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oleterea was sweltering when she arrived; the kind of heat so dense it was fit to swim in. Laila watched the residents walk by with their sun-soaked glisten, the heat fluctuating around them in waves, like she was observing the fish in a tank.

Dominus sat beside her in silence, his shoulders hunched. He had been crouched uncomfortably in the carriage for hours now due to his stature and the sight of him kindled pity in her.

“It shouldn’t be much longer,” Laila told him in an attempt to soothe. She had come here to escape from the winter and yet she had brought a slice of it with her. It pained her to watch her abominable snowbeast melt. “Would you like to use my fan?”

Dominus grunted negatively in response. She had gradually become fluent in his non-verbal cues.

“Alright,” Laila said, opening it up to fan herself. She stuck her hand out of the window and allowed the light ocean breeze to drift between her fingertips. She took her hand away from the window and placed it on the silk brocade of the carriage chair, sealing a fray in the fabric with her aether until it was good as new.

“Now, I have made an annotated brochure of activities that I think you might enjoy while you stay,” Laila said, pulling out a little booklet from her purse to hand to Dominus.

He accepted it with wary interest, flipping briefly through the pages.

“I can already sense your misgivings and you need not despair: I had a ghoul assist me to make sure there were versions written in both Mortesian and Soltongue. And, oh—” Laila slapped her hand down on the page to halt his flipping “—there are even little illustrations I had peppered in to appeal to your artistic eye.”

He looked up at her with a brow arched. She beamed beatifically in response.

“Thank you,” he said, lifting up the pamphlet higher to his face to squint at it. “What is… opera?”

“Oh, you absolutely must see the opera at least once in your life. It’s rather like theatre but more… majestic. It’s something that needs to be seen to be explained.”

“We’re here,” called out Lyra, who had been dangling out of the window.

Laila poked her head out of the window to see the golden gates of the château opening to receive them. The carriage drew to a stop in the courtyard before the chauffeur went to open the door for her.

Laila stepped out, head tilted towards the sky to receive the warm kiss from the sun on her cheeks. She heard the carriage jostle as Dominus came lumbering out next, stretching himself once more to full height.

The atmosphere shifted immediately in his presence. Among his peers it was easy to forget how imposingly enormous he was, even for his race. By height alone he eclipsed all who were near him by at least a foot.

“Come,” Laila said, taking his hand and leashing him to her; an assurance of his safety. “Before we enter I want to make sure you are fully aware of what to expect from my mother.”

“Yes, I know, Laila,” Dominus sighed wearily, “we have discussed this several times.”

“Apologies, it’s just—” Laila straightened the lapels of his kaftan. “You are aware she is a very… particular individual. And while I know we’ve discussed it I think it is best to let me do the talking- not that I doubt your abilities at etiquette. It is just… well, you’ll see.”

Dominus nodded along, grateful to be relieved of the opportunity to talk.

Laila led Dominus through the stuccoed walls adorned with gilt into the salon where her mother awaited. She sat on a green velvet armchair ornately carved in the form of a garden trellis with flowers and foliage.

“Hello, Maman,” Laila greeted, dipping slightly in her presence. “I have returned from Mortos with a decision from Lanius Rex as you’ve requested.”

Amira took a sip from the froth of her cappuccino before setting it down without so much as a smudge on her lip. “With company, I see.”

Laila glanced towards Dominus. “Yes, you’ve met Dominus Regulus.”

“Your Luminosity,” Dominus greeted in Soltongue, descending to one knee.

Her mother stood to her feet. She circled him like an inspector, her gaze clinical in its examination of him. “What brings you back to Soleterea?”

“I thought he might like to have a taste of the country,” Laila said in lieu of him, “we discussed it immensely during my stay in Mortos.”

“I was asking him, not you,” Amira responded; she framed the side of her face between her thumb and forefinger. “Well?”

“It is… as your daughter said,” Dominus murmured, scratching behind his pointed ear, “I have an interest in better seeing your country. I do hope my stay will not be unwelcome here.”

