“Are you sure about this, Augustus?” Stefan asked. “This would need either us bringing him here, or taking you into Empire lands.”

The thought made me sick, but I nodded anyway. “I‒ He named himself after me. He deserves to know. A-and‒ Maybe he’ll be helpful… to you all.” I felt small, sitting in a chair with Stefan and Cornelius standing over me. I couldn’t quite look at them.

“Yes,” Stefan slowly said. “But this is about you, Augustus. Are you going to be okay meeting him, talking to him?”

I didn’t know how to answer that. Would I be okay? He wasn’t my brother’s blood, wasn’t my blood, and maybe that would make it easier, but he was still royal.

“Does he… look like Bianor?” I softly asked.

“Not at all,” Cornelius said. “He’s his step-son. No blood relation.”

I was quiet for a moment more. “I think… I have to be okay. He deserves to know, a-and he wants to talk to me, and…,” my voice cracked. “Wh-what’s his name, again?”

“A’gustine,” Stefan said.

My breath caught in my throat. I softly fumbled with the name, “Ah-goose-teen. A’gustine. Hm. A’gustine.” The more the name rested on my tongue, the more sure I felt. I nodded, “He deserves to know what happened, at the very least.”

After a moment, Stefan crouched down to look at me better. “It’ll take a while for us to get him. Are you going to be okay going outside? Potentially into Empire lands?”

I swallowed, and shakily nodded. “I-I have to be.”

Stefan sighed, standing up. Both he and Cornelius looked worried, and I could smell their concern. It felt good, almost, to know that they were concerned about me.

Finally, Stefan looked at Cornelius, “Find him some good winter attire. And teach him how to sit on a horse.”

⸺ ☽ ⚜ ☾ ⸺

I paced nervously in the shack. This was the longest I had been out of the caves since my arrival to the Rebellion ‒ probably my longest time out of dark stone places in years, aside from the three-day journey from the city to the countryside.

The shack was a run-down two-room house within a place that had once been a mining village, and had long-since been abandoned to the forested Dragon Crest Mountains. Despite the shelter and my layers of fur and leather, which felt restrictive yet comforting, I was shivering. I couldn’t tell if it was from cold or fear. My breath fogged in front of my face. I adjusted the scarf around my head, breathing air into my hands. The icy air around me seeped into the already-aching muscles of my back. Outside, horses stamped and huffed.

The door suddenly swung open, and I sharply gasped. It was Cornelius, escorting a figure with a sack over their head and their arms tied behind their back. My stomach and throat tightened and twisted at the sight of the hood, hiding the person’s face, as I had experienced so many times.

Cornelius forced the figure down into the chair. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said, motioning to the sack. I nodded, and he left to guard the door from the outside.

I stood there for a long moment, staring at the figure. A young man, by the looks of it, chest heaving but not fighting. He was dressed warmly, in layers that were woven in the colors of the Empire, with the royal crest of a blooming lotus above crossed blades on one sleeve. The image reminded me of my blanket, and I soon found myself thinking of my childhood ‒ my red curls and golden eyes had always clashed with the sky- and sea-blues of Ussuni.

I took a breath, adjusting the scarf to cover the lower half of my face. I reached forward and pulled off the sack.

I was met with bright blue-green eyes, the color of the warmest sea, and short white waves neatly framing warm brown cheeks, like a rushing river by sandy soil. He stared at me, eyes wide, for a long moment. Only our breathing sounded.

Then, he let out a breathless chuckle. “You’re…. You’re him. My step-father’s brother. Prince Augustus.”

My chest tightened at the title. I looked down and away. “I am no prince.”

“What happened to you?” Prince A’gustine asked. “Were you really‒”

“A slave to my own brother?” I almost snapped. Pity and guilt settled when he flinched. I took a deep, shaky breath, voice softening, “Yes. Yes, I was. I….” I stopped for a moment. “I was enslaved, yes.”

“Why?” His voice was soft, as though he was concerned about scaring me, as though I would bolt at any second. I wanted to, desperately.

I planted my feet firmly. “You’re… A’gustine. His step-son.”

“Yeah.”

“You named yourself after me. Why?”

