He went to his bedroom then, all his belongings were already unpacked by the servants. His formal attire was laid out for him on his bed. He removed his vest and pulled off the tunic he had been riding in all day. His riding boots were the biggest relief to take off; the heavy leather material had weighed down his legs the whole journey home.

He stood in the middle of his room wearing nothing but a pair of breeches, and stretched out his shoulders and arms since they had been cramped from riding on top of a horse all day.

Yes, I should be frivolous. Being frivolous means that I don't have to be serious about any of the girls I meet tonight. He let his long body fall across the length of his bed. He breathed in the clean scent of the quilts and took comfort in knowing it was his bed that he would soon be sleeping in again. He heard a hard knocking on his door and bolted upright, throwing on his doublet but not buttoning it, "Who is it?"

Whoever they were, did not answer but threw open the door. Halden strode in all smiles and embraced his younger cousin heartily. "Cousin! You're home!"

Jaythen laughed, "And where have you been all afternoon?"

I was out in hunting in the great forest. I took a few men for a hunting party. We shot a dozen pheasants and a buck—all to be prepared for your dinner party tonight."

"You are most generous," Jaythen pinched Halden's cheek. Halden returned the gesture but with harder pressure. Jaythen shoved him away and laughed—realizing that's what he lacked in his time away—a true friend.

"You're hair has grown longer," Halden noted, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

"It was winter, and I could have used all the extra hair. I'm quite jealous of your ability to grow a full beard in two weeks time."

"You have stubble there," Halden pointed to the thin dark hairs on Jaythen's chin but slapped his cheek because Jaythen's guard was down. He lunged forward to get his cousin back for the playful slap but Halden was already up and on the other side of the room. Jaythen fell on the bed and laid there, he sighed, "Yes, but I haven't properly shaved all year."

That got them both to laughing loudly.

"How was it in the Imperial City? Did you meet any noteworthy lasses?" Halden asked with a devilish raise of his brows.

Jaythen's smile faded and he brushed a dark lock of hair from his eyes, "None."

"None?"

Jaythen shook his head, "I'm not like you. I don't fancy every brainless chickadee that comes clucking my way."

"You're a snob. You'll never find a wife with that attitude."

"And you'll never find a proper wife with yours!" Jaythen teased and just missed Halden trying to hit him. Halden took in a breath of smile and let it out with laughter but then straightened up, suddenly serious. "Yes, that may be, but I'm not required to find a wife and you are."

He then took his leave but not without Jaythen giving him a kick to the ankles, "You're such a mood downer."

He dressed in his formal attire, slipping on a clean tunic under his doublet and belting it up. He fingered his stubbly chin as he regarded himself in the mirror. I'm not a snob, he thought. At least not as badly as those pompous lard bags I had to see everyday at the King's court.

He called for the castle barber to give him a proper shave and haircut before he had to present himself to that night's festivities. He secretly was disheartened to see his facial hair—as miniscule as it was—to leave him. It would take awhile to grow back. The barber shortened his dark locks from the current length at his neck to reach the end of his jaw. He tipped the man a few gold coins and thanked him.

He walked the corridors of the castle and entered the great hall. Guests for the celebration were just arriving. Ladies in fine gowns that showed off their figures seemed to populate the room in ever increasing amounts. Devlin, the dressmaker must be fairly wealthy from the event alone, he mused.

A lad named Warwick joined Jaythen then and handed him a flask of wine, "Lovely aren't they my Lord?"

"As lovely as can be. How have you been Warwick?"

"As lovely as can be."

Jaythen's mouth twisted in a slight grin before he took a swig of the wine. It was sweet with a hint of bitterness—he couldn't help but to feel the party was likewise. Warwick was the son of his father's valet, and in turn Warwick was supposed to be Jaythen's valet but Jaythen hardly ever required one so Warwick was free to go about his own business—but now they were in public and so it would seem odd if Warwick did not offer any help with introductions or wine-bringing.

