(Continued from Part 1)

  “Well, I’m glad we got that out of the way,” Chad said, rubbing some feeling back into one of his shoulders and stretching his back as they prepared to step out of the carriage.

  “Indeed,” Alfonso said, nodding in agreement and turning to Mylo. “I will be sure to visit the jeweler before the day is out.”

  “Excellent,” Mylo said, beaming. “I believe it is a sound plan, and I have every confidence in our ability to carry it out.

  “And, uh,” Chad said, clearing his throat. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. I know you said not to be, but I’m still sorry about what I said.”

  “Oh,” Mylo said, seeming to actually need a moment to remember that he’d been upset, before he shook his head. “Think nothing of it. You were not telling me anything I didn’t already know.”

  Chad felt himself smile at that. It wasn’t often he felt the need, or had the opportunity, to apologize to anyone. He reached up, attempting to redo the buttons on his cloak, but found the task significantly harder between his shackled wrists and his still slightly numb fingers. Seeing this, Mylo leaned forward suddenly.

  “Oh, here, allow me,” Mylo said, waving Chad’s fingers aside and, with his own brushing dangerously up against Chad’s neck, deftly buttoned the collar of Chad’s cloak so that it sat snugly about his shoulders once again.

  “There,” Mylo said, smiling up at Chad before turning away as the door was opened from the outside by the driver. Alfonso exited first, then turned and held out a hand to help Mylo climb down, and then peered in at Chad, who remained motionless in his seat, staring blankly ahead at the opposite wall of the deserted carriage.

  “Chad?” Alfonso said, his voice knocking the sense back into him, and he jerked in his seat, scrambling to exit the carriage as quickly as possible. For the second time that day, his legs betrayed him, becoming tangled in his cloak and sending him pitching forward, which would have resulted in him falling face first out of the carriage onto the hard cobblestones below, but Alfonso was there to catch him.

  “Woah there, careful,” Alfonso said under his breath, holding Chad by his shoulders and lifting him upright, allowing him to drag his hooves clumsily out of the carriage and place them firmly on the ground. Chad turned to thank him, but his tongue felt like it had swollen to twice its size, so he just nodded his head and reached up, yanking his hood back over his head so he could better hide within it.

  What the fuck is this now? Chad screamed inside his head while Mylo and Alfonso exchanged glances. It was bad enough when he’d been having confusing, jumbled thoughts about just one of them, but the second Mylo’s hands had brushed against his neck and collarbone, he had felt a jolt throughout his entire body.

  Did he zap me again? Chad furrowed his brow. That was the only thing he could think of, but he couldn’t imagine why—

  Chad had been mechanically following in Alfonso’s shadow as the three of them filed into the building the carriage had let them out in front of, the building he hadn’t even bothered to take a look at, but once they stepped inside he was unable to remain distracted or disconnected from his surroundings, because several things assaulted his senses as soon as they entered the building. For starters, the air inside was noticeably cooler than the air outside, almost as though he were walking out of a hot summer’s day into an air conditioned department store. The comparisons didn’t stop there, either; there was also gentle, calming music being played on what sounded like some kind of harp, and several overwhelming floral fragrances wafting on the breeze.

  Lifting his head to see if he’d somehow been teleported to the perfume counter of a shopping mall, Chad found himself inside a spacious boutique. The harp music was coming from, what else, an actual harp, propped up in one corner with a blue-skinned elf woman gracefully gliding her fingers across its strings. The floral scents could be chalked up to the many standing or hanging pots of vibrantly colored flowers scattered around the shop, in between the dozens and dozens of wooden mannequins wearing outfits so elegant and complex that he could not have imagined them in his wildest dreams.

  Chad would have felt less out of place if he’d been a literal bull inside a china shop.

  Instinctively, he found himself drifting over to Alfonso’s side and then gluing himself there, his eyes darting around nervously at the affluent human shoppers and the cheerful elven shop assistants, all bustling around at dizzying speeds.

  “I changed my mind,” Chad said under his breath. “This sucks, I wanna go back to the castle.”

  Alfonso, damn him, just chuckled through his nose, but he did move noticeably closer to Chad, which he could not deny made him feel a bit better. Together, they followed Mylo to the circular counter in the center of the boutique, where an elf with red skin and black hair was bending over an open book with a sharp-tipped pen in her hands.

  “Helloo~o, welcome to—” she sang, before she looked up and actually saw who she was addressing. Almost immediately, her demeanor changed; her posture straightened, the cheerful customer-service smile disappeared from her face, and her eyes became fixated on a point somewhere between Mylo’s chin and the floor.

  “Y-Y-Your Highness!” she exclaimed, bowing so forcefully she nearly smacked her forehead on her desk. “We did not receive word that you would be coming! N-n-not that I’m blaming you for that, just—”

  “It’s quite alright,” Mylo said, waving his hand and chuckling lightheartedly. “I didn’t send any word, I’m just here to meet with Ambroise. He should be expecting us.”

  “O-oh, of course, let me see if he’s ready for you!” the woman stammered, wrenching herself upright and spinning on her heels, hurrying away from the reception desk as fast as she could without breaking into a run. Meanwhile, around the shop, the other shoppers had ceased their browsing to stare in their direction, some whispering quietly, others actually stopping to bow.

  Huh. Was it like this every time Mylo went out? Was that how everyone acted around him? Ambroise was friendly with him, but he seemed like more of a business associate than an actual friend. Turning to stare at the back of Mylo’s head from under his hood, Chad couldn’t help but wonder if he actually had any friends. He had Alfonso, sure, but was that it?

  Damn, that’s kind of a bummer…

  Blinking in surprise, Chad surreptitiously reached up from within his cloak, wiping the back of his index finger along the bottom of his eye and finding it just slightly damp.

  What the… Am I crying over that? What the hell?

  While Chad did his best to scrub his eyes clean of any evidence of unwanted moisture, the elven receptionist returned.

  “Weaver Ambroise will see you now,” she said, keeping her head bowed as spoke, and her voice did the same odd tonal shift that Ambroise’s had the night before. It was strange, but Chad was too distracted at the moment to really bother or care. The receptionist turned, motioning for Mylo to follow. He glanced back at Alfonso and Chad, and Chad snapped to attention, doing his best to play off the minor crisis he was having with a curt nod.

  They were led through the shop floor, eventually arriving at the rear, where a doorway covered by a curtain awaited them. The receptionist pulled the curtain aside, but remained outside, and the three of them filed into the back room, which turned out to be an expansive workshop. Desks and cabinets and racks of fabric rolls lined the walls, and in the center of the room were more mannequins standing on raised plinths, wearing outfits in various stages of completion. Standing with one arm crossed over his chest and the other holding a glass of cloudy orange liquid was Ambroise, examining a mannequin that was wearing a flowing dress that resembled a peacock’s plumage.

  Noticing their approach, Ambroise turned, flashing a bright, cheerful smile.

  “Ah, Your Highness, welcome!” Ambroise said, taking a swig of his drink before setting it down on an empty desk, striding over to meet them.

  “Good afternoon, Ambroise,” Mylo replied, extending his hand out, but not for what looked like a typical handshake. His palm was flat and facing up, and when Ambroise reached him, he placed his own hand down on top of the prince’s. Together, they turned their hands over, then each brought them back to their chest and bowed their heads.

  “So!” Ambroise said after the odd greeting, clapping his hands once and fixing his sparkling eyes on Chad, causing him to freeze like a deer in headlights. “It is delightful to see you again, Chad; I do hope you’re feeling better today.”

  “Uuuuh…”

  Chad glanced down at himself, his feminine form still mostly concealed by the heavy cloak, then over at Alfonso and Mylo, recalling the series of events that had played out back to back shortly before they entered the boutique, and the one-two punch of confusing emotional reactions they had caused that even now he was struggling to articulate.

  “I’m… fine,” Chad concluded, shuffling awkwardly and reaching up, pushing the sides of his cloak apart and throwing his hood back. “I, uh… couldn’t change back this morning.”

  “I can see that,” Ambroise said, placing a finger to his chin and tilting his head. “Did you happen to give any thought to the advice I gave you before we parted?”

  “Eh… do we… do we have to jump straight into that?” Chad asked, grimacing and holding up his still bound wrists. “Can’t I just get my clothes first?”

  “Oh, apologies!” Mylo said, ducking in to quickly unlock the cuffs, pocketing them again, giving Chad an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

  “Mmh, I suppose it can wait,” Ambroise said, implying he had no intentions of letting the topic drop for good. Turning away, he paced down the row of workbenches, searching for something, while Chad reached up and undid his cloak, looking around until he found an unused chair to drape it over.

  “You just step up onto the middle platform there, Chad, and I’ll be right with you,” Ambroise said, continuing to circle the room, now carrying several articles of clothing folded over one arm.

  “Is there anything we can do to assist?” Alfonso asked.

  “No, no, I’ve got everything handled,” Ambroise said, turning his head to look up at Chad as he stepped up onto the largest plinth in the center of the room. “You, though, you can start by disrobing.”

  “Excuse me?” Chad said, jerking back slightly in outrage.

  Ambroise arched an eyebrow at his outburst. “You do understand the concept of trying on new clothes involves removing the old ones, yes?” he asked sardonically.

  “Well duh, but I’m not just gonna get naked in front of you… or them!” Chad flung his arm to the side, motioning to Mylo and Alfonso. “Don’t you have changing rooms? Or, like, a screen I can at least go behind?”

  “The fitting rooms are out on the shop floor,” Ambroise said evenly, nodding his head towards the curtained entrance. “As are the rest of my customers, in case you forgot. As for a screen, I’m afraid not. I need to see how these fit on you, and potentially make adjustments, and having you scuttle back and forth will cause far too much unnecessary delay.”

  Chad winced, following Ambroise’s nod and glancing towards the exit.

  “And besides,” Ambroise continued, now approaching the platform with a serene smile and an armload of black fabric. “I come from Belanore, little demon, the elven homeland. I guarantee you that nothing you have under there could surprise me, short of, say, a second face, and even then I’d be more interested in simply doing my job than asking questions. I am a professional, darling.”

