“Nik, I hate Zagpeace! He is a hypocrite and simply satisfies his ambitions. He pretends justice, all so correct! Swollen with pride, he punishes for sins like a god, what arrogance! But at the same time, he doesn’t deny himself the pleasure of teasing me, humiliating me, flattering his pride! And don’t forget about mercantile interests! He wants to take you away from me, stick you in the Coliseum and make a lot of money from you! Where are you here? He doesn’t think about you at all!”
“So what? That’s what everyone does,” Nik replied indifferently.
“The masters will invite you to entertain them! To fight for the amusement of the guests! You will dance in front of them like Zaf’s slave, only not in lacy shorts, but with a sword!”
“Well, it’s already better…”
“Nik! He lies to you and feeds you with empty promises! He will not introduce you into the world of the blacks!”
“Same as you?”
And Kors cringed:
“I let you down in front of Zagpeace. You so diligently tamed him, portrayed my son, a harmless unfortunate boy. You counted on the help of his mercenaries in the Black City in the fight against Leonardo and the king, and because of me you revealed your essence.”
“Well, now, what’s done is done,” Nik replied, still without emotion. “What’s the point of discussing this?”
“You wanted to gather everyone, both the unclean ones, the warriors from the Lower, and the mercenaries of Zagpeace, to storm the Upper, right?”
“Yes.”
“I ruined everything for you!”
“Come on, calm down, he hasn’t refused yet.
“He heard your voice. He saw that I obeyed you. For true blacks, this is unacceptable, believe me.”
“That’s all, stop it!”
“I'm always ruining everything that you do!”
“Stop it, I said! Everything is fine.”
“And you… do you really still love me?” Kors literally whined.
“I love you very much!” Nik turned to him and hugged him. “We can manage without Zagpeace’s warriors if that happens. We will do it with or without them.”
“Yes! You spoke to me like this when I was in doubt whether to give your soldiers to you on this campaign against Ore Town,” Kors started up, as if some thought had suddenly dawned on him, and sharply pulled away from the embrace:
“Nik! We can just go to where this old sorceress lived, go through the Portal immediately to the Black City, and there Prince Arel will be closer to Leonardo and will simply strangle him with his strength, and you will kill the king.”
Nik shook his head.
“How easy it is for you. No. We can’t do that.”
“But why?!”
“I can’t use the Portals back and forth like that, as I wish. I may only use the Portal as a last resort. And I can’t get into my Limit when I want to. I have to ask for permission, and believe me, I get denied very often.”
“But you do a good job. You complete your Missions! Your strength and degree of freedom must grow!
“It is growing, but this world was created by the Higher Ones according to certain rules and laws. It is built into a complex and clear system of other worlds, and each of them has its own place. These laws must not be violated, otherwise everything will collapse like an improperly built house. Vitor, we are here in human bodies, and in most cases we must live and act like humans.”
“Hmm… the laws of the universe to prevent chaos, I understand you. But then I don’t understand what’s the fun in being a Demon?” Kors was displeased.
“I never said it was fun,” Nik shrugged.
“And if…”
Kors didn’t have time to express his idea, because at that moment there was a loud knock on the door, and Tol burst into the room. He dragged the drunk Arel on his shoulder. Tol walked over to them and dropped his burden from his shoulder, forcing Kors to hastily moveaside.
“Ah, thank you, Tol,” Nik sat up on the bed, looking at the prince, who showed no signs of life.
“He fell under the table,” Tol explained, “I found him and picked him up.” The fact that Nik and Kors were lying together didn’t seem to make much impression on him.
Kors was even a little offended that Tol always ignored him so blatantly.
“Tol, do you miss your friend Alis?” he asked.
“Al… uh…” Tol mumbled and froze.
And Kors very clearly felt his inner resistance. Even if Tol missed Lis, he didn’t want to be open about it, especially with Kors. He didn’t love him. Tol knew that Kors was Nik’s father, and Tol loved Nik very much and somehow managed to accept this information for himself. But despite this, he still considered Kors primarily a representative of the punitive authority, from whom it was worth staying away, because Kors in the past brought nothing but trouble to them. And Tol perfectly remembered these conversations, from which everyone’s mood deteriorated, and Arel became nervous and angry. Many times Tol heard Enriki say excitedly, “We need to complete this mission. We need to fulfill this order by all means. We cannot refuse, can’t you understand what it threatens us with! You shouldn’t quarrel with this person. Our integrity depends on this man!” And everything like that. Therefore, Tol didn’t accept Kors, and Kors was even somehow offended by this. No, of course, he didn’t need the friendship of a stupid thug at all. But all the same, it was somehow annoying inside that Tol rejected him like that, although Kors had never done anything bad to him personally. He didn’t use him like he did with Arel, he didn’t threaten him like he threatened Enriki, and he certainly didn’t bully him like he bullied Squint-Eye. Kors was never interested in Tol, he never even called him for interrogation. But here… Kors had done nothing bad to him, but continued to receive a stable portion of hostility at each of their meetings.
