"Careful, Lord Cherion. If you don’t close your mouth soon, you’re going to start drooling all over the stone floor."

Cherion blinked hard and finally snapped out of whatever trance he’d been stuck in, quickly trying to wipe the obvious warmth off his face as he glanced toward Reiner. He was lounging against one of the massive marble pillars surrounding the Valtrane estate’s private training grounds, looking way too entertained for this early in the morning.

Cherion rested his arms against the balcony railing and let out a dramatic sigh, not even bothering to argue. Because honestly? He couldn’t even deny it.

Watching Zarius train was genuinely unfair.

Out on the dirt field, the Duke moved with a smooth, lethal kind of precision that looked completely different from the rigid, textbook forms the regular soldiers used. Normally, Zarius would spend the early morning supervising the drills first, standing at the edge of the field like some terrifying final boss while the knights suffered through their routines. But after dismissing the troops, he always stayed behind to continue training himself.

Even here in the capital.

Even though they were currently staying in the bustling capital, Zarius remained incredibly strict about the training. Never skipped a day. Cherion supposed it was a good habit to have. In a world where political backstabbing was practically a sport and unexpected dangers could crawl out of the dark at any moment, a sharp sword was the only real guarantee of safety.

Trying not to grin too obviously at Reiner’s teasing, Cherion looked back toward the field just in time to see Zarius shift his footing. His massive broadsword sliced through the cold morning air with a sharp, vicious whistle before crashing down toward Elios.

Opposite him, Elios blocked just in the nick of time, the harsh clang of steel echoing loudly off the stone walls of the estate. Elios scrambled backward to reset his stance, his chest heaving under his light leather armor, while Zarius barely looked like he had broken a sweat.

Watching that broad shoulder shift into another defensive stance, Cherion’s smile softened into something a bit more private. His mind drifted back to the absolute chaos of last night. The moment the door to their room closed, the terrifying Duke of the North had instantly devolved into a grumpy, brooding mess.

Zarius had spent hours pacing the room, fiercely muttering profanities under his breath about the sheer audacity of Crown Prince Gillian daring to touch Cherion, let alone kiss the back of his hand in front of everyone.

It had been hilarious, but the real comedy had started when Zarius practically dragged Cherion over to the washbasin. He had personally washed Cherion’s hand with every single luxury soap available in the estate, scrubbing with a fierce, meticulous intensity as if trying to chemically erase the very memory of the Solaric prince’s touch. Once satisfied that Cherion’s skin smelled exclusively of northern pine and expensive oils, Zarius had placed a soft, lingering kiss right over the knuckles, the perfect cherry on top.

"You should say that to yourself, Reiner," Ezek said flatly, snapping Cherion back to the present.

Cherion turned just in time to see Ezek standing there with his arms crossed, staring at Reiner with heavy judgment. "You’ve been staring at Elios like you’re one emotional breakdown away from diving into his arms and asking him to carry you home."

"I am simply amazed by his swordsmanship!"

Ezek gave him the driest look imaginable. "I can do that movement too. Better, actually."

Reiner just rumbled a low, dismissive sound in the back of his throat, turning his face away.

Out on the field, the heavy ringing of metal finally came to a sudden halt. Zarius executed a flawless disarm, sending Elios’s training blade spinning cleanly into the dirt. Elios bent over, hands on his knees, panting heavily as he waved a hand in a universal gesture of surrender.

"Practice concluded," Zarius announced, sliding his sword back into its sheath.

Seeing that the session was over, Cherion immediately grabbed a clean, folded white towel from the nearby bench and walked down the stone steps onto the dirt field. He approached Zarius with a bright, proud smile, handing the cloth over. "Great job out there. You looked incredible."

Zarius’s sharp, intimidating expression melted the second his eyes landed on Cherion. He took the towel, using it to wipe the light sheen of sweat from his forehead, his gaze softening into something remarkably warm. "Incredible enough to keep your eyes glued to me the entire time?"

Cherion chuckled shyly, a faint dust of pink creeping onto his cheeks as he ducked his head to avoid the intensity of the Duke’s gaze.

