Closed Adventure, and then reality (Wymond)

[Zed]

81st of Spring, 513 AV

Yesterday had been the day he returned to the reach from Avanthal. When he was there, he had surprisingly encountered a lot of good things, boring things, but nothing hard to swallow. The feeling of being home was bittersweet; he came to question whether or not he had enough time there. Whether he was really happy being in this never-changing place after experiencing a taste of the outside world. The streets of Skyinarta were the same, really. Peasants roamed every hall, and they made way for him. He looked at them ferociously, and they timidly stared back. The relationship between prince and pauper wasn't really a fulfilling one, especially not after you had learned about compassion. Real caring for people, even those who didn't know you.

It wasn't a life-changing experience, though. He'd get stuck over the thought for a few days, maybe a week. Then everything would return to normal. The hunting of animals, brutalizing of peasants, would invigorate him. But for these few days, a man could go on without being a terrible person to everyone around him. At least until he could rest his thoughts. They were all over the place, really; thinking about Avanthal, the cold, Garran, his family. And of course... the disappointment that followed. These thoughts were just a distraction, for now. Zovah had returned to the aeries, content with resting away with his nest after all of that hard work. They had gotten into a small argument over the entire thing; the eagle felt like he was being over-worked, and that Zed was leeching off of him the whole time. It was true, easily, and the eagle rider could only agree and apologize.

Some things would take time to forgive, though; it'd have to be at least a season or two before Zovah would consider allowing him to ride somewhere else. Well, all of this contemplating probably sounded like a ton of whining, so his thoughts went to different places. He had come across the market, although the hour was late, and it wasn't very busy. He wasn't going to lift from any of the stalls today; partly because there was nothing that interested him. Food, though, would've been good. He wondered if Zac had anything waiting at home for him. Zed would have to check the aeries, later.

The lights, although few, were very bright. He felt a sense of peace with the warm colors clashing against the dark stone; shadows casting onto the floor. All he had seen lately was white snow and the lifeless shade of tundra. He was happy to see the fiery red stemming from the roots of men and women alike; and the green eyes, or gold eyes, staring back at him. A moment of relief, at least until it was snatched away by the call to hunt. He stepped into a little food place that was still open. He exchanged some words with the chef, questioning the ingredients and whatnot; wanted to make sure he wasn't eating shit. This place was frequented by Avora, mostly, but that was what scared him. Avora didn't like Endal. They could even be described as enemies. It wouldn't be the first time he'd found spit in his food, or... something worse. Well, at least that'd make the night more interesting than it was, right?

The Endal beckoned for the chef to rush his cooking, because he was hungry. And he wanted his food right now. While he waited, he settled back into a seat, as a part of a large table. Far too large for one person, but that didn't matter. He only took the best they had to offer.

[Wymond]

81st of Spring, 513 AV


Wymond walked alongside his chestnut Zavian mare, Bea as they finally entered the city of Wind Reach, which was a wonderful relief after weeks of struggling through Sanikas Valley and then Sanikas Road just to get here. Bea whinnied in what seemed a joy way as she saw the people bustling around. Wymond chuckled fondly as he rubbed the side of her neck. He too shared her elation, their supplies had been running low and the nights had been restless. But here they were, and Wymond was famished, tired, and he felt grimy. He had held off eating so that Bea could for two days, and now he was convinced that even in his human form that he could easily clean off a full grown cow. And his clothes needed a good washing. His tunic was now a dirty grey when it was once white, and his breeches were stiff with sweat and grime, and they made his legs chafe.

It didn’t take Wymond long to realize just how much he stood out with his black hair. Red. Red was everywhere. In the clothes, on walls, but mostly in the hair of almost everyone around them. It was slightly unnerving that he couldn’t blend in, like he normally could. Another thing that Wymond realized was…Tension? Yes, that was what it felt like. He looked around as he led his horse down the streets and caught the uneasy and sometimes even hostile eyes of on lookers. This caused Wymond to frown in reply, but he never bowed his head and scurry around like he saw some people do.

