Debt of Skin

Two: Two Cots, Four Walls, and a Barred Door

As a child, Mahe took great care to discipline himself. When he was especially young, he had a mother and a father to guide him through the confusing world. He was born into a cottage lost within the forest, isolated from the general public. Giving him endless freedom to play in the ponds and trees from dawn until dusk fell. When he was orphaned and taken in by the king, his world became infinitely more confusing.

He had to sober up young and understand the loss he experienced when he was only seven. That was a mark on his past that followed behind every delicate footstep he took, forcing him to think about what was the correct thing to do next. Whether it was some internal moral compass instilled into him from the very beginning, or simply a better understanding of what was at stake in the world, he became a pristine young boy with little reprimand to shape him.

Those same people who ridiculed the king for taking pity on a child that was not his responsibility, they would be shocked by how well-behaved and respectful he was. Quickly public perception twisted from annoyance to astonishment. If it wasn't for the fact that Mahe looked so much like his father, people would have thought that he was King Xiane's own seed.

Thus from the age of seven and onwards, he was raised within the palace. There were maids who were supposed to help him bathe and dress, guards who stood attentive outside of his bedroom. As many courses of food as any person could desire, and clothes crafted of the finest velvet and cashmere.

But Mahe always turned those maids away. He cleaned up his own messes, dressed and bathed his own body. He only ate as many courses as the elders insisted he should have. Only asked for new clothes when his old ones were threadbare. He was the perfect son any royalty could ask for — so incredibly self-disciplined and socially aware.

However, while all of this existed, so did something else.

That brash honorary prince who was more akin to a panther stocking its prey. Unshakable, and always looming. A parasite, even. He was the first of the royal sons Mahe ever met, and the downward spiral only devolved from there.

Now in the poor lighting of a prison cell, Mahe could only look at Kaliya. He was in the middle of running his calloused fingers over the carvings in the stone wall. Mahe wondered if he would have been the same way if he was born into royalty rather than stumbling upon it.

As an honorary prince, Kaliya was naturally incredibly famous. His father died when he was almost too young to remember him, making him the only male heir in his family, with a single younger sister. His bloodline took on the last name Argus to honor their lost kingdom, and he wore that title with pride.

Not to mention his fan club of women who dreamed of stealing his heart to call their own. That extended to all of the princes. Perice and Adain were treated the same way, but due to their higher rank, women typically kept a safe distance. Kaliya's less prestigious persona paired with the fact that he would never actually hold any real political power made it a lot less daunting to flirt with him.

Mahe was fully aware of Kaliya's beauty. In the way that he was aware that the night was long. It was simply a known fact that he could not refute, but would surely find fucking stupid.

Finally, Kaliya turned around and immediately caught Mahe staring. A wicked smile broke out on his face. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing." Mahe rolled his eyes, turning to stare at the wall instead. The room was incredibly limited. Two thin, weak cots. Four walls. A floor. The tiniest window too high up for either of them to reach. A barred door. Normally there would be a place to relieve themselves, but their circumstances were different than usual. King Xiane, in his guilt, allowed them the privacy to request a trip to the bathroom. For that Mahe was grateful.