A few paces behind them, Reiner had walked up to hand a towel to a thoroughly exhausted Elios. However, before Elios could even reach out to take it, Ezek suddenly swooped in from nowhere. Ezek snatched the cloth right out of Reiner’s fingers and shoved it into Elios’s hands himself.

Cherion shook his head at the display, turning his attention back to Zarius. He headed inside to the bathhouse to wash up, and a short while later, Cherion accompanied him into the dressing room to help him prepare for the long day ahead.

As Cherion reached up to carefully adjust the stiff, formal high collar of Zarius’s dark northern doublet, he looked into the Duke’s eyes. "When do you think you’ll be back home today?"

Zarius looked down at him, his expression entirely serious. "Definitely not tomorrow."

Cherion paused, his hands freezing on the fabric as he let out a dramatic, exaggerated pout. He stared at Zarius, trying to decipher the completely blank look on the man’s face. "Is that a joke, or are you actually warning me that I’m going to be left alone in this massive house for the next twenty-four hours?"

Zarius didn’t answer, but the tiny, barely perceptible twitch at the corner of his lips gave him away. Cherion let out a soft huff, lightly swatting his chest before smoothing down the front of the expensive material.

In reality, Cherion knew exactly why Zarius was bound to be trapped at the palace for the entire day. Today marked the official start of the high-level treaty negotiations between the Auzelian and the Solaric. Zarius had mentioned a few days ago that a formal talk was scheduled, but the original itinerary had been completely wrecked.

Because their recent subjugation expedition had ended much earlier than anticipated, and with rumors swirling about the delicate state of the Solaric King’s health, the Solaric party was suddenly pushing to move things along as fast as humanly possible.

When hearing that, Cherion kinda blaming himslef a bit because he think he take one or two responsibilities?

Once the heavy layers of the formal outfit were perfectly aligned, Cherion stepped back to inspect his work. He hadn’t forgotten the final, crucial step. Reaching for a small, specialized cosmetic container on the vanity, Cherion carefully applied a faint, dusted layer of light powder across Zarius’s sharp cheekbones and jawline, blending it seamlessly until the Duke looked just a fraction paler than usual.

"There," Cherion murmured, stepping back with a satisfied nod. "Remember, don’t look too healthy in front of those people. The moment you walk into that room, you are the exhausted, heavily burdened Duke who is sacrificing his health for the stability of the realm. Act the part."

Zarius let out a low, deeply amused huff, though he didn’t protest the strategy. "Understood."

A few minutes later, the small group gathered in the front courtyard to send the delegation off. Elios and Flio were already mounted on horseback, dressed in full ceremonial armor, prepared to act as Zarius’s official vanguard for the palace meeting. Standing near the grand carriage were Cherion, Ezek, Reiner, and Marielle.

Marielle stood with her arms crossed, her sharp eyes scanning the polished exterior of the carriage before she looked up at Zarius. "Are you absolutely certain you don’t need more protection with you, Brother?"

"It’s fine, Marielle. I need you here to look after the estate. Take care of our home." Zarius replied smoothly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As Zarius turned to step toward the carriage door, Cherion took a step forward, throwing his hands into the air with an energetic, bright grin. "Go get them!"

The sudden, loud burst of enthusiasm caught the surrounding knights off guard, but a genuine, incredibly rare smile broke across Zarius’s face. He paused beside the carriage door and looked back at Cherion with open affection before finally stepping inside. A moment later, the carriage rolled forward through the iron gates with Elios and Flio escorting it out of the estate grounds.

Cherion watched until it disappeared beyond the trees before letting out a long sigh. "Well, there he goes. Let’s get inside."

Reiner, Ezek, and Marielle turned to follow him back toward the grand estate doors. They had barely stepped inside when the loud pounding of hooves and clattering metal came from the driveway behind them.

Reiner stopped in his tracks, his brow furrowing in deep confusion as he turned his head back toward the entrance. "Wait... why are they turning around so quickly? Did the they forget something?"

Cherion and Marielle spun around to look at the iron gates. A grand, heavily decorated carriage was rolling rapidly through the entrance, its polished wood gleaming brilliantly under the morning sun. But as the vehicle drew closer, the confusion in the courtyard instantly hardened into icy, suffocating dread.

The carriage wasn’t theirs.