Nik got out of bed and walked over to the lying Arel, slightly lifted him up and began to undress:
“Tol, can you help me?” he asked.
“Yes, of course, my friend!” Tol immediately reacted, even with some relief from the fact that now he was really busy, and Kors would leave him alone and not ask any questions.
Together with Nik, they carefully undressed the drunk Arel, laid him on his side and covered him with a blanket.
“Really good caring friends!” Kors grinned mentally, and when Tol finally left, he remarked contemptuously:
“I don’t understand the pleasure of drinking to unconsciousness,” he looked at Arel, who was sleeping, and saliva was flowing from the corner of his mouth. “What is the joy of not feeling anything and being dependent solely on the goodwill of others?”
Nik returned to his seat and lay down again, staring blankly at the ceiling.
“Maybe the joy is in not feeling anything…” he said thoughtfully.
For a while they just lay on the bed, not moving or talking. Kors was sad, his body and face ached after the beatings.
Nik seemed to feel his pain:
“Well, I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “I’m sorry, I lost my temper. There was no need to try to run away from me.”
“It’s my own fault,” Kors sighed, but he was pleased that Nik was sorry.
“Don’t run away from me like that, don’t try to hide, you’ll only make things worse for yourself.”
“I understand.”
And suddenly before the eyes of Kors, quite unexpectedly, the contour of the heart appeared, fuzzy at first, and then brighter and brighter. A gold foil heart, just like the one Nik gave him. Kors watched in surprise as it floated up to the ceiling of the room, becoming voluminous. Inflating like a balloon, the heart shimmered, increased in size, swelled more and more and finally burst, showering Kors with thousands of small golden hearts.
“Ooh!” Kors exclaimed, amazed at what Nik had done. Kors had no idea he could do that, create such illusions.
“Nik! How did you do this?!” Kors couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s very cute and very stupid at the same time, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
And Nik continued to look up, and now a bright scarlet heart flared up under the ceiling and sparks scattered like fireworks.
“Oh, that’s enough! Nik!” And Kors, not understanding how to do it himself, also tried to imagine the outline of a heart under the ceiling and hand it over to Nik. He succeeded. It didn’t turn out to be as difficult as he thought, so he added an image of Nik himself, his sweet face, to the center of the heart, and Nik saw it. To Kors’ surprise, he immediately intervened and erased his image as if he had brushed it away with his hand, and a white china cup appeared in place of his face.
Kors understood and laughed:
“No-no, no-no, Nik!” He brushed off Nik’s cup and replaced it with a beautiful china figurine. It was a ballerina doll, and, moreover, she was spinning around her axis. Now Nik laughed. He swept away the ballerina, and instead of her a small and fluffy white kitten appeared.
“Nik, Nick, I love you!” Kors exclaimed. Nik turned around, his eyes ablaze with a mischievous gleam. He smiled at Kors, who impulsively pressed his lips to his. And when they finally broke the kiss, Kors looked up at the ceiling again and saw that the kitten was still sitting there, pawimg impatiently. Kors, unable to stand it, laughed again.
And Nik laughed too:
“I forgot about him.” Nik snapped the picture.
“My kitten, you are trying to cheer me up and console me,” Kors said gratefully, “if you only knew how good I feel with you! You often hurt me, but you also give unearthly pleasure.”
“I don’t hurt you, you hurt yourself,” Nik disagreed.
Kors paused, thinking, but not for long:
“Yes, I admit that I am largely to blame,” he agreed sadly. “I acted very selfishly, satisfying my desires with you and not really thinking about how you feel in these moments. But all this is in the past!” He assured Nik warmly. “And now I want, first of all, to please you. I want to please you, not upset you.”
“Vitor, what’s on your mind again?” Nik pursed his lips slightly and rolled his eyes.
“You gave me so much pleasure, and I just got hot! Wanted more and more! You gave me the priceless gift to see the hidden, you taught me. And I didn’t want to make an effort, I just wanted to enjoy. And now I am very ashamed of it!”
