Tracou managed to maintain contact with Mirthal until the end of the ceremony, meaning that he had spent maybe five minutes with his upper body against his. Once Serpouhi and Garin finished, Tracou moved away from Mirthal, worried that Pendaer would notice without a large distraction in front of him. It hurt to do it. But, surely, Pendaer screeching about it in the middle of Serpouhi's wedding would be even worse.
The party began the instant the couple traded their wands back to each other. People left the blankets and crowded the tables, taking what they pleased. Stepan and other fishermen had been employed (begrudgingly) by Tracou to manage the guests and keep the area at a pleasant temperature. Most of the fishermen did the minimum, but Stepan had brought his familiar, using it to watch from above.
The sky darkened. People ate and, once finished, approached the couple to congratulate them. Tracou watched this, chewing on some meatless pastries prepared especially for his elves. He should give his well wishes, too.
"Mirthal?"
Just having shoved something into his mouth, Mirthal jolted, chewing with vigor until he had mashed it enough to get it down his throat.
"Hm?"
All that effort and Mirthal had ended up making a noise he could have made with his mouth full.
"We have to go up and say something to the newlyweds. Let me teach you what to say."
"Okay."
"Why, exactly, can't we go up and say something in Aodehsh? You can translate for us. There's no need for us to learn any Dezmerian!"
"It's polite!"
"It's stupid."
Mirthal grunted. "Quiet, Pendaer. I want to hear this."
With Pendaer now handled, Tracou went through the word congratulations with Mirthal over and over, earning them stares from any nearby villagers.
Finally he managed an approximation—k'ngradjoolayshunz. Good enough! Nearly the whole village had finished speaking with the couple, so they had to hurry.
Tracou led Mirthal (and Pendaer, unfortunately) up to Serpouhi and Garin, who sat on newly finished wooden chairs. Serpouhi's had been painted red and decorated with yellow patterns, while Garin's remained quarter-finished, with splotches of green paint spread haphazardly on the wood.
Serpouhi's eyes brightened when she saw them. Garin appeared impassive, his earlier nervousness being the most Tracou had ever seen him emote. Frankly, Serpouhi's taste in men had always baffled him.
"May today be the beginning of a strong, fruitful union," Tracou said, repeating a formal greeting one of the women in Garin's family had insisted he give.
With that done, Tracou turned his gaze to Mirthal, who nodded. Mirthal had more or less mastered good morning, so this should go well!
"K'ngradjoolayshunz," he said, each syllable carefully formed before he pushed it out of his mouth.
After Mirthal had completed his duty, Pendaer echoed a small, "shunz," shocking Tracou so badly that he wore it openly on his face. Thankfully for the both of them, Pendaer kept his gaze on the sky above.
"Thank you," Serpouhi said, ripping his attention away from Pendaer. "I hope you manage to forge a strong, fruitful union, too."
"It wouldn't be fruitful."
"Fruitful can mean different things!"
"Like?"
"Productive," Garin cut in with his scratchy voice.
"And what would we be producing, then?"
For a moment, Serpouhi said nothing, deep in thought. Then she turned sly, smirking at Tracou as though she had discovered the one answer above all others. 'What a fool you've been. You'll never match my brilliance and I would pity you, but you couldn't even comprehend the depths of that pity,' her expression boasted.
"Happiness."
Tracou tilted his head. "You don't need to use fruitful to convey that."
"But it works!"
They spoke for a while longer, but the villagers soon wanted to move onto the next phase—dancing. The moon and the stars hung overhead, dampened by a bonfire created in the field. Some villagers sat in a group, producing music both out of thin air and by manipulating crude instruments they had made themselves. The men of Garin's family danced first, linking arms and bobbing about in a long line.
Dancing did not appeal to Tracou. Besides, he had more important things to think about.
He had been touching Mirthal, who allowed it. But he hadn't touched him back. It unnerved him and the spirit of giving up called—its cries of how much easier things would be if he dropped his foolhardy attempt to do something far too convincing.
But! One key problem reared its nearly hairless head with each attempt—Pendaer. Tracou couldn't touch Mirthal in peace with that buffoon around. Doubtless he bothered Mirthal too and, if disposed of, Mirthal might react to his efforts. Until he tried without Pendaer's obstruction, Tracou couldn't succeed.
The thought still terrified him. If he wanted to do this, he had to do it before he lost his nerve. Staying at this party would be a waste! So, determined, Tracou darted around saying his goodbyes before dragging his elves away, who did not protest.
Well, Pendaer did.
"Why are we leaving so early?"
"You didn't even want to come!"
"It doesn't make sense that you'd leave so quickly!"
"Do you want to stay?"
"No!"
"Then be quiet!"