After many frustrating interactions with several moody Inarta, Wymond was able to obtain directs to where the Market was. The smell of strange foods hung heavy in the air and Wymond’s stomach growled loudly, loud enough that Bea looked back at her master in curiosity. Wymond simply rubbed his belly and continued on in his quest for sustenance. The Market was busy and lively. Music was clear over the din of voices and calls of Stall owners, and performers danced or did acts in order to gain coin. It was like a festival of sorts. It was nice, but it was crowded and thus, Wymond was put on edge. Wymond stroked his mare’s nose to reassure himself as he followed his nose to one particular stall that cooked and served food. It even had a few tables. It was perfect.

Wymond tied Bea to a post and went over to the stall owner. Wymond gave the red haired man his best smile, which seemed to annoy the man even more than he already was. Wymond felt the first stirrings of his temper flaring but he held it in check. It was quite possible that this man had just as much of a stressful day as Wymond did. When the man asked what Wymond wanted, the young man was unable to decide. The foods looked…Strange. How in world was he supposed to decide?...

[Zed]

When it came down to it, he didn't really feel like eating. He kind of just wanted to sit and relax for a while; no dead doe involved. The red man had taken to all sorts of random nervous acts, like stationing his legs on the table, even biting his nails. To anyone else, it would've seemed as if he was making himself at home. He wasn't. A constant reminder that he needed to keep his guard up was the stares of other Inarta, and even non-Inarta, like that guy who just entered. The man's clothes were dirty, he seemed strange, and looked really different. Attractive, sure, but different. It quickly became coherent that he was foreign; a tell-tale sign would be the Miza in his pocket, rather than pinions. People didn't use foreign currency much, here.

Zed didn't bother to say or do anything at first, but perhaps as a last ditch effort to talk to someone from... anywhere but here, he stood up and corrected the black haired man. He came up beside him, and pulled at the coins in his pocket. "These aren't acceptable here. You need pinions. Come back when you get them." His words weren't very friendly; they were empty, blatant, to the point. It was common amongst the gingers, and especially among Endal. But it wasn't common among him, actually. He normally would've said something closer to get the hell out of here, without any explanation. Lucky day for the foreigner, he supposed.

Still, he was kind of eager to get out of here. Being surrounded by people who despised you didn't get easier with time. If anything, it got worse; the more they started to dislike you, the more they would show it, regardless of penalty. Regardless of his "royal" status. So, as discreetly as he could, he dragged the Kelvic along with him and left the shop. Well, it was less of dragging and more pulling his arm. He had no desire to make a big scene. Once they were out, he started to talk again. "What's your name, traveler? I'm Zed. Endal caste." The Inarta let go of the man's arm, and stepped back once; he liked to keep his distance, always, when talking with the commoners. "While you're in this city, you should be sure that you know what you're doing. People won't accept air-headedness like they do in other cities." He lowered his head for a moment, then brought his gaze back to Wymond's... piercing eyes. They were very strange. Perhaps he was a Benshira, or another one of those damn Vantha.

Didn't matter, really. He'd find out if he wanted to. Until then, he'd just stare back, with piercing eyes of his own. "You won't be able to eat if you're carrying the wrong currency. Have you made arrangements for where you're going to sleep yet?" Why was he bothering? Well, it was as simple as this: he felt better being bossy than he did doing nothing. And, the man didn't seem dumb enough to be a Dek, so Zed just wouldn't let him die on the streets like one. If only for a favor.

[Wymond]

Wymond could see that the cook was getting more and more angry the longer it took Wymond to decide. He tried apologizing, which was the polite thing to do, but the man wanted none of that. Wymond was pretty sure the man wanted to wring Wymond’s neck. Was everyone here so damn temperamental? That was when he heard the scrape of a chair behind him, and someone walk up. Even though Wymond didn't turn to look at the stranger, he could smell him. He smelt like wind, after snow had just fallen. Wymond liked that smell. He liked it a lot.

But when he felt a foreign hand reach into his pants pocket, he very nearly grabbed one of his daggers and plunged it into the potential thief until the man spoke. "These aren't acceptable here. You need pinions. Come back when you get them." The voice sounded bored, as if he honestly could care less. Wymond instantly relaxed though, which should have worried him. But it didn’t even cross his mind. What WAS going through his mind was how much he really wanted to just bury his face in that man’s chest and smell him but that would lead to an awkward situation and such a scene was the last thing Wymond needed.

When Wymond was able to focus again, he could see that this male Inarta seemed uneasy and tense. His green eyes were shifting about, as though looking for danger. That was when the man gripped a hold of Wymond’s arm and started pulling him after him. Wymond had barely enough time in passing to grab a hold of Bea’s reigns as he was being tugged away from the stall. Wymond couldn't understand as to why he was letting himself be manhandled like this. Normally, he would break away from such an attacker and escape as quickly as possible. But not this man. Why?

