Chapter 30: Kidnapped... Again!?

The front drive of House Moons had become crowded enough to resemble the departure of a diplomatic procession rather than four men answering a royal summons.

Servants hurried between the manor and the waiting vehicles carrying legal documents, sealed witness statements, blankets, medical supplies, and enough food to sustain the travelers through a journey lasting several days rather than an hour. Doctor Haverin stood near the steps delivering one final warning about Amor’s ankle, while Elsie fussed over the blanket covering his knees and Mary checked for the third time that his mountain-glass pendant chain rested safely beneath the formal collar of his coat. Amor endured the attention from the cushioned wheeled chair with increasingly visible impatience.

He had been dressed in court clothing designed around the injury.

A long robe of deep lavender silk fell over fitted trousers and the bandaged ankle, its silver embroidery tracing crescents along the open sleeves while leaving enough room for Amor to move without disturbing the joint. His lavender hair had been arranged partly back from his face with moonstone pins, and the purple bead Valdor had given him rested at the center of his chest, deliberately visible rather than hidden beneath layers of nobility. He looked fragile enough to inspire sympathy and composed enough to make that sympathy dangerous.

Valdor stood beside him in Master Edric’s charcoal-and-bronze ensemble. The moonstone clasp Amor purchased remained fastened near his shoulder, pale light moving through it whenever the morning sun struck the stone. His markings remained visible across his chest and arms, framed rather than concealed by the layered fabrics, while his medical pouch hung from the sash as proof that no amount of court tailoring could make him forget practicality. Vervath had also dressed more formally, though his concessions to kingdom expectations consisted mainly of cleaner furs, a longer cloak, and ceremonial beads woven through his beard.

The first carriage waiting before them was considerably larger than the one Amor and Valdor had used the previous day.

Lanslet had apparently ordered the estate coach house awakened before dawn and demanded the largest vehicle capable of reaching the capital at speed. Its cabin had been widened, the roof raised, and the seats reinforced to accommodate both Blackstone men without forcing either to fold himself into misery. Even Valdor appeared capable of sitting properly inside it. Unfortunately, the wheeled chair was another matter.

Two footmen attempted to angle it through the open door while Lanslet supervised, but the broad rear wheels caught against the frame. Folding the chair reduced its width, though not enough to permit four adult men, the medical supports, and the royal documents to fit comfortably inside. The footmen backed away after the third attempt. Lanslet’s pleasant expression tightened.

"We will use two carriages."

A servant bowed immediately.

"The second is being brought from the eastern house, my lord."

"How long?"

"Only several minutes."

"That is several minutes too many."

Amor looked toward his father.

"We’re going to be late."

"We will not become late..."

Lanslet turned toward Vervath.

"You and Lord Valdor should depart first. Amor and I will follow in the second carriage with his chair."

Vervath glanced toward his son. Valdor’s face did not change, but something in his shoulders became still. He had helped Amor all of yesterday, remained beside him through the night, and listened to the young noble prepare every argument he intended to give before the royal council while they ate. Separating now, even for one carriage ride, clearly did not appeal to him. Amor felt the same.

The palace hearing already threatened to twist their actions into a story built by Alphonsins, and the thought of arriving without Valdor beside him awakened an unease Amor did not wish to examine. He wanted the warrior’s hand near his when the carriage reached the palace gates. More privately, he wanted another quiet ride before the court demanded every intimate detail of the confrontation.

Lanslet continued issuing orders.

"The Blackstone delegation will take the treaty files, while Amor and I bring the witness statements. Inform the palace that both carriages belong to the same party and are to be admitted together."

Valdor looked toward Amor.

"May I?"

Amor blinked. The question arrived without explanation, though the warrior’s gaze carried a familiar intent. Amor knew enough to understand that Valdor wanted permission to do something involving him physically, but not enough to guess what. He considered asking.

Then he remembered the careful hands, the night held without questions, and the promise that Valdor would never treat choice as weakness.

"Yes."

Amor said. Valdor moved immediately.

He bent, slipped one arm behind Amor’s back and the other beneath his knees, then lifted him from the wheeled chair before anyone understood what the permission had covered. Amor released a startled breath and instinctively caught around Valdor’s shoulders. The blanket slid from his knees into Elsie’s hands. Every person in the drive froze.