  Chad’s brow furrowed and he frowned, shuffling backwards slightly, though careful not to actually step off the edge of the raised platform. He didn’t know what being an elf or coming from this “Belanore” place had to do with anything, he just didn’t want to get naked in front of a bunch of strangers.

  At that, he recalled another conversation from the day before, about how little nudity mattered to the people of this world, and groaned. He couldn’t even deny that Ambroise was probably right, he was making too big a deal out of this. It’s not like he hadn’t spent years regularly showering next to his teammates, but that was different!

  “Fine,” Chad said, huffing and stepping back into the center of the plinth, then snapping his head to the side to glare down at Mylo and Alfonso. “Turn around.”

  The two of them looked startled for a moment, before they actually processed his request.

  “Ah, very well,” Alfonso said, turning his back to the platform.

  “As you wish,” Mylo said, also turning away, though he stopped to add, “although, if you recall, we have already seen—”

  “You don’t need to remind me!” Chad snapped, again raising his voice before clapping a hand to the side of his head and cringing. “Ugh… sorry…”

  Keeping his eyes fixed downward, Chad repeated the move he’d performed earlier, and grabbed the bottom of his borrowed shirt, pulling it up and over his head, letting it drop to the floor and clenching his fists at his side in order to suppress the urge to cover himself up.

  “There, see?” Ambroise said, setting the stack of cloth down on a nearby stool. “You didn’t burst into flames or anything.”

  “If I wasn't a girl right now, that’d be a very real possibility,” Chad said, scowling. “You’re lucky I’m not turning this whole place into a blizzard.”

  Ambroise only laughed heartily at that, unfurling his tape measure with a flourish and approaching the platform. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t appreciate it if you did that,” he said, holding the length of cloth between both hands and circling behind Chad. “So, you are a girl right now?”

  “That’s not—!” Chad snapped, stopping suddenly and shuddering when he felt the measuring tape laid across his shoulders. “I thought we weren’t gonna talk about that.”

  “No, I said it could wait,” Ambroise said from behind him, humming slightly. “Mmh, shoulders not that much narrower.”

  Chad grumbled under his breath, realizing the folly of his assumptions. Unless he wanted to disrupt this whole process, snatch his shirt from the ground so he could struggle back into it and then storm out of the shop, he was effectively a captive audience.

  Well… I did still have questions. And this was probably going to happen eventually.

  “Uuuugh,” Chad groaned again, turning to address Mylo and Alfonso’s backs. “I don’t wanna do this with you two listening in, can you, like… just go to the other end of the room or something?”

  Mylo, the absolute airhead, almost turned around to answer, but thankfully Alfonso caught him by the shoulder, nodding his head.

  “Certainly,” Alfonso said, steering himself and Mylo away from the platform while keeping their backs turned.

  “That bad, huh?” Ambroise asked, amusement in his voice.

  “What? No, I just… it’s gonna be hard enough talking about this with you,” Chad said, biting his lip to suppress a laugh when the tape measure was pulled around his waist and against his hips. Taking a deep breath and letting it out in a sigh, Chad lowered his voice and said, “And… no, I… I don’t think I’m a girl right now, despite…”

  “I see,” Ambroise said, unperturbed.

  “I mean, I don’t know,” Chad said, bringing his hands up and pressing them to his eyes. “I… I thought about what you said, and I… I don’t actually hate this body as much as I thought I would. Once I got a good look at it, I… I…”

  “You saw how gorgeous it was and came to appreciate it?” Ambroise finished for him, and Chad shuddered again, this time having nothing to do with the tailor’s roaming hands.

  “Don’t call me ‘gorgeous,’ dude, I barely know you,” he snapped, before shaking his head. “Ugh, fuck, but you’re not even wrong… I mean yeah, I look good like this. I look great, even. But I thought I looked fine in my normal body too, so I don’t fuckin’ get what’s going on with me.”

  “Aha.” Ambroise made a noise of realization. “So, would you say you feel equally comfortable in either form?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Chad said, crossing his arms over his chest, measurements be damned. “But that doesn’t make sense. If I’m a guy, I should be uncomfortable looking like this. I thought I was, but I realized none of that’s on me, it’s all… outside… stuff. And if I’m… I mean, if I were a girl, then feeling good looking like this would make sense, but then wouldn’t my old body make me uncomfortable? Even now, I’d be perfectly fine if I just fuckin’ snapped right back to looking like a guy and stayed that way, so… what does that make me? What am I?”

  Ambroise circled around the platform until he was standing in front of Chad again, and Chad realized he’d stopped taking measurements some time ago without him noticing.

  “Unfortunately,” Ambroise said, his usual overly sunny smile now small and subdued. “I cannot tell you what you are. That is something you will have to figure out on your own.” Chad frowned at that, looking down at himself again, and Ambroise held out a hand, drawing his eyes back up. “I can tell you that you’ve taken a tremendous first step, but it is only one of many. The journey to discovering one's true self cannot be completed in a matter of days.”

  “Great,” Chad said sarcastically, blowing a puff of air out through his lips. “I guess you can’t tell me how to change myself back right now, either?”

  “Afraid not,” Ambroise said, his smile widening. “How have you been managing so far?”

  Chad averted his eyes at that, scrunching up one side of his face. “Eehn… well, mostly thinking about how… shitty I’d feel if anyone saw me, but I don’t think that’s gonna work anymore. The first time it happened I just thought about, uh, y’know… manly stuff until I changed back.”

  “Oh I would love to hear what things you consider to be ‘manly,’” Ambroise said, his eyes twinkling again. Chad kind of got the impression he was being mocked, but he figured he was just being paranoid. He just had to be sure to reword a few of them to not give away his otherworldly origins.

  Shrugging, Chad said, “Well, y’know… sports? Like, competition, I mean. And, uh, sex, and drinking and fighting and racing and grilling meats—”

  Ambroise brought a hand to his mouth, but wasn’t able to suppress a snort, holding up his other hand, and now Chad was sure he was being made fun of somehow, his hands clenching into fists again and his eyes narrowing.

  “Sorry!” Ambroise said, parting his fingers slightly and turning away. “I am sorry, I do not mean to laugh at you, but… Chad, do you honestly believe women can’t, or don’t, enjoy any of those things?” Chad frowned, looking off to the side as he thought. Obviously, it didn’t actually seem impossible that there were women out there with the exact same tastes that he’d had back on Earth, but…

  “Moreover,” Ambroise said, catching his breath and clearing his throat. “Do you think not being partial to any of those things makes one less of a man?”

  “Ugh, fine, no,” Chad said, shaking his head. “I guess when you spell it out like that it sounds dumb, but it worked for me that one time, and… wait…”

  Chad hadn’t even tried using his list of “manly” interests to change back yet, but now he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach at the idea that Ambroise dispelling his, admittedly, silly notion that any of those things were inherently manly meant he’d never actually be able to use that trick ever again.

  “Damnit…” Chad cursed off to the side, sighing and reaching up to rub at one of his shoulders in annoyance. “Can I just get my clothes now?”

  “Mh, alright,” Ambroise said, standing up straighter and clasping his hands. “If you’ll permit me one last suggestion?”

  Oh, Chad so very much wanted to tell him to take his suggestion and shove it. He really didn’t know why he’d even humored the elf this long. Then again, as cryptic and hard to digest as their last conversation had been, Chad had wrung some good out of it, so he was willing to hear just a little more. He wouldn’t make any guarantees that he’d actually listen, of course.

  “Fine,” Chad said, shrugging. “Go ahead.”

  “I would encourage you to try… experimenting, within your comfort zone, with loosening your grip on your current idea of your identity,” Ambroise said, giving Chad a smile that at least seemed genuine. “For example, giving some small consideration to changing the way you’d like to be addressed during the times you ‘look like a girl,’ as you put it.”

  Chad’s brow furrowed again, and cocked his head to one side. It took him a second to work out what Ambroise was saying, but once he did it hit him like a sledgehammer. He was saying that he should… that Chad should…

  Chad blinked. Once, then twice. Tilting… her head down and raising her arm, she stared at her hand, palm up and fingers splayed out. Was she… could she…

  “No!” Chad said, shaking his head vehemently. “No, nope, no way!” he repeated, meeting Ambroise’s eyes, the elven tailor holding his hands up in surrender.

  “Very well, very well,” Ambroise said, his voice light and soothing. “I only asked that you try. Now, as for your clothing…” Ambroise bent down to the stack of garments, selecting something from the top that seemed too small to be the plain black shirt that Chad had been expecting. Ambroise held it up, and it looked more like a cropped tank-top, except with three rows of criss-crossed laces, two running up the sides and one up the… back? Or was that the front?

  “What the hell is that?” Chad asked, squinting his eyes and trying to make heads or tales of the small top.

  “This, Chad, is something I designed especially for you, to accommodate your unique situation,” Ambroise said, holding it out towards him. “You see, here in the mortal realm, we have these garments called underclothes that, as I’m sure you can guess, go under your clothes.”

  “I know what underwear is, jackass,” Chad snapped, shaking his head. “But I didn’t ask for… wait… Is this supposed to be a bra?!”

  “Ah, so you are familiar,” Ambroise said, still holding his hands out. “No, Chad, this is not a brassiere. Those are for people whose breasts don’t appear and disappear at a moment’s notice, and they are meant to accentuate as much as support. For you, I imagined you’d prefer something meant purely for utility, with no unnecessary additions or embellishments.” Cocking his head to the side, Ambroise smiled. “I based the design on an elven garment, actually, called a ‘trellis,’ meant for those still in the process of growing, who require frequent adjustments to their clothing.”