“-name, traveler? I'm Zed. Endal caste." The man was talking. Wymond had been too distracted to listen. He finally stop pulling and released Wymond from his grip. "While you're in this city, you should be sure that you know what you're doing. People won't accept air-headedness like they do in other cities." He then looked down as though examining his foot for a moment before looking back up again and finally meeting Wymond’s heterochromic eyes.

“uh, I am called Wymond.” His voice wasn’t quite deep, but it was masculine and had a slight rasp. But what threw Wymond off was the man’s, Zed was is name, stare. It was calculating and curious, but it was sharp. Wymond felt…compelled to be near this man.

"You won't be able to eat if you're carrying the wrong currency. Have you made arrangements for where you're going to sleep yet?"

“No, not yet. I just only got in today.” ...

[Zed]

The man was surprisingly timid, if anything because he didn't look that way. He looked like the type that would throw a fuss when Zed started dragging him around, or acting all bossy. Perhaps it was just because he was foreign. Couldn't afford to piss off the locals on your first day, right? Ha. He probably should've done that himself, when he went off to Avanthal. Wouldn't have needed to be rescued by Garran. Ugh. He needed to stop thinking about Avanthal, and about that stupid Vantha. His irritation over the subject was showing all over his face; he felt that he must've looked like a fumbling idiot. That wasn't a state to be in, not in front of anybody.

He quickly corrected his posture, making sure not to slouch as he had been doing for the past few moments. His focus returned to the Kelvic, although he had always been attentive enough to at least hear what he was saying. Not that he really said very much. What he did mutter was coated in a deep voice, and it fit the way he looked very accurately. Zed's voice... it was deep, and yet very elegant. He sounded highborn, acted highborn. Because he was. "Okay, Wymond," he started, crossing his arms over his chest, "You're lucky I managed to recognize your ignorance to our city. You shouldn't enter the Reach without knowing what you're getting into. Luckily, being the wonderful, radiant person that I am, I've taken to divining some answers for you. First, the castes..." He didn't really know a simple way to describe them, didn't know an easy way; just a very rude way.

"Well, there pretty much isn't any import to the lower castes. I'm Endal, the top. As long as you're a part of the reach, you have to obey me, and others like me. If you don't understand that concept, you'll never survive here." He had taken the liberty of explaining it because... well, the sooner 'Wymond' knew it, the sooner he'd be able to start going out and doing tasks for Zed, or bowing to Zed, or whatever else he required. "Until a caste is decided for you, you might as well consider yourself drudge. Lower than shit. People won't be very friendly with you, they won't help you, they might even spit on you..." Endal might abuse him, or steal from him, or kill him. It depended on the day, the heat, the mood. The day wasn't good, the heat wasn't forgiving, and the mood was stale. In a way, it was fortunate that Zed received simple pleasures just from hearing the sound of his own voice. He didn't even need to give Wymond examples of how harsh the city could be. "If you serve me, though, I'll protect you from the other Endal. I'll help you get a foothold into the city. I'll even let you stay in my aeries for the night, so you don't have to sleep in a gutter."

Wymond would perhaps be a little foolish to accept the offer immediately, but he didn't have an alternative, really. That was what Zed could see; and that was why he offered it. A man with nowhere to go was a perfect answer to his current anxiety. At least maybe he could find distraction in keeping a newcomer in the aeries like a pet. The rest could be figured out later, too. "What do you say?" Maybe it seemed like just an offer, but really, there was no rejecting it.

[Wymond]

Zed seemed to just stand there gawking at Wymond for a moment, making Wymond raise an eyebrow. He had to fight off the urge to wipe his face to make sure there wasn’t anything on it that Zed was staring at. Then the red head’s expression started to change, and his eyes became distant. Wymond had to smirk, at least he wasn’t the only who was getting distracted. And for the briefest moment, Zed looked vulnerable. The only way Wymond could describe the man’s expression was it was like a song bird in a cage, looking out at the world with longing. Then it was quickly covered up by a mask of irritation and complete arrogance. Wymond might not have been able to pick up on the slip of emotion if he hadn’t been paying close attention.