"Valdor—"

Lanslet began.

The warrior crossed toward the first carriage. One footman barely managed to open the door in time. Valdor stepped inside with Amor in his arms, ducked beneath the raised frame, and settled onto the reinforced rear-facing seat. He kept Amor held securely against him while reaching back with one hand to pull the door shut. Then he looked toward the coachman through the small open panel.

"Go."

The coachman stared over his shoulder. Lanslet’s voice rose from the drive.

"Do not move that carriage!"

The horses shifted between conflicting instructions. Amor looked from the open window toward his father’s horrified face, then back at Valdor. The warrior’s expression remained calm, but the slight tension near his mouth suggested he knew exactly how rebellious his decision appeared. Amor’s surprise transformed into delight.

"It is all right..."

He called toward the coachman.

"Leave now!"

The driver looked toward Lanslet. Then toward Amor.

The heir of House Moons held authority over him, but the marquess stood several yards away wearing the expression of a man prepared to revoke employment, titles, and possibly daylight itself. The coachman swallowed. Valdor reached toward the door handle as though prepared to close the panel completely.

"Please hurry!"

Amor added.

Duty and fear collided. Duty won by the narrowest margin. The coachman snapped the reins. The carriage lurched forward.

Lanslet stared in disbelief as the wheels began rolling down the drive. Vervath’s mouth opened beneath his beard, then spread into a grin of tremendous paternal pride. Elsie clutched the fallen blanket, while Doctor Haverin looked as though the entire household had collectively decided to ignore medical judgment.

"Amor Moons!!"

Lanslet called.

The young noble leaned toward the open door. Valdor’s arm tightened instantly around his waist. Amor ignored the warning long enough to look outside and wave.

"We will meet you there!!"

"Come back and wait with me!!"

The carriage gained speed.

"What??"

Amor called, though he could still hear perfectly well.

Lanslet moved after them, his lavender hair and formal coat moving in the wind while he continued shouting instructions that became progressively less distinguishable with distance. Vervath stood behind him laughing hard enough to bend slightly at the waist. The second carriage appeared at the opposite end of the drive at precisely the wrong moment, forcing its coachman to slow and avoid the departing vehicle.

Amor continued waving. Lanslet’s voice faded beneath the clatter of wheels. Valdor pulled Amor fully inside.

"Sit back."

"I was saying farewell."

"You were leaning from a moving carriage."

"The road is smooth!"

"You injured yourself on a stationary stone."

Amor closed his fan against Valdor’s chest with a light snap.

"You have become cruel."

Valdor shut the window completely.

Outside, Lanslet continued gesturing as the carriage passed through the estate gates, but the distance reduced his furious speech into silent movement. Amor watched through the rear window until his father became a lavender figure framed by servants and the newly arrived second carriage. Then the road curved.

House Moons disappeared.

Amor turned toward Valdor. Excitement brightened his entire face.

"That was wonderful!"

Valdor looked at him.

"We left."

"We escaped!"

"We are going where Lanslet told us to go."

"Without waiting for him."

"Yes."

Amor laughed, the sound filling the spacious carriage with the giddy pleasure of someone who had just committed a harmless crime.

"I did not know you were capable of such rebellion."

Valdor adjusted his hold.

"Waiting served no purpose."

"It served Father’s desire to supervise every breath I take."

"The second carriage would delay you."

"By perhaps five minutes."

"Five minutes is unnecessary."

Amor examined him suspiciously.

"You were impatient?"

"Yes."

"To reach the royal hearing?"

"To finish it..."

The warrior’s expression became serious again.

"The sooner it is done, the sooner you return to bed and rest."

Amor stared for a moment before amusement softened him.

"You carried me away from my father because you are concerned about my recovery?"

"Yes."

"That is disappointingly wholesome."

Valdor did not appear offended. Amor settled more comfortably, though he had not yet considered what exactly supported him. The urgency of the departure, the thrill of disobeying Lanslet, and the royal hearing occupying his thoughts had prevented him from examining the arrangement. Valdor’s arms remained around him while the carriage moved through the gates and onto the road.

"You care excessively about my body."

Amor said. The sentence left his mouth before its implications arrived. Silence followed.