  Chad looked at the offending garment with a scowl. It didn’t matter how much Ambroise tried to talk around it; that was a bra. And, just like back in Mylo’s bedroom when he resolved not to make such a big deal out of the possibility of being seen in this form in public, Chad chose to look at this from the practical angle. The plan that Mylo had laid out was going to include a lot of, in addition to other things, running. If Chad was still stuck like this by then, or even if he wasn’t and just transformed mid-plan for some fucking reason, he knew enough about girls—and physics—to know it would be uncomfortable and distracting to be running around… “unsupported.”

  “God… fucking damnit, fine!” Chad growled under his breath, finally reaching out and snatching the… undergarments from Ambroise’s outstretched hands, turning it over in his grasp. At the very least, whatever material it was made from felt soft and comfortable.

  “Would you like some—”

  “No, shut up,” Chad said, cutting Ambroise off and hoisting the top over his head, slipping his arms through and then carefully working it over his head, mindful of his horns. The trio of laces had been left extremely loosely tied, so it was actually easy to tug down over his chest with minimal… adjustments required. At some point, he’d turned his back to Ambroise, just to regain some semblance of privacy, but now he turned to face the elf man again, sure that his cheeks must have been glowing.

  “Alright, it fits,” Chad said, putting his hands on his hips.

  “Ah, so it does, although you’re not quite finished,” Ambroise said, pointing to Chad’s side. “You need to tighten the laces on both the sides and back. That will help keep everything secure, and when you do eventually shift back to your other form, you can just let the slack back out.”

  Alright, Chad had to admit it. That did seem like a handy feature. Way more convenient than just, say, carrying around a spare bra everywhere he went on the off chance he grew some tits at random. In light of that, and of all the harsh words he’d thrown in Ambroise’s direction since he’d arrived, Chad forced himself to meet the tailor’s eyes.

  “I, uh… thank… thanks for going through all this trouble,” Chad stammered out, just as quickly looking away, reaching down to do as instructed and start pulling the thick leather laces on his left side tighter. “And m’sorry for bein’ such a huge asshole. I’m really trying to work on it, but I keep slipping up.”

  “Oh, nonsense, you’ve been an absolute delight,” Ambroise said, waving his hands airily. “I appreciate the sentiment though. It is important to acknowledge when we make mistakes, and endeavor not to make them again. Now, tell me, how does the fit feel? I obviously couldn’t get any more measurements yesterday so I had to eyeball your size.”

  “Honestly?” Chad said, now pulling the right side laces tight, tying them with a quick and simple bow knot so that he’d be able to easily grab and pull, should his body suddenly start to change on him out of nowhere. “It’s great. I mean, I hate it, but I can’t pretend I didn’t need it, and this is probably the least embarrassing solution I’m likely to find.”

  “Well I’m glad to hear that,” Ambroise said with a cheeky smile. “I’ll be sure to have a few more made and sent to the castle over the next few days. Oh, and best not to forget the other half.”

  Chad turned, having been focused on tying up the laces along his back, something that took far more flexibility than he would normally have thought himself capable of. Ambroise was holding up another article of clothing, and again, it was too small to be actual clothes. This time, it looked like a pair of quite short boxers, with a drawstring waist and more laces up the sides of the legs, and a very large u-shaped section cut out of the back, with a thick strip of cloth connecting the two sides of the gap.

  Chad raised an eyebrow, looking from the shorts to Ambroise, and back again.

  “I am not trying those on until you turn around.”

  Thankfully, Ambroise was as obliging as he was… orange. Chad hadn’t even seen his lower half yet, so there was no way he was letting an almost-complete-stranger get an eyeful. Double checking to make sure Alfonso and Mylo weren’t sneaking any peeks either, Chad dropped his stolen pants and hurriedly navigated his hooves through the leg holes of the oddly-shaped underwear, quickly pulling them up his legs and cinching the drawstring tight.

  Like the top half, the bottoms were comfy and fit almost unbelievably well, with only a few quick adjustments to the side laces. What was more, with these actually being made with his inhuman anatomy in mind, he found that he was no longer feeling a persistent low level chafing around the tops and sides of his tail, something he'd just grown used to ignoring.

  After his undergarments were deemed “acceptable,” Chad was finally given the clothes he’d actually come to the shop for; a simple, black tunic style shirt with sleeves that stopped an inch or two past his shoulders, and a pair of dark red pants that ended just past his knees, with leg holes wide enough that Chad would never have to worry about getting his hooves caught in them, and of course another cut out for his tail. Both of them hung slightly loose, but Ambroise explained that was so that they would still fit even once he was able to shift back. Stepping off the platform and following the elven tailor to a floor length mirror, Chad got his second ever look at himself in this form, and he was nearly bowled over by it.

  “Woah!” Chad exclaimed, gawking shamelessly. He had thought this form looked good before but now that he wasn’t wearing an oversized, borrowed shirt that fit him like a circus tent, it looked fantastic. The curves that he’d been so shocked to discover he had were now much easier to make out, not quite accentuated but not covered up any more, which only served to confuse him further, and make him glad he’d opted to wear the heavy cloak before leaving the castle. Still, as weird as it was, he couldn’t deny, from an objective, outside perspective, he looked so much better.

  A quick and incidental glance down the front of his new shirt while he was examining himself revealed a new and even more troubling revelation: he had cleavage now. His heart skipped a single beat, and he felt himself sway on his hooves, before he clenched his fists and gritted his teeth.

  Damn, he thought, rubbing the side of his head. That collin’s whatever stuff is really strong. Whatever, I should stop before I embarrass myself.

  At that point, he remembered Alfonso and Mylo waiting patiently in the wings, and turned, calling them back over.

  “Well, what’d’ya think?” Chad asked, mostly rhetorically, as the pair approached. If he liked how these clothes looked on this body, then he was pretty sure he’d like them even better on his normal body, but he figured he should at least ask.

  Both Mylo and Alfonso looked him over appraisingly, and he did his best not to squirm uncomfortably. He knew he couldn’t wear that cloak everywhere, and eventually he was going to have way more than just these two seeing him in this form, so it was best to get used to it from two people he was—relatively—comfortable with.

  “You look very nice, Chad,” Alfonso said, giving an approving smile and a nod.

  “Yes, quite!” Mylo said enthusiastically. “I said you looked roguish before, but now you look positively dashing!”

  With a jolt, every joint in Chad’s body locked up, like he’d been turned to stone, and he glared at Mylo with a mixture of confusion and horror. Beside him, Alfonso’s hand found his forehead with a soft slap. Mylo’s smile persisted for several seconds, before he finally noticed the almost literal change in the temperature of the room, looking from Chad up to Alfonso with a doubtful expression.

  “What?” Mylo asked, furrowing his brow. “Have I overstepped? I only wanted to assure you that you’re as handsome in this body as you are in—”

  Alfonso actually reached down and clapped a hand over the prince’s mouth, stifling him before he could complete that sentence, sparing Chad from having to kill him right then and there.

  “The clothes”—Alfonso said, putting more than enough extra emphasis on the word—“look great, Chad.”

  “Mmm!” Mylo said, muffled by Alfonso’s hand, which was just as quickly withdrawn. “Ah! Yes, of course! You did an excellent job, Ambroise, as always!”

  After that, the talk devolved into other business between Mylo and Ambroise, and that was Chad’s cue to turn and flee from the horrible, awkward situation, retrieving his cloak and quickly throwing it over his shoulders again. Safe in the confines of his mobile refuge, Chad pressed his hands to his face and screamed internally until he felt… well, better wasn’t the right word, but he was at least able to meet Mylo and Alfonso’s eyes when they came to retrieve him.

  “Geez,” Chad muttered as they climbed back into the carriage, a bundle of spares of the same shirt and pants he now wore loaded into the luggage compartment. “That sucked… Mylo, you said you brought more of that medicine, right?”

  “The collin’s leaf? Yes, why, are your hooves hurting again?”

  “Yeah,” Chad lied, holding his hand out and quickly popping the lump of chewy taffy into his mouth, welcoming the spread of the wonderful numbness across his body as they pulled away from the boutique and started back towards the castle.

  As he listed slightly to the side, letting his head rest against the side of the carriage, listening to the muffled sounds of the wheels turning over the cobbles and the rhythmic clapping of the horses that pulled them along, thoughts began to bubble up in Chad’s overworked mind. Not about his current situation, or the complicated knot his brain had been tied into by the experiences of the last day and a half, or even the plan of attack they’d just gone over a short while ago. No, basking in the late afternoon sun streaming through the window, Chad’s thoughts turned to Earth, and his former friends there.

  They'd probably laugh their asses off if they could see me now… Mandy and Morgan and… and…

  Chad squeezed his eyes shut. Just the name of his former best friend was too painful to think about, let alone the thought of what he’d done. Mindful that he wasn’t alone, Chad tugged his hood down lower and tried to silence his mind, but one last thought floated to the top, like a leaf drifting on the surface of a lake. It was a simple, stray thought, but one that clung to him like a chill as his consciousness drifted off.

  I wonder how they’re doing… without me…

  ■ ■ ■

  Mandy was doing absolutely fantastic.

  After her performance, she found herself showered with adulation, the crew temporarily too captivated to remember to be formal with her. She encouraged this in return by dialing her usual amount of haughtiness down to about half. She laughed, she joked, she schmoozed, and in general showed a more relaxed side of herself.

  When she let slip that the fight she’d shown them was not improvised, but in fact part of a rehearsed sequence, she had a momentary bout of panic as she thought she had blown her cover wide open, but then she made perhaps her most important discovery to date.

  It turned out that the sailors were not just familiar with staged plays as a concept, but that plays were in fact common and widespread across the Empire, and the world at large. Which, Mandy probably should have guessed; they were, like, the second oldest form of entertainment or something, dating as far back as caveman times.