“I‒ At first, it was just… I liked it. But also, I figured, maybe if I had a name he was familiar with… he would… like me more.” There was regret in his bright eyes. Then he seemed to shake it away, and asked, “A-are you well? You certainly look it. I trust the Rebellion is treating you decently?”

“More than decently,” I breathed. “I…. I was told that everything about me was destroyed, that I wasn’t to exist. How did you find me?”

“I found some journals in one of the storage rooms,” A’gustine replied. “From the looks of it, they tried to erase you completely, but weren’t entirely successful. One of the journals mentioned a ‘Prince Augustus Sidra’, and I found a painting of Bianor and his parents; and a younger figure, with the face burned out.”

I swallowed the thick and heavy emotion caught in my throat. My eyes burned and my breath trembled. I couldn’t look at him.

“If I may…,” A’gustine slowly said. “Why were you hidden away? Why did‒” He stopped himself, looking almost afraid.

I was quiet for a moment, then asked, “Do you know why I wear this veil?”

“I… have an idea why,” A’gustine nodded. “Your appearance makes people go insane with their desire for you, doesn’t it?” He looked at me evenly, without a hint of fear; only curiosity. “You’re one of them; an incubus.”

I frowned, now confused.

“Well, I suppose you could be a concubus or a succubus, but‒”

“You know what I am?” I choked, teary.

He looked surprised. “...You didn’t?”

I shook my head. “T-tell me, please. Th-they always called me a lust beast.”

He nodded, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. “Well, uh, after my… previous visit, I went to the libraries. I found this faerie scholar by the name of Flick Farlane. Well, more specifically, I found his book: Biology of Lust. It’s all about incubi, succubi, and concubi ‒ called ‘lust beasts’ by most. Their biology, their culture…. It’s really quite a fascinating read. And that’s coming from someone who doesn’t like reading,” he lightly chuckled, and I almost did, too.

I rapidly blinked, trying to come to terms with this information. “This book, where is it? The palace library?”

A’gustine shook his head, a sly smile taking form. “I’ll be honest, I was quite fascinated. Completely captivated. Apparently, the masses ‒ slave traders, especially ‒ did not exactly take a liking to learning that their ‘lustful beasts’ had proper cultures and didn’t actually feed off sex and flesh. So, I took it from the library. For safe-keeping, of course. It’s currently in the left saddlebag of my horse.”

My eyes widened.

“And, yes, my horse is right outside.”

I bolted outside, much to the surprise of Cornelius and the others. The horse was easy to find, a brown and black mare with the royal seal branded on one shoulder and an elegant saddle and bags on her back. I fumbled in the left saddle bag, coming out with a mahogany and silver book. On the spine and cover, there was printed Biology of Lust: A Guide to “Lustful Beasts” & Their Kin.

I ran back into the shack, pulling Cornelius in with me. “This is it.”

“Th-this is what, what is this?” He asked, looking at the book in confusion.

“It is your answers,” A’gustine responded from his place on the chair. “Your answers as to what you are, why you feast on meat and are not harmed if it is raw, why people desire you so….” He tugged at the ropes that bound him. “May I? I’ve marked a few of the more important passages.”

I fixed Cornelius with what he called my ‘puppy eyes’, and he easily caved.

Once Prince A’gustine was free of his bonds, I eagerly sat next to him as he flipped through the book.

“Ah, here,” he pointed to a passage. “In truth, there are three types of these ‘lustful beasts’, and they have no all-encompassing species name. They are: incubus (incubi), succubus (succubi), and concubus (concubi). It is a common misconception that incubi are males and succubi are females, but this is false. The word “incubus” means “to lay above”, or to be dominant with partners, especially in bed, while “succubus” means “to lay below”, or to be submissive with partners. Meanwhile, “concubus” means “to lay beside”, describing one who can be dominant and/or submissive in a relationship.”

“Damn,” Cornelius breathed, a hand on his hip. “I’d heard legends of such creatures, but didn’t connect them to Augustus. They’re real?”

“Rare, but real,” A’gustine confirmed. “And, they don’t feed off flesh and sex,” he looked at me, “but rather, love. All types of love. Have you been feeling less hungry now that you’re with the Rebellion?” He jerked his head towards Cornelius.

I thought for a long moment. “...Yes, actually. I eat more normal food now, and don’t want meat as often. A-and I feel better when we’re near each other,” I looked at Cornelius.

