The smile Culver gave the security officers at the gate to the castle was tremulous. "What happened?" asked Emelyan, the more senior of the two in the cabin and friend to the Prince since the latter was thirteen.

"Nothing much," Culver replied. "Argued with a friend and managed to catch the sniffles."

"Was it that tall guy you've been bringing recently? I knew he was no good! Been here twice, and he was conked out both times!"

"No, no, you misunderstand," Culver said, trying to placate the older man. "It was my fault."

"Did that man do anything to you? I swear, if he laid a hand on you -"

"He didn't, Emelyan. I just crossed a line, that's all. It'll be fine."

Emelyan scowled. "It's never a good sign when you say that," he said. "Well - I'll let it go now, but that's only because I see the supply truck coming up the road."

"Thanks, Emelyan."

"You won't get off easy next time!"

Culver drove up the long drive with a heavy heart. Being absolutely honest with Orion had backfired badly. It had been foolish of him to even hope that Orion would understand. Who would want to associate with someone who so easily admitted to being selfish? Moreover, he'd been too fickle, allowing his internal tug-of-war to manifest in his blow-hot, blow-cold behavior. It had only been a matter of time before Orion tired of his bullshit.

Truth was that he was scared. He was scared of allowing someone to get close to him. But as strong as that fear was his desire for relief from the intense loneliness he felt, and the maelstrom of emotions that resulted was driving him crazy. It wasn't like him to get attached to every gay guy he came across simply because he was lonely, and he was sure that his attachment to Orion wasn't because of that.

Then why did he want Orion's company so badly? As he sat down to dinner, he replayed every second he had spent with Orion, trying to evaluate his good points. The man had tremendous conviction and a strong moral code, though his drug addiction did cast aspersions on those qualities. He was intelligent and driven (when he was sober), introspective enough to know he had a problem, and very, very brave - for it was impossible to estimate the courage it took to talk about the details of his drug habit openly, especially to people of authority like a cop and even the Crown Prince of the kingdom.

And most importantly, when Orion was around, Culver could have fun.

"You're oddly silent, son."

Culver jumped, nearly sending his chicken flying off his plate. His father was watching him with worried eyes. "Just lost in thought," he said, trying to fake a smile.

"I know it's a difficult time for you right now," said the King. "Caolan's birth anniversary is coming up. I wish I wasn't so busy right now, but after that war with Astor, things have become so complicated. But I promise, we're going to spend as much time together as we can."

Culver's heart sank even lower. At no other time of the year did he miss his elder brother more than he did now. During happier times, the castle used to be in a ferment, preparing for the grand celebration of the former Crown Prince's birthday. Such grand parties used to be the only indulgence of the otherwise austere Caolan. The eldest Ermine son would keep his younger brother tucked under his arm the entire evening, showing the young Cuvler off to his friends who were more than happy to fawn over the boy and pull his cheeks. The girls at the party used to be especially annoying, squealing and shrieking and patting his head as if he were a puppy. That used to be Caolan's strategy to attract the attention of the girls (as if being the future King was not enough of a wow factor). As compensation, he would insist upon the birthday cake being chocolate flavored even though he was allergic to cocoa, and he'd give first dibs on the size and location of the cake piece to Culver.

"It's hard to believe it's been twelve years," Culver said.

"Right. Twelve years." The pain of losing a child, which for a parent was an agony to which even the fires of Hell were second, twisted the old King's features. "It doesn't get easier, does it?"

"I wonder what Cecilia -"

"Do not say that name within these walls!" James Ermine drove his fist into the dining table. It spoke volumes about the old man's physical strength when the whole table creaked and shook, right to the other end of its twenty-length. "I've never laid a finger on you, but mention her or your mother one more time, and I'll clap you on the jaw so hard their names will go flying out your ear!"

Culver flinched, sinking lower in his chair. "I'm sorry, dad," he bleated.

King James stood up abruptly. His chair scraped backwards over the ancient tiles and almost fell over. Leaving his meal untouched, he stomped out of the room.

Alone in the long dining room, Culver buried his face in his hands and tried not to let his emotions get the better of him. "I'm sorry," he whimpered again.

To whom he was apologizing, he couldn't tell.

*

"Where have you been?"

