Chapter Text
Gentle waves rocked the Royal Flagship, a school of fishes playing around the wood submerged in the ocean. He smiled, watching them jump from wave to wave.
The salty air breezed through his curls as he leaned on the railings, basking under the sun's rays as the wind got more and more biting with each hour passed.
Percy sighed and threw his head back, the collar of his shirt fluttering around his neck.
"The sea is infinitely better than the stuffy court life, isn't it?" A chuckling sound behind his back made him jump.
"Dad!"
His father grinned back at him, his dark and silver hair whipping with the wind. Poseidon's beige shirt was even looser than Percy’s own blue one, his sleeves rolled up and crown nowhere in sight.
"Getting away from all those," his dad scrunched up his face, "overbearing nobles would be good for both us."
Percy let out a laugh. His father always seemed to freshen up at least a decade every time he was near the sea.
"If even the King of Atlantis is saying that, father, how do you expect me to want to succeed you?" He teased.
"You're doing a good job, I assure you." Poseidon's eyes softened, one hand clasping Percy’s shoulder, "Far better than I did at your age."
Something lodged inside his throat, he averted his eyes, "Right. Seven assassination attempts in one year. One almost successful. I'm doing great."
The last one had took place inside his chambers. If it hadn't been for Alabaster's restless fits, the assassin would had—
Percy would had never forgiven himself if either Annabeth or Alabaster had gotten hurt because of him.
His father drew him into a hug, "Maybe we should get you a tastetester. Up the guards too."
"I'm fine, father." Percy mumbled, the mental image of his wife and the man who could have been his husband in a kinder world flashing in front of his eyes, "No need."
They would had been distraught if Percy got what little privacy they had limited.
"Very well." A smile tugged at Poseidon's lips as he shook his head. "Though, will you be alright?"
"I— Yes, of course." Percy blinked. "I know how to protect myself."
"I meant in Epirus, Perseus."
To his shame, he made a very intelligent sound of confusion that consisted of blubber and sputter.
"Of course." Percy started, before pausing.
"I fear that you will not be received well," Poseidon moved next to him, gripping the railings and staring at the horizon. "You led the final charge upon their palace, was the last person to talk to their queen."
"Then they will be within their rights to not receive me well," Percy frowned.
"You did a commendable job during the war," His father grinned, "Do not let your enemies's perception of you colour the one you have on yourself."
"I'll keep that in mind, father," He averted his eyes.
"And," His father's voice lowered, as if he was approaching a wounded animal, "if the memories of battlefield becomes too much— You can confide in me, if the need arises."
"Thanks," Percy slumped, struggling to breathe, "Thank you, dad."
"We'll be reaching Epirus soon enough." Poseidon patted his back, "This is a diplomatic trip but do try to take in the scenery, will you?"
Percy huffed a laugh, nodding, "Speaking of Epirus, where is...?"
"In your cabin with your wife." Poseidon's grin took a sharp edge, a dark glint sparking in his amused gaze, then he repeated, "We are about to dock."
"That's why I want to find them," Percy tried to fix his hair as he walked across the deck, waving his father off.
Both of them were seated on simple wooden stools inside their cabin. Annabeth was hunched over a bucket, one hand pressed tight against her mouth and the other digging her nails in Alabaster's palm. Her jewellery was discarded somewhere along the mess of bags littering the floor, her fan for some reason sticking out of the curls of her bun. She would had probably rest her head on Alabaster's lap, if she weren't on the verge of puking.
Though they weren't alone, as a group of servants were meticulously fluffing up and pulling and twisting around Alabaster's hair.
Percy winced in sympathy. Alabaster sat stiffly at the edge of his seat, fingers curled over Annabeth’s hand as he tried to keep his head straight despite the amount of directions it was being yanked over. Silken ribbons squeezed the flimsy fabric of his sleeves around his biceps and wrists, elaborate lacework surrounding his shoulders and collar. A gem-embroidered waistcoat hid the most of the complex design, however, and the corset he wore.
"Hi Percy," Annabeth weakly wiggled her fingers in an approximation of a wave.
He smiled, waving back.
Alabaster kept staring ahead, green eyes glossed over like smooth glass, an empty look behind them.
Percy would had thought he had disappeared into the sanctuary of his own mind yet again, if he hadn't jolted in place mere seconds after. Alabaster sent a tired nod of acknowledgement his way, "Perseus."
