The Duke’s hand rose again, and this time, it didn’t fall. His fingers hovered over Julian’s jaw, the roughness from the callouses catching on the non-existent hair of his cheek.

The touch was agonizingly slow, a caress that felt like a brand, and Julian gulped.

He tried to stay still, but how could he, when the Duke was doing such tormenting movements?

"You’re trembling," Alaric whispered. His thumb slowly found Julian’s lower lip and traced it agonizingly slow, a gesture so intimate it made Julian’s breath hitch in his throat once again.

What did the Duke think he was doing? Was he planning to expose himself and let Julian know that he felt something... or rather, did something?

Julian wasn’t ready to hear any of it, so before his composure crashed completely, he stilled himself and said,

"Leave,"

The word was jagged, rough, and felt like a dozen glass shards sprinkled on top. It cut through the Duke’s haze, making his hand freeze in place.

Duke Alaric’s brow furrowed, a flicker of hurt crossing his face before it was buried under a dark, stubborn scowl.

"Why are you avoiding me, Julian?" He asked, and Julian let out a sharp, breathless laugh.

It sounded ridiculous... especially coming from the one who was doing the avoiding the most.

Julian stepped back, finally breaking the contact, his eyes flashing with a light intensity.

"Avoiding you, Your Grace? You were the one who wouldn’t even meet my eyes at the Pavilion! You sat there like a man made of lead while the Emperor teased me. You let him talk about thieves and crimes, associating them with me in metaphors, while you stared at your plate until you felt he had gone too far. You were the one who avoided me first."

Alaric winced as if he’d been struck. He opened his mouth to refute, but the pride of the Duke fought with the guilt of the man.

"I was protecting you! If I had shown interest, Aurelian would have suspected—"

"Suspected what?" Julian snapped, his voice rising. "That you have a heart that thinks for his own people? Or that you’re terrified of your own brother?"

Julian did not dare associate any of this with personal feelings, feeling he would be pushing the Duke into uttering words that the night was not prepared to hear.

The Duke went rigid, his eyes turning cold. He looked like he wanted to roar, but he didn’t. Instead, he walked to the edge of the large bed and sat down. He began to pull off his heavy boots, dropping them with two dull thuds.

Julian watched him, confused.

"What... what are you doing?" He asked, his voice trembling with disbelief.

"I’m staying here," Alaric said, his blue eyes fixing on Julian with a terrifying intensity.

"Why are you staying here?" Julian asked, the disbelief spreading across his face as if the Duke had just announced he would be intruding in his life forever.

"Who knows? Maybe a thief will come in the middle of the night to steal you away. I intend to be here if they do."

It was a ridiculous, transparent lie. But the Duke didn’t care. He was marking his territory.

Julian couldn’t believe this. The Duke was being so ridiculous. He already knew, at this point, he couldn’t win.

He was exhausted, his mental state was suffering, and he had a child to think of.

He took one more long look of disbelief at the Duke, who had lain on one side of the bed, and then let out a frustrated huff.

Why was the Duke after his peace?

He brushed his hand over his face and took one more distressed look at the nonchalant Duke lying like a saint on his bed.

"Your Grace, are you really not leaving?" He asked, but the Duke did not give him a listening ear anymore.

Then, he finally resigned himself and sighed, climbed into the bed, pressing his back against the very edge of the frame.

Lucius lay in the center—a small, breathing bridge that separated the two men.

Julian lay like a stiff statue on the oversized bed, staring at the dark ceiling, listening to Alaric’s heavy and steady breathing on the other side. He was thinking about how he ended up in such an awkward situation again.

The Duke was coming onto him too strongly, and he was losing valid reasons to push him away.

He waited until he was sure the Duke was asleep, but couldn’t be sure, so he turned his head and saw the Duke’s muscles relax.

His breath slowed into the steady hum of deep sleep, and Julian stared.

He stared at the Duke for a while, watching his face, watching the way his muscles corded tightly in his shirt as he lay there with his arms folded.

Why was this man infatuated with him? He wondered. What was so special about him that the Duke was losing his mind?

He stared at the affection level for a few seconds and then closed his eyes.

It was definitely the system’s manipulation, because he found no reason for the Duke, who was once in love with a woman, mourning his wife until recently, would suddenly fall for him.

After a while, Julian sat up.

For one thing, he asked, glad he had made the potion before the Duke came in.

He could sleep without worrying about his madness manifesting in the middle of the night and startling him awake.

He pulled the vial out of his inventory. The liquid shimmered, reflecting the last of the embers from the magic fireplace.

Then, without wasting any more time, he downed it in a single go. It tasted like snow and peppermint. Then, a cold-fire raced through his veins.

’It’s hot,’ he thought, touching his belly where the potion had settled. ’And cold?’

It was like the combination of two contrasting elements, finding rest in one space.

So, what would he do from here? How would he know if the potion was working properly?

He didn’t have to think for long as his eyelids immediately grew heavy, and he fell back on the bed, his head hitting the pillow. The potion was already taking effect.

And just like that, Julian fell into a sleep so deep it felt like death.

The next thing he knew as he opened his eyes, was the morning sun peeking into his room through the balcony.

He squinted and slowly sat up, feeling a strange, powerful clarity. He felt refreshed.

So this was what it meant to finally have a good night’s sleep after months.

He felt full, so much that he already forgot the Duke had slept in the same room as him, but when he turned his head, the Duke was gone, and so was Lucius, leaving only the lingering scent of his perfume.

Julian gulped and then looked forward. He had a strange, nagging feeling about the Duke’s early absence. He left without a word.

’I hope nothing happened while I slept.’