Wine and lilacs.

Larkin shifted underneath the seat, touched his fingers to the bandages wrapped around him. He began to dislike them very much. In the past, his wounds had always healed with unnatural speed. Even wounds such as these had showed signs of healing within hours, and when completely healed they left no scar. But this wound, he could feel the hole going straight through him. When they changed his bandages, there was no change in the flesh. The doctors were perplexed and had been visibly worried earlier. The wound bled, he fainted, and the wound stopped bleeding. Now it was bleeding again, but slowly, leaking through the bandages.

The door opened and the servant boy returned. Larkin eyed him from across the room. The boy was smiling, but when he looked up to find Larkin watching him, the smile disappeared from his face. Larkin curled his lip and turned over slowly, reaching over the table to pluck a piece of fruit from a vine. He leaned back against his pillow, and put it inside his mouth. Chewing, he then lifted his glass, signaling for more wine.

Larkin’s stare made the boy nervous but his smile had sparked the man’s curiosity. Smiling, what could anyone be smiling for? Especially his servant boy who had just escorted his new companion to her room. Why would he smile? But he had stopped the smile, satisfied briefly. The boy came to him in haste, reaching out to take the glass from Larkin.

Larkin pulled the glass out of his reach. Alarm showed in the boy’s face, and he looked at Larkin, and then quickly lowered his eyes. He took a step closer, arm still extended out for the glass, but Larkin pulled it again closer to himself. The servant’s Adam’s apple worked as he tried to swallow. His hand was shaking now but he had set his jaw as if he could hide his fear. He leaned, stretched his arm out and this time, the glass was not moved and he wrapped his fingers around the base. Yet, Larkin did not release it to him.

“Was that an insolent smile on your face?” he whispered, staring up at the boy, who leaned, stretched out over him to keep a grip on the wine glass.

Daniel shook his head desperately, “No, Your Highness.”

Larkin’s free hand came up from its rest on the bandages. There was blood on his palm, not much but enough for Daniel to feel it smear against his chin when Larkin took it in his fingers to turn his face. He lifted his eyes to look at The Shrike. The expression he saw there made his stomach twist with fear and then Larkin smiled and that was worse. That was bad, a not-so-good thing and he swallowed again, rapidly blinking his eyes.

“What were you smiling for?” Larkin demanded. His voice was deep, rumbling in a low tone, not the kind of voice anyone would expect from a mouth like his.

“N-nothing,” Daniel stammered.

“Oh, it was something.” The fingers on Daniel’s chin slid down to his throat and Larkin’s eyes left his face. They held his neck loosely, long fingers that nearly wrapped all the way around, but then he let go and his hand was in the boy’s hair, touching it. Larkin squinted his eyes, studying the boy closely. Something close to dissatisfaction crossed his features and finally, Daniel’s eyes squeezed tightly closed and his shakes uncontrollable, he let go of both the boy’s hair and the wine glass.

When Daniel spilled the wine trying to pour it, Larkin screamed and pushed over the table. The plates and glass and bottle shattered on the ground and the boy fled the room. Larkin moaned and turned over in his bed, facing away from the mess. He closed his eyes and his hands became fists. He envisioned hair that was softer than Daniel’s, skin darker than Daniel’s, a neck more slender, and a pair of eyes the color of lilacs.