Grigori watched as the page cleaned the floor, his face intent on his goal of a not a shard ofcrockery left on the floor. The page finished, nodded to Grigori andturned to leave when a brisk tap came at the door. The pagelooked puzzled for a moment before taking out his key and opening the service door.

Mal stood on the other side, his face intense and one hand at his sword. He stepped into the room, brushing the page aside and asked Grigori, his voice thick and rasping, "Where's Seraphim?"

Grigori answered briskly, "In the bath, my lord." Mal nodded and walked towards the bath, and Grigori noticed that his posture was rigid and he was highly tense. Grigori didn't hesitate to distract Mal, "He'll be out soon ­ do you wish to eat something? Drink something?"

Mal stopped and turned, then looked intently at Grigori's face, his eyes narrowing as if he were sizing up an opponent. Finally, after a couple of moments Mal nodded, walked over to the couch and asked, "Do you have some tea? Or coffee? That would be preferable."

Grigori nodded, went directly to his kitchenette and prepared some hot water for apple tea, hoping that it calmed Mal down from whatever had gotten him so angry.

While Mal sat silently there, Grigori secretly gave him small glances. The kettle sang that the water was ready, and Grigori poured two generous cups of apple tea while staring out at the small garden that his kitchenette window opened to. He thought that the rose hips would have to be harvested soon if the Palace wanted to use it as an aphrodisiac, because the red fruit were going to fall off the bush soon.

He turned, carrying both cups of the fragrant tea on a small wooden tray, then offered one to Mal. Mal took it gratefully and drank deeply, and Grigori asked, "So what brings you here, my lord?"

Mal took a deep breath and said, "I'm just checking on Seraphim. The Prince of Dawn released me only now, and he told me something that I am verifying is not true." Suddenly Mal looked mildly sheepish. "Actually, I can't believe it. It's not something that Seraphim would do. I hate even suspecting him, so I have to ask. Otherwise I won't be able to live with myself."

Mal took another deep sip of the tea and then looked up, past Grigori's shoulder. "Hey, SeraÖcan we talk?"

Seraphim stood at the doorway of the bedroom, his blond hair sopping wet and dripping all over the floor. Seraphim's eyes were enormous with fear, and he nodded blankly, biting his bottom lip hard enough for there to be a slight bit of blood pooling on it.

Mal's face suddenly blanched, and he stood. "It's true, then? You never could lie to me, Seraphim. Or hide things."

Seraphim crossed the room and looked at the floor, whispering, "I'm very sorry. I don't know how you know, but I'm so sorry."

Mal's voice was dangerously teetering on the edge of explosion as he hissed quietly, "The Prince of Dawn said something stupid about his Key melding minds with you. He told me."

There was silence in the room, and Grigori could only watch as tears built in Seraphim's eyes, and Mal stood with his arms at his sides and his jaw clenched. Grigori recognized the warning signs in Mal's body language that the man was going to lose control soon, and was about to do something when Seraphim turned his head, took a deep breath and tried to explain himself. "There was no excuse for what I did, Mal. I don't claim an excuse. I ask for your forgiveness."

Mal interrupted, and his voice was swift and clipped, "Don't." Seraphim looked up and swallowed, then opened his mouth. Mal continued, not allowing Seraphim to speak. "Don't try your scholarly tongue with this illiterate, thick-headed guard. Save it for someone who can understand."

Suddenly Mal yelled, turned and punched blindly. His fist landed squarely on one of the toys on the mantle, destroying the wooden doll. There was silence as Mal left.

Grigori picked up the remains of his toy as Seraphim apologized over and over. Grigori shook his head, dismissing Seraphim's apology with a mere, "It wasn't your fault, Master Seraphim."

"Then why do I feel like it's my fault?" Seraphim's question was soft, and when Grigori turned, the smaller man was trembling. "I'm sorry that Mal lost his temper and broke one of your toys. I know how hard you work on them."

"I already said it wasn't your fault." Grigori's statement was clear. "It was just a toy."Seraphim nodded, and finally spoke up. "I didn't mean to sleep with you last night. I didn't know what I was doing, tell you the truth. IÖI just acted."

Grigori nodded and added, "It wasn't your fault that you bonded with Ariel."

Seraphim sighed. "I don't even know what happened. Do you?"

Grigori shook his head and replied, "I don't. His trainer would know. Asam."

Seraphim cocked his head and thought about it. "I can't lose anymore research time, especially if Mal isn't going to help me pay for the rest of the month. I can't let this get to me. No matter how muchÖ" Seraphim paused, took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "No matter how much it hurts me that he won't forgive me."

Grigori nodded, and Seraphim stood. "Come with me to see Asam, if you'd like. I'm going to speak to him about Ariel."

