Dawn at the palace smelled of iron and wet stone; the aftermath of the hunt had left a grit on the stairs and on the hems of cloaks. Courtiers moved with the cautious optimism of people who counted victories in small things — tidied tents, fewer men lost, a treaty that held. Felix descended into the great hall with papers still pressed into his palm; the liaison's work waited like a patient animal.
Footman (bowing):
"Your Grace, the king awaits your report in the solar."
Felix (folding the papers, steady):
"Very well. Tell the king I am brief and exact today."
Adrian was already there, seated at a side table with a cup of steaming broth. A bandage still hugged one side of his ribs, but his grin was intact — the sort of grin that made danger look like sport.
Adrian (waving):
"There you are! Come, tell me how the pines treated you. Did you find the boar's nerves intact?"
Felix (dry):
"We found what we needed. The boar's nerves were in poor taste."
Asher hovered with a tray, eyes quick to check if Felix's sleeve was straight and if Adrian's hand trembled. He was still a little more gaunt than before the battle, but the tenderness in his face had become sharper, like wood polished by care.
Asher (soft):
"Adrian slept well last night. The surgeon says rest is the main cure."
Adrian (smug):
"And my nurse is the most charming of them all."
Felix allowed a small, private smile to touch his lips. There was a warmth in seeing two people knit back together; it steadied something in him.
The king received Felix with his usual grave politeness. The solar was a study of maps and ledgers; light landed on the long table like the ranking of priorities.
King (motioning to a seat, measured):
"Lord Felix. You have the crown's ear now. Speak of Damaris."
Felix (settling, clear):
"Lady Damaris offers trade corridors and a binding contract with inspections. The terms include seasonal levies and a tribunal in the capital for disputes. I recommend we accept with conditions—timelines for repairs and a clause allowing us to withdraw trade privileges if they undermine the routes."
Old Minister (interrupting, fingers steepled):
"Withdrawal is a severe measure. It could force the house into partisanship."
Felix (direct):
"Severe measures are precisely why they will not be needed. Clear consequences keep promises."
The king looked at Hyunjin, who sat just behind Felix like a dark witness.
King (to Hyunjin):
"You placed Lord Felix as liaison. Do you stand behind his terms?"
Hyunjin (slow nod):
"I do. He has been precise and pragmatic."
Lord Harven, who had made a career out of making polite dissent look like patriotism, chose that moment to lean in with a smile like a weather vane.
Lord Harven (smooth):
"Precision is admirable, yet we must consider that a man's heart can be swayed by charm, and charm can wear a crown easily."
Felix's eyes flicked to Hyunjin. The prince's hand rested on his knee under the table for a heartbeat — a small, private reinforcement that the room did not see.
Felix (calm):
"Charm does not bind roads. We have contracts; we have oversight. If you fear charm, fear also the lack of supply wagons. A hungry kingdom has fewer courtiers."
Laughter moved like relief through the room. The king tapped his fingers, satisfied by form and function both.
King (decisive):
"Very well. Lord Felix, you will proceed with the seal of the crown. Hyunjin will provide an escort. Take what you need."
Felix inclined his head. It was an appointment wrapped in the veil of honor and in the chain of duty.
Outside the solar, gossip had already parasitized the air. Lady Seraphine fluttered up like a bright, dangerous moth.
Lady Seraphine (sotto, conspiratorial):
"Felix, darling, the court adores a liaison with a heart. Will you write back to us? Us poor mortals must have something to chew."
Felix (dry):
"I will write when there is news worth sugar."
Lady Seraphine (feigning disappointment):
"Ah, no cherries then. How dull."
Adrian smirked. "Ignore her—she thrives on drama and dresses it as charity." He then looked at Felix with a steadier face. "When you leave, keep your head down and your letters frequent. Asher will ensure the courier routes."
Asher's blush deepened. "I'll see to it."
Hyunjin arrived at Felix's rooms later that day with a cloak and a small leather satchel arranged for travel. His face was unreadable for a moment, as if the prince were a closed book with a single loose page.
Hyunjin (simple):
"We leave at dusk. I will ride with a small guard to the border of Damaris, then return. You go on."
Felix (taking the satchel):
"I expected less pomp for a liaison."
Hyunjin (the corner of a smile):
"Pomp is not always needed. Presence is."
Felix's fingers brushed Hyunjin's across the satchel. It was brief but charged, the same current that had bound them these past weeks.
Felix (soft):
"Be careful."
Hyunjin (gravely):
"You too."
They left the palace by candlelight. The road to Damaris smelled of wood smoke and the pressure of night. Felix rode with the prince for the first leg; Hyunjin's cloak brushed his arm, a continual small insistence that comfort and caution could sit together.
At the halfway inn, while the retinue rested, Felix and Hyunjin walked away from the flicker and the rustle into a small courtyard where the moon made statues of their shadows.
Hyunjin (gently):
"You'll be gone some weeks."
Felix (a genuine, small sigh):
"I'll return."
Hyunjin (staring):
"You say that easily."
Felix (meeting his gaze):
"I say it because I mean it. There are reasons I am not ready to be an ornament."
Hyunjin took a slow step closer and cupped Felix's face with a rough hand. The contact was rougher than any silk; it was real.
Hyunjin (low):
"Bring me back news that makes me think the world is salvageable."