  Since finding out that staged plays, complete with fight scenes of their own, were a key part of honoring the Empire’s history, Mandy had insisted on the sailors finding time in the afternoons and evenings to tell her about as many of them as they could remember, and in some cases cajoling them to act out certain scenes. Most of them were god awful actors, but Mandy could look past that. For the most part. Even Captain Vittorio had been persuaded to give a stirring rendition of the final speech of some famous royal general from some historical drama, which according to him was his favorite play.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  This also led to her picking up on a very important, very vital fact about the Empire’s belief system, which explained the crew’s earlier insistence on Lady Scarlett taking Lady Azure captive at the end of her demonstration; In the Empire, killing a defeated, unarmed opponent was considered nigh-on disgraceful when taking them captive is an option, while refusing to take someone captive who has surrendered was actually, literally, a sin. This was because turning an enemy into an ally was one of the highest acts of devotion one could perform for the Goddess of Love and War.

  Mandy didn’t quite get it, but that did explain why there seemed to be so many plays that revolved around enemies falling in love. In any case, she had never before been so glad that she’d listened to her instincts, and didn’t have Lady Scarlett dramatically cut down Lady Azure as soon as the fight was over, since by the sound of things that would’ve done serious damage to her cover story.

  In the end, the only person who seemed displeased with Mandy finally managing to break the ice with the crew was Brother Eugene, who tried many times to pull her aside and suggest what was going on was most inappropriate, but he was always careful to frame it as the crew’s fault and not her own. Thankfully, he was as easy to snub as ever, and seemed to know better than to push the issue after the second time she brushed him off.

  The rest of the “week” flew by after that, until, on the morning of Colday the fourteenth, one day before they were set to arrive at the capital, another birdkin courier descended onto the deck.

  “Oh,” Mandy said, looking up at the ceiling. She and Chase were in her cabin, with Chase trying to teach her another of the seemingly endless dice games that sailors liked to play. The night after her performance, Mandy had approached Captain Vittorio and told him (as opposed to asking him) that she wished to appoint Chase as her “personal assistant.” He seemed more confused by the request than resistant to it, and even Brother Eugene didn’t put up a fuss when he found out about it.

  “‘Tis a fine enough notion, my lady,” he had said, nodding sagely like a jackass. “His kind, that is to say, the dogkin, are predisposed to submit to authority and remain loyal; that’s why they were so readily accepted into the military.”

  Mandy had, of course, immediately gone to ask Chase if that were true, and the dog boy had actually burst out laughing, shaking his head and telling her that that was just another myth, one of those notions it was often best not to go to too much trouble to dispel.

  “Something the matter, Lady Scarlett?” Chase asked, his ears also perking up.

  “Another messenger’s here,” she said, turning and giving Chase a smirk. “Meet you up on deck.”

  Then she dismissed her projection. Chase let out a long-suffering sigh and a laugh, climbing to his feet and rushing over to the door to the cabin, pulling it open.

  Only for Mandy to be there on the other side in her Lady Scarlett best, smirking at him.

  “Did you really think I’d leave my assistant behind?” she asked, turning and starting down the corridor while Chase fell into line behind her, his tail wagging lazily.

  “I don’t believe I’ve assisted you once since I’ve been appointed,” Chase said with a chuckle.

  “Sure you have,” Mandy said, holding her arm out and summoning a parasol into her hands. Since the performance, she’d also been practicing with her ability to control her projections, breaking through the mental barrier that previously prevented her from summoning anything that wasn’t “her” shaped by thinking of them as “props.” It was slightly taxing, keeping objects that were meant to be solid solid, but as long as nobody but her was expected to touch them, she could skimp on a lot of the details. For instance, the parasol had no weight or texture to it as she opened it, but it looked convincingly real, and that was good enough for her.

  “You’ve helped me stave off boredom,” Mandy said, turning to grin at Chase over her shoulder before blocking out his view with the parasol. She could still see him, of course, and the way he blinked in confusion at her back, before jerking slightly and racing ahead of her to reach the door first, so he could open it for her.

  Mandy still wasn’t entirely sure where she stood with Chase. He was affable and friendly, almost to a fault, and while he’d shown her that he wasn’t quite the easy mark she mistook him for at first, he still seemed far too naive for his own good. Luckily, Mandy had gotten to him first, before he could fall into the wrong hands.

  She also suffered no illusions that his and everyone else’s positive disposition towards her hinged entirely on continuing to believe she was a living manifestation of a sliver of their goddess. She could be friendly with Chase, but that did not necessarily make him a friend, just merely an ally of convenience, and a useful one at that. She had no doubts that if it ever came out she was not the genuine article that he would turn on her along with the rest of the crew.

  Climbing up the stairs to the helm, Mandy found Captain Vittorio already reading the letter that the tall, willowy birdkin with white wings had delivered. His eyebrows had climbed a significant distance up his forehead, and Mandy smiled as she approached.

  “What news, Captain?” Mandy asked, and Captain Vittorio’s head snapped up.

  “Ah, my lady! Yes, excellent news! The royal family wishes to honor your arrival by having you present yourself at the Grand Royal Aquadrome, so that the citizens of the capital may also witness your majesty in full,” Captain Vittorio recited from the letter, and several of the sailors who had also approached to listen let out excited murmurs.

  Mandy, meanwhile, had to suppress a snort of laughter.

  Aquadrome? What, like a water park?

  “I take it from the name that that is some sort of… grand venue on the water?” Mandy asked, and one of the sailors, one Junior Ensign Neuman, stepped forward.

  “Aye, that it is, m’lady,” Neuman said, holding his hands up and cupping them together like he was holding a bowl. “I went to see it once with my da; it’s a colossal theater that encircles an opening in the bay. The center is connected to the sea, so it’s full of water, and they use it to stage mock naval battles, and perform shows on these massive, floating platforms.”

  Mandy’s eyes lit up, and she had to be careful not to break into a grin. A colossal theater? Filled with water? That sounded awesome! The excitement proved too much to contain, but she’d also come up with an ingenious way to solve that as well. Leaving her first mostly frozen, she summoned a second projection back down in her cabin, which proceeded to let out a “Woo!” and thrust both fists into the air before doing a joyful little dance that, should anyone actually be around to witness, she would have been forced to kill them.

  “Ah!” Brother Eugene made a noise of appreciation, ascending the stairs up to the helm. “Did I hear right? Has Lady Scarlett been invited to the Royal Aquadrome?” When many of the crew nodded in confirmation, he began to beam, reaching up and stroking his chin. “I suppose that would be the most appropriate venue to host the ceremony.”

  “Are you familiar with what I should expect when we finally arrive?” Mandy asked, rounding on the old priest, who smiled even wider.

  “I have not witnessed it personally, no, but in my youth I heard the tale from my grandfather. He had made a pilgrimage to the capital to attend the commemoration of the newly announced aspect, Prince Phineas Tanith Rosenfeld,” Brother Eugene said, gazing up towards the sky. “If I recall, it took place in the upper district, in the Grand Royal Arena. Things opened with a declaration from the then First Blossom, Princess Aria, then a personal demonstration from Prince Phineas of his unique talents, then there was an entire tourney’s worth of mass entertainment in the prince’s honour.”

  Mandy’s smile remained placid while the duplicate down in her cabin grabbed a pillow off of the couch and pressed it to her face before letting out a shrill, giddy squeal, before gasping in shock and clapping her hands to the sides of her head. She had to put on a demonstration?! Would they expect her to be able to? What sort of demonstration? She was a boat, what could she even do?!

  The duplicate went back to the pillow for another scream before tipping over onto the couch, vanishing and dropping the pillow right back where she’d taken it from.

  “My,” Mandy said, now that she’d worked out enough of overflowing enthusiasm to speak. “That sounds absolutely perfect. I’m more eager than ever to finally arrive at the capital.”

  That was even mostly true. At this point, she figured, she would either be found out immediately, or she would put on the greatest performance of her life.

  And there was absolutely no sense in worrying about it, whatsoever, right?

  “Lady Scarlett?” Chase said, after they’d returned to her cabin.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You seem… nervous,” Chase said.

  “That’s preposterous,” Mandy said, scoffing and shaking her head. “What could I have to be worried about? There’s absolutely nothing to worry about!”

  “I see,” Chase said, tapping a finger against his chin. “Then… would you like to come down here and finish the game?”

  Mandy raised her head, looking up, or rather, down, at Chase. She’d been pacing since they got back, but had found the floorspace of her cabin not sufficiently open enough for her liking, and reoriented her projection onto the ceiling.

  “In a minute,” she said, continuing on her way across the ceiling.

  Approximately five minutes, or perhaps five hours, later, Chase cleared his throat.

  “Is there anything I could do to… assist you, my lady?” Chase asked, cracking a smile when she turned to narrow her eyes at him.

  He's lucky he's so cute.

  “I don't know,” Mandy finally said, sighing and rubbing her forehead. “I know you told me the royals shouldn't be a problem, but now I'm thinking about arriving at a literal stadium full of people. It's not like I'm un"—realizing what she was about to say and catching herself, she pivoted—“prepared to appear in front of so many people, but even someone like me can't help but feel a little intimidated.”

  “It might help to find something to take your mind off of it,” Chase said. “If you've grown tired of dice games, perhaps we could simply talk?”

  “About what?” Mandy asked, crossing her arms.

  “Anything,” Chase said, spreading his hands out in front of him. “Whatever you like.”

  Mandy hummed, tapping her chin. Of all the members of the crew, Chase was the one she was most able to speak freely with and ask questions. There were many things she still didn't know, and many she probably couldn't ask without raising some suspicions, but there was one thing she could think of that Chase might be able to help her with.

  “Alright then,” she said, before snapping her fingers. Her projection disappeared from the ceiling and reappeared back in her chair, sitting with one leg crossed. “I wanna know more about beastkin.”

  “Beastkin?” Chase asked, tiling his head. “Really?”

  “Yes, really,” Mandy said, steepling her fingers. “I told you, my knowledge of this world is… limited. Intentionally so. If I want to know something, I have to ask.”

  “Ah, yes, I see,” Chase said, nodding and tilting his head to one side. “Though I can't promise I'll be able to answer every question you might have. I'm hardly an expert myself.”

  “Well, let's start with an easy one: what's the deal with beastkin?” At Chase’s confused expression, she clarified, “I mean, what are beastkin, and where do they come from? Like, I don't know if this is rude, but from the outside you kind of just look like humans with extra bits, soooo… what's up?”