He always seemed to be tired nowadays.
"Shall I save you from getting decorated?" Percy leant on the wall, arms crossed.
"Please," Alabaster exhaled.
"B-but Your Highness!" One of the servants wrung his hands, gesturing Alabaster's hair to Percy, "His hair— It will loosen—"
"If it will loosen with all the pins you've placed, then clearly you can't do your job," Annabeth scoffed, "What are we paying you for?"
The man froze on spot, a panicked and embarrassed apology slipping out of his lips before he hastily fled the cabin, the others following him almost immediately.
Percy raised an amused eyebrow at his wife, offering his hand to Alabaster, who was rolling his eyes. "Are you coming?"
"In a minute," Annabeth looked positively green as she retched and hugged the bucket close.
Percy gently pulled her fan out of her hair, placing it on a pile of expensive dresses before he kissed her forehead.
The clouds had muddied the bright blue sky when he got out on deck again with Alabaster in hand. The shadows of mountains rested just beneath the horizon.
Epirus.
Alabaster's homeland.
The kingdom Percy played part in utterly fucking over.
The first anniversary of the war's end came faster than any of them could imagine; amidst all the ensuing succession crisis, the fanfare associated with court, the constant need to check over his shoulder at every step and learning the ropes of politics from the two people that might have actually been tricking him towards ruin. Soon enough, the Olympian Alliance would be meeting Epirus, Hypnos and their allies for a renegotiation of the peace treaty in the lands Empress Athena took guardianship of. Like sharks to bloodied water, descending upon the newly of age queen.
His father would be using the opportunity to introduce him to the nobility of the allied kingdoms, of that he was sure.
At least he got out of the palace. That was something.
Alabaster slipped his hand out of his to grip the railings, taking a deep breath as if it was his first ever.
Percy awkwardly shuffled next to him, his heart skipping a beat. Right. What right did he have to lament about being confined to the palace, when Alabaster was actually confined to the palace?
"Do you think I'd sink to the bottom of the sea from the weight on my head if I jumped?" Alabaster craned his neck.
He flinched, "Please don't try that."
Alabaster huffed, the ornaments in his hair gleaming under the midday sun. Gold and silver threads were braided into his pin-up. Corals made of thin metal bands were woven through his brown strands, intricate and colourful glass-blown flowers sprouting from the corals. The way it was all arranged, Percy couldn't help but think it was supposed to resemble a crown.
"I won't." An assortment of jewels and pearls strung down past his jaw like tassels, "Your father would find a way to drag me back to life, anyway."
Percy squeezed his hand, "You will be hardly seeing him for the whole week."
"It's going to be so boring though!" Alabaster whined, "Triton will be busy too, I won't have anyone to play chess with."
"Since when do you talk?" Percy grumbled.
Ever since Triton and his failed assassination attempt, Alabaster had weirdly gotten into the habit of monthly plays of boardgames with his brother, along with squabbling in front of court much to the Royal family's dismay and the entertainment of the rest.
He should probably be more concerned of them conspiring than he was.
Alabaster only tilted his head further, leaning in to block Percy against the railings, "Jealous, your Highness? I mean, of course, you can always lock me up in your chambers. Tie me to—"
"Jewel!" Flustered, he shoved Alabaster off, running a hand front of his face, "You read an unnecessary amount of romance books."
Crimson dusted Alabaster's cheeks, "The library has a nice collection."
"I suppose," Percy sighed, brushing his thumb on his cheekbones. "The priestesses of Venus keep that section well stocked."
Alabaster hummed, gazing at him through lowered eyelashes when a melodic voice rang behind them. "And are plotting to overthrow their adulterous king, I bet."
Percy turned his head to see Annabeth striding towards them, cream and silver flowing and encircling the dusky blue fabric of her dress; face still paled a little bit.
"Priests don't hold as much as sway as in Atlantis compared to Sthenias." He snapped his fingers, "And I still don't buy the whole descendent of the gods thing your family has going on."
Annabeth smirked, shrugging, "Think as you wish. Won't change the fact that Minerva and Bellona favours us. Pass him to me?"
Percy complied, pushing Alabaster gently into her arms. Annabeth wrapped her arms around his torso, flicking one of the dangling flowers with two fingers. "Lilies?"
