"Your Majesty… you bedded him again?" Delilah's voice was quiet, yet heavy with concern.
Heinz froze, his gaze snapping up to her. "Again?" His voice was low, confused. He had summoned her here because there was no one else he could trust with this—no one who could understand.
But the truth sat bitter in his chest. He had gotten drunk. He had slept with Florian. And in the blur between wine and skin, he had almost—almost—admitted to himself that he might love him.
Delilah's hands fidgeted at her sides, her composure visibly cracking. "Your Majesty, listen to me. This… this has happened before."
"What?" His brows drew together, his tone sharp. "I… do not understand, Delilah."
