Chapter 3: Joren Makes an Excellent Party Favor
Nealan tried to relax but this sudden urge to steal glances at Joren weren't helping. The younger boy looked like a cherub in his waiter-outfit. He was bare-chested and wore a pair of short, tight-fitting breeches in dark blue and also wore a black choker sparkling with light blue gems around his neck.
When they were putting on the outfits, neither of them would look at each other. Joren didn't even make any disparaging comments on Nealan's emerald-studded choker and forest green breeches. This whole mission was making Neal reevaluate his old enemy. Without Kel around to draw insults from the young man, he didn't seem so bent on bullying people. Or maybe he has changed, as he claimed. But then, Neal remembered her friend's examinations and what Joren had done. This memory gave him the strength to focus on something other than Joren's pale, tousled locks and slender curves.
The party was well underway, and the mysterious stranger who introduced himself as Reginald was mingling with both the commoners and the nobles present at the party. Nealan noted that a lot of them were conservatives that King Jonathan had to work around delicately with his decisions.
According to the plan, Joren had to attract the stranger's attention somehow. That was the easy part. Joren haven't done anything yet and he already turned heads wherever he went. Some of the nobles and even some commoners recognized him, but it wasn't a problem since they knew he was in desperate need of money. They recognized Nealan as well, which is why he couldn't "loiter" about as efficiently as Joren could, so he just stayed near the feast table. Whenever one of the conservatives would ask what he was doing there, Neal just mumbled that he lost a bet.
Joren had stationed himself near Reginald, always mingling and yet somehow returning there. He also made sure to always keep the stranger's cup filled. Whenever Reginald caught his eye, Joren smiled shyly at him. The poor king-wannabe didn't stand a chance.
***
This Reginald bloke wasn't so bad. Joren eyed his "target" appreciatively, but at the back of his mind, he was only doing so to remind himself what he was there for. The slender dark-haired stranger in rich blue and violet robes was an effective distraction from a certain half-naked someone. At least, Nealan disappeared periodically to check out the rooms. He had given the signal a while ago to indicate that he had found a place in which to start his search for information.
He remembered the little packet in his breeches that was magicked to put someone to sleep, touching the unnoticeable bulge in his pocket. Have to focus on the job. The small crowd surrounding his "target" had disappeared, and in fact, many of the guests were leaving. He had listened to them talk about everything from the vibrant decorations, the luxurious food to the extravagant entertainment of singing and dancing ladies dressed in peacock feathers, and the lithe, young, half-naked boys like him.
The boredom of small talk almost made him tune everything out. But the thought of the thirty gold nobles awaiting him helped keep his focus. It wasn't really what those fops told Reginald that seemed dangerous, as they just drowned him in flattery. But they formed small groups whispering with each other. Nealan had not attempted to get close, as he was known to be squire to the abomination that is the Lady Knight, but Joren was accepted, and even welcomed.
They had asked how his illustrious father was. As if he cared! He made small talk with them, and didn't feel an ounce of pity or guilt that he was going to sell their "secrets". After all, one of these bastards could have been the one to hire those kidnappers, feeding them his name as the kid who'll take the blame. Nevertheless, all he got was a rumor about an ambush to the present king while he was away on the Progress, and whispers that Scanrans were willing to lend a hand. His thoughts were distracted by a movement; Reginald was beckoning him with a smirk. Finally! He looked at Nealan and they shared a look of understanding.
"Sir?" Joren made sure to bow deeply. Reginald ran a perfectly manicured and bejeweled hand through Joren's white blond curls.
"What an excellent party favor you make, darling. Now that all those ass-kissing people are gone, would you like me to give you a very detailed tour?" He gestured to the rest of the large house, whose architectural style screamed foreign. The walls were partly made of carved panels of dark wood, and partly of some hard substance Joren couldn't identify. What hung on the walls, however, were tapestries of vibrant color showing battles between knights and monsters, obviously of excellent quality.
"I would be delighted, milord." Joren mumbled, letting himself be led into the various rooms. As he expected, Reginald ended the brief tour by taking him to a large bedroom in another floor. Then without warning, he took Joren up in his arms and carried him to the bed. Joren let out a very undignified squeak, suddenly finding himself trapped beneath the tall stranger.
Reginald unclasped the collar and started tracing patterns on Joren's neck with a slender finger. The boy's blue eyes stared up at him, looking like an innocent that he very much doubted he was. "Have you done this before, my darling?" He was amused to see a flush appear on the boy's delectable cheekbones. His mouth opened, but only a small breathless moan emerged. Reginald laughed. "You sound so sweet, darling. Can I see how you taste like?" Then he bent his head and nibbled on the boy's ear.
Without the face looking down on him and making Joren feel the sudden panic of helplessness, he remembered what he was there for. With one hand, he lightly scratched at Reginald's back, while the other slowly took the magicked thing out of his pocket. The gasp that came out of his mouth was not purely acting, as Reginald had chose that moment to grind his body against Joren's.
After the sleeping packet was in his hand, he nudged at the foreigner to move to his side. He didn't want to be trapped underneath him when he collapses. When Reginald finally obliges, Joren smacks the packet at his mouth and prayed for it to work. The king-wannabe didn't even put on a fight, and merely looked surprised at Joren's actions. His eyes then rolled up and he fell onto the bed limply.
Joren scrambled off the bed, his heart thumping wildly. He tried to get his breathing under control before smiling to himself in triumph. That was too easy. However, the job was only half-done. He opened the door and peeked out cautiously; no one was around. He then proceeded quietly to the room Neal had indicated, not bothering to knock.