Kors looked at them with contempt.
“I just wanted to make sure her face wasn't broken again. But now! Go both to hell! Do what you want!” He turned away, walking away from them to the table.
"Do you think I'll leave it to you like that?" Lis tried to get up, he was shaking, the blood was already flowing in a stream, pouring over his face and dripping onto the floor.
“Gods, we must call at least Verniy! Verniy! Verniy!” Began to call Karina, Lis looked at her so that she, catching his gaze, froze and hastily covered her head and face with a cape.
Lis, limping and crunching the fragments of the bottles with his boots, hobbled to the table, on the way he came across Arel, who was indifferently sitting near the chair of Nikto.
“Go away from here!” Lis snapped, but Arel didn’t move.
“Oh, you, another noble creature!” Lis growled and, from where the strength only came, grabbed Arel by the hair and poked his face on the floor, dunked it directly into the black puddle of the spilled dye. Arel clearly didn’t expect this, and Lis, not sparing his hand, dipped it in paint and roughly pushed Arel across the face. Arel tried to push him away with his hands, the skin on his face turned black, the dye hit his eyes, making him hiss in pain.
“What are you doing?!” Kors threw away the glass of wine, which he calmed down, and again rushed to Lis, pulling away from Arel:
“You’ll burn out his eyes, you idiot!”
“Nothing will happen to him,” snapped Lis, he looked at his now black hand and walked away.
Kors jumped to Arel, removing his hands from the black face, the whites of the prince’s eyes also turned black.
“Everything is correct, it serves him right!” Said Lis. “This is your true face, Kors! It smells of both of you so much that you will live forever with soot on your face! Noble blacks!”
“Your head is out of order, Alis! You are dangerous to society!”
“Get away from me and Karina!”
Verniy ran into the living room, he saw bloodied Lis and said with emotion:
“Sit on a chair, quickly, I'll take a look.”
Kors pulled Arel’s forearm:
“Let's go from here, prince, we have nothing to do among half-bloods and dregs.”
And Lis followed them with a long, hard look.
Chapter three
Kors brought Arel to his room and sat him on the bed. Arel was silent, he lowered his head and covered his stained face with his palms, on which there was paint as well. Kors felt his pain, the way the dye was now stinging in his eyes, like soap had gotten into them. These sensations were so vivid that tear began flowing from Kors’s eyes involuntarily. He was surprised that Arel didn’t twitch, didn’t rub his eyes and didn’t ask for anything. Kors rushed to his bag, where the first-aid kit lay, found an anesthetic and moistened several pieces of gauze with it, having previously cut it with a knife, making something like tampons. He put them to the prince’s eyes, gluing them on top with wide strips of black plaster, feeling how the pain in Arel's eyes passed, releasing him.
Kors gently ran his hands over his head.
“You will feel better now. The burning sensation will pass.”
Kors sat down on the edge of the bed next to Arel and hugged him, Arel didn’t move away. Kors stroked him, caressing and undressing him carefully. He wanted to kiss his prince, but the piercing prevented him, long spikes didn’t allow him to touch Arel’s face. Kors covered them with his palm, pressing the hated jewelry tightly to his chin, which made his lip curl down a little. So he touched Arel’s lip, in which the cork was sticking out.