They kissed then — soft, quick, a private punctuation. It was the sort of kiss that meant more for the fatherland of heart than for any scandal. Felix left the inn with a steady gait, his responsibility like a cloak.
The road to Damaris unfolded into a pale dawn; the house itself rose like a claim in the lowlands — mills turning, fields well-ordered, a lady who met them with the same iron-eye the ministers had suggested.
Lady Damaris (courteous, a blade of politeness):
"Lord Felix, you travel quickly. The mills need oversight, and the king's seal is not a trifle."
Felix (bowing, businesslike):
"Trust is not trifle either. I will be precise. We will meet your agents, review the tolls, and set a timetable for repairs."
They worked for days: meetings over steaming cups, inspection of bridges with planks splintering, nights by the forge where Felix learned the rhythm of local life. In private, Hyunjin watched him negotiate like a man turning the world with a well-placed lever. Felix's voice was measured and sure; he had learned, in these weeks, the way words could be both soft and iron-lined.
Local Steward (to Felix, sincere):
"You speak plainly, Lord Felix. We appreciate a man who does not dress the truth."
Felix (soft):
"The truth makes better bargains."
Late one evening, while guests sang by the hearth, Felix stepped outside to the millpond where moonlight made the water a lit silk. Hyunjin followed, cloak wrapped tight against the chill.
Hyunjin (quiet):
"You are different here. Not softer—cleaner."
Felix (watching his reflection):
"I am practical. The frontier makes one practical."
Hyunjin (closing the distance, a small laugh):
"And I am glad it shows. I like seeing the part of you that is not court-craft."
Felix turned and found the prince all at once less like a commander and more like a man who kept his own night watch. Hyunjin's hands rested on Felix's hips; the touch was casual only on the surface.
Felix (softly):
"Stay with me tonight."
Hyunjin's look was an intake of wind.
Hyunjin:
"You ask as if I have a choice."
Felix (straight):
"I want you here."
They made a small room in a steward's guest chamber. The night was close and honeyed; the two of them moved with the intimacy of people who had been learning each other for months. The kisses were not hurried: they were conversation, a continuation of the day's negotiations in a different language. Hyunjin's hands memorized for the hundredth time the curves of Felix's back; Felix answered in the press of his palms and the tilt of his head.
Later, lying in the dim, Hyunjin's voice came like a small, thorned promise.
Hyunjin (soft):
"When this ends, I will have to return to duties that do not allow moonlit rooms."
Felix (turning toward him):
"Then we will make the moonlit hours count."
The next morning they returned to the capital with signatures on paper and a goodwill that smelled like bread and iron. Felix rode up the palace steps to a chorus of whispered commentary and Lady Seraphine's bright face beaming with some new imagined detail.
Lady Seraphine (peeling off her smile):
"How did the border treat you, dear? Did the mills give you gifts?"
Felix (short):
"We have an agreement. The mills will repair the eastern bridge by harvest. And they send ready grain."
Lady Seraphine (feigning envy):
"How efficient."
Hyunjin's hand found Felix's under the table in the great hall, a quiet anchor. Adrian caught Felix's eye and raised his cup in a private salute.
Adrian (murmuring):
"You did well. Sound and proud."
Felix (quiet gratitude):
"Thank you. For everything."
Adrian's smile was simple and edged with protectiveness. Asher, beside him, reached out to touch Felix's sleeve — a small gesture that was louder than speech.
In council that evening, the terms were read. The king praised their work. Rensworth's frown said he had not yet figured how to profit. Harven's lips were thin, and Lady Seraphine's notes were fanned and ready for gossip.
Afterward, in the quiet of the gallery, Hyunjin took Felix's hand in both of his.
Hyunjin (low, private):
"You begin bonds, and I begin to understand why chains can be gentle."
Felix (meeting his gaze):
"Chains can also be comfort if you choose your smith well."
Hyunjin laughed, the sound a brief, rare light.
Hyunjin:
"Then let us be careful smiths."
They stood like that for a long moment—two men whose lives were woven more tightly now than by paper or crown, by choice and watchfulness. Around them, the palace flowed on with warnings and whispers. Between them, an easy confidence began to unfurl: the beginning of bonds that could be chosen, not merely imposed.
Adrian joined them, Asher at his side. The four men looked like a small, improbable fortress.
Adrian (raising his cup):
"To practical bargains and to friends who return."
Asher (soft):
"And to nights that remind us there is more than duty."
Felix lifted his cup, feeling the warmth of drink and of belonging. He was an envoy now, bound in duty, but also a man who had chosen to answer a name and be answered back. The beginning of bonds was messy and honest; it smelled of forge-heat and of bread. It was not the gilded promise one read in poems — it was quieter and therefore more dangerous.
Felix (quiet, to Hyunjin):
"Let's make sure our bonds do not chain what we cannot afford to lose."
Hyunjin (a slow nod):
"And let's make sure what we keep is worth breaking for."
They drank, and the hall listened. Outside, the world turned with the same small cruelties and mercies. Inside, the men had begun to stitch themselves together with words, with touch, with the slow loyalty that starts in the softest places — a hand under a table, a letter folded at dusk, a promise whispered by a millpond.
The chapter of duty had another page to write. But for the first time, Felix realized he would not be writing it alone.