"Strangler root," Alabaster answered, "Boil their flowers and you get a remedy against the cold, boil the roots and your throat will swell until you can no longer eat, drink or breathe."
Percy raised his brows, well that explained the name. But not the reason why Alabaster would be permitted to be near even a replica of a plant like this.
"They're endemic to Epirus," Alabaster balled his fists.
They exchanged looks over his head. Annabeth kissed Alabaster's cheek, breathing softly, "Are you excited?"
The waves crashed loudly against the ship.
Alabaster blinked blearily a few times, before a scowl crossed over his face and he stepped forward. "I need to pack your bags."
Annabeth took Percy’s arm, after Alabaster had disappeared, resting her head on his shoulder.
"I'm worried about him," she murmured.
If Alabaster had been a raging wildfire when they had met, then what remained a year later was the shadow of a doused candle flame, threatening to snuff out completely.
Percy had hoped restricting Alabaster's frankly excessive amount of alcohol consumption would be enough to help.
"I am too," He whispered while the ship lurched forward towards the docks.
Nobility could trot around, hoist themselves up the commoners in this world and the next as much as they wanted. It didn't change the truth that whenever an assembly like this happened, they showed their bared faces. Shouting and throwing orders around, hobbling down the ships onto the docks and stumbling into whoever was in their way without care. Their entourage tripping over their own feet and mingling until no kingdom could be distinguished from one another. Bags and suitcases and cargos flooding everyone's sight.
Alabaster had never been to a common market, though he could imagine the uproar wouldn't be much different.
From the corner of his eye, from where he was between Perseus and Annabeth, he could see Delphi and Maia. Queen Demeter and King Hades missing as per usual, Empress Athena too, shockingly. High King Zeus deemed to not 'grace' other kingdoms whenever he was asked so, instead choosing to pursue military achievements to the east of his kingdom and send in his demands with a missile later; his absence was expected.
And across them, steady like a castle, his beloved sister stood.
A cry stabbed at the back of his throat, begging to be let out, begging him to run and embrace her. His eyes lingered at the bejewelled crown on top of her head, the one that once belonged to their mother. Her curls poked out behind her velvet veil, gems embroidered at the hems of both that and the dress she wore of the same material.
He had missed Lou's coronation, and her eighteenth day of birth.
Traditionally, a family member would had accompanied the royal child to the top of the highest mountain on their coming of age.
Lou Ellen's had been spent alone, in sorrow and fear, no doubt.
Mechanical roaring and a billow of smoke painting the entire sky black dragged his attention to the ship approaching the harbour. A beast made of metal and pipes, vomiting charcoal vapour to the clouds as Chalceus threw their anchor down.
"Oh my gods," Perseus gasped next to him, eyes wide with wonder and flicking between the sails of the Atlantean Royal Flagship and the long narrow chimney attached to Chalceus's ship.
"King Hephaestus and Queen Aphrodite," Annabeth noted, pointing her fan at the lavishly dressed couple who effortlessly slotted themselves into the crowd.
"They haven't left behind Chancellor Ares to rule the country, have they?" Alabaster asked, lips quirking in amusement.
"Why, is that a bad thing?" Perseus asked.
"Oh just that Aphrodite is openly having an affair with the Lord." Alabaster inspected his nails: well kept and trimmed short, of course. He might had lost his dignity, but not that much.
Perseus's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets, while he whipped his head around to stare at Aphrodite, her laugh chiming like bells as she playfully swatted a hand to her husband's chest.
Behind him, Annabeth made a choking sound; Alabaster followed her gaze only to fall into a coughing fit himself once he saw what, or rather, whom she was staring at.
"Are you two..?" Perseus asked.
"Delphi." Annabeth balked.
"What?"
Alabaster buried his face on Perseus's shoulder, to save himself from the view. Silver fabric draped down the figure of Queen Lady Artemis, fastened with iron belts and buckles and brooches, a midnight shade veil attached to the back of her crown and falling on her dark hair, her braided bangs striped by a ginger colour. Next to her, a boy with a simple saffron yellow tunic on was bouncing on his toes.
Gods. What kind of royalty showed this much skin? Knees, ankles and elbows out... who had let them?
Perseus threw a glance at the Delphi delegation, snorted, "Both of you are so red right now, I wish I had a mirror with me. You've seen worse."