  Chase looked at her for several moments, his face unmoving except for his eyes, which stared at her searchingly as though he expected her to say more.

  “Huh,” Chase finally said, turning his head aside. “Okay. Well, that is a bit rude, yes, but more so than that it's very… old-fashioned? For starters, no, we're not just ‘humans with extra bits,’ but that is exactly what people used to believe ages ago: That we were the cursed offspring of humans and magical beasts.”

  “Oh, yeah, the monsters you were telling me about,” Mandy said, nodding. That had been one of the more interesting things her regular questioning had uncovered, the existence of an entire second class of animals above normal animals that could do magic, or were magic, Mandy still wasn’t clear.

  “That's right,” Chase said, nodding. “Now, at least, people know we're not half-monsters, but there are still places outside the Empire that treat us as though we were.”

  “Oh, that's awful,” Mandy said, furrowing her brow. So that's why beastkin would even choose to live in the Empire, if their treatment outside of it was even worse.

  “As for what we are, I dont think I'm smart enough to explain that,” Chase said, frowning. “I know that, despite us all being called beastkin, we're all technically distinct races. I'm a dogkin, and those dock workers who loaded your cargo were… oxkin, I think, though I’m pretty sure they were all only half-beastkin.”

  “Half?” Mandy asked, tilting her head. “What was the other half then?”

  “Human, if I had to guess,” Chase said, chuckling politely. “I could tell because they were only six or seven feet tall, and none of them had hooves.”

  “Ooooh,” Mandy said, tilting her head back and looking up at the ceiling. She already thought those guys had been huge, but there were apparently even bigger versions out there? With hooves? “Wait, so, humans and beastkin can… eh…”

  “Reproduce?” Chase said without batting an eye. “Yes, absolutely. So can two different beastkin too, though I've heard it can be difficult if one of the parents is from an egg-laying race and one of them isn't.”

  “Wait, wait, wait, slow down,” Mandy said, holding a hand up. “Egg-laying? Seriously? What, like, the bird people?”

  “Uh huh,” Chase said, nodding. “Birdkin, as well as bugkin and lizardkin, probably some sea dwellers too, but we don't get many of those in the Empire so I’ve never been able to ask.” Chase chuckled again at Mandy’s wide eyed expression. “That's another thing, actually. While it might be true that you could mistake me for a human at a glance if you covered my ears and hid my tail, some beastkin really only look ‘human’ from the waist up, like snake or spider or horsekin.”

  Mandy’s head was swimming. She was just starting to get used to the idea of people with a few animal bits, but now this? She could at least understand someone who was a horse from the waist down, that was just a centaur, but a spider? Or a snake? And whatever the hell a “sea dweller” was?

  “I know I asked for this, but this is so much more than I expected,” Mandy said, sinking deeper into her chair and turning sideways, hanging her legs over the arm. “Okay, so… what happens when two different beastkin, y'know, ‘reproduce?’ Like, I don't know, a horsekin and a birdkin? Would the kids be horse, or bird, or, like… both?”

  “Oh, I know this one!” Chase said excitedly, his tail wagging a bit. “I heard it from one of the people who ran the orphanage. Between mixed-species pairings, there's an equal chance that the children will either take after one parent in full, or they'll be a hybrid! In your example, they might end up with the hooved feet and tail of a horsekin, but the wings and claws of a birdkin.”

  “Woah,” Mandy said, blinking. She was already having to reframe everything she thought she knew about beastkin, but the possibility of hybrids threw everything out the window. Depending on just exactly how many different kinds of beastkin there were, the possible combinations seemed endless.

  Wait a minute…

  “What about if… two hybrids got together?” Mandy asked, eyes wide. “Like, if that birdhorse met up with someone who was… half-frog half-bear?”

  “I… don't know…” Chase said, his own eyes going wide, a look of wonder on his face. “I suppose… their kids would either come out the same type of hybrid as either parent, or… some kind of four-way split? I don't think I've ever heard of that happening, though.”

  “Dang… still, imagine that, right?” Mandy said, bringing a hand to her forehead. “Wings, and hooves, but also big bear claws and… a long, sticky tongue?”

  Chase burst out laughing at that, clapping a hand over his mouth in a failed attempt to stifle himself, and the mental image soon had Mandy giggling unreservedly too. They spent a few minutes after that just coming up with increasingly more ridiculous sounding combinations, and by the end of it, Mandy had to agree, she did feel better.

  “Ahhh…” Mandy sighed, having sunk further and further into her chair, to the point she was practically laying on the seat with her legs propped up and dangling over the arm. “Thank you, Chase. I needed that, I think,” Mandy said, rolling her head to the side to smirk at the dog boy. “Y'know, you actually aren't half bad at this ‘assistant’ gig.”

  “I'm glad I could help, my lady,” Chase said, smiling back, his tail wagging slowly but steadily. “You've done so much more for me than I ever could have imagined without me even asking, it's the very least I could do.”

  That gave Mandy a moment's pause. Aside from the “promotion,” she didn't think she'd done all that much for Chase other than be friendly to him. And even that she'd only started doing because she felt sorry for him after seeing how he was treated by the likes of Beckart and his cohorts.

  And because it was the fastest way to get him into your pocket, she reminded herself. Because he seemed naive and useful.

  Mandy cleared her throat and sat up suddenly, swinging her legs around and placing her feet on the floor. “Y’know what?” she said, pressing her hands together in front of her. “I feel like stretching my legs. Let’s go for a walk!”

  “A walk?” Chase repeated, bemused.

  “Yeah, a walk,” Mandy said, nodding. “You know, around the ship. Here, one sec.”

  Mandy flickered over to the writing desk, opening one of the larger lower drawers and pulling out a clipboard. She then searched through an upper drawer and withdrew two sheets of paper and some kind of weird old fashioned pencil thing, then carried the whole bundle back and offered it to Chase.

  “Here, take this,” Mandy said, which did nothing to lessen the confusion on Chase’s face. He obeyed anyway, taking the clipboard in one hand and the pencil in the other.

  “I’m… still unsure what it is we’re doing, my lady,” Chase said, looking from her down to the clipboard, then back up to her.

  “We’re not doing anything,” Mandy said, putting her hands on her hips. “We’re just taking a walk, but this way it’ll look like we are doing something, and people will be less likely to bother us. Take this advice to heart, Chase: you can blend in almost anywhere if you carry a clipboard and look like you know what you’re doing.”

  “I am not… I will take your word for that, my lady,” Chase said, finally rising to his feet. He looked down at the clipboard again and bit his lower lip, before saying, “Ah, you should probably know, I am not actually very good at writing…”

  “That’s fine,” Mandy said, shrugging. “I probably won’t ask you to write down too much. Some numbers, mostly, a word or two.”

  “What should I say if someone actually asks what we’re doing?” Chase asked, and Mandy chuckled.

  “Just brush ‘em off,” Mandy said, flicking one of her hands in a shooing motion. “Just say something like ‘Not now,’ or ‘I’m busy,’ or even ‘Shh, I need to listen to Lady Scarlett.’”

  Chase snickered a little at that, then shrugged.

  “Very well. Lead on then, Lady Scarlett,” Chase said, falling into place beside her, his tail swishing through the air behind him. Mandy smiled and quickly turned to face the front, crossing her arms and nodding.

  “Yes, let us make haste, we haven’t got all day,” she said, slipping into her Lady Scarlett voice before chuckling under her breath and moving to the door. She and Chase stepped out into the hall, and together they spent the next hour or so roaming the ship that was her body from one end to the other, making note of random and completely disconnected things that Mandy happened to notice while exploring all the parts of the ship that she’d never actually “set foot” in before.

  “You know, it never occurred to me before, but now that I’m down here, this is a lot of cells,” Mandy said, walking slowly between the multiple rows of thick iron bars forming more than a dozen distinct cells, each one large enough to hold four or five people. “Why do we have so many?”

  “Well, that’s what you, er, that is, what’s what this class of ship was designed for,” Chase said, following closely behind her. “It’s made to be fast and easily maneuverable, capable of carrying, depending on the configuration, either a decent amount of cargo or a large number of prisoners, without giving up its offensive capabilities.”

  “Oh, really?” Mandy said, looking back over her shoulder. “So I’m like… the ship version of a jack of all trades?”

  “Yes, exactly!” Chase said, grinning. “You may not have the capacity of a purpose built prison ship or a cargo runner, or the firepower of a dedicated warship, but you can perform either role adequately enough that your presence would be a boon to any fleet.”

  “Huh,” Mandy said, feeling a strange swelling of pride in her chest at being made to sound so… impressive. “Neat!”

  With one last look at the nearest cell, Mandy continued on her way.

  Eventually, the two of them would run out of ship to inspect, but thankfully by then they’d managed to kill enough time that it was midday, and time for another shift change. Still eager to keep her mind off their fast approaching arrival to the capital city, Mandy made the rounds, chatted up the crew, and took in more stories about various plays and performances that they’d seen. The day, miraculously, came and went and before she knew it, it was night. Mandy found herself back in her cabin, right where she’d been earlier that morning, staring out the windows at the moonlit sea while listening to Chase explain the rules of yet another game in between increasingly frequent yawns.

  Just one more night, Mandy thought, drumming her fingers on the arm of her chair. Just one… more… night…

  ■ ■ ■ ■

  “Just one more day,” Chad said, staring at himself in the mirror. “Just one. More. Day. And then I can get out of this fuckin’ room, and out of this fuckin’ city.”

  It was, if Chad hadn’t mixed up the days again, the morning of Colday the fourteenth and, if Mylo’s plan succeeded, their last day in the capital. Mylo and Alfonso had been coming and going since they returned to the castle two days before, after picking up Chad’s clothes, carrying out their own preparations while leaving Chad alone, and with explicit instructions not to wander off. That had been fine with Chad, because he still hadn’t managed to figure out a way to change forms, and the longer he could put off letting this particular cat out of the bag, the better.