Heat rushed into his face. He lifted his fan. Valdor looked down at the painted silk hiding the lower half of Amor’s expression.

"Yes."

Amor’s pink eyes widened above it.

"You could deny it for propriety!"

"I would be lying."

"I did not ask for moral philosophy!"

Valdor’s gaze moved slowly across him, not lecherous but far too attentive to be innocent. His eyes traced the formal robe, the narrow waist held within one arm, and the injured leg supported carefully across his other. Amor’s blush deepened under the scrutiny.

"I care about your body..."

Valdor said. Amor made a strangled sound behind the fan. Valdor continued before embarrassment could consume him completely.

"And more than your body."

The clarification did not help. It made everything worse.

Amor’s heart struck hard enough that he felt it against the pendant. Valdor spoke with the same direct sincerity that transformed ordinary statements into emotional ambushes, offering no playful retreat once the words landed. He meant attraction.

He also meant trust, fear, interest, and the unnamed connection growing around them. Amor looked toward the window.

"That was... almost charming."

"It was true."

"You should learn to make truth less dangerous."

"No."

The carriage struck an uneven place in the road. One wheel jolted over a buried stone, lifting the cabin sharply before dropping it again. Amor’s injured ankle shifted toward the floor, and the sudden movement threw his upper body sideways. He barely had time to tense.

Valdor’s arms closed around him. One arm locked securely across Amor’s waist, pinning him against a broad chest without pressing the injured wrist, while the other tightened beneath his legs to keep the sprained ankle from striking the carriage wall. The warrior absorbed the jolt through his own body. Amor remained almost completely steady.

The carriage righted itself. Valdor did not release him. Amor’s heart continued racing.

At first, he believed the reaction came from the sudden impact. Then he became conscious of where his body rested.

His back pressed against Valdor’s chest. One of his hips rested between the warrior’s powerful thighs. More unmistakably, Amor was sitting directly upon Valdor’s lap.

He looked down. The layered fabric of his robe had spread across Valdor’s legs, hiding much of the arrangement without changing its reality. One of Valdor’s hands rested securely at his waist, fingers spanning nearly the entire width. The other supported his injured leg across the warrior’s knees.

’How had I not noticed!?’

Valdor carried him from the chair, entered the carriage, and sat without ever placing Amor upon the opposite seat. Amor had been too distracted by escape, laughter, and his father’s distant outrage to realize that the cushioned surface beneath him was not part of the carriage. It was Valdor. Heat swept from his face down his neck.

"I-I-I sh-should move now."

Valdor’s arms remained where they were.

"Why?"

"I-I have my own seat!"

"The seat is across from me."

"I... can see that."

"You cannot safely cross while the carriage moves."

"I am capable of shifting several feet!"

"With the ankle?"

"Yes!"

Valdor looked toward the bandaged joint. Amor followed his gaze and recognized skepticism hardening his expression.

"Do not use my own injury as an argument against me!"

"You tried to stand on it yesterday."

"We established that was a mistake!"

"You ran into an alley."

"... A separate mistake."

"You leaned out from the carriage."

"That was not a mistake!"

Valdor’s hold tightened slightly when the vehicle turned. Amor became even more conscious of the warmth surrounding him.

"This position is improper!"

He said.

"We were mistaken for a couple."

"That does not suspend all social conventions."

"The waiter already believes we court."

"The waiter is not here!"

"The coachman may believe it as well..."

Amor looked toward the front partition. The driver sat only a thin wall away.

His face became hotter. Valdor apparently noticed because his thumb moved once against Amor’s waist, a small reassuring gesture that only increased the problem.

"This position is safe."

"It is intimate."

"Yes."

The direct agreement silenced Amor. He tried another approach.

"The carriage has been specially enlarged to accommodate you. There is no practical reason for me to remain in your lap."

"There is."

"What?"

Valdor looked toward the road ahead as though the answer required no thought.

"If the carriage strikes another stone, I can hold you."

"Our driver is experienced."

The coachman’s shoulders stiffened beyond the partition.

"He struck one stone."

Valdor said.

"One."

"One caused you to move."

"He could not control whether a stone occupied the road!"

The coachman relaxed slightly. Valdor remained unconvinced.

"There may be another."