The man straitened his back and tried looking down his nose at Wymond, even though Wymond was slightly taller. This time, when he opened his mouth, his tone instantly grated Wymond’s nerves. "Okay, Wymond," he said as he crossed his arms over his chest, which was slightly puffed out. He looked like a rooster. Yes. Zed was a rooster. "You're lucky I managed to recognize your ignorance to our city. You shouldn't enter the Reach without knowing what you're getting into. Luckily, being the wonderful, radiant person that I am, I've taken to divining some answers for you. First, the castes..." He then grew quiet, and seemed to think for a moment.

Wymond narrowed his eyes. He agreed with Zed, he should have gathered more information about Wind Reach before coming here, but he had heard that the Wind Eagles here were master hunters and he had hoped to learn from them. But Zed clearly did not realize that just how ridiculous he looked and sounded. His next words made Wymond’s temper flare a bit more, so much so that his throat reddened, along with his ears.

"Well, there pretty much isn't any import to the lower castes. I'm Endal, the top. As long as you're a part of the reach, you have to obey me and others like me. If you don't understand that concept, you'll never survive here." Obey him? Surely, this man must be touched in the head. This rooster had an ego, and Wymond wanted to deflate it. The more Zed spoke, the more kindling it seemed to add to the flames of Wymond’s temper.
"If you serve me, though, I'll protect you from the other Endal. I'll help you get a foothold into the city. I'll even let you stay in my aeries for the night, so you don't have to sleep in a gutter."

A slow and wolfish grin formed on Wymond’s full lips. “Serve you? I can assure you that I don’t need your help, for one. And two, I serve no one. Nor will I serve anyone. You, who appears to be but a spoiled petulant child, wants me to bow and scrape at his feet like a common house dog?” Wymond began to laugh. “You surely must be joking!” Wymond turned away then, leading his horse behind him, all the while still laughing at the little Rooster’s absurdity. But a part of him wished to take Zed up on his offer. And that, was even more absurd. ...

[Zed]

For a long while, it kind of seemed like Wymond wasn't going to say anything. Then, he cracked a very cheeky look, followed by an... indescribable one. It looked like something was swelling inside of him; anger, or irritation, nothing good. He had expected the man to actually thank him. This was nicer than Zed had ever been to a foreigner, if you didn't count Garran. So why did he get all angry? The Inarta really didn't get it. The confusion quickly turned into rage when he started to speak. He called him spoiled, for one, and then followed by immediately presuming the situation was different than what it was. He never asked for him to bow or scrape. Where did he get that part from?

Ugh, this wasn't going well. Zed just wasn't in the mood for this shit; not at all. Maybe when the mood was normal he would've manned up and dealt with it, even if that meant clipping fingers and dropping heads. Instead, he questioned. Why was he acting so strangely in response to his generosity? He didn't even feel the motivation to put his rage to work. He wasn't going to take a smack at this... brat. Maybe he would when the sun rose and his energy was back inside of him. "You don't know what you're talking about. I understand that foreigners might be used to chicken scratch logic and communing amongst fellow peasants, but that's not how it is here. I'm not spoiled or petulant. I gained my status through strength and commitment. There's no such thing as being "spoiled" here." There was a lot more he wanted to say. He wanted to curse at Wymond, and straighten him out much more harshly.

But he needed a break from being himself. "The way you just spoke to me could get you killed. You're just a foreigner. No one knows you. No one will care if you die." When Wymond turned to walk away, Zed drew his bow. And you could tell that it wouldn't be the first time he'd drawn it on another person. And it wouldn't be the first time he'd fired shots at someone who made him angry. He followed behind the man, and placed his free hand on his shoulder to turn him around. The expression on his face was almost blank, but you could see that he was anything but peaches and daisies. "I've been taught how to deal with rotten people like you throughout my life. And I've also been taught how to kill rotten people like you throughout my life. Sadly, it often turns out that dealing with them and killing them is the same thing." The night was dark, but there were still people around. People watching. Some of them Endal.

No one seemed to shrug or care about what was going on. Foreigners were always prone to a little threatening. None of them really got the idea into their heads. "Well, at least when you're red all over, you'll match better with your surroundings." A simple taunt, although some nice street justice would've been a welcome change to all of the formality he had been facing. Adversity just wasn't healthy for a ginger.

