Days later, the Festival of Twin Moons bathed Ardan in golden light and music. Lanterns shaped like crescent moons swayed gently in the evening breeze, scattering their glow across cobblestone streets alive with dancers, merchants, and children clutching sugar-dusted pastries. The palace itself glittered with ribbons of silver and deep crimson, its courtyards overflowing with laughter and song.
Inside the grand banquet hall, the royal family was gathered along an opulent, flower-adorned table. The Emperor and Queen Elendra sat at the head, their children and in-laws flanking them, each deep in cheerful conversation. Goblets of wine gleamed beside ornate platters piled with roasted meats and honeyed fruits.
Aurean was present, seated beside Kaedor, sharing in the light banter of the princes and princesses. His laughter mingled with theirs, but his gaze occasionally drifted across the table.
On the far end, Rythe's sharp eyes flicked toward the door just as Aurean entered. The faintest tightening of his jaw was the only sign of his reaction before he pushed his chair back and rose.
"Excuse me," he murmured, leaving his goblet half-full. But as he passed the drinks table, he snatched up another—stronger, darker.
He leaned casually against a marble pillar in the corridor, the wine glass cradled loosely in his fingers, watching the revelry from a distance.
From behind him came a smooth, almost feline voice.
"Leaving the party so soon, Commander?"
Rythe turned. Calien stood there, his lips curved in that calculated, sultry smile that always carried an undertone of mischief—or danger. Before Rythe could respond, Calien's fingers slid over the rim of his goblet, subtly tipping a fine powder into the drink with an elegance that made the motion invisible to an untrained eye.
Calien's hand lifted slightly, as though he might touch Rythe's arm—
—but Rythe suddenly pivoted, ignoring him entirely, and strode down the hall with a curt swig from his glass.
Back in the banquet hall, Aurean was mid-laugh at something Princess Rhalia had said when, from the corner of his eye, he caught Rythe leaving alone. Something in the man's unsteady gait made his pulse tighten.
He murmured an excuse to Kaedor and slipped away, weaving through the palace corridors in quiet pursuit.
Rythe didn't notice him. The commander moved like a man chasing shadows, drinking as he walked, his steps carrying him deeper into the quieter wings of the palace.
Aurean quickened his pace. "Rythe—"
Rythe froze mid-step, turning slowly toward him in front of a plain wooden door—the kind used for storage closets.
Before either could speak, two large men surged from the shadows, shoving them both hard. Aurean stumbled against Rythe as the door slammed shut behind them. The metallic click of a lock echoed in the dark.
The world shrank to the scent of wood, dust, and the faintly spiced tang of Rythe's wine.
The heavy thud of the lock echoed in the cramped, dark storage closet. Dust hung in the air, faintly illuminated by a sliver of light spilling through a crack in the wall.
Rythe didn't look at Aurean. His eyes fixed on the door, jaw tight. Without a word, he stepped forward and tried the handle—it didn't budge. He threw his shoulder against it, the wood groaning, but still it refused to give way.
Aurean shifted aside, wordless, giving him space.
Rythe tried again, harder this time, the veins in his neck standing out. But his breath came shorter with each attempt. Heat began coiling low in his body, crawling up his spine until it burned under his skin. Confused, he froze, chest rising and falling faster than before.
His gaze dropped to the goblet lying where it had rolled after they'd been shoved inside. Slowly, he picked it up, sniffing the rim. The heavy scent of wine masked anything else, but he knew—instantly—what had been done. A rueful, bitter smile curved his lips.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, undoing the first two buttons of his shirt. Sweat trickled down his temple.
He retreated to the farthest corner from Aurean and sank down, leaning his head back against the wall as if distance alone could keep him sane. But even from across the small space, Aurean could see the tremor in his hands, the shallow rise and fall of his chest.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
"Rythe…" Aurean's voice was quiet but edged with concern. "Have you been drugged?"
Rythe's head lifted just enough for their eyes to meet. The look lasted only a second before he turned away sharply.
"Don't worry," he said, voice rough. "I won't touch you. I know to you, I'm nothing less than a beast. The mere sight of me infuriates and disgusts you. Yes—" He drew in a ragged breath. "—I'm drugged. But I swear on my worthless life, I will never lay a finger on you. I won't even come close."
The air felt too dry, every breath scraping his lungs. His thoughts blurred; the urge to move closer to heat, to scent, clawed at him. He cursed under his breath. Without warning, he reached into his trousers and pulled out a small blade.
Aurean's eyes widened. "What are you—"
Rythe rolled up his sleeve with deliberate slowness, then slashed across his forearm in one clean, brutal motion. The pain cut through the haze like ice water, forcing a sharp hiss from his lips.
"Rythe!" Aurean lunged forward instinctively, but Rythe's glare stopped him cold.
Blood began to drip steadily to the floor, pooling beneath his hand. The red scent filled the cramped space. Aurean's chest tightened at the sight.
"Don't," Rythe said, voice low but steady now. "Your… boyfriend will come looking for you soon. He can follow his scent on you."
Footsteps echoed outside the door, and then Kaedor's voice rang out, urgent. "Aurean?"
Aurean couldn't find words. Still shaken, still staring at the blood.
"In here," Rythe called, his tone almost mocking.
The lock turned. Light flooded in as Kaedor appeared, taking in the scene. In an instant, he was at Aurean's side.
Rythe pushed himself to his feet, his bleeding arm cradled loosely against him. Without so much as a glance at either of them, he strode past, murmuring as he passed the threshold, "Told you he'd come for you. He's a hundred times a better man than me."
And then he was gone, leaving the faint metallic scent of blood in his wake.