“Well, of course not,” Amira said, her smile sharp. “You are actually just in time to attend my daughter’s cocktail party. She’s been planning it for weeks in advance for her return. Though I would assume you knew that.”

“She has informed me, yes.”

“I see.” Amira gave Dominus another furtive once-over. “And how would you define the current status of your relationship?”

“Maman—”

Amira held up her hand. “Let him answer the question.”

Laila’s head whipped round to Dominus, watching intently the way his throat bobbled and shifted.

“She is- she is—” Dominus cleared his throat “—a very valued ally to our country. Something I hope to solidify during my visit.”

Laila deflated in relief, her chest lightening with hope that her mother might find his answer satisfactory.

“Well enough, Dominus Regulus. I am sure you must be worn down from quite a long journey.” Amira snapped her fingers towards one of the sprites in the periphery of the room. “Please escort Dominus Regulus to an appropriate quarters and make sure he is settled.”

The sprite nodded before ushering Dominus away who could only glance lingeringly at Laila before the door was closed behind him.

Amira’s eyes flit over to Laila. “Why have you brought him here?”

“I thought perhaps some exposure to our country would help to endear him towards it,” Laila said.

“You mean you thought it’d endear him towards you,” Amira sighed, “why have you entangled yourself with this creature?”

“He has his uses, I doubt my time in Mortos would’ve been nearly so successful without him. I don’t see where the harm is if I happen to establish a cordial relationship between myself and the next heir to the throne…”

“I am assuming then you have not had good news from Lanius Rex,” Amira said, once more seated.

“I tried my best but quite frankly, he is impossible,” Laila said, sitting down on the chair across from her mother, “for now we have reached an agreement of trading goods that would not be subject to our more rigorous checks, such as foodstuffs, but I don’t know how long that will placate him.”

Amira took a long sip of coffee. “If you are experiencing difficulties handling the Mortesian rex then I am more than happy to send someone else in your stead—”

“It’s fine, Maman,” Laila interjected, “I am handling it. I wish for once you would have more faith in my abilities.”

“I am not a faith-based individual, Laila, you ought to know this by now. I make judgements based on evidence. When I have evidence of your self-proclaimed abilities then I will cease in my scepticism. Until then, I consider your position as a diplomat to be tenuous at best.”

“Yes, Maman,” Laila said, swallowing the lump that formed in her throat as she stood. “May I please be excused?”

“Yes, you may continue on entertaining your new beastly companion.”

She had a smile for every occasion, carefully arranged on a retrievable spectrum of brightness. The one she retrieved to accessorise her now was pathetically muted and just about barely held, but she kept the elastic going for long enough to make it to the nearest powder room.

Her mouth collapsed the instant she caught sight of it in the mirror. She spun the taps and ran one of the hand-towels under the water until it was damp and stuffed it into her mouth so those outside might not hear the loud, undignified scream she was making until it ceased.

They gave Dominus a room with an ocean view, the coast’s breath cool on his thick winter hide.

He decided to take a shower.

Dominus stood beneath the gelid spray on the coldest setting of the thermostat, head bent to receive direct contact on the burning nape of his neck. He almost felt like the weather was thawing him out, leaving him soft and boneless as a piece of berg melting on the sea.

He heard Laila enter the shower with him, placing her palm on his shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind but I took the initiative of having a trunk delivered with clothing better suited for the weather. I had them tailored especially to your measurements. If you’d like, I can help pick out an outfit for you to wear today.”

“Ah yes, the uh… cocktail party.” Dominus turned to glance at her wryly. “With food tasting, I think?”

“It won’t be anything too large, just a cosy gathering of the most important people. There are many who are quite curious to finally meet the infamous occassi and I thought having a chance to sample some of our finest delicacies would sweeten the ordeal for you.”

“You know, in Mortos, there is a certain custom we have during harvest season where every hunter brings out their most prized catch to be displayed amongst our peers for amusement.” His lips quirked upwards. “I assume I am to be this season’s most prized catch, yes?”

“It’s not like that,” Laila said, stepping forward to slide her hands along his chest. “You’re not my trophy, Dominus. You are—” her voice faltered through lack of a better term “—you are very dear to me. And I want you to meet my friends so they might see how dear you are to me too.” She brought his face down to kiss him. “Now, I was thinking white linen. Perhaps with a green ascot to accent and bring out the colour of your eyes.”

