Kovax wandered aimlessly through the bustling bazaar, his mind adrift in a sea of thoughts as the vibrant culture of countless species swirled around him, each one adding to the cacophony of voices and colors that enveloped him.

He couldn’t see themthough, couldn’t enjoy the variety of life that presented itself to him in the market. His thoughts were stuck in a loop and focussed only on one thing; he had committed a terrible act—he had raped someone. The scene replayed in his mind like a haunting melody, its details blurred in parts, likely a result of the potent drink and drug he had unknowingly consumed. Yet, the visceral sensations—the frantic motion, the pounding urgency, the overwhelming desire—remained vivid. That intoxicating, sweet nectarine floral fragrance of the Fae prince lingered in his senses, as if it had imprinted itself on his very soul.

Suddenly, Kovax halted, his abrupt stop causing a small sylph to bump into his back, its delicate form jangling as it cursed in a language that sounded like a chorus of windchimes. He realized it wasn't just a memory of the scent; it was real, drifting through the marketplace air with a clarity that cut through the mingling aromas of exotic food stalls and the heady offerings of perfume vendors.

Against his better judgment, Kovax turned toward the source, following the invisible trail like a predator locked onto prey. His feet carried him through the winding paths between colorful stalls until he rounded a corner and froze.

There, on a bench beneath a canopy of floating lanterns, sat Prince Ryaz. Alone.

The sight of him knocked the breath from Kovax's lungs. The Fae prince sat bathed in dappled light that seemed to caress his copper hair, turning it to living flame. His delicate features—high cheekbones, slightly pointed ears, those haunting lilac eyes—appeared even more ethereal framed by the riot of color surrounding him. A vendor's silks billowed behind him in shades of emerald and sapphire, creating a backdrop that made Ryaz look like a rare jewel set in precious metal.

Heat crept up Kovax's neck, his scales darkening along his jawline in the dragon equivalent of a blush. His heart hammered against his ribs, each beat reverberating through his chest like a war drum. Was this the drug still lingering in his system? Some residual effect of the chemicals that had driven him to madness the night before?

Something stirred in his loins, but it wasn't like what he'd felt last night. This wasn't sexual arousal—or at least, not primarily. This was... different. A tightness in his chest, a lightness in his stomach, as if he'd swallowed a flock of tiny birds that now fought to escape.

Was he falling for the Fae prince? Impossible. They were heated adversaries only yesterday. Political opponents. Representatives of races that had despised each other for millennia.

Kovax shook his head, trying to clear it. He needed to leave. Now. Before Ryaz noticed him.

He turned, preparing to slip back into the anonymity of the crowd, when a soft gasp reached his ears. Too late.

Kovax looked back, and time seemed to stand still as their eyes met across the marketplace. Ryaz's lilac gaze, now flecked with unfamiliar green, widened with recognition. Something passed between them—not forgiveness, not friendship, but acknowledgment. A shared trauma that bound them together whether they wished it or not.

After what felt like an eternity, Kovax closed his eyes and frowned. He couldn't do this. Not now. Maybe not ever. He turned to walk away, determined to lose himself in the crowd.

From the corner of his eye, he caught movement. Ryaz had stood suddenly, too suddenly. Kovax looked back just in time to see the blood drain from the Fae prince's face, his eyes fluttering and rolling backward as his knees buckled beneath him.

Kovax didn't remember moving. One moment he was several yards away, the next his arms were full of collapsing Fae royalty, the sweet nectarine scent overwhelming at this proximity. Ryaz's weight settled against his chest, slender fingers clutching desperately at Kovax's shirt as he fought to remain conscious.

"Easy," Kovax murmured, the word rough in his throat. He supported Ryaz until the prince's eyes focused again, until he could stand on his own two feet, though he remained unsteady.

"What were you thinking?" Kovax demanded, anger flaring hot in his chest. "Why are you out here alone when you're clearly unwell? Are you trying to make yourself worse?"

Ryaz blinked up at him, still pale but with spots of color returning to his cheeks. "I wasn't alone. Michael was with me, but he went to get drinks." His voice was softer than Kovax remembered, more vulnerable. "It's been a while, though. He's been... sulking all day. Perhaps he needed to work off some anger."

Kovax scowled, his hands still supporting Ryaz's elbows though the prince was now standing independently. He opened his mouth to respond—to say what, he wasn't sure—when a human in formal diplomatic attire approached them with purposeful strides.