"Who do you desire to meet?"

"I desire to meet a lass that intrigues me. Find me she that can do that."

Now Warwick took a swig of his wine, "I shall try."

Jaythen had hoped his order would leave Warwick searching for hours but in less than five minutes he had returned with a girl who wore a pretty blue dress.

"My Lord, this is lady Rialla of Wendbury," Warwick let the smiling brunette off his arm and made a slight bow.

"Ah blue. It's my second favorite color," Jaythen motioned to her dress, because he had nothing else to start a conversation with.

She gave him a wide smile, "Mine too!"

"So what is your favorite color?"

Her smile seemed forced suddenly, "Blue."

Jaythen chuckled lightly but then grabbed Warwick by the collar of his shirt and spoke quietly between his teeth, "Please, get me another glass of wine. Now."

Rialla did not intrigue him in the least. The next girl, Dencielle, only stared at him and he had to keep a conversation only with the nods and shakes of her head. Warwick was forced to bring him more wine yet. The few other girls who introduced themselves after Dencielle were very dull and only seemed to talk about their dresses, their money, or of him. He decided to try a hand at dancing since that may have lessened the chances of being forced to converse with the girls.

His first partner, a red-head he did not catch the name of, stepped on his foot more than once. He switched to a blonde girl he had the acquaintance of in his youth—Polyanne—who did nothing but compliment him the whole time he danced. He was hungry by that time, also dizzy, and rosy cheeked from all the wine Warwick was bringing to him.

"I see you are doing well with the ladies," Halden approached him while he was trying to consume wine and a deer leg in solitude.

"Ha. HA. Ha," Jaythen barked, throwing back another gulp of wine, not even in the mood to smile at such a horrible evening.

"You care too much about how they are. All females are the same one way or the other. Why does it matter?"

"Because if I am to pick one of them to be my bride, I have to live with them forever. I can't stand to be around any of those maidens for more than ten minutes let alone my entire life. I wish they could be more like…" Jaythen stopped, all his saliva drying in his mouth. He had broken his promise to himself to not think about her.

"Like who?" Halden wondered and saw the pale color in his cousin's face.

Jaythen sighed and rubbed his temple, trying to rid his mind of her face, "It's nothing. Leave me be."

Halden rolled his eyes and left his sour cousin.

Nicolette. The name he had tried to forget was but a whisper of temptation lingering on his thoughts. Nicolette, of whom you can never be with. He shook his head, in the hopes the action would shake away the thoughts of her. The thoughts of how she had made him laugh, how her lips smiled, how her kisses sent shivers of delight through his body. He had met her during his stay at the King's court. She was the only girl he could have ever loved, but she was promised to another man. Even if she were not, he was still considered too lowly for her—the princess of their realm. Jaythen finished eating, discarded his thoughts, and sort of stumbled back to the place he was before.

"More wine my Lord?" Warwick was by his side holding another flask.

Jaythen made an incoherent sound and swiped it away, pitching it back into his throat as of it were common ale at the tavern.

"My Lord?" it was not Warwick's voice, but a smooth and light tone that made his ears perk and find its owner. The lady stood before him in a curtsy, and the low-cut fashion of her lavender gown forced his eyes to notice.

She stood and he returned a shallow bow, "Lady Vitoria, I trust you are enjoying the celebration."

"Hardly," she raised a thin brow.

He frowned, remembering her to be brash but not remembering her to be so pretty. Vitoria was often one of his playmates when he was young, and she always got away with cheating at backgammon. She took his frown as a hint to continue her thought.

"I haven't been enjoying this evening because I haven't yet gotten to dance with you."

She then boldly locked her arm through his and pulled him to the middle of the dancing. It was a lively dance that required spinning, twirling, and lifting.

Oh no. Jaythen closed his eyes and felt dizzy immediately. When he opened them, Vitoria was staring straight at him.