“Whatever you think is best.”

“I’m being fastidious, I know, but I want you to give off the best possible impression.” Laila leaned her head against his russet chest, inhaling his warm campfire scent. “You probably won’t be used to the way we do our hunting out in Soleterea. Everything is a little more… sneaky, more guileful. I don’t want you to be caught out unprepared.”

Dominus chuckled. “Perhaps you ought to have brought my brother here with you instead.”

She laughed, perhaps too hard, as Darius’ face unwittingly flickered into her mind’s view. “I happen to like the one I chose just fine.” She brought him in for another kiss, her tongue soft against his.

He strung his arms around her waist to pull her closer, lifting her up into his arms to press her against the wall for better access.

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Celebrants converged from all over at the chateau’s hallowed grounds to see their beloved princess returned to them, delivered into their waiting arms from across the phantasmal sea.

The lemon grove was warm and honey-soaked in the late evening sun as partygoers danced in swishing skirts of silks and chiffon. The grounds were bedecked with enchanted white chocolate canaries that flit from table to table to escape the delighted squeals of hunting children. Strings of amaranthum crystal-lights trickled from citrus trees whilst a sprite ensemble played melodies for the masses who paid attention to nothing else.

Laila danced barefoot to the strum of oud and Soleterean guitar, her body twirling like a candle flame. As with all of the solarites she was garnished in tiers of white lace, her neckline receding past her shoulders to display the faint glimmer of stardust across her light brown skin.

Her solo dance was interrupted as Lyra joined her. Their hips were loose and undulating as they bumped, grinded, and teased each other in sensual rhythm to the music. Laila slung an arm around Lyra’s neck to draw her near, losing herself in this—in the languorous haze of heat and music and intimacy as Lyra’s hands slid lower and lower down her spine.

“Gods, I’ve missed this,” Lyra murmured into the crook of Laila’s neck as she spun her around so they were back to chest.

“It is good to be home,” Laila responded coquettishly over her shoulder with a silvered trill of laughter. Then Lyra spun her again until they were back facing each other.

She had missed the sun on her back, the sea breeze on her shoulders and the mellifluous cadence of Soltongue on her ears. She’d missed making love and swooning asleep without fear that come dawn she’d awaken into Mortos’ icy clutches.

Laila shivered, and not for the first time that day. She reminded herself it was Lyra’s arms that held her in her strong archer grip, drawing her near like the string of a bow.

The music soon came to an end, beckoning for them to part. She sent Lyra to get her a drink while she mingled, greeting and charming and kissing as she went, delighting in her once more unshakeable position at the very pinnacle of her social ladder.

Despite the congestion in the garden, the world had slowed to a languid drizzle in her presence—as though one couldn’t help but orbit the descent of her footsteps like a heart awaiting its next pulse. There were too many faces old and new, all eager for her. She was more than happy to quench their thirst before her throat ached to quench her own.

She had hoped to see Dr Isuka among the crowd and disappointingly found the scholar had ignored her invitation. Dr Mielette had taken care to inform her that she’d broken down under the considerable mental strain of Hariken’s death and was now inducted into one of the hospitals under her care. This revelation caused Laila considerable upset. She made a note to put together a care package of some kind to wish her well on her recovery.

Afterwards, she diverted her attention to Dominus, whom she found lurking within the shadow of a lemon tree in the near distance.

She smiled, swaying her hips towards him as she slung her arms around his shoulders. “Come dance with me.” She pouted, lifting his arms to encircle them around her.

Dominus remained stiff against her gyrating hips. “I don’t really know how to move like—”

“You just listen to the music.” She clutched his hips and tried to make them roll with her. “Let it guide you, come on.”

Dominus swallowed uncomfortably. His body was like cool granite.

Laila sighed in defeat before a hand touched her shoulder.

“Your drink as requested.” Lyra held two flutes of nectar in hand, one of which she gave to Laila.