Amor stared at him. The warrior’s logic was clearly being used to support a conclusion he had already chosen. He could have placed Amor beside him, secured the ankle across the bench, and held him during rough sections without keeping him directly within his arms. The lap was not strictly necessary.

"You are being clever!"

Amor accused. Valdor’s face remained impassive.

"That expression will not deceive me!"

"I am concerned for your ankle."

"And using that concern to prevent me from moving."

"You may move."

Amor shifted experimentally. Valdor’s arm tightened around his waist. He stopped.

"You are not allowing it."

"I am preventing a fall."

"I have not fallen!"

"You nearly did."

"That was because the carriage jolted!"

"It may jolt again."

Amor opened his fan with an indignant snap.

"This is an elaborate trap!"

Valdor’s head lowered. For one strange moment, Amor thought the warrior intended to whisper something beside his ear, which would have rendered the entire situation impossible. Instead, Valdor allowed his chin to dip toward the fur-lined edge of his mantle, his breathing slowing. The tension in his shoulders eased.

Amor waited. Valdor’s eyes closed. The young noble stared.

"You cannot be serious..."

No response.

"Valdor."

The warrior remained still. Amor looked more closely. Valdor appeared to have fallen asleep.

His head rested slightly forward, close enough that several braids brushed Amor’s shoulder. His arms remained firm around him even in apparent rest, supporting the injured leg without slackening. The moonstone clasp gleamed near Amor’s cheek. Amor narrowed his eyes.

This was suspiciously convenient. If Valdor remained awake, Amor could continue demanding release and force him to acknowledge the request directly. By appearing asleep, the warrior avoided denying Amor’s freedom while also making movement difficult without waking someone who had spent the previous night sitting beside his bed. Valdor had transformed rest into tactical resistance.

"You’re pretending."

Amor whispered. Valdor’s breathing remained even. Amor listened. The rhythm seemed genuine. That complicated the accusation.

Valdor had slept poorly during the night, remaining in an awkward position beside Amor’s bed while holding his hand. He then woke at dawn, prepared for court, carried Amor through the estate, and organized their sudden escape. Exhaustion was entirely plausible.

Still, the timing remained too perfect.

Amor touched one braid. Valdor did not react. He tugged lightly. The warrior’s head shifted with the motion but his eyes remained closed. Amor frowned.

"You are either truly asleep or exceptionally committed to deception."

No answer came. He considered moving anyway.

The first attempt caused Valdor’s arm to tighten reflexively around his waist, drawing Amor closer against the broad chest. The reaction appeared instinctive rather than deliberate. Amor froze, suddenly aware of the solid heat along his back and the heavy rise and fall of the body behind him. Valdor exhaled near his hair.

Amor surrendered. His ankle did feel safer across the warrior’s thigh, supported above the carriage floor and shielded from every turn. The jolting had not worsened the pain precisely because Valdor held him. More importantly, the man had remained awake through most of the night because Amor asked him to stay.

’Perhaps... he deserves to rest.’

Amor lowered his fan.

"Fine..."

He murmured.

"Only until we arrive."

Valdor’s breathing did not change. Amor leaned more comfortably against him.

The position felt far less improper once he stopped resisting it, though the awareness of Valdor’s arms never completely faded. One broad hand rested over the silk at his waist, warm enough to be felt through multiple layers, while the other supported his calf and kept the injured ankle perfectly still. Amor could feel Valdor’s heartbeat beneath his back. Slow, solid and most of all, safe.

---

Outside, the capital road passed through the carriage windows in bands of winter light and shadow. Amor watched fields give way to clustered homes, then wider stone streets as they neared the city. The royal hearing waited ahead, carrying accusations, witnesses, and a duke determined to reclaim control over the narrative.

For several minutes, none of it reached him. Valdor slept behind him. Or pretended convincingly. Amor rested within his arms and decided the distinction did not matter.

Beyond the partition, the coachman released a quiet breath of relief. The argument had finally ended.

He had heard nearly every word despite attempting to focus upon the road, and the accusation against his driving had offended him more deeply than either passenger realized. He had served House Moons for thirty-seven years, navigated storms, crowded festival roads, and one memorable incident involving an overturned vegetable cart without injuring a single passenger.