A’gustine flipped to another chapter. “Here.” He began reading, “Contrary to popular belief, these creatures do not require the flesh of their sexual partners ‒ or anyone at all ‒ to sustain themselves, nor sexual relations in general. Rather, they gain energy through love: sexual, physical, verbal, emotional, and any other forms that exist in this world. They can sense which type of love their partner needs, and oblige them, releasing a sort of pheromone that alerts said partner to their availability. Hence, the feeling of wanting to take one to bed (or, in my and Finnian’s case, the desire to have physical contact and quality time together). Unfortunately, many people believe these creatures to be only sexual in nature, and thus have grown to expect such feelings when faced with one. This is confirmation bias.”

I frowned, “Who’s Finnian?”

“Flick’s partner, a concubus/uskir hybrid. He talks about their history together in the first chapter, but I mostly skipped over that part.”

I thought for a moment. “So… I could be an incubus. Or, a succubus.”

“Yes,” A’gustine nodded. “It depends on what… position you’re in, for lack of better words. Incubi are dominant, succubi are submissive, and concubi are both.”

“But… it’s not just in bed,” I said. “It’s… in the entire relationship?”

“As far as I’ve read,” A’gustine nodded.

“And, I don’t need flesh to survive?”

“Well, Flick describes that such creatures are more carnivorous, so it’s good if you eat a lot of meat, but it doesn’t absolutely have to be raw flesh from people. You’re primarily sustained by love.”

“Which comes in many forms,” I slowly nodded. I looked at Cornelius, “Which one do you think I might be?”

Cornelius reeled back, visibly shocked. “I-I don’t know! It’s not like we do any of that stuff, nor have I given it any thought!”

“There’s not much difference between the three types,” A’gustine assured me, softly smiling as though he were amused. “In fact, within such communities, your species doesn’t usually use the labels. They’re nice to have, but not necessary.”

“Where are these communities?” I asked.

A’gustine hesitated, “I don’t know. I suppose that’s the point; why would Flick put the location of a community of lustful beasts in his book? But, I do have an idea of where Flick lives; maybe we can find him instead!”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Cornelius cut in. “Augustus, the emperor could still be looking for you, and, no offense, but you’re rather easy to spot.” He gestured to my wild orange curls. “It’d be much safer for you to stay in the caves while we try to find more information.”

“On the contrary,” A’gustine neatly crossed his legs; he suddenly looked very much like a prince. “There are storage compartments under certain royal carriages, used for the concealed transport of weaponry and important documents ‒ and sometimes people, should a noble need to be smuggled in or out of somewhere. So, these compartments are just big enough to fit a person or two.”

My eyes widened, and I leaned forward. “You want to hide me in a compartment and get me to Flick that way?”

“...Are we absolutely sure you’re not Bianor’s son?” Cornelius asked.

“Considering he would’ve been 14 when I was born, yes,” A’gustine playfully smirked, although he smelled offended. “And, yes, my mother is five years older than him.” Then his smile dropped, and he looked at me. “How old were you when…?”

I looked away. “...13. Bianor was 18.”

A’gustine let out a breath, “So I was alive when you were free. I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. “There was nothing you could have ever done. Helping us with this is more than enough.” I took a breath and straightened my posture. “So, you think you could sneak me to Flick?”

“I can certainly try,” A’gustine nodded. “I’ve been watched more closely since our last encounter, but I know a few guards who aren’t exactly fond of my step-father. They wouldn’t question a visit.”

“They’d question the bright red curls,” Cornelius curtly said with a scoff. “This is too dangerous, we can find‒”

“They wouldn’t question it,” A’gustine almost snapped. He seemed just as determined to make this work as I was, if not more so. “These are guards that have known me personally for years, and I know for a fact that they do not enjoy the world in which we live. They won’t question it.”

Cornelius was quiet for a long moment. I fixed him with my puppy eyes once more. He sighed, “If we agree, how can we get a message to you?”

A’gustine smiled, seeming pleased that he had won. “Messenger bird is fine, but be sure it looks at least similar to noble birds. I’ll be bringing along my servant as well. And, yes, they know about all this and are trustworthy.”

Cornelius sighed, “Fine. We’ll discuss it.” Now, close the goddamn book and put your hands behind your back.”