"You have the bluest eyes I've ever seen!" she shouted over the cheering and music.

He closed them again, taking them away from her praises, and wished for no more. Still she continued to talk, "So you will become count soon—" He was concentrating on his stomach, which was highly objecting to being thrown into such lively movement. She dared pull him closer, so he could feel the heat of her body and then it was too much for him.

"I must go!" he shouted and shoved her away—knowing he would be scolded for such behavior later. He sprinted through the entrance hallway and to the doors that led outside where he let it out, and quite embarrassingly in front of the posted guards. He vomited his food and seven or more glasses of wine into the grass beside the wall.

"Are you all right, my Lord?" the guard closest to him asked with concern.

He seemed to be done, and despised the taste that was left in his mouth—the sting of bitter sweetness. He stood straight and nodded at the guards, "I drank too much wine."

They nodded in return in understanding.

He hated the thought of returning inside only to hear those silly girls giggle and flaunt themselves for him, always complimenting him. It was sickening and he wasn't sure his stomach could handle it. He wrapped his arms around himself and decided to go for a walk. The evening air was nice enough, only a small chill in the wind. He found himself atop the hill near the oak tree he had used to climb. At this rate he would never find a bride before his father died.

Suddenly in an old habit, he looked to the sky for any help—perhaps desperate enough to try wishing on a fallen star again—that is, if he saw one. After a few moments, one shot across the living stars and he closed his eyes immediately. I wish there was a girl out there for me.

He opened his eyes, waiting for her to just appear into his line of sight, perhaps a maiden he had overlooked. Of course nothing of the sort happened. He was still himself and there never would seem to be a girl he could be satisfied with that was available. He opened his eyes and sighed with the whole of his body.

He returned to the hall but tried to be discreet as possible, feeling horribly for shoving Vitoria, no matter how much of a tart she was being.

She was already dancing with his cousin though, not seeming a bit ruffled. He then realized she might be pretty and somewhat challenging but she only loved how much a man was worth.

"Jaythen!" he saw his mother advancing.

"I do apologize for…"

"Oh shush up, I feel so very lonely with your father bed ridden. Please do your old mother a favor and lend her a dancing partner." His stomach grumbled with warning, but settled at seeing it was a slow paced stepping song. He nodded in acquiescence and led his mother to the floor. It was the kind of dance that required dancers to switch partners every tenth beat—and he inwardly wondered how he remembered such trivial things.

"Please refrain from pushing me out of your way this time," he heard a teasing whisper. He had failed to notice he had switched to Vitoria and he saw his mother and cousin were now partners.

"I do apologize for…"

"Oh shush up, I would have rather you let your sick outside than on my dress."

He closed his mouth and waited out the next seven beats of music in silence until he was returned to his mother. He could see why his mother approved of Vitoria—they were nearly the same lady with thirty years difference.

After entertaining a couple more ladies of their court and refusing any more wine flasks Warwick brought him, he was glad to see the celebration was over.

"There, that wasn't so bad!" he felt a hard slap to his back.

Jaythen held his palm to his ear at Halden's loud shout, "It was terrible. I found no one of interest and got sick off of the wine."

"I know what will cheer you up."

Halden's arm was now across his cousin's back but it was mostly to support himself as he had much more wine to drink that evening.

"What will cheer me up?"

"We shall go hunting tomorrow."

"That will cheer you up. You know I'm not the best archer, and especially within the woods."

"Just think, though, that rush of killing something—it'll let out your frustrations."

"Or cause me to become even more frustrated due to the fact I won't be able to kill anything."

Halden just laughed, "We leave at eight o' clock. Bring Warwick along if it'll make you happy. We'll hunt all day and night if necessary!"

Jaythen rolled his eyes and let his drunken cousin off at his chambers and then made his way to his own. He threw his clothing to the floor and crawled under the quilts finally glad to be asleep—for the dream world seemed more promising than the real one.