“Eh, everything is fine. Calm down.”
“No, it’s not good! Imagine that you, for example, have a close friend, and you are always happy to share with him everything that you have yourself. He eats with you at the same table, sleeps under your roof. But after a while, your friend will become ashamed of the fact that he uses your kindness and does not give you anything in return.”
Nik chuckled skeptically, but said nothing.
“Nik, I want to give you my pleasure. I want to give first and then receive.”
“But I’m fine with you!”
“No! I want to have fun only when I give it to you!”
“Damn, what are you thinking about?” Nik shook his head. “Maybe try to forget about your pleasure at least for a minute? Can you even think of anything else besides this?”
“Nik, do you remember how I fed you porridge?”
“Oh, motherfucker…”
“So, when I saw that you were eating my porridge with appetite, that you liked it, you know how pleased I was! Seeing your joy from my food, I rejoiced no less than you! I want to please you as much as you made me happy when you ate my porridge!”
“Again porridge…” Nik drawled. “And in your head, it seems, too…”
And Kors suddenly felt something gently touching him, penetrating his chest and touching his heart. This touch resonated in him with an incredible surge. Kors felt his heart explode with delight. Much like the illusion Nik had just created, the heart of gold exploded into thousands of hearts. It was an absolutely unearthly sensation and pleasure, and it filled him to the brim with something bright, light and beautiful. Kors had never experienced such emotions before in his life, and it was divine.
Kors froze, and when he came to his senses, he could only whisper:
“Nik…what did you do? It was something else… it was… I had made love to a Demon a thousand times, but now it wasn’t like that, it wasn’t love from a Demon! It’s… it’s like I’ve been kissed on the heart by an angel! Nik, were you an Angel?”
But Nik remained silent.
“Nik, answer me! You must answer me! Nik, I have asked you a question. Were you an angel before?”
“I wasn’t,” Nik answered reluctantly and as if through force.
“No! You can’t lie to me! You were an angel!”
“I wasn’t!” Nik repeated irritably and got up from the bed.
“Where are you going?!” Kors responded immediately.
“I have to catch up,” Nik explained as he walked over to the cupboard that served them as a sideboard.
But Kors shouted:
“No! You don’t need it!”
“Vitor, why are you yelling!? I have a headache.”
“Not now!”
“I need it now. My withdrawal begins, but I don’t want to bring it to a roughness.”
“Nik, stop it! Don’t act like that!”
“If you don’t like it, go away! I’m not holding you!” Nik snapped, opening the closet and intently examining its contents.
“Ah, well, I understand. Judging by your answer, alcohol is still running in you, so I don’t see the need to drink at all!” Kors remarked with undisguised disappointment.
Nik didn’t answer him and took a bottle of unclean moonshine from the shelf.
“And even more so this abomination!” Sitting on the bed, Kors carefully watched his actions.
“What difference does it make to you, I’m not pouring it down your throat!” Nik filled the glass to the brim.
“I don’t like it when you’re drunk!”
“Ahhhhh… well…”
“Why are you ruining everything again now?! Don’tyou understand that with this drink you are building a wall between us!”
But Nik paid no more attention to Kors. He drank the contents of the glass without any pauses and without looking up.
“Take some bread at least…”
“Vitor, stop grazing me, go to bed already! We have a lot of business to do tomorrow.”
“Yes? Business? Tell me it you care about it!” Kors remarked caustically.
“I care!”
“No, Nik! You are not interested in anything! You don’t have an interesting hobby. You don’t give a shit about anything! From what you love, you experience an incomparable feeling of joy without any stimulants. When you do something important for you, it captivates, inspires, and you don’t want to dull your mind with alcohol.”
“Stay away…”
“It gives a surge of strength, you want to wake up early and quickly start doing what you are interested in, forgetting about everything. But you don’t understand, you don’t give a damn about anything, you’re bored, you get sick all the time, you feel bad. You live from dose to dose, just to feel normal! And nothing makes you happy. You can’t do anything but pull yourself out of the hole. And again there inexorably crawl. You wake up from the fact that you need a dose, and fall asleep from the fact that you took a dose and finally you can pass out. What interesting things I’m talking about!”
“I do everything.”
“Under the threat of punishment! Because you were ordered!”