As they trekked back to the manor, dread built in Tracou's stomach. Mirthal hadn't yet pushed him away, but he hadn't reciprocated either. What if getting rid of Pendaer did nothing? What would he do? His previous surge of dedication to the plan faded and he bit his cheek hard.
Maybe he should drink.
Maybe he could get Mirthal to drink, too! Supposedly drinking revealed someone's true feelings, so if they both got drunk then they could be truthful with one another. And if Mirthal ended up rejecting him, he could drink to ease the pain.
An excellent idea if he had ever heard one.
Before they entered the manor, Tracou whirled around, hands on his hips. This sudden movement made both elves jump.
"Normally there's a lot of drinking after a wedding. I left early with you two, so I didn't get to. You should drink with me to make up for it!" he said, shouting to cover up his racing heart.
Mirthal just gawked at him, so Pendaer picked up his slack.
"Elves don't drink; I've told you that before. If you insist on partaking, then you'll have to do it by yourself."
"You can stay sober if you want," Tracou said with a sniff. "But maybe Mirthal will drink with me."
All eyes turned to Mirthal who hesitated before shaking his head. "Elves don't drink..."
"Is alcohol poison for you?"
"No, of course not."
"Then why not try it?"
Mirthal frowned.
Adrenaline gushing through his veins, Tracou took a step toward Mirthal, took his gloves off, and grabbed one of Mirthal's hands with both of his. His own face felt warm and, when his eyes met Mirthal's, he noticed that Mirthal's cheeks had colored. He went rigid, alarming Tracou, but this had kind of worked earlier. Maybe it would work again.
"Please, Mirthal?"
Despite the way Mirthal liked to touch Tracou, it seemed that he had no defense against the inverse. A short whine died in the elf's throat, but he nodded.
"Your highness!"
Acting before Mirthal could reconsider, Tracou squeezed Mirthal's hand. "Thank you," he chirped, smiling. "We'll sit in the study. Pendaer can go to sleep or something."
"Please! As if I would leave you alone with a compromised prince. Who knows what you might do!"
"And what could I do, Pendaer?"
"Surely the depths of your debauchery knows no bounds."
This could not stand. He could not allow Pendaer to ruin this for him, not when he had already won Mirthal over to trying alcohol. Then again, maybe if Pendaer drank, he might relax enough to be sent away without any complaining.
"Well, Pendaer, this is my manor and if you want to come into the study with us, you'll have to drink at least as much as we do."
"That's absurd!"
Tracou shrugged. "Maybe, but I make the rules here."
Pendaer looked toward Mirthal for support, but his focus was on their hands and nowhere else. Did he like it? Dislike it? Tracou couldn't be sure, but the way it narrowed his field of view to a single point amused him. Rather, it would have amused him if he hadn't been so concerned about whether or not Mirthal liked him.
Quiet for a long time, Pendaer seemed to be running through different scenarios in his head, but none of them came up satisfactory. Even if Pendaer tried to force his way in without following Tracou's sudden drinking rule, Tracou had his wand and could push Pendaer back outside or even block the door beforehand.
It all came down to whether or not Pendaer thought it was worth it to go against this no drinking thing for Mirthal's supposed safety. He had to know that nothing would happen to Mirthal. Certainly by now Tracou had to be trustworthy.
With great reluctance, Pendaer nodded. "Fine. We'll all drink!"
No trust at all. How could he have expected anything less than utter contempt from Pendaer?
They settled in the small library, the three of them sitting on a wooden bench with not-quite-satisfactory upholstery. They each had a wooden cup in their hands, filled with ale and easily refilled with magic.
Tracou took a sip of the ale and, seeing Mirthal watching him, gestured for him to do the same.
"It doesn't taste great, but if you drink enough you'll feel good."
"Feel good..." Mirthal echoed, uncertain.
Slowly, carefully, so that Pendaer wouldn't notice, Tracou inched closer to Mirthal and spread his legs a little wider until their thighs brushed against each other. His heart throbbed in his ears. How did Mirthal do things like this with such ease? Maybe it meant that he didn't think it was a big deal, that he didn't care—
Tracou took another sip.
Mirthal kept his eyes squarely on his cup. He tried some of the ale, attempting to gulp it down like it was water. But the taste didn't agree with him and he barely choked the drink down.
"It's awful!" he said, laughing.
"I told you."
Now was the perfect time for Pendaer to start crying about how awful ale was and how awful dezmek were, but Pendaer hadn't said anything in minutes. Tracou peered over at him and found that Pendaer had the cup to his lips. He pulled it away after a time, giving it a strange look.
"What do you think, Pendaer?" Mirthal asked.
Startled, Pendaer tore his eyes away from his cup. "Ah! Well. It's terrible."
That sounded positively mild coming from Pendaer, but Tracou didn't push it. Pendaer was not his focus for tonight.
He downed a few cups, with Pendaer nearly keeping pace. Mirthal barely finished one.