“My heroine, as always.” Laila received the glass of nectar fizzling with fairy floss and clinked it against hers with gratitude.

“At your service,” Lyra replied, with a sly smirk forming on her lips.

Laila took a sip of nectar, the sweet fluid soothing her parched throat. She took a longer, deeper sip until the glass ran dry and then took Lyra’s.

“Steady on,” Lyra protested.

“I’m celebrating, remember?” was Laila’s witty rejoinder. She took another swig of her drink and handed Lyra the empty glass. “Another, if you would.”

Lyra sighed heavily as she shambled off again.

She was immediately replaced by the arrival of her ladies, Aurora and Astrid.

“Looks like it is time for the inquisition,” Laila muttered to Dominus before brandishing a smile. “Pleasant evening ladies, I hope?” She kept the kisses brief and the introductions even briefer, knowing it was unlikely Dominus would be able to digest all the names before the night was done.

“So large…” Aurora observed, reaching out before Laila could dissuade her to test the width and hardness of his bicep. “What are they feeding you over there?”

Dominus glanced over at Laila first, almost as though asking permission, before he shrugged. “Elk, boar, moose. The occasional seal. Once, I have even consumed an entire whale tongue.”

That caused a round of shocked gasps to ripple through them.

“What about other foods?” Astrid asked, fiddling with her pearl necklace. “I hear Mortos has an array of unusual delicacies. Have you ever had anything more… sapient… on the menu?”

“Astrid,” Laila censured, though it was said lightly. She couldn’t deny she had missed them. For these precious girls, these starlets, were as much treasures to her as any gown or jewel. And oh, what was it to be a light without these shadows that clung so stubbornly to her heels.

“I was only asking out of interest,” Astrid protested, “I have no intention of passing judgement on the cultural practises of others.”

“If you are asking if we eat uh… people? The answer is no.”

“Oh, well that is reassuring.” Astrid brightened. “But still you have a castle run by corpses do you not?”

“Alright, I believe we have had enough questions.” Laila clapped her hands together. “Come along, Dominus.”

“But we haven’t even asked him for a demonstration of his powers!” Aurora pouted. “I was looking forward to it all evening. I have never before seen chaotic magic up close…”

“Perhaps later.” Laila dragged Dominus over to the serving tables where the chefs crafted intricate delicacies for the delight of the audience.

She kept passing him dishes in apology as they came: small towers of saffron risotto, figs wrapped in cured ham, heavenly cheesecakes topped with red berries and pansy flowers.

“I’m sorry about that,” Laila told him sheepishly, as she passed him a rosewater meringue on a rose petal cup. “They’re just curious.”

Dominus grunted in acceptance, consuming every offering she gave with one bite, as though he didn’t even pause to chew.

“Don’t just vacuum it,” she scolded, holding back her next appetiser from him. “These flavours are meant to be experienced. Savoured. Here, let me show you.”

She took up a bowl of one of her favourite desserts: banana flambéed in cinnamon and brown sugar syrup, doused in coconut rum and served alongside a helping of vanilla ice-cream.

“Take a bit of banana onto your spoon and dip it into the ice-cream, just so. Now, eat. But don’t just swallow immediately. Let the ice-cream melt a little on your tongue along with the warmth of the banana, the spice of the rum. Can you taste it? This is the rhythm of Malakia dancing on your tastebuds. You feel how smooth it is? How sensual? It is one of the reasons the country is my favourite place to travel.”

Dominus chewed softly, swallowing slowly as he ran his tongue over his lips. “Can we go there next?”

Laila’s face creased with a chuckle. “We’ll see.” She took a spoonful of the dessert next and fed him the bite that came after.

“Laila.” She heard the familiar croon of Céleste, white cream cocktail in hand.

“Céleste!” Laila exclaimed in mock delight, kissing both cheeks as was custom. “Oh, it’s so good to see you. How long has it been?”

“Well, just over a year. You are quite difficult to reach now you’ve been so busy with all this Mortesian business… and now I see who it is you have been busy with.”

Laila forced a smile; a hand draped protectively over Dominus’ arm. “This is Dominus Regulus.”

