When Anryn could bear the shame no more, he called the guard of the prison. "Hsst. Good man—I am Anryniel of Mahaut, Prince of Ammar, and I wish to return to my rooms at the dormitory."

　　 "Oh, really?" said the guard. He did not glance up from the parchment he scribbled at on the desk by the door. He`d scribbled on the same page for hours while Anryn paced and Maertyn slept.

　　The prince drew himself up, and made his voice sharp.

　　"I am Anryniel of Mahaut," he repeated, enunciating each syllable so that not a single one slurred. "In my father, King Anathas`s name, I command you release me."

　　The guard looked up at the Lightning King`s name. He squinted at Anryn. Beside him, on the desk was Anryn`s sword. The prince pointed at it. "My father`s sigil is there, on the hilt. If you hand it to me, you`ll find that the grip fits me perfectly. And if you go to the Professors` Tower and find Haley Lawson, he will vouch for my identity."

　　"Like I`m handing a drunk a sword," the guard snorted.

　　"I`m not a girl—I mean, I`m not a drunk," Anryn snarled. He felt his cheeks grow hot. "Just& go to little lord Gruffydd`s apartments. He`ll tell you. He`ll even pay you silver when you bring him here and he knows that it`s me."

　　At the mention of silver, the guard perked up. The University was forever short of funds. Anryn guessed from the lone guard posted to watch the prison for the night that there was not much money to pay the men who kept the town safe.

　　Why did I think coming back to school was safer than going home? Anryn thought to himself. He glanced at where Maertyn snored on the stone bench in their shared cell. What madness possessed me to try and outdrink this peasant?

　　The guard scribbled at his paper a little longer, then slowly got up from the table, buckled Anryn`s sword around his hips and shuffled out. Alone and anxious, Anryn went to sit beside Maertyn, shoving him a little to squeeze himself onto the bench. Passed out though the man was, Anryn still felt a little safer beside Maertyn than he did standing alone in the middle of the prison cell with no sword.

　　Outside the little window, the sounds of the evening died down. Anryn could hear the sounds of gravel crunching underfoot fading, laughter from students and teachers receding as everyone went indoors to get out of the cold. Night blanketed the town and all was quiet as students, professors, and those who served both went to study or to sleep.

　　After a quarter hour, the guard returned with Gruffydd the Younger in tow. For all Anryn`s brooding at their last meeting on the snowy hill outside Dorland, he sighed with relief when he saw Griff. This was the son of his father`s most trusted lord. No matter how badly they fought, Griff was bound by honor and duty both to help the son of his king.

　　"Ryn—thank God you`re alive!" Griff stood outside the cell, clutching Anryn`s sword. He was dressed for dinner, a green velvet cloak thrown over a long tailed dinner jacket, starched collar poking out of the lapels. Griff threw an angry look at the guard sulking behind him. "Don`t just stand there, twit, release his majesty!"

　　Griff could be terrible in his anger. His manners were perfect, his looks charming—but it could vanish in an instant when the red flush crept up his neck.

　　The guard fumbled with a heavy keyring. Anryn got up from the bench and hurried out. The prince glanced back at Maertyn stretched out on the bench, but Griff looped an arm around the prince`s shoulders. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

　　"Quickly. Before someone sees&" Griff said. He hustled Anryn from the watchtower.

　　Outside in the street, the frozen night air stabbed Anryn`s cheeks, and a fat moon lit the gray streets. All the torches were extinguished for the night, and only a few windows glowed with candles in the sil. Griff and Anryn were alone on the street. The prince took a deep breath, willing the cold to wash the taste of liquor and shame from his throat. The prince coughed when he thought he tasted smoke in the air.

　　"Where were you?" Griff demanded. "Were you off sulking somewhere until I`d notice you missing? Professor Lawson bawled me out this afternoon when you weren`t at class."

　　"I was not sulking," Anryn flared. He shook off Griff`s arm and took back his sword belt. Buckling it around his hips made him stand up straighter. He lifted his chin and looked at his friend, locking eyes. "How dare you yell at me? You left me! Dorland is your father`s land and you left me to& to&"

　　"To what? Murder a peasant?" Griff stood up straight and put his hands on his hips. He wore no sword—as Lord Gryffud`s son, he believed he didn`t have to. His reputation was weapon enough. "You could have refused the summons, Ryn. You didn`t have to go back down there to that witch trial."

　　"My father would call me a coward." The prince shook his head to clear it. Images of the witch burning stung the black behind his eyelids. Anryn glared at the ground, refusing to shut his eyes lest he see the poor man weeping at the stake. "It was awful. There was an assassin. I was& I barely escaped with my life. And the wind, the wind& Oh, Griff. I thought God Himself reached out of heaven to kill me."

　　"Ryn& listen to me. I have something very, very serious to ask you." Griff reached to cup Anryn`s face between his palms. "Are you drunk right now?"

　　As he spoke, one corner of his mouth turned up. Anryn wanted to slap that smirk off this face. The prince clutched the hilt of his sword and pulled away from Griff, furious and embarrassed.

　　"Of course not," the prince snarled. "You think I`m making this up? Enough—I`m tired. Let`s go to Professor Lawson, he`ll know what to do&"

　　"Wait, Ryn!" Griff called. He caught up to Anryn with only a few jogging steps. "Calm down. It`s the middle of the night, for God`s sake. And I was only half-serious& The guard said you were arrested for drunkeness, I had to be sure you weren`t raving& What is this about assassins?"

　　Anryn shook him off. He knew that trusting Griff with this was a mistake. By morning, half the University would be buzzing with gossip about the Prince of Ammar making a scene in public& I pulled my pants down—what was I thinking?!

　　"Never mind," Anryn snarled. "Just& come with me to my rooms. You`ll stay with me tonight and watch the door."

　　Griff said nothing, but Anryn could feel the other boy stiffen. The son of Ammar`s richest lord made it a point to only answer to his father—and the King. Anryn`s commands ranked a distant third, at best.

　　Gritting his teeth, Anryn forced his voice to soften, and he repeated the command as a request: "Stay in my room tonight. Please."

　　"You really are scared," Griff said. After a moment, he put a hand on Anryn`s shoulder as if they were children again. "Alright. I`ll stay tonight. But in the morning, we have to get back around to wedding chores—we`ll need to skip classes to get the last bit of fitting done& And I need your help on a revision. Professor Lawson flunked me on the midterm."

　　The prince let himself be led back to his rooms. He had four all to himself in a wing of the dormitory. They were dark and cold when the two made their way inside, but the bed had been turned down, and all of Anryn`s books and papers were where he`d left them.

　　The familiar sights calmed him, and Anryn felt safe enough to put away his sword. The prince called for blankets and pulled on a clean linen shirt. Griff piled up pillows on a pallet at the foot of the prince`s bed. Anryn kept the curtains of the canopy open, making sure that he could see Griff laying there at the foot of his bed. The son of the greatest lord faithfully guarding the son of the King. Only then did Anryn sink beneath the covers and drop off to sleep.

　　In his dreams, the prince stood on the scaffold again, with the knife sticking out of his back. Only now the witch tied to the stake was Maertyn.