Though Frey was well-behaved for the first part of the ride, Asbel had no awareness of the prince beyond the steadiness of the young man that served as his anchor to the dragon. Asbel could, of course, have used the saddle, but a human body seemed more reliable than any amalgamation of leather and metal, and even Frey, most likely, wouldn't be so unwise as to hurl himself down to the ground far, far below.

Cassius dipped, and Asbel closed his eyes against the wind. He should have thought to tie his hair back: he could feel the gale tearing through it, surely tangling it beyond repair, and (vain though it was) he prayed he would be able to tame it before anyone noticed--

A yelp cut through the roar of the wind and a sudden weight slammed into Asbel's chest. As instinctive as any other person in his position, the phoenix wrapped his arms around the prince's waist to hold him steady. He caught the prince's gaze, momentarily as surprised by the accident as by his own reaction to it. And at Frey's unguarded expression, the phoenix suddenly felt as embarrassed as the prince. Two things struck him at once:

First, that there was more to Frey than he had first thought. The prince was shocked -- sheepish -- utterly [i]human[/i]. Somewhere behind the hatred and the directionless rage, Frey was a human being.

Second, that this was a side of the prince he was not supposed to see. Gingerly, as if the prince were made of glass, Asbel slid his grasp away from Frey's waist and eased him back into his own seat on the saddle. "Are you alright?" he asked, almost too softly to be heard over the wind, and preparing already for what would surely be the prince's rude reply.