“So I hear,” Céleste responded, wielding her dagger of a smile upon him next. “What a pleasure.” She held out her hand for him to take. “Hm, strong handshake. Not that I’m surprised, after all, with arms almost as large as my head.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dominus said, “I assume you are another friend of Laila’s?”

“Well, you could say that.” Céleste simpered politely. “But I really must dash. Laila, good to see you again, as always. Do feel free to call upon me for a little tête-à-tête when you are available… I do feel it’ll be a very enlightening one.” She cast another scrutinising glance upon Dominus before she brushed past them with a lingering scent of lilac left in the air.

“She seemed nice,” Dominus said, stuffing a meringue into his mouth.

“Trust me, Céleste is very far from nice.” Laila scoffed, taking a long sip from her cocktail. “We used to court. A long time ago. It ended… poorly. She was probably here to size up the competition. Literally, it seems.”

Dominus raised a brow in interest. The customs here grew even odder to him the more he learned. “If you do not like her, why smile and kiss her cheek?”

“Because she is a dynasty solarite, like myself, and her family owns the royal opera house. If I do not make nice then there will be no VIP tickets for me and you.” She dug her spoon deep into her dessert and took another bite in frustration.

“Your customs here are very intriguing. If it were me I would simply ask to settle our enmity in combat.”

“Well, not all of us can afford to resolve our issues quite so… directly. Like I said, we do our hunting a little differently in Soleterea. More honey than vinegar.”

She scooped a spoonful from the honeypot and drizzled it on her dessert.

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Laila spent the coming days after showing Dominus all the haunts of her youth. She walked him through the forest of white unicorns where she picked strawberries among the foals down to the pristine white beaches skirted by an azure sea.

They took Le Creissant next, startling the hordes of doves on the pavement. She dragged Dominus into every building as they walked through the city: museums and art galleries and temples built for worship. She asked his opinions on artists he could not name and traced her fingers over alabaster busts, marvelling at how someone could take an amorphous mass of stone and chisel life into it.

But it was this she wished to show him: all the life and the beauty and the artistry that awaited him outside of the secluded isle he called his home. Where even the stone could have life. How it always seemed so new and exciting, even to her, to watch her city’s ever evolving growth.

Dominus couldn’t say he came to appreciate it with near the same amount of fanaticism but there was renewed respect for this strange summer world so far from his own he otherwise wouldn’t have come to entertain.

On their final day, Laila took them for ice cream sundaes in one of the pastel-coloured parlours on the beachfront. She tossed a coin to a sprite guitarist so he might play a song for them while they indulged.

She ordered them both the special—orange ice cream garnished with candied lavender almonds, orange peel and violas, and flakes of gold leaf, drenched in orange brandy liqueur and spiced syrup.

Laila helped herself to an indulgent spoonful, her lips coming away flaked with gold. “I think it is the food I will mourn most when we return to Mortos.”

Dominus grunted in agreement. He tapped his spoon against his sundae glass. “Would you like to return?”

“Why do you ask?”

He looked up at her contented face. The orange sunset on the horizon had painted her skin honey. If he could have drawn her at this moment he would have, with the dying dregs of sunlight framing her gold-limned locks.

“You seem happier here, among your friends and family. In Mortos you seemed… dimmer. Less vibrant.”

She twirled her spoon between her lips in thought. “It was a difficult adjustment to make, I suppose. But I do wish to return with you.”

She smiled reassuringly. He remained unconvinced. She was like him, blessed and cursed into godliness. Swaddled in privilege and doomed to cripple beneath the weight of the universes they carried on their shoulders.

“Do you think you will ever come to regard Mortos as your home?”

“What’s brought this on?” Laila asked, apprehensive of his answer. She set her spoon down inside her melting dessert.

Dominus laced his fingers together, the correct words alluding him. He’d only felt this sort of encompassing devotion once before in his immortal life but he’d been once bitten and twice shy. He didn’t want to pluck his heart out for the offering if it was only for her to refuse.

“Nothing.”

“Dominus?” Laila put her hand over his.

“Another time,” he assured her, deciding this was a topic better left broached for later.