, disappearing into the crowd with unusual haste.

Ryaz stood frozen, bewildered by the sudden retreat. What had just happened?

From the shadows of a nearby column, Pharraseus watched the exchange with narrowed eyes. He observed his nephew's flushed skin, the subtle glow beginning to emanate from beneath his collar, the sweet scent now detectable even from a distance. The signs were unmistakable—Ryaz's fertility cycle was beginning.

More intriguing was the dragon prince's reaction. Pharraseus slipped away from the ballroom, following Kovax's hurried path through the hotel corridors. The dragon prince moved with purpose, occasionally pausing to shake his head.

Pharraseus kept to the shadows with particular care, trailing the dragon prince through the winding corridors. The scent of Ryaz's emerging fertility cycle lingered in Pharraseus's nostrils—sweet, unmistakable, and troublingly potent. More intriguing was the dragon's reaction—that sudden widening of pupils, the darkening scales. 

Kovax stormed into a deserted service corridor, his breathing ragged. He slammed a fist against the wall, leaving a scorched mark on the expensive wallpaper. Pharraseus concealed himself behind a decorative column, watching as the dragon prince pressed his forehead against the cool wall.

"What is happening to me?" Kovax growled, his voice a harsh whisper.

The dragon's body tensed, and Pharraseus noticed with fascination how Kovax shifted his stance, adjusting his formal attire at the waist. The prince cursed in Draconic, a string of guttural phrases that made even Pharraseus's ancient ears burn. Kovax's hand moved downward, pressing against the front of his trousers where an unmistakable bulge had formed.

"Impossible," Kovax muttered, his scales darkening further with what could only be embarrassment. "A Fae? That insufferable, perfect..." His words dissolved into another curse as he adjusted himself again.

Pharraseus's lips curved into a slow, calculated smile. The pieces assembled in his mind with perfect clarity. The dragon prince—heir to the Fire Throne—physically aroused by the fae prince, who had just entered his fertility cycle. It was as though the universe itself had handed him a weapon.