The voice came from the couch whose back was to Orion. He recognized it a little too well - it was the voice of Ankush Deo, Dr. Deo's son, whom he had fooled around with for a while in college. They hadn't parted on amicable terms, and he would have thought more of the matter if he had known the guy's father would become one of his most valuable contacts in the future.

"Work," Orion mumbled.

"The legal or the illegal kind?"

Ankush had been more than delighted to find out about Orion's drug addiction. His eyes had sparkled with mirth as his oblivious father had told him why Orion would be staying with them. "Legal," Orion lied, turning away.

"What dignified business closes at two in the morning?"

"Bars do, and what dignified person stays up to pry till two in the morning?"

"Prying? There's a cokehead in my house, so his antics do become my business if I'm worried about its security."

"I'm not here to cause trouble. I told you the day I came here that I wouldn't bring my issues back here."

A week had passed since Orion's ugly parting with Culver. The good doctor had gone above and beyond to make him comfortable, giving him the remotest room in the house so he could sleep undisturbed, arranging for his favorite dishes so he could feel better even without drugs, even buying him a ticket to his favorite artist's concert. Unfortunately, taking care of Orion had also involved recruiting Ankush to police his actions, a job the young Indian carried out with belligerent sincerity.

"You'd better not," Ankush said, turning away with a scornful chuckle. "If you add my father to the wreckage you've created from others' hearts, I will ruin you so much you'll be reduced to begging in the streets."

"Don't make me out to be a monster."

"You are one." Ankush got up and began to walk away. "And by the way," he called, "you should hide that fresh bruise from Dad. He'll know."

Orion jumped and guiltily tugged at his shirt sleeve to hide the bruise created by today's drug injection. He felt pathetic. He'd been sober for barely twenty minutes, and the incessant drilling in his skull had already begun. His craving had become so bad now that he couldn't hear people speak because his brain was screaming for a high. Worst of all, Ezekiel's prediction had come true: he was now addicted to heroin, or more specifically, to the "speedball."

"Maybe I should've listened to Culver," Orion told himself as he traipsed up the stairs. As much as he hated to admit it, Culver had been good for him. It was much easier for him to manage his cravings around the Prince, in part because he was too busy being infuriated by Culver's eccentric behavior.

It struck him that while he was with Culver, the latter's selfish motives or bossy tendencies didn't bother him. It was only when the guy breached the topic of his addiction did all of that come rushing to him, filling him with self-righteous anger.

"Don't think about it," he said out loud, trying to distract himself by meticulously tucking the sheets around himself. Then he tried counting the number of rotations of the air conditioner's vent. After eighty-two rotations, he lost patience and tried to count his breaths. But the capacity to concentrate had been one of the first faculties to go when his addiction started, and before long he was staring at the ceiling, assaulted by that loathsome guilt that constantly ate him away.

The rising Sun found him stomping downstairs, any hopes of sleep long since abandoned. Dr. Deo was awake, sitting in a rocking chair placed by the French windows leading to the garden. He gave Orion a paternal smile upon seeing him and motioned for him to fetch himself some tea. "Draw a chair and give me company," he said when Orion had returned from the kitchen with a steaming mug. "Could you sleep?"

"Not today," Orion answered.

"Mmm. That impressive bedhead does say so." Dr. Deo laughed as Orion tried to flatten his wayward locks. "What's bothering you?"

Orion laughed grimly. "Where do I start?"

"Let's start with Culver. Why are you so harsh to him?"

Orion scowled. "Are you really not aware of his faults?"

"I am," the doctor admitted. "I am asking you what specifically makes you so vicious towards him. He has nerves of steel, but today you drove him to tears."

"I don't care. He admitted right to my face that he was helping me only for self-approbation. Then he told me he wanted me to quit only so he could believe my words, or something like that."

Dr. Deo sipped his tea contemplatively. "Listen, Orion, it isn't my place to tell you the details, but I can assure you, Culver isn't selfish. He's developed a bad habit of luring people in and then pushing them away."

"You don't say."

"Take it seriously, Orion. He gets lonely easily, so he'll enchant people he takes a liking to. But he's also convinced that people close to him get hurt, so he gets frightened when those people get too close and pushes them away."

"So you're saying he lied to me?"

"He manipulated you. If he liked manipulation as much as he's good at it, the world would be in serious trouble."

