It was the week before the Assembly when Jurao received an unexpected guest.

“Juju!” Princelin Imena, the only other one of Ergirri’s children to adopt Morvvan’s nickname for him, burst into Jurao’s office after breakfast, “I want to be one of your valets, too!”

“That’s fine,” Jurao said, since he, Feyl, and Forvi had anticipated this.

“Mena,” Forvi heaved a sigh on his sibling’s heels, “You need to knock before entering the King’s office – it’s not Dad anymore.”

“But Juju doesn’t mind,” Imena scoffed, jumping up to sit on the edge of the King’s desk, “Do you?”

Jurao hummed as he considered, “I do not.”

Imena grinned, looking back to Forvi, “See?”

The princelin had inherited faer father’s frame – being a little under six feet tall with limbs shorter than most demons even in relation to faer height. Fae had also inherited Ergirri’s bright red skin but was an arcane demon like faer zanis, Lordis Vallen. Imena, like Morvvan, shared Vallen’s coily white hair as well – but had inherited faer grandmother Worgae’s black banded markings. Imena’s one golden and one gray eyes shone with excitement as faer tail swished under faer legs.

Forvi sighed but smiled, “No use trying to fight it, I suppose. I’m more surprised Dad and Zaza didn’t come with you.”

“Ergi and Vemest decided to get married after all,” Imena shrugged, “So they stayed behind for the wedding – Klone, too.”

“I’ll have to send my congratulations,” Jurao said.

He’d known Prince Ergi, the youngest of his predecessor’s children, had been courting the Petty Prince of Gaevoyga for most of the last century – he’d met the Petty Prince after his successful siege of the city. It was where Lordis Vallen hailed from, which was why Ergirri, his spouse, and most of their children had decided to visit after Jurao’s Ascension. Morvvan was courting a Petty Princess of Mesgaesculs – one of Hujur’s sisters – so had chosen to move there permanently after a much briefer visit to Gaevoyga.

“Are you really courting a human, though?” Imena asked, leaning back, “How’d a human even get here for you to court?”

By the time Jurao recounted Braelin’s arrival, it was time for the midday meal – which he invited Imena to join them at, as fae seemed eager to meet Braelin. Today was another picnic, and Jurao noticed a few other groups had laid out blankets for picnicking in the Pond Garden as well when they arrived.

“Oh, it’s Imena,” Feyl observed, looking around, “Just Imena?”

Imena scoffed good-naturedly, “Am I not enough?”

Forvi rolled his eyes, taking a seat next to Feyl and patting his lap, “You know what he meant.”

Feyl accepted the invitation, shifting to sit in the prince’s lap as he added, “I just assumed your father and zanis would be with you.”

“Prince Ergi and Petty Prince Vemest are getting wed,” Jurao replied, sitting next to his partner and taking stock of their party today.

Ayelma and Malson were on another ride with the cavalry, but it seemed someone else – likely Feyl – had invited Gaele. Meir’ril and Exkla were plying Acolyte Sculos about earth magic as fos looked on. Apparently, his affinity for it had prompted his family to take him to the Temple in the first place. The young man seemed equally uncomfortable and flattered – and perhaps annoyed for some reason. Nevve and Milli sat with Owren, Beneford, and Milve – the five deep in a discussion of Ascension strategies.

Petal and Rascal were playing with the four waste hounds – though Snip left playing to come rest her head in Jurao’s lap, panting.

Jurao pet her behind the ears, “Braelin, this is Princelin Imena – Imena, my partner, Braelin.”

“Nice to meet you,” Braelin said.

“I’m going to be Juju’s third valet,” Imena declared, proudly sticking out faer chest, hands on faer hips.

“Ah, as you all expected,” Braelin chuckled.

Imena hummed, “I feel like there’s something I’m forgetting…”

“Really?” Forvi asked.

“Yeah,” Imena sighed, massaging faer temples, “There was something I meant to mention, but I don’t remember what it was.”

“I have an idea,” Vajur said dryly from behind Jurao.

The King turned and saw his spymaster escorting two elves.

“Oh,” Braelin got to his feet, “Huo’a, Loge, you got my letter.”

Imena snapped faer fingers, “That’s right – weird elven botanist, that’s what I was forgetting.”

Before more could be said, one of the two elves rushed forward and pulled Braelin into a fierce hug.

Braelin staggered back a step, clearly off guard. He hesitantly reached up, then stopped and asked, “Did you… want me to hug you back?”

“Please do not,” the man said, voice heavy.

“Alright,” Braelin said, letting his hands fall to his sides.

The second elf chuckled, walking over to rub his partner’s back, “We were worried when we heard the news of the usurpation.”

“I can tell,” Braelin chuckled, “Really, I’m touched you were worried enough to hug me, Huo’a.”

The first man pulled back, wiping at his eyes, “Well, you know, it’s not every day your friend comes back from the possible dead!”

Braelin nodded, eyes a bit watery as he turned, “Thank you, Vajur.”

The spymaster waved with a noncommittal noise, heading back toward the castle.

Braelin nodded as he turned again, “Would you like to join us?”

“Yes, thank you,” Loge – Isholog, if Jurao’s memory served him – replied, still rubbing Huo’a’s back.

Braelin led the short way back, saying, “May I introduce Botanist Huo’a Uetsua and his husband, Spell Knight Isholog Uetsua.”