Seraphim escorted Grigori through the halls until they finally reached the Trainer's wing of the Palace, and Asam's office. Seraphim knocked once, and Asam opened the door wearing his black leather outfit. He looked a little frazzled, and when Seraphim looked past him he saw a couple of other Trainers, each in black leather, puzzling over a series of papers. 

Seraphim asked, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

Asam shook his head, the frazzled look quickly gone from his face. "Please, come in." He nodded politely to Grigori who returned the bow. The Trainers quickly set down the papers and stood politely, bowing to Seraphim.

Seraphim returned the bow with a nod and sat in one of the chairs. In the meantime, Grigori made himself comfortable in the large crows nest chair that sat in one corner, paying rapt attention as Seraphim began asking questions.

"Can you tell me about the Leviathan Key?"

The three Trainers looked at each other nervously before Asam asked, "What do you want to know, Master Seraphim?"

"Who is he? What is he? Where did he come from?" Seraphim's questions came quickly.

Asam took a deep breath and began, "Ariel is very unique. He was brought here by his father, the Lord Baron Satsur Ledrayn when he was five. He had, at the time, an older brother of seventeen, and a younger sister of two but his mother had died in childbirth. His father sold him to the Palace because he was a child with special abilitiesÖand for other reasons." Asam paused, took another deep breath and continued. "We were given very specific instructions on how to train him, and given an extremely high amount of money to do so. We were to train him to be a damaged Key, so that he would only appeal to a certain kind of customer. He was to be trained to find pleasure in pain but to also find humiliation in it. He was to be trained to accept the slightest acts of kindness with an extreme amount of gratitude. He was to be trained in all forms of pleasure.

"We did these things, but we didn't know that he had the ability to meld minds. The first time we found out, it was unsettling. I was the only one willing to continue training him. The rest of the Trainers were afraid of sharing his dreams.

"We broke him with privation. We would abandon him in a completely dark room, tied to a bed. Every day someone would feed him and allow him use of a chamber pot before he was re-tied. Soon he didn't want to talk to anyone. We told him that he had done something wrong, and that he had to prove how good he was."

Seraphim kept writing, his fingers trembling. Asam didn't stop talking. "We started with small things. We would ask him to perform small tasks, and reward him sparingly. It was difficult, because his virginity would buy a higher price. We had to be cautious when we trained him in pleasure. But we did it.

"He was bought by the Prince of Dawn the moment he became available." Asam finished, and Seraphim looked up and nodded. There was silence in the room, and Seraphim asked, "Is that common? To train a Key specifically?"

Asam shook his head. "We have a wide variety of Keys here. But I do not like to have broken ones ­ they require far too much attention."

Seraphim nodded, then continued, "Why did you name him the Leviathan Key?"

"Because he fell from so high, to so low, and went mad in the process. Like the sea-serpent, when it defied Ekks." Asam answered swiftly.

Seraphim finally asked, "Do you regret what you did?"

"Yes."

As Seraphim bound the additional page into his notebook thatnight, he turned to Grigori. "EkksÖthat's the trickster god, right? I've never been very religious ­ but he's the one that the Prince of Night prays to every moonrise, right?"

Grigori came out of the kitchenette with dinner and nodded. "Ekks is the trickster, the one who took the Sun-lady from Kempt and hid her behind the moon, thinking that he wouldn't find out. But she shone so brightly that everyone could see her, and when Kempt saw, he flew into a rage and that night he killed Ekks, staining the moon with his blood. Ekks came back, though, and while Kempt was sleeping he took Kempt's war-sword, and held it hostage until Kempt agreed that the night belonged rightfully to Ekks." Seraphim grinned and recited the rest of the legend, "Kempt wanted to keep as much of the day he could though, so he asked the Sun-Lady to rise earlier and set later. But she only did it for half a year before Kempt sent a cicada to sing her to sleep early. Then the nights became longer, and longer."

Grigori nodded. "And it continues. The cicada dies in the spring, when it gets too hot and the Sun-Lady stays out late. But when the new cicadas come in the fall, Ekks sends one to sing her to sleep."

Seraphim cocked his head and asked, "So the Prince of Night worships him, right?"

Grigori nodded. "Every night, he prays for Ekks not to incite the temper of Kempt. But Ekks can only hear the voice of a thief and a trickster, so the Prince of Night always comes from the lowest class ­ from the street pickpockets."

Seraphim remembered, "And the Prince of Dawn always comes from nobility, otherwise Kempt is insulted. And the Prince of Day worshipsÖ"

"The Hooded God." Grigori muttered softly. "The Hooded God who comes at all hours to steal away life. He prays for him to remain within the coils of his mistress, the Nameless Lady. The Prince of Day always comes from the working people, as they are the most common inhabitants of the land, so they invariably die the most." Grigori sighed. "I always loved the stories when I was small."