"That still doesn't make me like him."

"That isn't my intention. I'm telling you things as they are."

"But why does he need to manipulate me?" Orion tightened his hands around his mug. "Why get close to people in the first place if he thinks that will hurt them? He's not a child, doctor. Don't tell me it's because he's lonely."

"You...you're not from Mevinje, right?"

"No. I came here six years ago. I'm from Astor."

Dr. Deo chuckled darkly. "Well, how's that," he said. "Culver, he's...well, was...the darling of the family. No, the kingdom. He was adored, pampered, babied by everyone, myself included. He was this lovable, charming, magnetic little fellow who'd steal the heart of anyone he laid his eyes on. But political intrigue tore his family apart, leaving behind just him and his father. He stopped trusting people after that, but the precocious tyke realized he couldn't push the world away if he wanted any allies in his camp. So he started drawing people in and...sorting them into bins, in a sense. Allies and threats he kept close. Those who touched his heart he pushed away, not only to keep them safe, but also so they wouldn't become his weakness."

"And what about the feelings of the people involved?" Orion demanded angrily. "Like I said, selfish!"

"If he were that selfish, he wouldn't have risked his life to save yours," said Dr. Deo, his voice tinged with asperity.

"He said he helped me for his own self-approbation."

"And you believed him?" Dr. Deo snapped. "A selfish person would have let go the moment he started slipping on the ice with you!"

"He told you," Orion groaned, and fell silent. He'd been so busy demonizing Culver that he'd refused to consider the reasons behind the Prince's behavior. Suddenly seeing things in a new light, he began to replay every second he'd spent with Culver, realizing now that his words and actions had hardly been capricious.

"Give him a chance," the doctor said, more gently than before. "He has an excellent eye for people, and I'm very happy - and unsurprised - that he sees something in you. You're a good man, Orion, so help him. Besides, you can't deny that he's good for you too."

That he'd realized right after his first meeting with Culver, when he had managed to scrounge the willpower to reduce his drug intake. His bosses had been pleased, and now, three weeks later, he had almost made it through probation.

A fortnight passed. November faded to December. Snow began to stick, the flurries intensifying day by day, heralding the imminent blizzard that had the meteorologists in a tizzy. Proportional to the snow was Orion's guilt at his harshness towards Culver, but he couldn't summon the courage to apologize. The Prince never came by and forbade Dr. Deo from talking about him. Life had returned to its pre-Culver chaos, but Orion found that he didn't particularly like that.

Finally, Orion's regret and Ankush's harassment became too much to tolerate. The stress had prompted him to up his drug dosage, and his health was starting to deteriorate rapidly. So he screwed up the last vestiges of his courage, borrowed Dr. Deo's car and went up to the castle.

The guard on duty seemed to dislike him greatly, but rang up to the castle nonetheless. Culver seemed busy, but the butler, whom Orion had befriended during his last visit, allowed him in. After a warm greeting and a brief chat about the weather, the butler told him that Culver had gone down to the lake and hadn't returned.

"In this blizzard?" Orion ejaculated, surprised.

"I've sent a man to get him. They should have been back by now..."

Maybe it was superstition stemming from his guilty conscience, but Orion felt sickened by an intense foreboding. "I'll go down there and check," said he.

"Heavens, no! How can I allow a guest -"

"I've grown up practically buried in snow. Do you have snowshoes handy?"

The storm had rolled in with almost malicious violence. The shrieking wind blew snow into Orion's face, blinding him. The skates the butler had given him in case he needed to go into the ice rattled in their harness, the blades striking his thigh. The trees swayed drunkenly in the gale and the bitterly cold air seemed to be taking a bite out of his skin with every tortured howl. The powdery snow had already piled halfway up to his knees, and he began to work up an uncomfortable sweat as he broke a trail to the lake.

Sheltered by the surrounding trees, visibility was better at the lake's shores, but still the forms of two men farther out on the ice were barely visible. "Stupid, going so far out," Orion complained, sitting down on a large rock and working as fast as possible to switch his snowshoes with skates. He had barely finished lacing his shoes when a loud, horrifying crack shot through the air.

A split second of silence passed.

And then, rising with the wailing wind, came a bloodcurdling, petrified scream.