“Come on, come on, remind me of the Shit World and my broken wings, always the same song…”
“Everything was so good! And you ruin everything again! With these eternal catch-ups! Then you “catch up” for a week! And you still can’t get out, and then you stupidly fall through again and again you try to get rid of the torment and catch up, only so as not to experience these breakdowns. Endlessly! Do you like it?! Is it true? Always feel yourself in a position – ‘I have to catch up, otherwise I will die’?”
“No. And… yes.”
“You fucking idiot… you ruined my mood again… I just got better! And you ruined me again!” Kors shouted in annoyance.
“That’s all, back off!” Nik also raised his voice.
“Are you interested in anything when you need to catch up?”
“No!”
“And in me?”
“Just don’t bother me! And that’s all! I don’t bother you.”
“I love you, Nik! You have to understand it!”
“I love you too,” Nik went up to his father and sat down next to him, looking into his eyes penetratingly and blinking his long eyelashes:
“I changed for you, Vitor. I forgot when was the last time I had a real blast, drank without thinking about anything, and fucked whoever I want. One day with some, the other with others, changing them several times a night and not even remembering their names. I became faithful because we have a family and I value our relationship.”
“No! Nik, you are spoiled and ruining everything around! And now you have defiled all the beautiful things that just happened between us! You’re a damn Demon who ruins everything!”
“You know, if you want to see the Demon, look in the mirror!”
Kors clenched his fists in despair. He really wanted to give Nik a slap for his behavior right now, and Nik felt it. He froze, waiting for a blow, and he was ready to dutifully accept it from his father. But just as much as he wanted to hit him, Kors wanted to hug him, to press the top of his white, shaggy head tightly to his chest. He wanted to hit and caress his Nik at the same time, because he was angry with him and loved him very much. Not understanding what he wanted more, Kors ended up doing neither, he simply defiantly turned away, lay face down, burying his face in the pillow, and muttered:
“That’s all, leave me alone, Nik, I want to sleep.”
He “heard” how Nik internally went out of indignation, from the fact that Kors first began to bring him to emotions and reproach, and then he himself abruptly closed the topic. But Nik coped with indignation and did not continue to sort things out, but simply lay down next to him, turning away and covering himself with a blanket over his head.
So they lay, silent and offended at each other, until they finally fell asleep, and, waking up in the morning, began to prepare for their departure from the Estate.
Chapter 19
Kors spent most of the day preparing for the departure. Without changing his habit of doing everything carefully, he spent a lot of time personally checking the carts with trophies, knowing full well that he was unlikely to need all this goodness, and by and large he didn’t need it, because he was a Demon. He was with Nik and Arel, and there was no point in decorating his mansion with luxurious furniture and gold utensils. Kors won’t return there and won’t live there. The past head of the King’s Security Service is gone forever. But Kors, with some inexplicable stubbornness, continued to count and double-check everything, tormenting and tiring Parky and Adrian with endless orders.
When in the evening Kors finally returned to the room, he saw that Verniy had already laid the table for dinner. Nik hadn’t been there yet, but Arel obviously didn’t bother himself too much, and, judging by the pile of gnawed bones on his plate, he was the first to arrive long ago and had already managed to satisfy his hunger. Wearing black leather pants and a white unbuttoned shirt, he sat on the bed, holding a cigarette in his hand. Seeing Kors entering, Arel lowered his cigarette-free hand, raised above the head of Valentine, who was huddled at his feet. Kors realized that alone, the prince amused himself, as usually, by beating his younger brother. But Arel, for some reason, didn’t continue his execution before the eyes of Kors, and despite the fact that Valentine couldn’t see anything in front of him because of the restrictive strip on his eyes, he realized with some inner instinct that his owner was no longer going to beat him. Having relaxed a little, he immediately got on all fours next to the bed as usual.
Kors, without saying a word to the prince, took off his gloves and went into the bathroom, carefully washed his hands, fingers studded with rings, and only then sat down at the table. He was hungry and ate fried quail with pleasure, only from time to time glancing skeptically at Arel lying on the bed, who poured himself some wine, and at his unfortunate slave, diligently depicting furniture.
There were no clothes on Valentine. The skin on his arms, legs and protruding ribs was black and green from numerous hematomas, leather belts crashed into his thin body. They were connected to each other with metal rings and numerous fasteners. The belts were richly decorated with shiny spikes and padlocks.
“Prince Arel, are you making a horse out of Valentine?” Kors grimaced, finally finishing his dinner. “Why did you decorate the boy with a harness? To make him look like your Beauty?