[Wymond]

When Wymond felt Zed’s hand on his shoulder, and turned around to see an arrow pointed point-blank at him, he froze. His instincts instantly kicked into gear. Okay, perhaps he should have kept a better check on his temper, and thus, his tongue. Wymond met Zed’s gaze. His blue/brown eyes were narrowed still. His earlier mirth was now gone, replaced by a dead calm. But he did not back down. He raised his head higher, and watched Zed. Watched his movements, listened to his breath, and smelled his scent. There was a pain in his chest, well… More like a pang of emotions. Why did making Zed angry make Wymond feel bad? Why is it now, with a rather sharp looking arrow pointed at his face, Wymond still wanted to bury his face in Zed’s chest and breathe in that scent. And more importantly, why did he want to submit?

“If you truly wished to kill me, for being so rotten of a person, you would have done so already.” Wymond said, his voice a tad bit more husky. Perhaps calling Zed’s bluff wasn’t the brightest idea at the moment. Yes. Wymond had spoken harshly. He had let his temper get the best of him, even though Zed was a pompous moron, and had landed himself in this mess. Bea whinnied nervously; she had taken to digging at the ground and shifting her weight.

Wymond’s hands found the hem of his tunic and started to tug at it. He felt confined and too hot, and he needed air. He also needed the ability to shift forms should things take a turn for the worst. And without breaking eye contact, off came Wymond’s shirt. Immediately, Wymond felt a little better. His hands then made quick work of his belt and then the fly. He quickly kicked off his boots and the breeches followed. He carefully placed the clothes on his horse, still not breaking eye contact. The slightest shift in eye movement could signal an attack, and Wymond wanted a warning. In no time, he was standing there, completely nude and ready to shift at any moment. Common sense was telling him to just go ahead and shift and run. But he stayed there, and didnt know why. Perhaps he had a death wish after all? ...

[Zed]

He wasn't sure what to say at first. Everything suddenly became simple, tranquil; Wymond didn't say anything, he just stared. He stopped with his anger, his irritation. That was good. He didn't really want to kill him, although he wasn't sure why. Maybe he just didn't feel in the mood for such a dreadful thing... bullying someone was one thing, but killing them? That wasn't what the Endal represented. Not at all. Luckily, it seemed that he didn't want it to come to that himself. He spoke to Zed, after a while, and it almost sounded like he was going to propose something to him. Maybe he was going to apologize. For calling him spoiled? And all of those other things.

Zed didn't like being called spoiled, or petulant or anything like that. So, he was a little curious as to why he had been able to calm down too. Perhaps it was that they both had such empty stomachs; no fuel for the flame, really. "It's not my pleasure to kill anyone. I do what I must." He said that at the time-being, trying to keep the conversation going. He just wanted to know what the man was thinking in that mess of a brain he carried. Both of them were acting like wrecks in some way; actually, in a very similar way.

When Wymond removed his shirt, Zed didn't flinch, or think, really. He himself had already been bare of chest since he returned to the Reach; it was nice to air yourself out after two weeks of wearing a blanket all day. Men in the reach were never very modest. That low modesty, though, was stretched the moment Wymond started to take off more than that. The Endal was caught off-guard by it. So off-guard that he remained mostly silent while it was happening, if only not to halt its advancement. After all, Zed was kind of a hoe, so he would be the last to mind watching it unfold. But he didn't think it'd go as far as he did. He had... a totally naked person in front of him, out of nowhere. The only possibility he saw was that Wymond was either propositioning him or... actually, there was no second possibility. "Why--" he wasn't sure exactly what to ask, so it'd probably come out unintelligible.

He had never dealt with such a weird person. It was almost kind of exciting. "If you're trying to get favors from me, you're definitely going in the right direction," he laughed lightly. It was rare for him to laugh, though this time it was mostly out of awkwardness. He suddenly felt very differing than the past few minutes. Like there were butterflies in his chest, or something. The Inarta would've much liked to swat those butterflies, and nail them to his wall. Alas, it couldn't be done. "Uh..." He didn't know what could be said. He just knew that... he wasn't done talking with Wymond yet. "Let's get you out of a public place. People might presume odd things of you if you stay here like that." He didn't really get the influx of feelings in him; it was like he had an energizing rush just come in out of nowhere. Now, his mind was going in all sorts of odd directions and he didn't know up from down.