"Prince Ryaz, Prince Kovax," the human ambassador greeted them with a bow. "Forgive the interruption, but I've been asked to inform you that the Accord Petitions have all been submitted earlier than expected. The diplomats of each culture are being asked if they'd like to review them ahead of schedule."

Kovax frowned. The petitions for changes and alliance contracts were usually submitted three days before the end of the renewal festival, giving each delegate one day to review and make a response if required.

"How much earlier?" Ryaz asked, his diplomatic training evident in the way he straightened despite his obvious discomfort.

"They're available now, Your Highness," the ambassador replied. "The committee thought it might be beneficial to allow more time for consideration, given the... unique circumstances this year."

Unique circumstances. A diplomatic euphemism for the chaos currently surrounding the two princes standing awkwardly before him. Kovax frowned, but how the hell had they found out? it was supposed to be secret for now. Who had leaked this information?

"We'll be there shortly," Ryaz assured the ambassador, who bowed again before retreating into the crowd.

Kovax realized he was still holding Ryaz's arms and released him abruptly, taking a step back. "Can you walk?" he asked gruffly.

Ryaz nodded, though uncertainty flickered across his features. "I believe so. The dizziness has passed."

"Then let's go," Kovax said, gesturing for Ryaz to lead the way. "And we'll find your consort on the way. He shouldn't have left you alone."

As they moved through the bazaar side by side, Kovax kept a watchful eye on the Fae prince, ready to catch him should he falter again. The strange feeling in his chest persisted, a warmth that had nothing to do with dragonfire and everything to do with the slender figure walking beside him.

It terrified him more than any battlefield ever had.

Their search through the bustling bazaar revealed no trace of the elusive Fae Prince Consort. Reluctantly, Ryaz allowed Kovax to escort him back to towards their hotel. As they navigated through the hotel's opulent corridors, the silence between them grew, broken only by the rhythmic, soft echoes of their footsteps on the polished marble floors. Kovax walked with deliberate care, maintaining just the right distance from Ryaz—close enough to catch him if he stumbled again, yet far enough to escape the alluring fragrance that seemed to cloud his mind.

When they reached the conference room, Ryaz paused at the entrance, turning to a uniformed guard.

"Please locate Lord Forrester and inform him I've been called to review the petitions," he said, his voice steady despite the lingering paleness of his features. "Tell him I'll return to our chambers afterward."

The guard bowed and departed swiftly, leaving Kovax and Ryaz standing awkwardly at the threshold of their diplomatic duties. Kovax gestured for Ryaz to enter first, a courtesy that felt strangely important in this moment.

The conference room stretched before them, elegant and austere. Tall windows filtered afternoon light onto gleaming wooden pedestals, each bearing a formally bound petition. Small placards identified the originating delegation and the nature of the request. Notepads and sharpened pencils waited at each station, tools for the critiquing minds that would determine the fate of countless diplomatic negotiations.

Ryaz picked up one of the notepads, his slender fingers tracing the embossed seal of the Accords. He moved toward the first pedestal with practiced grace, though Kovax noticed the slight hesitation in his step, the careful way he balanced himself.

"The centaurs are requesting expanded territory in the Western Plains," Ryaz observed, scanning the document. "Their herds have grown significantly in the last century."

Kovax moved to his side, careful to keep his voice low as other delegates filtered into the room. "The territory they're requesting borders dragon hunting grounds."

"Yes, but those lands have been over-hunted for decades," Ryaz countered, making a note on his pad. "The centaurs practice sustainable farming. It would actually benefit your people in the long run to allow the grasslands to rejuvenate under their stewardship."

Kovax raised an eyebrow, surprised by the pragmatic assessment. "That's... not an argument I expected from Fae royalty."

A ghost of a smile touched Ryaz's lips. "We're not all frivolous tree-huggers, you know."

They moved through the pedestals systematically, discussing each petition with surprising accord. The sylphs' request for expanded air traffic corridors. The selkies' proposal for joint protection of coastal breeding grounds. The human petition for magical education access.

Kovax found himself oddly enjoying the intellectual exchange. Ryaz's diplomatic training was evident in his thoughtful analysis, but there was genuine passion behind his words when he spoke of environmental protection or educational opportunities. It was... disarming.

Then they reached the dragon petition.