Seraphim nodded, taking a deep breath and swallowing. "So did Mal. He taught them all to me; my parents were never very religious." Seraphim rubbed his eyes as if he were tired, and his breath hitched a bit.

Grigori raised one eyebrow, and Seraphim looked up. "I'm going out for a bit. I have to meet with someone ­ if he's still in the Palace. Could you keep the food warm for me, Grigori?"

Grigori nodded and watched as Seraphim opened and closed the door, locking him securely inside.

Seraphim stood in front of the Jeweled Key's ornate door. The young page who stood by the door stared at him, waiting for him to do something.

Finally Seraphim took a deep breath, held it and knocked on the door twice. He continued to hold it until it became painful, and as he let it out, the heavy door opened just a bit, then more. Seraphim found himself looking directly into a pair of bright green eyes that blinked inquisitively for a couple of moments before the boy they belonged to called, "Master, it's some funny ink-stained blond! Should I slam the door on his nose?"

Seraphim blinked, and suddenly he saw that the boy was slightly taller than him, built a little bigger and a bit more masculine. He had a crop of flaming red curls that fell to just past his ears, and a light dusting of freckles over his nose. At his ears he wore rubies that curved up their sides, and thick golden bracelets inlaid with sapphires.

Seraphim heard a laugh and the Prince of Night's voice call, "Let the poor boy in, Oberon."

Oberon opened the door a bit more, allowing just enough space for Seraphim to squeeze through before he shut the heavy door. Oberon then bolted back to the couch and pounced on the Prince of Night, who was sitting and relaxing on it.

Seraphim glanced around the room, noting its primary features. It was very open and colorful, the walls covered in silk and damask tapestries. Two large couches were the main feature, both done in vibrant colors, and curtains hung from the high vaulted ceiling. Even with a glace, Seraphim could tell that the domed ceiling was glass ­ and probably high quality expensive glass. There was an archway that led to what was obviously a bathroom, and another which led to an opulent bedroom.

Seraphim turned his full attention to the man on the couch and bowed deeply. The Prince of Night smiled and said, "No formalities, please. I am here just as another man, to relax. Why don't you sit?"

Seraphim smiled and walked over to the couch that the Prince of Night was not occupying, only to freeze when he saw the man who was sitting there.

The Prince of Dawn turned his now-odd eyes on Seraphim and smiled, showing his teeth. The Prince of Dawn had changed his eye
color to match his hair ­ one was clear, with a broad ring of black circling the iris and the other pitch-black, so it appeared to have
no pupil. Seraphim noted the Prince's carefully filed teeth, and immediately fell into a bow.

The Prince of Night snorted and said, "Celandine, this is my friend, Seraphim Eres. He's a court scholar, if you'll recall."The Prince of Dawn nodded and purred, "I do recall. He's had a great deal of presence here for the time that I have been here." Seraphim was left puzzling that sentence out, still in a bow. Oberon voiced his disgust by saying, "Master, he's very, very strange. Why is he still bowing? You told him to sit, didn't you?"

Seraphim sat quickly, perched precariously on the edge of the couch as he looked at the Prince of Dawn. He had his Key snuggled under one arm and was smiling broadly Seraphim started the conversation with a question, "May I ask you some questions, you highness?"

The Prince of Night was automatically engaged. "Is it for your research? I would love to participate!"

Seraphim blundered through the lie, "UhÖyes. I wanted to talk to a Master, to know about themÖso that I could give a good way to compare the lives of the Masters and the Keys."

The Prince of Night smiled and nodded. Seraphim tried to ignore the fact that the Prince of Dawn was still sitting nearby. He began with a very general question, "So, where were you born?"

The Prince of Night hesitated for a moment, then answered, "I was born in a small town far from here. A monastery town."

"And your name is Bastian, right?"

"Bastian Satsurre."

"And you're the Prince of Night, correct? So you were on the streets?"

The Prince of Night nodded, and said, "I had to leave home abruptly. I came to the capital penniless. I was twenty-three when the former Prince of Night announced that he would sequester himself after fifty years of rule, and wanted someone to succeed him. I got lucky."

Seraphim bit his lower lip and asked, "What drew you to the Jeweled Key?"

Oberon beamed up at his Master and snuggled closer as the Prince smiled and responded, "His voracious appetite."

The response drew a laugh from the Prince of Dawn, and Seraphim turned to ask, "What's so funny?"

The Prince of Dawn shook his head and stood. "You'll have to excuse me, Bastian, but I believe that this visit is over."

The Prince of Night seemed amused as he scolded, "Celandine Ledrayn, you haven't even finished you tea!" 

Seraphim didn't hear the Prince of Dawn's reply. He just turned and stared at the man who, like his own Key, had the last name of Ledrayn.

Suddenly the last piece of the puzzle snapped into place. Ariel had not been trained as a gift, like he had originally thought, but as a prizeÖa prize for an older brother.