Isholog chuckled, “Pleasure to meet you all – I’d ask you to excuse my husband for being emotional, but I feel no one here would care much.”

“Hello,” Huo’a sniffled, leaning his head on his husband’s shoulder.

Isholog stood at nearly eight feet tall, with pale skin and long, straight black hair pulled into a large bun on top of his head, a simple bone pin through the center. His monolid eyes were onyx in color, and both stripes and small spots framed his face and neck at a slightly darker skin tone than his own. His cat-like tail was fluffy with golden-brown fur, covered in spots with a few thin bands towards the tip. His beard and mustache were worn long and neatly combed.

Huo’a stood a head shorter, with tan skin and brown-black hair cut in a distinctive style – the crown of his head being shaved, while a portion in front had been left to grow along with two looped braids under his ears. He, too, had a pattern of both stripes and spots framing his face and neck in a darker tone to his skin color. His tail was gray, wide with dense fur, and had thin black bands and a black cap. Huo’a had a thin mustache, a small beard just under his chin, and hazel, monolid eyes.

“Huo’a, Loge, hello,” Meir’ril greeted, “Glad you seem to be doing well.”

“Look how big you’ve gotten in such a short time,” Isholog snorted, “Must be the human influence – and is that an arcanum?”

As he asked, Jurao noticed the older elven man also wore a sizable stone – though his was a multicolored blue stone affixed to a gorget that would match the lamellar armor favored by petal elves across their various kingdoms. Huo’a, too, wore a likely arcanum – his a red stone set on a wide bone necklace with hanging beads.

Meir’ril nodded, brushing his fingers around the edge of the central stone, “It was a gift from Udhai.”

“Oh, so you’re disaffinited? Lucky you,” Isholog said, stroking his husband’s head comfortingly, “I can teach you what I know if you like – I’m sure Huo’a would be happy to as well.”

“I’d love to!” Meir’ril perked up, then cleared his throat, “Um, I mean, thank you, Sir Uetsua.”

“This is Jurao, the Demon King,” Braelin introduced, then smiled, “And my romantic partner.”

“You really have one, huh,” Isholog snorted – then stepped away from husband to bow, “Your highness.”

“No need,” Jurao said but smiled, “In this informal setting, friends of my partner can be casual.”

“That’s right!” Huo’a declared, suddenly out of his morose mood, “Braelin, are you really the Royal Gardener!?”

“I am,” Braelin replied, taking a seat and waving to the space next to him, “Yheor is here too – she’s my Department’s liaison to the castle Kitchens.”

“Yheor!” Huo’a promptly sat, “Wonderful woman! I have missed our chats, you know? Oh, Loge only agreed to come out here to distract me after we heard, I think, my caring husband! I was distraught, thinking my friends might have perished under such ghastly circumstances! Ah, but, let me tell you about my findings-”

“It was odd he was so quiet,” Meir’ril chuckled as Huo’a dove into his topic, “Though not as weird as the hug…”

“Does he not like being touched,” Jurao asked.

“No, not at all – I’m an exception,” Isholog said with a smile as he sat next to his husband, “And where are your other siblings, Meir’ril? Braelin mentioned Malson and Aya were here in his letter.”

“They’re on a ride,” Meir’ril replied, “It’s almost like old times, saying that.”

“Love, breathe,” Isholog said, tapping his husband’s shoulder.

Huo’a did, indeed, pause to take a deep breath.

“I’d love to hear more about your findings after the meal,” Braelin chuckled, “Then we can get my notes and compare.”

Milve hesitated, then asked, “Would you mind if I joined you?”

“That’s fine with me,” Braelin said, “Huo’a, Milve is a priest of the demon plant goddess, Iescula.”

“A Senior Priest,” Sculos huffed.

“Apologies,” Braelin said, “A Senior Priest. Sculos is an Acolyte of the same.”

“Oh?” Huo’a smiled benignly, looking between them, “I don’t think anyone actually mentioned a plant goddess before. I feel like someone must have, since there is one, but perhaps I just forgot. Loge, did anyone tell us about a demon plant goddess?”

“They did not,” Isholog replied.

“No?” Huo’a hummed, “Odd, very odd…”

“Most people think of her more as the Goddess of Sieges,” Milli chuckled, “So it’s not so odd, really.”

“Braelin is her Beloved,” Milve said, giving Sculos a pointed look.

The young man grumbled, looking away.

“Beloved? Oh, you carry her favor!?” Huo’a grinned, “So you have protection from the plants? Can you command them? Or better, converse?”

“Yes to the first,” Braelin chuckled, “Though… I would say it’s less protection and more that demon plants are inclined to give me a chance before attacking. As for the other two, Jurao can command plants due to being Demon King, and I can only converse with demon plants as much as I could with any other.”

“Unfortunate,” Huo’a sighed, “But I did bring plenty of samples from the Great Western Plains! Oh, I cannot wait to compare notes with another plant enthusiast again!”

“There’s actually a garden of hybrid elven-demon plants,” Braelin said.

Huo’a gasped, “How wonderful! Hybrids are such incredible creations!”

Jurao chuckled, loosely wrapping an arm around his partner’s waist as he turned from the involved conversation about plants to join Imena, Forvi, and Feyl as the two current valets caught the newest arrival up on the state of the court.