"Not in public!" Annabeth hissed, aggressively fanning her face.
"Fan me too," Alabaster pressed his face farther into the shoulder. They laughed at him, Annabeth linking her arm with his.
He was about to snipe, before he noticed the burning glare King Poseidon was sending his way.
In fact, he wasn't the only one with eyes on Alabaster, now that the fanfare had calmed down. Queen Aphrodite was giggling with her hand covering her mouth, Lord Hermes smirking. Queen Lady Artemis had moved to place herself between him and her companion, as if she didn't want him to see Alabaster.
Alabaster was a prey soon to be dead, and the vultures were soaring around him; waiting so that they could pick apart his carcass. The gazes were pinning him to his place, roaming his figure, the way he clung to the Atlantis's heir and his wife. The way the jewellery on his head bore into his skull, weighing his head down. The diaphanous fabric of his sleeves, the silhouette of his arms.
Why couldn't Proserpina and Trivia open up the ground so it would swallow him, hide him from the leering eyes in her embrace?
The feeling of utter nakedness washed over him, the concept of his personhood stripped bare and open to judgement.
His lungs filled with shame, until no place for air was left.
Had they had brought him along just so his sister could see how far Epirus could fall even further?
The kitchens of the Royal Palace of Epirus used to decorate whatever he had hunted with fruits and flowers before serving it on a silver platter, so that it could be eaten clean to bones.
Alabaster didn't want his sister to see him, not when he was nothing more than a decorated piece of meat.
"Welcome!" Lou Ellen's voice echoed, "Epirus is honoured to host all of her esteemed guests!"
Whatever else she had said drowned inside the ringing of his ears. Her eyes were fixated on him, horror embedded to her blown pupils. Her spine was ramrod straight, her jaw set tight; though none of the regal posturing of a ruling queen could hide the wobbling of his little sister's lower lip or the shaking of her clasped hands.
She hadn't been expecting him; Alabaster doubted Lady Palas, who currently was digging her nails into Lou's shoulder in an outrageous display, informed her that her brother too, would be coming with the delegates.
Which of their mother's children would be the one to faint first, he wondered.
Alabaster squeezed into the small carriage that would take them to the palace, rubbing his arms. From where he rested his head on the window, he threw a glance at the usual servants assigned to Annabeth and Perseus's bedchambers get in as well.
Annabeth had hugged him briefly and apologised for he couldn’t ride with them due to the carriages being small when Lou's speec was over and people had started their way to the Royal Palace.
As if he wanted to ride with the Atlantis royal family in the first place.
The sounds of horse hooves on gravel and hard packed dirt turned into a rhythmic melody, joining in the idle chatter of the people he had came to know of more and less in the passing year.
"The weather is so cold in here!" Margot, the young woman that was responsible for lighting the fireplace, blew into her clasped hands, wringing them together.
"Isn't it?" The man next to her with a red scarf said. "That's why they wear all these furs?"
"Probably," The blonde woman that was lounging her feet on the seat opposite to her and was pushing Alabaster against the door from the side shrugged, "But isn't it nice that we have almost the whole week off. We can see the sights. I've never been to outside the capital before."
"Oh yeah," Devere cracked a grin, nudging the blonde, "Not going to carry heavy water buckets for a whole week. Basins? Don't know 'em!"
"Aye Margot!" She called, "Don't you have a sister that married into the mountains? Can't she show us the locals?"
"Oh not sure," Margot sighed, "Her wife died in the Prince's armies."
The others whistled, exchanging condolences. Alabaster swallowed the lump in his throat, hands clenched tight around the fabric of his breeches. He didn't need to look to know they were staring at the said prince. Maybe if the thin trees lining up the road spontaneously combusted to fire they would stop.
He was a failure of a general, he knew that already.
"Ah is fine, we can find the roads ourselves." Margot waved, "I had gotten sick of ashes getting into my nose anyhow."
He continued to glare out of the window as they chatted loudly about what they would do, acutely aware of how his clothes were finer than all of theirs combined.
The Blonde lightly punched his shoulder, "Oh! Do you have the week—"
"No." Alabaster spat.
The carriage had quietened, the tension hanging low like fog. Red Scarf's sneer cut through it akin to a knife, "Oh well, it's not like you do anything but lay on your back, do you?"
Alabaster jolted, snapping his head to the man's direction.