Arel laughed shortly and, as usual, imposingly stretched out:
“Yeees…”
“Royal blood flows in him,” Kors remarked accusingly, “you can’t treat him like that – turn him into a table, into a horse! You constantly beat him for no reason, there is no living place on him, look! He is very thin, with ribs sticking out, stomach sunken. Do you feed him at least a little?”
“I do,” said Arel.
“How? With leftovers from our table? Prince, you can’t do it! Valentine is half true black. He looks more like your father than you do. Or rather, you don’t look like Chester at all. And his mother, this girl, although she was a slave, was a pure-blooded black, and probably still virgin and innocent. If you compare all the facts of his birth, damn it, he is more noble than my Nik!”
“He is a slave,” Arel snapped harshly.
“That’s not how it’s done, prince! You had to either get rid of him right away, or, if it turned out so that you left him, act within the rules. And according to the law on the purity of blood, Valentine is supposed to have a better attitude. You have no right to humiliate a true black like that!”
“I do what I want,” said Arel.
To this, Kors merely shook his head and, flashing his cigarette case, lit a cigarette.
“Kors, you yourself suggested cutting off his nose and rubbing it with black paint, do you think this is the best attitude within the rules?” Arel asked slyly, and Kors choked on the smoke from his cigarette.
“Damn, I was just joking! You don’t understand jokes at all, you stupid handsome prince!”
“Ahhh, well, yeah,” Arel agreed.
Kors decided to change the subject.
“Arel, tell me what it’s like to be the last descendant of a royal family! I know that after the death of his eldest sons, Chester, with maniacal persistence, tried to leave an heir to the last.”
To Kors’ dismay, Arel only yawned in boredom, not experiencing any emotional outburst at the mention of his father:
“By the time I was born, my father didn’t give a shit about anything for a long time,” he replied indifferently, continuing to lie relaxed on the blanket of northern fox fur.
Arel was well aware that Kors was asking him about his family simply because he had nothing to do and wanted to entertain himself with one of his favorite activities – “interrogation”.
“You were born in the second ten heirs, I think so, right, prince?”
Stretching out his hand a little, Arel lazily fiddled with Valentine’s braid in his fingers, sticking out between the lacing of his helmet. Valentin froze, standing on all fours, afraid to make the slightest movement.
“I’m at the end of the third ten,” said Arel.
“What?” Kors didn’t understand.
“I’m the twenty-sixth.”
“Oh Gods! Arel! I’m sorry for you! And what about Vil? He is the illegitimate son of Chester, but born of a noble lady. Not royal, but good blood.”
“Vil is a couple of months older than me,” Arel said.
“Then it turns out that you are not the twenty-sixth, but the twenty-seventh, and not the last, because the last is Valentine.”
“Vil and Valentine don’t count,” Arel disagreed.
“Yes, your ancestors, observing the purity of blood and entering into closely related marriages, dug their own grave with their own hands,” Kors continued his reasoning, “and even if they had not been defeated in the struggle for the throne, your family would have died from degeneration anyway. And no riots were needed. Endless closely related marriages, when brothers married their own sisters, the complete absence of even not so noble, but fresh blood, and as a result, you can thank them for the madness and epileptic seizures that you inherited.”
Arel just shrugged his shoulders, he didn’t care, but Kors didn’t give up:
“Prince, I can’t get this badge around your neck out of my head…” he began, confident that this would definitely touch Arel and make him feel strong emotions, but at that moment the door opened and Nik entered the room.
Seeing him, Kors for a moment forgot what he had just said, and even Arel let go of Valentine’s braid and half rose on the bed. Because Nik was wearing a chic long cloak, trimmed with wide stripes of bear fur. A magnificent bear collar fell down on the chest, thick fur flowed down the hem. For Nik, the cloak was too long, and therefore the hem decorated with precious fur simply dragged behind him, sweeping the floor. But Nik himself looked very pleased and, seeing how both Kors and Arel looked at him, he realized that they appreciated his new clothing.
“Arel, you gave me that cloak then, didn’t you?” Just in case, he clarified.
“Yes, yes,” Arel answered hurriedly, and Kors was ready to swear, he felt that the prince could hardly restrain his laughter.
“Well, now, finally, I can put it on,” Nik said happily, “it’s not as hot in the Black City as it is here, Arel, and this bear cloak will be just right.”
“It’s already cold in the Black City now,” Arel agreed.
“Yes!” Nik was even happier. “That is great!”
“Where did you dig it up from?” Kors asked, unable to suppress a smile. In this cloak, Nik looked very solid and funny at the same time.
