Elias woke to unfamiliar weight.
'Ugh'
For a few seconds, he didn't move. He lay still on his back, staring at the ceiling.
He somehow felt calmer than he'd felt since resuming. In the calmness of it all, he listened.
Footsteps in the hall. A door slamming somewhere below. The distant chime of the bell tower marking the hour.
Then he became aware of the fabric against his skin.
Cool.
Too smooth.
Too light.
Elias inhaled sharply and sat up.
The shirt clung to him like a second skin, catching the dim morning light.
His hands trembled as he dragged his fingers down the front of it, half expecting the illusion to break.
It didn't.
The memory hit him all at once—Cassian standing over him, the heat of his presence, the way his hands had been steady even as his voice wasn't. The weight of the prince's gaze as Elias dressed under it.
This changes nothing.
Elias swallowed.
So it hadn't been a dream.
He didn't have time to dwell on it. A rhythmic thud echoed from his door.
"Eli. Open up."
'Mina. Shit.'
Elias scrambled out of bed, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of the new shirt. He threw his old, stained gardener's cloak over his shoulders, pulling it tight to hide the shimmering charcoal fabric beneath.
He slid the bolt back.
Mina didn't wait for an invitation. She pushed past him, her face a mask of controlled fury. She was carrying a tray with two cups of bitter-root tea. A tea made with her mother's recipe.
"You're late. Again." she said.
"I overslept."
"I can see that." She turned to him, her eyes narrowing as they landed on his collar. The shirt underneath was peaking out.
Mina stepped forward. She didn't say a word. She just reached out and hooked a finger under the edge of his cloak, pulling it back just enough to see the dark green fabric and the silver threading at the wrists.
The silence in the room stretched.
Mina's jaw tightened.
She let go of the cloak as if it had burned her. She didn't ask where it came from or how much it cost.
'Oh no.'
She just turned around and started straightening the books on his desk with violent, jerky movements.
"Good." she said flatly. "You're dressed."
"We have ten minutes." she said, her back to him. "Drink your tea. Or don't. I don't care."
"Mina—"
"I said I don't care, Elias." She finally looked at him, her pink eyes shimmering with hurt. "Just remember what I told you in the market. People don't survive standing between them. And right now? You're not just standing there. You're inviting them in. To own you. What do want to get from all this? I know it's not money."
She almost sobbed.
"Why are you doing this?"
A pause.
"You know what? Don't tell me. I don't even think I want to know."
She marched out of the room, the door clicking shut with finality.
Elias changed his clothes and hurried out after her.
He caught up with her at the hallway before the one that led to their class.
They didn't speak at first.
The halls were filled with students, voices low but buzzing in that way they got when something had happened and no one quite knew the shape of it yet.
By the time they reached the stairwell, whispers were already trailing behind them.
'Heard it was a royal carriage that brought them back but it wasn't Prince Zayne's.'
'Was it Prince Cassian's?'
'A gardener, of all people…'
'Second Prince, they say…'
Elias kept his eyes forward.
Mina didn't.
Her jaw tightened with every murmured word. She waited until they were outside, crossing the dew-damp courtyard, before she spoke again.
"You know." she said, not looking at him, "Three different people asked me this morning if I'd 'always been close to royalty.'"
Elias exhaled slowly. "It wasn't my idea."
Students streamed past them, pretending very badly not to stare.
Mina turned then. Her pink eyes dropped to his collar. Her gaze lingered for half a second too long.
"You are changing Eli." she said quietly.
Elias felt his pulse jump.
"I'm not."
"You are." she replied. "Not visibly. But I can tell."
She didn't raise her voice. She just looked at him.
"You're being marked," she said. "By both of them."
"I didn't ask for it."
"I know." Her hands clenched at her sides. "That's what scares me."
She turned and started walking again.
Elias followed, guilt sitting heavy in his chest.
They reached the classroom just as the bell rang.
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The guard returned empty-handed.
Zayne listened without interruption, fingers steepled beneath his chin.
"You're certain?" he asked mildly.
"Yes, Your Highness. We searched thoroughly. No silver hairpin was found among his belongings."
"And the brooch?"
The guard hesitated. "It was on the floor. As if… discarded."
Zayne's smile didn't falter.
"How careless of him," he said. "Or… deliberate."
The guard shifted, uneasy. "Should we retrieve it?"
"No." Zayne rose smoothly from his chair.
"Leave it where it is."
He adjusted his outfit, eyes gleaming.
"After all," he continued softly, "if my brother thinks he's won something, it would be rude to contradict him so soon."
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The last stabilization session before the Gala took place in the greenhouse because the royal wing was busy with preparations.
That's where the main ballroom was located.
The Ivy was acting up again.
Elias felt it the moment he stepped inside—the air was charged, buzzing faintly beneath his skin. The vines coiled tighter than usual, gold pulsing beneath his skin.
Cassian was already there.
He stood with his back to Elias, coat discarded, sleeves rolled to the elbow. He looked tired.
Like he'd been holding himself together by sheer force alone.
Neither of them spoke at first.
Elias crossed the room and set his books down carefully. When he straightened, Cassian had turned.
Their eyes met.
Something unspoken passed between them—recognition, tension, the echo of last night hanging heavy in the space between their bodies.
"You hid it." Cassian said.
Elias didn't pretend not to understand. "Yes."
A pause.
"Good."
Cassian rolled up his sleeves. "Begin."
Elias stepped closer, rolling up his sleeves too. He let his magic flow slowly, carefully, the way Cassian liked—controlled and precise.
The Ivy responded almost immediately, the violent tremor in its veins easing.
Cassian watched him from the corner of his eye.
"You didn't wear it." he said.
"No."
Another pause.
"I didn't ask you not to."
"But you tore it off my clothes."
Cassian exhaled through his nose, something like relief softening his shoulders.
They worked in silence for several minutes.
The Ivy calmed. The air lightened.
Then Cassian spoke again, quieter.
"He noticed you weren't wearing the brooch."
Elias's hands stilled for a fraction of a second. "I assumed he would."
"He sent someone to look for it."
Elias didn't look up. "Did they find it?"
"Yes but he also didn't the hairpin he was told you bought."
Cassian turned fully now, stepping closer. "You're playing a dangerous game."
Elias met his gaze. "So are you."
For a moment, Cassian looked like he might argue.
Instead, he reached up and removed his gloves.
Gold light pulsed brighter beneath his skin, then—slowly—settled.
The Ivy stilled completely.
Elias felt it then. The shift. Not just in the magic, but in the space between them.
Cassian stepped closer. Too close.
"The Gala is tomorrow," Cassian whispered. He reached out, his hand catching Elias's chin, forcing him to look up.
"The King will watch us. He will look for any sign of weakness. He told me today that he had an announcement to make tomorrow that would involve me so I should be ready for anything."
Cassian didn't step back.
Neither did Elias.
Everything had gone too quiet.
Cassian's gaze dropped.
Not deliberately.
Like it slipped.
To Elias's mouth.
Silence stretched with them so close to each other.
'Oh gods.' Elias swallowed his eyes flickering to Cassian's lips. 'I don't think I thought this through enough.'
His heart pounded.
If Cassian crossed this line, he would never let anybody touch me again.
'Deep breathes. I can do this.'
He leaned in.
Not much. Barely an inch. Just enough to close the space that had already stopped feeling like space at all.
Cassian inhaled sharply.
The sound froze them both.
They were too close now—close enough that Elias could feel Cassian's breath against his mouth, warm and uneven. Close enough that if either of them moved even a fraction—
The door burst open then.
"I have a lett—"