"Oh dear Neptune!" Devere cried out, while Margot choked.
"What? I'm right!" Red Scarf threw his hands on the air, clutching tightly a little bag of cloth. "His Royalness doesn't even have the decency to move to the divan when I have to change sheets!"
Rage and humiliation stabbed through his heart.
"Hurley—" The Blonde hissed.
"Are their Highnesses going to execute me for telling the truth?" Red Scarf, now named Hurley, popped a roasted chestnut out of his bag. "Then so be it, Irene."
Irene huffed, shaking her head and glancing at Alabaster's way, "Where did you get the chestnuts even?"
"Stole them from the kitchens."
"Hurley!" Margot gasped, before she pinched the bridge of her nose. "At least give us some."
Alabaster wasn't offered any.
The carriage ride couldn't end fast enough. They had arrived earlier than the nobility; and ushered in through the servant's passageway. Alabaster had tried to not think of how the Mistress of Chamberkeeping that had showed them the bedrooms had been the apprentice of the previous one, the one that had served the Crown since his grandfather's reign. The old woman that used to chastise him about slamming doors had probably been executed.
He had dismissed Margot, Devere, Irene and Hurley; and the maids that were already working for the palace but he didn't recognise. He could unpack Perseus and Annabeth’s belongings himself, his own bags too.
Alabaster had just opened the suitcases and started to sort through the piles of courtly dresses when he froze. What was he doing? It's not like this was his job.
He was a gift, not a servant. Oh sure, the couple had rushed him to do their errands. But they would understand if he didn't want to do so. Possibly. Probably. He hadn't made an attempt at refusal yet.
He wheezed, clawing at his throat as he got up from where he knelt in the middle of the immaculately furnished room, stumbling towards the lounging nook in front of the windows. Alabaster collapsed upon the pillows, resting his forehead on the glass and trying to ignore the pounding of his head.
He didn't know how much time had passed when they had came to their chambers, whether it be a few minutes or hours, the time having had blurred together.
Perseus's loud cackles entered the room before he had. Annabeth mumbled something, throwing herself on the bed with a sigh.
"You know what I hate?" Annabeth groaned, "Seasickness."
He blinked furiously, staring towards the courtyard to see servants running from one place to the next while the other they were trying to settle in and joking with eachother.
This was his homeland. Then why did everything came across unfamiliar, why were he so unhappy? This was his home!
If Alabaster looked directly across the chambers they were given, he could see the wing of the palace that the royal family resided in. Lou would be just there, just out of reach. Had she taken their mother's chambers? Had Alabaster's own be left bare? A howl was squeezing around his windpipes, the urge to run to the other side of the palace crawling beneath his skin.
The way Lou looked at him was going to haunt him in his sleep.
She had been horrified.
His scalp was aching. A hundred and more tiny pinpricks booring through his flesh to his skull. He dug his nails into his hair, trying to breathe in and out.
A hand grasped his own.
Alabaster flinched, meeting Perseus's concern oozing from his sea-shade eyes, "Al? What's wrong?"
"Nothing." He murmured.
"I believe my wife has been calling you to bed for the past five minutes, Torrington."
Perseus lifted his chin, cupping his face between his palms. Alabaster leaned into his touch, pointing faintly out of the window. "That's where my childhood quarters is."
That's where my sister is, went unsaid.
"Oh, jewel." Perseus pressed his lips to his forehead, "Come here."
He let Perseus wrap his arms around his waist, and practically drag him to the bed. Alabaster melted into the soft fabric, only letting out a quiet whimper when one of the pins holding his hair together pressed into his scalp.
Annabeth rubbed her thumb on his cheekbone, "Need any help with those?"
He bit the inside of his cheek, lifting himself slightly as Annabeth positioned herself behind his head without waiting for an answer.
Her nimble fingers wove through his hair as if it was a loom, working out the ornaments one by one. "Gods, jewel. Your hair has gotten long."
Alabaster hummed in agreement, watching the pile of jewellery grow on the nightstand as she and Perseus gently took out all the pins, corals, flowers, pearls and whatnot. Their fingers carded through his hair, a warm caress that caused the tension to melt from his shoulders and neck.
He sighed, relieved.
"We're expected to attend a formal dinner," Perseus complained once Alabaster was ornament-free and had laid his head on his wife's lap.