One stone did not define a career. The road had been poorly maintained. The lighting had concealed the uneven section. More importantly, a coachman could not command stones to remove themselves merely because a Blackstone warrior distrusted wheels.

He adjusted the reins with professional dignity. The horses maintained a smooth pace. The carriage approached another rough patch in the road. The coachman spotted it early.

He guided the left wheels around every visible stone with such precise control that the cabin barely shifted. Satisfaction warmed him. Let the warrior sleep through that.

Inside, Amor noticed the improved smoothness. He looked toward the partition and smiled faintly.

"See?"

He whispered.

"Perfectly competent."

Valdor did not answer. The hand at Amor’s waist moved once. It might have been a sleeping adjustment. It might also have been acknowledgment. Amor looked down at it.

"You heard me. Humph!"

No response. The young noble’s eyes narrowed again, but amusement prevented genuine irritation. He considered striking Valdor with his fan, then decided waking him before the hearing would be unkind. Instead, he rested the closed fan against the warrior’s hand.

The carriage continued into the capital.

As the streets grew crowded, people noticed the House Moons crest and moved aside. Through the windows, Amor glimpsed merchants, guards, and early court petitioners already discussing rumors from Maison Reverie. Some pointed toward the carriage as though knowing exactly who traveled inside.

Amor’s posture stiffened. Valdor’s arm tightened around him. Again, the movement might have been reflex. Amor chose to believe it was.

He touched the mountain-glass pendant resting against his chest and then glanced toward the moonstone clasp near Valdor’s shoulder. Their exchanged gifts traveled together, one carrying a command to return and the other holding cold magic useful for protection. Neither was a declared courtship piece.

Yet Amor remained seated in Valdor’s lap while the warrior slept with both arms around him on the way to defend their bond before the royal court. The distinction had become increasingly delicate. Amor felt warmth touch his cheeks once more.

He lifted the fan, though no one inside the carriage was awake to see. The coachman could not see him. The city outside could not see him. Valdor’s eyes remained closed.

Amor still hid.

The carriage turned toward the royal district, passing beneath taller buildings and banners carrying the king’s crest. Palace towers rose ahead beyond the final avenue, pale stone shining beneath the morning sun. The hearing could no longer be treated as distant. Amor looked back at Valdor’s face.

Even in apparent sleep, the warrior’s expression remained stern, though the severe lines had softened without conscious control. His dark lashes rested against his cheeks, and the scar near his mouth seemed less harsh. Amor wondered how long he could study him before the man’s eyes opened.

’Possibly not long.’

Valdor had noticed almost every glance during the previous day. Still, Amor allowed himself the moment.

He looked at the empty place in the braid where the mountain-glass bead had once rested. His own fingers rose and touched the pendant in response. The warrior had given him something from his first hunt, his mother, and the beginning of his future as chief.

Amor would not allow Alphonsins to turn that man into a criminal. The softness in his expression hardened into resolve.

The carriage reached the palace gates. Royal guards approached as the vehicle slowed. Valdor’s eyes opened instantly. Amor nearly jumped.

The warrior’s head lifted, alertness returning so completely that no trace of sleep remained. His gaze moved first toward Amor’s face, then the ankle, then the guards outside. Only after confirming everything remained safe did he look toward the palace.

"You were awake!"

Amor accused. Valdor blinked once.

"I slept."

"You heard me insult your distrust of the coachman!"

"No."

The coachman silently took Amor’s side, despite knowing perfectly well the warrior had probably heard everything. Amor studied him. Valdor’s expression revealed nothing.

"You are a surprisingly devious man."

"You rested."

"That is not a denial!"

The carriage stopped. A royal attendant opened the outer door and bowed. Valdor looked toward Amor.

"Ready?"

The playful irritation faded. Amor’s fingers closed around the mountain-glass bead.

"Yes."

Valdor adjusted him within his arms. Amor became suddenly aware that the palace guards, attendants, courtiers, and every waiting observer would see him emerge from the carriage carried in the Blackstone warrior’s arms. The image would spread through court faster than the story of Alphonsins falling upon the tailor’s carpet. There was no time to rearrange. Amor lifted his chin.

"Do not drop me."

Valdor’s eyes warmed.

"Never."

He rose with Amor in his arms. The carriage door opened fully.