Damen slept little that night. It took a vast quantity of wine to get drunk enough to even feel dazed, much less sleepy, and the invisible wind tsked at him as he drained yet another cup. It was deep into the night before he found any sodden rest, and he woke fitfully far too early.

Yet he had an agreement to keep. Woodenly, he dressed amd crept down to the library, feeling like death warmed over from the rough night, Laurent's words impossible to block out. He'd contemplated simply sending the Prince a message and freeing him from the morning's engagement.

Damen, however, had decided that the only thing he could really fall back on was the preservation of his honor, regardless of how ruthlessly Laurent mocked him for it. And so he was there in the library in the early hours, having already eaten, an untouched tray of pastries and silver coffee service on the little table before the chair where he sat silently. Everything he'd known of Laurent thus far suggested the Prince would honor his word as well and come.