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leave, the poor prince’s tears drying on the back of his hand. Pity, the boy was obedience personified and a sweet hole to take. Still, he’d been watching the lad and how Rall lorded over the harem and knew it was time. Always cut them loose before they attempt to overthrow you. A good rule of thumb.
    He wandered back through his halls, heading toward his private rooms. The bar’cha danced idly about him, amusing him as they were distracted by this and that, He had ordered Wintras to ready him a bath and to prepare to bathe him.
    It would be most fun—finding this strong boy’s breaking point, and a time limit too?
    Delicious.
    He found his rooms, the edges of his cloaks frosty, the masses of bar’cha dancing, performing for him. “Is my bath ready, prince?”
    Eyes on the ground, voice even and dull, Wintras replied. “It is, Zujan.”
    “Oh, excellent. Come undress me then. I am eager.” He held out his arms, spun.
    “You want me to undress you as if you were a child?”
    He stopped, arched an eyebrow. “I do not believe I asked for your questions, prince.”
    Wintras shrugged and came to him, fingers clumsy and untutored as they fumbled with his clothing. Zujan watched the bar’cha, the little buttons of light curious, watching Wintras, moving closer. Odd. They never seemed so curious about the others. One got too close, and Wintras batted it away with a tut. He blinked as the faery disappeared, simply popping out of existence with a shower of sparks. “What did you just do?”
    “I’m undressing you.”
    Zujan frowned. The bar’cha must have been ill-made. Broken. Something. “Well, be a bit more enthusiastic.”
    Wintras actually looked at him then smiled rather wickedly and ripped Zujan’s clothes down the middle.
    Zujan shrugged the remnants of his clothes off, careful to keep his face still. With a thought, he burned the seams of Wintras’ tunic, the cloth falling to the ground, smoldering, leaving the boy naked.
    “You, my sweet prince, have lost your clothing privileges. Congratulations. Now. Bath?”
    Wintras offered him a stunned look. “Are you blind? It’s right there.”
    “That is your second question of the evening, Wintras. Must I remind you that you agreed to obey, to submit?” He gave the prince his coldest stare. “I kept my word. You will keep yours.”
    “I have obeyed you!” Wintras stared right back at him.
    “You have not submitted.” Beautiful boy.
    Wintras glared a moment longer and then turned and went on all fours. “There.”
    He arched an eyebrow. “What are you about, pet?”
    Wintras popped up, growling at him. “Submit, obey, no questions, undress me, do it faster, you did it wrong, obey, submit! I thought you wanted me on my knees in front of you! Make up your mind, Zujan!”
    The bar’cha spun, appearing out of nowhere, the air going icy. “I ordered you to undress and bathe me. I have done as you asked, I have released Rall. You will keep your word.” The fury felt good, rich, icy.
    “I am trying!” Wintras batted at the bar’cha that came too close to him.
    “You are not trying hard enough!”
    Wintras stopped, took a breath, and relaxed, looking past Zujan’s shoulder. “I agreed to obey and submit to you for a moon. I am doing that.”
    “Then bathe me.” Stubborn boy.
    “Am I supposed to carry you to the tub?”
    He actually chuckled, shaking his head, amused. “No. I can manage that part.”
    Zujan moved to the tub, sliding in, moaning at the heat. Wintras trailed him slowly and took hold of the soap and a cloth. The washing that began was perfunctory, rough.
    “Stop.” he held up an arm, the pale skin rubbed red. “I have fragile skin.”
    Wintras snorted and stepped back. Zujan rolled his eyes, tugging the bell. He had given up Rall for this?
    The sweet little thing who usually bathed Zujan appeared, rubbing his eyes, blinking. “Yes, Master?”
    “Help me with my bath.”
    Wintras moved back into the shadows as Sami’s soapy