“I am the father of his body!”
“Oh well…”
“Why are you discounting me, Arel? Yes, my family is not royal, but also ancient. My ancestors observed the purity of blood.”
“So you are also a black sheep in the flock?”
Kors bowed his head.
“It turns out that so… but… I can still marry a noble black, and unlike you, I can have children. Noble descendants. I am still able to continue my race!”
“Kors, do you have a drink?” Arel asked. “Give me some wine.”
Kors woke up, embracing Arel, he glanced at the clock, it showed at about nine in the morning, the pillar candles were ate glowing on massive racks, pouring wax onto the floor, the room was dark and stuffy. Since in the world of Nikto there was no space, sky, celestial bodies and, accordingly, there was no need for windows, Kors had to navigate in time exclusively by the clock. He felt a slight hangover, a pendulum, and all night through his sleep he heard that somewhere nearby, with an anguish, a dog howled loudly and protractedly.
Arel also stirred, his black face and protruding lip depressing Kors. He gently stroked his head, through his silky hair, and, laying on his back, carefully peeled off the strips of plaster from his eyes and removed the gauze swabs:
“You see?”
Arel blinked often, his eyes with black whites were watering, but the eye that was implanted into Arel from the unclean looked at Kors quite meaningfully, the second was still defocused and looked past.
“I see a little with the eye of the unclean,” said Arel.
“This is good, I'm sure in a couple of days you will see with your own eye, and the dye will start to come off.”
Arel’s black eyes looked creepy, and at the same time there was something beautiful about it. They reminded Kors of the Demon’s true face, his bottomless black eyes. Kors again hugged his prince, whom he loved, but could never protect from bullying, only from time to time picking up more and more broken and disfigured Arel after others and playing with him after all. Arel responded to the hug, he was young and strong. Kors felt it:
“I want you,” he whispered, “take me. I will do whatever you want.”
And Arel readily crushed him under him, leaning against him.
“No, wait,” exclaimed Kors, dodging, “I can't do that, let me put a mask on you. Your spoiled face bothers me now. I cannot obey a disfigured slave.”