  Staring at his pink-skinned face in the mirror, Chad frowned and pointed at his reflection.

  “That’s why you’re stuck this way, dude,” he said, admonishing himself. “It’s fuckin karma or something.”

  He didn’t know if he actually believed that, but he was running out of explanations.

  A knock came at his door, and Chad rose, halfway crossing the room before cursing, and running back to the side of his bed, retrieving his shirt and his… undershirt, tugging both on while calling out, “One sec!”

  Of all the things Chad missed, being able to walk around shirtless without it being Weird was rapidly becoming one of the biggest.

  It’s not like they’d even mind, he reminded himself, scowling. You’re the one making it weird.

  He just about wrenched the door open when he finally reached it, but managed to pause and spend an extra two seconds breathing and calming himself before reaching for the handle.

  “Yeah?” he asked.

  “Ah, there you are!” Mylo said, standing primly on the other side of the door with his arms folded behind his back, a smile on his face. “How are you faring this morning, Chad?”

  “I’m… alright,” Chad said, sighing. “Could be worse.”

  “Well, that’s something to be thankful for, right?” Mylo said hopefully.

  Chad just stared back at him for several seconds, waiting for him to get on with whatever it was he’d interrupted Chad’s quality moping time for, and when nothing came he let the side of his head thump against the edge of the door and asked, “Did you need something?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact!” Mylo said, motioning for Chad to actually come out of the bedroom, into the sitting room. Chad wanted to just close the door in his face, but there was a chance this was actually important, and technically the room belonged to Mylo anyway. Hell, as far as everyone but Mylo and Alfonso thought, he belonged to Mylo too.

  “Fine, alright,” Chad said, pulling the door open and shuffling out into the sitting room. Alfonso was there as well, standing by one of the bookcases, and he turned and gave Chad a smile and a nod of the head.

  “So, what’s up?” Chad asked, turning back to Mylo. “Is this about the plan?”

  “Ah, well, not quite,” Mylo said, bringing a hand up to his chin. “Though, I suppose, tangentially it could be—”

  “It’s more about you,” Alfonso said, turning away from the books and thankfully cutting Mylo off before he could get lost in a verbal hedge maze.

  “What… about me?” Chad said, glancing from Alfonso to Mylo, suddenly very much on guard.

  “Well, if you’ll excuse me for being direct,” Mylo said, motioning towards Chad. “Neither Alfonso or myself could help but notice that your mood has remained quite somber since the day before last. Now, of course, this is entirely understandable, given your situation, but as I’m sure you’re aware, tonight is the night we will be making our move on the Archbishop, and I have some concerns that your morale being so low may impact the success of the plan at a crucial moment. To that end, I believe it would be in the best interests of us all if you would allow me to take you out of the castle for a short outing, to give you a chance to clear your head, and perhaps a quality meal at a high-end restaurant.”

  Chad stared flatly at Mylo for several more seconds, before turning to Alfonso.

  “Is he serious?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Alfonso said with a light chuckle.

  “Ugh…” Chad grunted and turned around, popping one elbow up in his palm and burying his face in his other hand. He honestly hadn’t thought he’d been that bad, but then he recalled that he’d spent most of the previous two days listlessly loafing around the sitting room, sprawled out on the couch while telling himself he should poke through some of the prince’s many books for useful information, but never quite working up the energy to do so.

  And now, because of that, Mylo and Alfonso were concerned about his ability to hold up his end of the bargain, and Mylo’s solution to that was to “take him on an outing.”

  No matter how you slice it, it either sounds like he’s taking me on a date, or walking me like a dog.

  On top of everything else, Chad still hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the moment before they entered Ambroise’s shop, when Mylo had helped him with his cloak, and Alfonso had stopped him from falling. Both events continued to play on a loop in his head every couple of hours, and being stuck in one place with nothing to do for a day and a half definitely wasn’t helping.

  “Alright, fine,” Chad said, turning back around.

  “Really?” Mylo asked, his eyes lighting up. “We’ll, that’s good. We thought you’d prove resistant to the idea.”

  “Oh, I’m very resistant,” Chad said, crossing his arms. “But you’re right, I’m goin’ nuts in here. Any longer and I’m gonna start climbing the walls. Some fresh air and a nice meal will at least give me something else to focus on for a while. Let me just go get my cloak.”

  “Excellent!” Mylo said, clapping his hands together excitedly, actually producing a few small sparks. “While you’re there, perhaps give some thought to what you’d like to eat?”

  “Uh… sure,” Chad said, already halfway through the door to his bedroom. Strolling over to the wardrobe, he reached inside and found the only article of clothing hung up inside it; the heavy red cloak that was technically Alfonso’s winter cloak, but which had seemingly been relinquished to Chad without a second thought. The only other items were the small parcel of spare clothes and underwear that Ambroise had had delivered, which Chad wasn’t going to bother unpacking since they’d be leaving soon anyway.

  “What to eat, huh?” Chad said, throwing the cloak around his shoulders. “Well, if the prince is gonna spring for it, might as well take advantage.”

  Stepping back out into the sitting room, Chad found Mylo and Alfonso waiting near the door, the adamantite cuffs already in Mylo’s hands.

  “I want steak,” Chad announced as he approached.

  “Steak?” Mylo asked, tilting his head to one side.

  “Yeah,” Chad said, holding out his arms for Mylo to affix the cuffs. “A real big steak.”

  “What sort of steak?” Mylo asked, latching the cuffs closed and looking up at Chad again.

  “Y’know, steak?” Chad said, raising an eyebrow. “Like from a cow?”

  “Oh!” Mylo said, laughing and nodding. “Oh, yes, beef steak. An excellent choice. I prefer lamb, myself, but beef has become more popular as of late.”

  “I know a place just south of the castle that offers a good selection,” Alfonso said, adjusting his coat slightly. “I’m acquainted with the owner through a friend who I go hunting with sometimes, they have excellent venison as well.”

  Oh, right. There were other kinds of steak. That was true even on Earth. But his dad had always insisted nothing could beat a “good ol’ fashioned American cut of beef.”

  “Y’know what,” Chad said, turning to Alfonso. “I’ll try that, instead.”

  Once again the trio made their way out of the castle, without encountering any of Mylo’s relatives this time. They bundled into another carriage and were off in no time, at which point something finally occurred to Chad.

  “So am I just supposed to eat like this?” Chad asked, holding up his chained wrists.

  “Ah,” Mylo said, grinning from across the carriage. “Well, therein lies the other reason behind this outing. We will, of course, be given a private room to dine in due to my station, but I will be removing your cuffs in full view of the waitstaff. This way, I can make it seem as though I am attempting to bribe you, the demon, to relinquish your contract willingly. This will, of course, terrify the waitstaff, who will, of course, spread the word like wildfire among their co-workers, who will spread it to their friends and acquaintances.”

  “So that when I ‘kill’ you, it’ll make that much more sense, since you were obviously playing with fire,” Chad finished, tilting his head back on the seat. “Yeah, that’s not a bad idea, actually. You’ll have to be sure to sell it, though… Ugh, and that means I’m gonna have to be ‘in character’ anytime someone else is around, shit.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do just fine,” Alfonso said, giving Chad a small smirk. “You just need to growl and curse, and act like you hate everything and everyone around you. That shouldn’t be too hard, should it?”

  “Hey!” Chad snapped, before he realized that Alfonso was attempting to joke with him, and rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine, yeah, you got me. But I’m working on that, alright?” Chad turned his head away, staring out the window, and under his breath added, “Besides, I don’t hate the two of you, now do I…?”

  “Pardon?” Mylo asked.

  “Nothing!” Chad barked, pulling his cloak tighter.

  Thankfully, the carriage soon pulled to a stop. True to Alfonso’s word, they had not gone very far from the castle gates. The street they were on was wide and lined with many two- or three-story buildings, all of which Chad could immediately tell were restaurants from the tables arranged outside their wide open doors, and from the mouth watering smells that began wafting in the second the carriage door opened. Alfonso stepped out, turning and offering a hand to help Mylo down, then doing the same for Chad.

  Oh, great, Chad lamented. He remembers it too!

  Chad wanted to say he was fine, but the last thing he wanted to do was refuse Alfonso’s help then eat shit out the door again anyway, which is exactly how he imagined it going if he put up a fuss. Sighing, he reached out and grabbed Alfonso’s hand with both of his, stepping onto the little metal staircase that led down to the ground.

  Waiting for them in front of the closest building, a three story structure with a very stark white exterior with black accents, and a sign overhead that just read “Isabella's,” was a man with long blond hair wearing a flowing green coat.

  “Your Highness, it is an honor,” the man said, sweeping one arm out wide and bowing to Mylo before popping right back up. “I am Corrado Abelli, owner of Isabella’s. I was most surprised to hear you wished to make a lunch reservation at my humble eatery. I can assure you, my staff will show you the finest dining experience you’ve had all season!”

  “Oh, please, Mister Abelli, you don’t need to put on any extra effort on my account,” Mylo said with a polite little laugh. “I am simply here to show my demon a taste of the life of leisure it could lead if it would only come to its senses and offer me its contract freely.”

  At that, Abelli’s eyes fell on Chad with a look of surprise, as though he was only just now able to perceive him because Mylo mentioned him directly. Remembering he had a part to play, Chad growled and turned his head to the side.

  “Go fuck yourself…” he grumbled, and the restaurant owner’s cheeks went white as a sheet.

  “Ah… well… as you wish, Your Highness,” Abelli said, hastily turning back to Mylo. He looked like he had much more to say on the matter, but was holding all of it back on account of who Mylo was. Swallowing, the man turned and straightened his back. “Come, let me bring you to your private chamber.”

