“Mother?” Sophian asked, showing very real concern. “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

“Aulaire has run into some… trouble,” Bergerette replied, casting a glance towards her husband. The dark man just scowled more deeply. Sophian’s mother continued. “We’ve fallen out of favor with the Malcion.”

Sophian jerked. The Malcion? The Colony’s crime ring? I knew it! the youth thought, almost triumphantly. I knew he had something to do with the Ring. But… why does this concern me? It’s not like Mother values me enough for me to be a useful hostage… It’s not like she cares.

Bergerette soon answered his unspoken wonderings. “You must stay close to home, Sophian, until this business blows over. The Malcion may try to kidnap one of us for hostages, and as you are… my son…” She said this as if it was something distasteful. “…you could be a target. And I don’t want to have to waste valuable manpower rescuing you. So don’t make yourself vulnerable.”

The silver-haired half elf sighed inwardly. He should have known. “Yes, Mother,” he said obediently, hoping he looked sufficiently meek. Not likely, were his private thoughts. I can protect myself just fine, and there’s no way in Hell I’m staying around here if I don’t have to. Bowing politely, he asked, “Is that all, madam?”

She waved him away dismissively. “Yes, yes. Leave us now. We have important things to discuss.” Concealing a derisive roll of his eyes, Sophian left, heading for the sanctuary of his bedroom.

Once there, he threw himself onto his bed, staring out the window towards the wall and the Colony beyond, allowing his mind to roam. So… The Malliux House has fallen out of favor. That’s no surprise, really. But what does it mean for me? Sophian picked up a soft bristled hairbrush and began running it through his mercurial hair, needing the pleasurable, mindless task to relax and clear his mind. Not much, he concluded. I’m no favored member of this household – that’s common knowledge – and even if they did try something, I could escape. Anyway, I need to wander… I need to find… him… His mind turned to different thoughts then, and drifted back to his dream. He blushed to the ears. Those dreams were so intense, like nothing he’d ever experienced before. But why? Why am I having them? I know for a fact I’ve never seen that man before in my life! Is he… just a fantasy? No. Sophian refused to entertain that doubt. No, he must be real. Must be! And that led him to another musing. Does he know about me? Does he dream about me? Somehow, Sophian doubted it, and that disappointed him more than he expected.

He dropped his brush onto the nightstand with a clatter and went to fetch his flute from its case on the dresser. His fingers ran reverently over the cool metal as he carefully took it from its velvet container and began fitting the pieces together. The one constant in his life. It had always been there for him, and it always would be. It could always comfort him. The youth found a perch on his windowsill and brought the instrument to his lips. A moment’s consideration, and then he began to play. The melody was lilting and beautiful, but at the same time wistful, almost sad, befitting the musician’s current mood.

It seemed like he played for hours before he finally lowered the flute to his lap. The sun was westering, and turning the entire sky a fiery mural of red, orange, and gold, fading to indigo near the eastern edge of things. Sophian leaned his head against the cool glass of the window, peaceful now, despite lingering thoughts of his dream lover. I’ll find you someday, he thought. I swear it.

Just then, the soft knocking of a servant come to bring him to dinner disturbed his bliss. Groaning inwardly, he got to his feet. “Coming, coming…” Swiftly dismantling his flute and stowing it back in its case, he ran a brush through his hair a few times before padding downstairs.