An Affinity For Fire

2. Heleonne

Leo's father's fussing was beginning to border on intolerable.

"I thought I told you to comb your hair. Do you want to look like the respectable grandson of a King or a reckless peasant?"

"I look fine," he insisted. "Besides, did you see how these people dress? I knew the Ortusians were carefree, but I didn't expect them all to look like farmers." The dirty faces, scuffed knees and ripped clothes of the people of Ortus had come as a bit of an unpleasant shock to Heleonne Monfort. It wasn't as if they were any more impoverished than the Dormisian lower citizens - in fact, the Ortusian commoners were the wealthiest of the four kingdoms - they just seemed to have no regard for cleanliness. Even the nobles let their tangled hair lie lose over their shoulders, and their children bore cuts and bruises from playing in the woods.

"I don't care how they act here," his father insisted. "We're going to act how proper nobles act. You're representing your kingdom."

"Surely the correct etiquette would be to try to blend in," Leo argued. In truth, he had combed his hair. He'd just messed it up again on purpose out of embarrassment when he saw the dishevelled appearances of the other guests at the engagement party.

"Nonsense," the old Prince scoffed, "I want you to show them how a Dormisian Prince behaves. We need to make a good impression. Let's not forget why we're doing this."

Leo's stomach clenched. There was no we in the situation. He was going to get married to some girl he didn't know and that was supposed to fix everything. But no, he hadn't forgotten why he was doing this.

"Is this even appropriate? She's a child."

"Would you have referred to yourself as a child two years ago?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Then don't call her one. She's a woman and, from what I've heard, a beautiful, intelligent and well-mannered one. Or would you prefer Lady Eventine?"

Lady Rosetta Eventine was the rich, twenty-nine-year-old woman his mother had found for him when he was fifteen. He'd refused her, insistent that he wouldn't marry someone he didn't love. The stakes had been low enough then for him to get away with having a say. He wouldn't be so lucky this time.

"You know perfectly ruddy well I wouldn't prefer Lady Eventine," he muttered.

"Language!" his father growled. "I don't want any more of that once you're around the Petras, do you understand me?"

Leo's jaw set. He nodded, dejected.

"Good," his father said, a little more calmly. "And please, for the love of Dormis, pretend to be alright with this. Complete lack of interest really isn't attractive. Now, about that hair." He fluttered his fingers, unleashing a small gust of air which blew down on Leo's head, flattening his messy hair. "Hmm. That's a little better. Work on it."

Yellow mage was the kinder term people used to describe anyone like Prince Bollorec, anyone with an affinity for air. Leo hadn't inherited that little gift, but in the past month, that was something he'd been silently and selfishly grateful for.

His father walked out of the guestroom, leaving Leo to finish getting ready in peace. He cast his dark eyes towards the small mirror and ran his fingers through his dull, blond hair, attempting to mess it up even more. He groaned. No matter what he did, it still looked smarter than the wild manes of the Ortusians. He tore the heavy gold medalian from his neck, tossing it onto the bed, and undid the top button of his yellow shirt.

Now he was starting to look the part.

He ventured out into the chaos of the party. Most of the guests were in the garden. The few in the house seemed to be avoiding human interaction at all costs, which unsettled him slightly. He couldn't decide which prospect was more off-putting - going outside to face the friendly, well-meaning smiles of people he didn't know or staying in and being subject to the shy, judging glances of more people he didn't know. The only Dormisians are the party were himself, his father and the collection of servants they'd brought with them to help out.

Joining the guests outside meant pretending to be happy. Inside it was, then.

Leo made it his mission to seek out the drinks. He figured a mild dulling of the senses couldn't hurt, and may even make the events of the day more tolerable. Distracted by an unnerving portrait of a woman who could only be described as ancient, he found himself walking directly into the path of a boy with chocolate-brown hair, Ortusian tawny skin and a large glass of some sort of dark, red liquid. The fruity beverage splashed out of the glass as the two collided and seeped into the silk shirts of both boys.

"You have got to be kidding me," Leo growled.

"Don't act like this is my fault, you walked into me," the brown-haired boy hissed. He looked to be a little younger than Leo, but his judgement may have been skewed by the boy's signature Ortusian lack in stature.

"What makes you think you can talk to me like that? What do they call you?"

Unsurprisingly to Leo, the boy's face reddened. Anyone high enough to be part of an esteemed family should only ever be asked their name, not what they were called. That was a question reserved for those without titles.

"My name is Lord Tarragon Versenna. I am Princess Marram Petra's first cousin. Why, what do they call you? "

Leo choked back a laugh.

So, this is the family I'm marrying into.

"If you're planning on a name-dropping battle, you're going to lose. My name is Heleonne Monfort, son of Prince Bollorec Monfort and Princess Seffrey Toritrel, grandson of the King of Dormis, and I'm about to get engaged to your cousin. Now, as charming as this little family meet-and-greet has been, I need to get changed into another shirt. Good day to you, my Lord." He turned and marched back towards the stairs, trying not to smirk at the look of horror the boy had given him.