  Abelli led them through the wide open double doors of the restaurant. The inside was much like Chad had expected; tables and chairs arranged around a wide open space, with booths along the walls, all full of well-to-do looking patrons chatting politely and eating dishes that looked like they were prepared by a five-star chef. The second floor of the building was visible from the first, as an overhanging balcony with more tables that overlooked the first floor, and beyond that Chad could see enclosed rooms behind wide windows arranged around the edges of the ceiling on the third floor. Chad was briefly worried they’d have to trek up two flights of stairs, but was surprised when Abelli led them to one of a pair of openings against the back wall covered by a folding gate, outside which an elven man in a white suit stood.

  “Third floor, Alder,” Abelli said.

  “Right away, sir,” Alder replied, sliding open the gate and stepping into… Well, there was nothing else it could possibly be but an elevator, but the idea of that seemed so incongruous to Chad that he had to be prompted by Alfonso to enter, having just stood staring at the compact little alcove the size of a walk-in closet.

  Growling back at Alfonso for show, he stepped in and moved to the far corner, followed by Alfonso and Mylo and finally Abelli. Chad craned his neck, watching curiously as Alder drew back one of his sleeves slightly and pressed his palm flat against a panel that sat in the wall beside the door. Nothing happened for a moment, but suddenly a series of tiny blue lines lit up along the panel, and the elevator—for that was, indeed, exactly what it was—began gliding smoothly upwards.

  Holy shit, Chad thought, pulling his hood down so he could freak out in peace. They have… they have fucking elevators? How? What does it run on, magic? Who am I kidding, that’s probably exactly what it runs on!

  The ride to the top floor was short and sweet, and soon they were led through a narrow, curved corridor lined with windows that looked down over the first and second floors, until they reached a door. Abelli produced a key and fitted it into the lock, pushing the door inward and revealing a small room that was equal amounts cozy and opulent. The furniture was all intricately carved and made of a deep, dark wood polished to a mirror finish. The table was covered by a red silk cloth with gold fringes, and the plates and cutlery that were already laid out for them looked like the kind of stuff his grandma used to keep in a special cupboard, always waiting for a surprise visit from the Pope or something.

  “Your room, Your Highness,” Abelli said, once again making a sweeping motion with his arm, before handing the small key off to Mylo. “Is everything to your liking?”

  “It is, indeed,” Mylo said, giving his hand a dismissive wave.

  “By your leave, Your Highness,” Abelli said, bowing again. “I shall leave you to get comfortable, and one of my waitresses will be up shortly.”

  With that, he backed out of the room, closing the door behind him, leaving the three of them alone.

  “Well,” Chad said, turning in a slow circle to inspect the room. “You weren't kidding when you said a ‘high-end eating establishment.’ This is definitely the ritziest place I've ever been.”

  “I wanted to ensure you had a pleasant time. Well, as pleasant a time as possible, given the circumstances,” Mylo said, while Alfonso helped him slip out of his jacket.

  That was right. This was, mostly, for Chad’s benefit. He wanted to say that he would've been fine with some fried food and cheap beer at whatever the fantasy equivalent of a sports bar was, but he didn't want to sound ungrateful.

  “Eh… thanks,” Chad said, shrugging out of his cloak and passing it to Alfonso, who hung it and the prince’s coat on a rack by the door.

  From there, the conversation petered out. Mylo and Alfonso talked amongst themselves about what they'd prefer to order, while Chad slouched in his chair, tapping his hoof impatiently against the floor, until a knock sounded at the door. Exchanging a glance, Mylo and Alfonso sprang into action, Alfonso going to the door while Mylo came around to stand over Chad, key in hand.

  Alfonso opened the door to a young elven woman with lime-green skin and orange hair in a red and white dress, bearing a tray in both hands. With a bright smile, she stepped into the room and bowed deeply.

  “Good afternoon, Your Highness,” she said, rising up in time for Mylo to turn towards her. “My name is Maple, I shall… serve…”

  The woman trailed off as her eyes traced their way from Mylo’s face, to the unlocked adamantite cuffs he now held in his hands, to Chad’s scowling face.

  “Yes, yes, come in!” Mylo said excitedly, motioning for her to come closer before turning back to Chad, his voice becoming stern. “Now you’re going to behave yourself, or these”—Mylo jangled the cuffs theatrically—“are going straight back on, understand?”

  Chad had to resist the urge to raise an eyebrow at that, keenly aware of the waitress edging her way into the room as slowly as possible while keeping her eyes trained firmly on him the whole time.

  “Whatever,” Chad said, crossing his arms and putting on his best glower.

  Stepping away, Mylo returned to his seat across the table, followed by Alfonso. Maple, who had finally reached the edge of the table, was shaking like a leaf, and seemed torn between keeping her eyes on Chad and trying to respectfully meet Mylo’s eyes.

  “I, ah, have brought a selection of gourmet meats and cheeses, compliments of Mister Abelli,” she said, placing the tray on the table, showing off an array of cheeses in a rainbow of colors, and several paper thin slices of meat. Standing back up, she produced a slate and pencil from the front of her dress pockets.

  “W-w-what will you be having today, Your Highness? Sir?” Her eyes flicked to the side and she hesitantly added, “And… lady?”

  Oh, hell no. He might still be stuck looking like a chick, but he was not getting called ‘lady.’ All he had to do was let out a low growl and Maple jerked away with a squeak, her eyes as wide as saucers, which earned him a reproachful look from Alfonso.

  “I would like a forager’s salad to start with, and the lamb chops,” Mylo said pleasantly, seeming completely unconcerned.

  “Spinach pastries, thank you, and then the venison steak and roast potatoes,” Alfonso said, still keeping one eye on Chad.

  “R-right, I will have those for you right away!” Maple scribbled both orders down on a small slate she carried, already taking a step back towards the door, but Mylo held up a hand.

  “Ah, wait,” he said, turning his hand over and motioning to Chad. “You haven’t asked what we’d like to drink. And my demon still needs to order, after all.”

  “Oh! I’m dreadfully s-sorry!” Maple said, reluctantly turning and facing Chad, the pencil in her hand shaking so hard he’d be surprised if she was actually capable of writing down their orders. He was actually starting to feel a bit bad for the poor girl. Best not to draw this out much longer.

  “I’ll just have what he’s havin’,” Chad said, pointing at Alfonso. “Meat n’ potatoes.”

  “V-very good,” Maple said, turning back to Mylo. “And to drink?”

  “I’d like a glass of Primrose Vintage,” Mylo said.

  “Kvass,” Alfonso said, and again Maple came back around to him. He was momentarily at a loss, not helped in the least by the fact that they hadn’t been given any sort of menu.

  “I don’t know… you got abani juice?” Chad asked, deciding to go with something he already knew he liked, but Maple frowned.

  “We… we do not, no,” she said, looking like a wilting flower. “W-w-we do have several other varieties of berry juice, though!”

  Geez, she’s acting like I’ve got a gun pointed at her, Chad thought, frowning inwardly. It was a weird, uncomfortable feeling, having someone be that afraid of him without him having done anything. He knew he was supposed to stay in character, but this was getting to be too much.

  “What’s your favorite?” Chad asked, dropping the growl from his voice.

  Maple stared at him for several seconds, blinking, then asked, “P-pardon?”

  “What's your favorite kind of juice?” Chad elaborated, leaning back and throwing one arm over the back of his chair. “Or favorite kind of berry, whatever.”

  Maple seemed to need a moment to mull it over, coming slightly out of her shell and no longer hunching over like she was trying to use her slate as a shield. “Uh… uhm… I’m partial to… blackcurrants,” she finally said, a bit of confidence returning to her voice. “They’re sour and tart, and usually only used for making pies or jam, but I like the juice as well. It has a… bite to it, much stronger than cranberry or raspberry.”

  “Sure, I’ll have some of that then,” Chad said, shrugging with one shoulder.

  “Ah… alright then,” Maple said, looking down and adding that final detail to their order, finally seeming like she wasn’t inches away from screaming and bolting for the door. “I’ll have those up for you in… in a moment. Thank you for your patience.” Saying this, she took two steps backwards, before seeming to catch herself, and turned, walking normally towards the door, with only a single glance back over her shoulder.

  Once she was gone, Chad let out a sigh and slunk even further out of his chair, staring up at the ceiling.

  “Uuuuugh, I am not fuckin’ cut out for this,” Chad said.

  “I thought you were doing very well,” Mylo offered, and Chad scoffed.

  “I wasn’t doing anything,” Chad said, sitting back up. “She was just terrified because she’s probably never spoken to a demon before, and only has rumors and stories to go off of.” He leaned forward, resting one elbow on the table and propping his head up in his palm. “And I couldn’t even keep that up, because I felt too bad for her.”

  That was the most confusing part. Chad would have thought himself made of sterner stuff; he’d certainly been able to not only inflict enough terror of his own in the halls of his high school, but also witness the same perpetrated by other members of his team without flinching away, so what was different now?

  Well, for starters, he’d very recently had his eyes violently and irreversibly opened to just what an abhorrent person he’d been turning into, meaning he was no longer able to stomach being the cause of such intense fear, especially if he wasn’t even doing anything. Then, there was the other, obvious answer, which made him look down and grit his teeth.

  It’s probably this stupid girl body with its stupid boobs and its stupid hormones.

  Granted, he didn’t even know if demon’s bodies had normal hormones, but it was nice to have something to blame.

  “Chad?”

  Alfonso’s voice drew him out of his thoughts and back to the present, and Chad looked up at him and Mylo across the table.

  “Would you like to… speak?” Alfonso asked, reaching over and placing a hand on Mylo’s shoulder. “I understand if you only wish to partake of the food and fresh air, and I will drop the issue if you ask, but… I believe it may help you better clear your head if you tried to talk through what exactly it is that has you so melancholy.”

  Oh, great. The thing Chad loved to talk about the most; his own thoughts and feelings. Turning his head away, Chad stared at the far wall, where a painting of a forest hung.

  “We should wait for our drinks,” he said. “They always bring the drinks before the food.”

  There, that should give him a minute or two, right?

  Slightly less than a minute later, another knock came at the door, and Mylo called out “Enter!” The door was opened and Maple bustled in with a small tray containing three glasses and a bowl.