"How awful for you," Alabaster rolled his eyes, flicking his tight, "Don't even try to get me to come along, it would be futile."
"You don't want to see your sister?" Perseus pressed his lips together, interweaving their fingers.
Alabaster stilled. He had just gotten his hair loose, going to the dinner would require him to pin it up again. And seeing Lou, after how she had looked at him as if he was his own corpse..?
Annabeth came to his rescue, pulling him to her chest as she laid down next to him, "We can take a short nap before that, though, can't we?"
A soft smile played on Perseus's lips as he cuddled close.
They would drift off to sleep soon, Alabaster no doubt settling into their embrace as he regularly had done for a year now.
For all Perseus and Annabeth couldn't help his situation, they were warm enough, even though they wouldn't be home.
Alabaster had missed that one.
They were already gone by the time he had woken up.
Alabaster yawned, jumping down the bed to stretch and groggily rubbed his eyes.
He should probably change to his nightclothes. At least the bags had been unpacked while they were asleep, so he would probably find his nightgown faster than otherwise.
The moon filtered through the windows and opening of the heavy curtains drawn. He had probably slept through dinner time, and the servants had brought it back down the kitchens.
A fast paced rap to the door drew his attention. He narrowed his eyes, flinging the doors open with head held high.
He almost screamed at the sight.
A woman his mother's age, with gray hair curled above her head and bottle thick round glasses attached with a thin piece of metal resting on her nose bridge stood at the doorway: His and Lou's old nursemaid. Eudora.
"Is it you?" He gasped, hands on his mouth.
"Your Highness," Eudora bowed her head, taking his hands into her own and guided him to sit on the mattress.
The last time he had seen Eudora, Alabaster had been nine and had just started his lessons on the art of poisoning by his mother. In fact, if his memory served right, that day had been the first of his major lessons.
His mother had ruffled his hair after a successful batch brewed, had taken him to the dungeons underneath. Alabaster remembered the prisoner his mother pointed at; how the guards had dragged the man out of his cell to force him to his knees, prying his jaw open. How his mother's praise ensnared him like a blanket when he had poured his concoction down the man's throat after she had said to do so. The prisoner's eyes had shot open, tears streaming down his cheeks as he had screamed in agony. Oh how he had foamed up even after he had fallen to cold stone floor unconscious, white gauzy spit trailing down his chin.
Alabaster, in all his nine year old glory, had killed a man.
He had been the unintended eavesdropper to his mother's and Eudora's conservation that night. Conservation was an overstatement, to be honest, at from the sounds that had came out of his mother's study had only belonged to Queen Hecate.
His proud mother had begged, voice uncharacteristically low and desperate, and pleaded; telling Eudora to give her another chance. That she had misunderstood things and they could fix her mistake.
Whatever the argument had been about, Eudora hadn't been in the palace the next day. Nor the days after that. And just like that, the woman that had raised him had vanished without a trace.
"You have bags under your eyes." Eudora inspected his face, "Your hair is at your waist, your eyes are duller too."
Alabaster shut his eyes, pain and longing flaying him alive.
"And you're so thin," she mumbled, "Are they not feeding you?"
"They do," he hoarsed out.
"Then you're not eating." Eudora wiped at a tear he hadn't realised was there, "Oh little princeling. What had they done to you?"
A damn inside him broke as he choked, "Why are you back? Why now? Why not when—"
"I couldn't leave you children behind. Not after I heard Queen Hecate..." She trailed off, her mouth quivering.
"I miss my mom!" Alabaster sobbed in her arms.
"I know, princeling. Me too, me too." Eudora held him.
He bawled like a little kid, crying while she rocked him back and forth just like she used to.
Once he had exhausted himself, he slumped against her, heart and soul emptied out.
"Is there anything I can get you? Anything to help?" Eudora hugged him near. She worked in the kitchens now, apparently.
Alabaster blinked a few times, turning the question inside his mind. She would be discreet. No one else would know. "A flagon of whatever is the strongest in the cellars."
Her mouth parted, eyebrows knit in worry.
"Please, Eudora. Atlantis's drinks are pitifully weak."
Alabaster laid on bed, vision spinning and mind peacefully quiet.
His very being was buzzing, the coldness Annabeth and Perseus had left when they went to dinner replaced by the warmth of strongwine coursing through his veins.
With any luck, Alabaster would blackout before they came.