“This is the cloak of Arel’s father, Ch… Chester, I noticed it a long time ago,” Nik answered. He stood in front of them even with some pride, and in fact, despite all his outright pathos, this bear cloak really suited him.
“Are my clothes not enough for you?” Kors noted. “Why do you need such a heavy and warm cloak if you don’t feel the cold anyway?”
Nik immediately pouted his lips and sat down on a chair with a displeased look, wrapping himself in a cloak so that the bear collar hid his chin, and looked at Kors reproachfully:
“And now what? Should I go naked? Why are you always talking so hurtfully?!”
“Gods, what have I said?”
“I don’t know… but you know how to do it!” Nik turned away.
And Kors, smiling slightly, looked at Arel:
“Prince Arel, you have given Nik a present, but what about me?” He tried to put notes of resentment into his intonation. “Maybe you can give me some present too?!”
Arel looked at him in surprise, not understanding whether Kors was joking or asking seriously:
“And what should I give you?”
“What you want! I’m not asking for anything special or expensive, a simple gift is enough for me, as a sign of respect from you,” said Kors. He lifted the goblet of wine he held in his hand. “For example, this goblet!”
But Kors was cunning, the goblet was clearly not simple. Made of thick frosted glass, decorated with a bas-relief of grape tassels, with a heavy gold stem, the goblet was truly a real work of art. A man-made miracle created by experienced craftsmen. Moreover, depending on whether wine was poured into it or not, and how long it was held in hands or touched to the edge with warm lips, the goblet changed its color. The glass was of a pale green hue when the goblet was empty, and turned maroon red when it was filled and warmed by the owner’s hand. And now, in Kors’ hand, it shimmered golden-orange.
“Goblet?” Arel asked. “Well, take it if you want!”
Kors smiled contentedly.
“This cup, like the cloak, also belonged to your father before?”
“No,” Arel shook his head negatively, “it is more ancient. It was used by priests during some holidays dedicated to fertility. I don’t remember… but I remember that my father never touched it and never drank from it just like that, only on the Harvest Festival all family members took turns taking a sip from it. I was a child, but they also let me sip from it.”
“Why does glass change color from green to purple?” Kors asked, fiddling with the gift and obviously admiring it.
Arel looked somewhat bewildered at the table, where apples and bunches of black grapes lay on a dish:
“It seems… this symbolizes the ripening of grapes…”
Kors admired his cup now:
“Thank you, Prince Arel.
“You are welcome, I’m not greedy,” Arel smiled a little condescendingly.
“And for me it is valuable,” said Kors, “as well as the fact that Nik accepted and wears my gift,” he looked at Nik and at the chain that gleamed on his cheek.
Kors thought with pleasure that no matter how angry Nik was with him, annoyed, down-hearted or offended, he still continued to wear the chain put on by Kors and didn’t take it off. He didn’t even think about doing it. Nik probably didn’t realize how important this was to Kors, and how it turned him on every minute Kors looked at his Nik and saw the chain hanging down when Nik tilted his head, or slapped him on his face with his sudden movements. Nik didn’t seem to notice these inconveniences and the fact that the chain obscured the edge of his lips. Sometimes it obviously interfered with him, and then he himself held it with his hand, slightly shifting it to the side, but he never said anything to Kors about this and didn’t take off the jewelry.
“Nik, do you like wearing my chain?”
“Here it’s starting again…” Nik drawled. “I said yes.” He pulled his cloak tighter, pulling the collar all the way up to his nose.
“Are you comfortable?”
“Yes. Vitor, I had a chain from the nostril to the ear before you, I often put it on, Arel will confirm it for you. I’m used to it. Everything is fine. If you want, give me a second one.”
“N-n-no…”
“You can hang it not on the other side of my face, but next to this chain. Insert the second ring into my nostril and attach the chain to the other hole in my ear. Do you want me to return the nose ring? Will you attach the chain to it?”
“Then it will be inconvenient for me to kiss you, it will interfere. Don’t say it, Nik, please don’t seduce me, don’t provoke me!”
“You can do whatever you want with my appearance,” Nik said, “I’m yours. You shouldn’t have broken your blue stone ring, I really liked it. I love being yours.”
Kors couldn’t find suitable words from the emotions that swept over him.
And Nik carefully and somehow stubbornly looked at him. Now the soft evening light from the half-open shutters fell directly on his eyes, illuminating them and making them even brighter and more transparent, gray-blue. Kors saw that his right eye, no longer covered by bangs, was not squinting to the side so strongly.