  “Ah, here you all are,” she said, setting down a glass full of a dark, navy-blue wine in front of Mylo, a tall glass of amber-colored liquid before Alfonso, and finally a wide, sturdy mug of black juice in front of Chad. “Here is your salad, Your Highness, and your pastries. Your meals will be ready shortly, but should you require anything else, pull that rope beside the door.”

  Mylo and Alfonso thanked her, and Chad almost did as well before catching himself. He couldn’t go too far off-script.

  Once they were alone again, he immediately reached for his glass, intent to give himself a momentary distraction by sampling the blackcurrant juice, but was only able to take a small sip before he felt his lips and cheeks begin to tingle and pucker.

  “Wow, shit,” Chad said after swallowing the mouthful, tilting his glass to stare at the dark liquid inside. “She wasn’t kidding, that’s fuckin’ tart!”

  Not that he was about to complain. It had just enough of a bite, enough to get his heart pumping and knock the dust off, enough to give him the motivation to actually follow up on Alfonso's suggestion. Meeting the pair’s eyes again, he let out another sigh, and stood up.

  “Alright,” he said, crossing his arms and starting to pace slowly in front of the table. “Fuck it. I’ve tried everything else but talking and that’s never worked out, so, sure.” As much bravado as he could put on, Chad still felt nervous and uncomfortable about spilling any more beans than were absolutely necessary. He’d been thinking about what to talk about since Alfonso made the suggestion, and still hadn’t narrowed it down, so he just opened his mouth and started talking.

  “Well, first of all,” Chad began, looking down at himself. “It’s not this. I mean, I’m still kind of pissed that I seem to be stuck this way, but I’ve given up on worrying about that until we… until later.” If Chad were being honest, that was actually at the bottom of his priority list at the moment, below figuring out what was going on with his brain that it wouldn’t stop fixating on that one moment outside Ambroise’s shop, but he definitely wasn’t going to talk about that either. That only left…

  “Okay, listen up,” Chad said, turning and pointing a finger at the pair. “I’m about to talk about some stuff I haven’t admitted to since I was like… eleven years old, so I don’t want to have to repeat myself a bunch.”

  Mylo and Alfonso both nodded, with Mylo going so far as to pick up his fork and actually being poking through the bowl of mixed greens and nuts and berries that Maple had brought, filling his mouth with salad so he’d be physically unable to interject with questions. Chad nodded, and resumed pacing.

  “I… I guess if I had to say what’s actually been getting me down,” Chad continued, bringing one hand up and running it through his hair. “It’s… this whole fuckin’ world.” He let that sink in for a moment while he collected his thoughts, trying to imagine there was a wall between him and the table, that he was just thinking out loud to nobody. “Because it’s… I mean, this isn’t gonna make sense to either of you, but it’s a fantasy world. As in, a world of fantasy.” Swinging his arm out, he motioned towards the door. “We just had our order taken by an elf. We rode up here in a magic elevator. You can shoot lightning out of your hands and I’m a fucking shape-shifting demon!”

  Chad stopped to catch his breath and lower his voice, mindful that they weren’t in the castle anymore. “When I was younger, I used to love reading books full of stories about exactly this kind of stuff; elves and magic and knights going on epic adventures, slaying monsters and fighting evil and all that shit, and I…” Chad trailed off again, turning back to the table and grabbing his glass, taking another longer swig of the powerfully bitter juice, and gasping for air afterwards like he’d just surfaced from underwater.

  “And I even… I even used to want to write my own stories, y’know?” Chad said, chuckling at the absurdity of it, of him, the captain of the football team, a capital “J” Jock, wanting to write stories about fairies and goblins and wizards and shit. He took another small sip from his glass, winced, and continued, “I told you about my friend, my best friend. Well, he liked to doodle, and we always talked about making something together. He said I could write, and he could draw, and we’d put together the best story anyone had ever seen.”

  Chad’s pacing had slowed down again, and his voice had continued to get lower and lower, until he wasn’t sure if anyone would actually be able to hear him, but he had to keep going. There was a pressure behind his words, like he’d opened the valve on a fire hydrant and wouldn’t be able to close it again until he finished letting it all out.

  “Anyway… then we started middle school. My dad started pushing me more into football—it’s a sport, I’ll tell you about it later. I was good at it, and liked it fine enough, but I still wanted to keep hanging out with my friends. I wanted to keep reading my favorite books, too, and Mom said as long as I didn’t do it while Dad was around, it would be okay.” Chad raised his glass to take another sip, but the liquid that reached his lips was cold, and slushy, and he looked down, realizing his hand was coated in frost. Sighing, he set the glass on the table and pried his fingers off, staring down at his hand for almost half a minute.

  “Then, my mom and my dad split up,” Chad said, clenching his hand into a fist. “She left, and my younger sister got to go with her, and I stayed with Dad, and that was it. Anything that wasn’t to do with getting stronger, getting faster, getting better at the game I didn’t even like that much, was treated like a waste of my time. I couldn’t read my favorite stories anymore, because fantasy was queer. I tried to, I’ve even found new stuff to read online, but by then it was tainted, it was something to be ashamed of. I couldn’t hang out with my best friend outside of school, either, because Dad thought he was gay too. That became one of the biggest things I had to worry about, whether or not I was doing it right, whether I was being a man the right way, and over time I just… let it all sink in, and started believing it.”

  Chad felt a prickling sensation at the corners of his eyes and reached up, brushing away flecks of frost from where tears were starting to freeze to his cheeks. He was crying again, and he was beyond the point of caring. He hadn’t even meant to dive that deeply into the core of what was bothering him, but once he’d gotten started he truly found it impossible to stop.

  “So, that’s it,” he said lamely, unable to lift his head. “Pathetic, right? I’m too sad to focus because this place reminds me of some books I used to read as a kid. Honestly, you were right to be worried; I probably am going to let you down.”

  Suddenly, there was the sound of something scraping across the floor, and several heavy footsteps, before a shadow fell over Chad. He looked up, alarmed, to find Alfonso looming over him. He was frowning, deeply, and his own eyes were glistening.

  “I hope you will forgive me for this, Chad,” Alfonso said, reaching up and placing both hands onto Chad’s shoulders.

  “Wh—” Chad started to speak, alarmed, but was cut off as Alfonso pulled him into a sudden embrace, enveloping him in his arms.

  “W-what the fuck, dude?!” Chad shouted, his head turned to the side to avoid jabbing Alfonso in the chest with his horns. “Lemme go, I didn’t ask—” Before he could even finish, he felt another set of arms close around his waist, this time from behind, as Mylo had left the table as well and was now sandwiching him between himself and Alfonso. He turned his head to peer over his shoulder, ready to shout his lungs out at the prince, but the look he found on Mylo’s face took the wind right out of his sails. Unlike Alfonso, who’s eyes were merely misty, Mylo was weeping openly, and it actually took Chad several full seconds to process that it was because of him.

  “I would never have thought our situations were so similar,” Mylo said dazedly, his gaze fixed on the wall across from them. “For my entire life, I have been told there are right and wrong ways for a member of the royal family to behave, right and wrong ways to think and to act. Even before coming to my revelation, I struggled to meet my family's expectations, so I can understand how painful it is. I at least still had the luxury of being able to choose my own path for myself, but you… I am so sorry, Chad.”

  “I… I didn't…” Chad struggled and failed to form any kind of response in the face of such intense sincerity.

  “I know you did not ask for this,” Alfonso said, his voice causing his chest to rumble in Chad’s ears. “I think you never would ask for this, and only now do I begin to understand why that is. That’s why I hope that you can forgive me, for taking matters into my own hands, to give you something I believe you need, that you could never ask for yourself.”

  “A hug?” Chad asked bitterly, still standing stiffly, almost literally frozen on the spot.

  “Assurance,” Alfonso countered firmly. “That you are not ‘pathetic.’ That you are not in the wrong. That what you are feeling does not make you weak, nor does needing to seek consolation from others when you are angry, or upset. The goddess teaches that our emotions are what make us who we are, and that we should never be ashamed of them.”

  Chad didn’t have anything to say to that. Rather, if he did have anything to say to that, he probably wouldn’t have been able to, as the more Alfonso went on, the more his throat clenched, and the tears that had been freezing to his face began to flow, leaving hot trails down his cold cheeks. His arms felt like lead weights, but that didn’t stop him from struggling to raise them. As he did so, the voices of his father and grandfather melded together in his head into one awful voice, screaming at him.

  Look at you. Weak! Pathetic! Disgraceful!

  You were raised better than this! You’re a man, aren’t you?! Then stop sniveling like a fucking woman!

  Don’t listen to these fucking deviants! A real man stands on his own two feet!

  On and on they raged in the back of his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth, pushing through the mental anguish until he thought his head would explode. Finally wrapping his arms around Alfonso’s torso, Chad felt his knees buckle, and he held on for dear life, as though at any second the other man might do exactly what Chad had asked and let him go. But neither Alfonso or Mylo let go as Chad sank to the floor, sniffling and choking back sobs.

  “F-f-fine…” he sputtered, ineffectually brushing at his cheeks with the backs of his hands. “But this… this never leaves this room!”

  Neither of them said anything, and Chad wasn’t even sure he cared that much either, but he had to say it. Mylo departed briefly, and a moment later Chad found a pillow from one of the nearby couches pressed into his arms, which he gratefully accepted before smothering his face in the silk pillowcase, riding out the shockwaves of the longest, most intense emotional release he’d had in years. Of course, there came a knock at the door, as their food had arrived, and again Mylo left only long enough to speak through the door, asking Maple to keep their meals warm but bring them back in about ten minutes, which gave Chad plenty of time to cry himself out, and pick himself back up off the floor. With Alfonso and Mylo’s help, of course.

  When their food came around the second time, all of them were dry-eyed and composed, though Chad had donned his cloak again. Maple didn’t bother making small talk as she deposited the three covered trays around the table, nor did she comment on the single pillow encased in a lump of ice on the floor.

  Chad immediately dug in, and it was the most delicious meal that he had ever had.