Zed quickly forced Wymond to put his undergarments back on, mostly for fear of people gossiping about Zed running around with a naked man in the morning. After that was done, he called for Zovah, and brought them away from the commons. Bringing Bea wasn't exactly an easy task; he wasn't even sure how she had gotten up there, really. But... an eagle like this one had carried more difficult cargo in his time. All of it, of course, was under Zed's forcefulness. The intoxicating feeling mixed with the hormones of a man like this one removed all patience.

That being said, it wasn't like he wanted to do anything strange with the foreigner. Or, at least he wasn't sure at the very moment. ...Or at least he wouldn't admit it. God, today was just horrible. "You should save your tricks for the circus. Being disgusted with me usually doesn't follow into spontaneous nudity, for regular people." He continued to walk him along, his eagle shortly after taking a leave from the two, returning to his friends. Zed's door wasn't far from the entrance to the aeries, and upon opening it, they were met with a fair bit of luxury. Nothing new for Zed, although all of the velvet and glamor may have been new to Wymond.

When they had both went through the door, Zed closed it shut, and turned to stare at the taller man. He was silent, mostly; a bit too relaxed, considering the situation. It didn't take long, though, before he was running his palm down the surface of Wymond's chest. It was a sudden and strong impulse. He had never felt anything like it before. A desire that wasn't just desire, but a string of complex stuff, too. "Welp, we're in private now." Sadly, he had no idea what he had gotten himself into.

[Wymond]

Zed’s reaction was not really what Wymond has expected. To be well and truly honest, he expected to be shot on the spot. Most folks tend to find nudity rather taboo. But the hungry look in Zed’s eyes was certainly not what he had expected, in fact, it was rather frightening. Wymond frowned in confusion. What had he gotten himself into now?!

“If you're trying to get favors from me, you're definitely going in the right direction," the red haired man then said with a chuckle. But then his expression quickly changed, to that of his own confusion. He then rubbed his chest absentmindedly before speaking again. “Uh… Let's get you out of a public place. People might presume odd things of you if you stay here like that." With that, he quickly put away his bow and handed Wymond some of the clothes that Wymond as removed from Bea’s back. The Kelvic was confused enough that he just put them on.

The next thing he knew, a giant eagle swooped down and landed next to Zed. Some introductions were made but Wymond too shocked to listen. He had heard that Wind Eagles were large but he would have never guessed they were THAT large. So needless to say that in no time at all, he had found himself on the back of the giant bird, and poor Bea in its massive talons. Then they were air born. And by the gods, he held on for dear life. Granted, they were not in the air that long but it was still a frightening experience for someone who has never flown.

When they landed, Bea was quickly tended to once Wymond was able to find his balance again. Then he was being ushered inside a small cave like hole by the rather impatient Inarta. "You should save your tricks for the circus. Being disgusted with me usually doesn't follow into spontaneous nudity, for regular people." Zed said as they walked.

“Kelvic aren’t regular people.” Wymond muttered quietly to himself as he followed Zed’s lead. It was a short moment before they came upon a rather simple door. Bu when Zed opened it, Wymond was greeted with rather lavish surroundings. Wymond was in mute awes as he took in his surroundings. There were silks and beautiful glass ornaments, and other well-to-do things that adorned the home.

Wymond had been too distracted with everything that he had not heard the door behind them close and lock. What did return Wymond’s attention back to Zed was a strong mental pull. As though a string had been tied to his brain and was being tugged in the direction of Zed. Wymond turned and looked at the ginger and his heart began to race. Wymond licked his lips and shifted his weight, but his eyes were locked on to Zed. Then a thought crossed his mind. I am bonded to this man.

Zed slowly walked over to Wymond, the look in his eyes was simmering. And the touch of his hand on Wymond’s bare chest was almost blisteringly hot. "Welp, we're in private now." Zed then said. His voice was like a velvet rumble.

“I…” Wymond was unsure of how to say what was on his mind. To he swallowed the saliva that had built up in his mouth. “I think… You are my bondmate…” Wymond’s eyes met Zed’s green ones; searching for any sign of rejection or anger or…anything that might constitute for an answer. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he was sure Zed could feel it with his hand. Her he was, in a stranger’s house, with said stranger’s hand on his chest and a seductive look in his eyes, and Wymond was confused about weither or not this arrogant, pompous, egotistical Inarta was his bondmate. ...