Chapter 31: Enter The Royal Den

Morning light poured inside as they prepared to enter the palace together, having reached it before both their fathers and in a position no one could possibly mistake for emotional distance.

Valdor stepped down from the carriage with Amor held securely in his arms.

The broad palace drive stretched around them in pale stone and polished bronze, bordered by royal guards whose ceremonial armor flashed beneath the morning sun. Courtiers, petitioners, and servants waited beneath the pillared entrance, many of them turning toward the House Moons carriage the moment its crest passed through the gates. Their interest sharpened when the first person to emerge was not a marquess or chieftain, but the immense Blackstone warrior named in the morning’s scandal.

Amor rested against Valdor’s chest with his injured ankle carefully supported above one powerful forearm.

He had intended to meet every stare with cool composure, allowing the palace to see an heir temporarily inconvenienced rather than a helpless invalid. His lavender robes remained immaculate after the journey, his hair had survived the carriage with only a few loosened strands, and the mountain-glass pendant at his chest provided a dark, striking contrast against the elegant embroidery. If anyone wished to interpret being carried as weakness, Amor planned to make them feel foolish for trying.

Then he saw Alphonsins.

The duke stood near the base of the palace steps as though he had been waiting specifically for their arrival. He wore formal navy and silver befitting both his rank and his connection to the royal family, every line of his coat severe enough to suggest he had dressed for judgment rather than negotiation. His steel-blue eyes fixed first upon Amor, then dropped toward the arms holding him, and finally settled upon the delicate body resting comfortably against Valdor’s chest. The air around him seemed to darken.

Amor’s prepared indifference shifted into temptation.

He had already ended the relationship publicly, returned every keepsake, and declared before witnesses that Alphonsins held no place within his future. Yet the duke persisted in treating every action as a performance staged for his attention. Perhaps subtlety had become wasted effort. Amor considered what might most effectively aggravate him.

His injured ankle prevented any dramatic approach, and the royal summons made childish taunting inadvisable. He could smile, but Alphonsins would likely reinterpret that as concealed longing. He could ignore him, though the duke had demonstrated an extraordinary ability to consider indifference provocative proof of obsession. Before Amor settled upon an approach, Valdor shifted him.

The warrior had noticed how many people watched from the entrance and adjusted Amor slightly higher within his hold, bringing his head above the level of most surrounding observers. The movement supported Amor’s back more firmly and placed him in a position that looked less like convalescence and more like elevation. Valdor did not hide him against his chest. He presented him.

The sudden lift caught Amor by surprise. His arms rose instinctively and wrapped around Valdor’s neck, one hand gripping the dark fabric near his shoulder while the other rested beside the moonstone clasp. Their bodies moved closer as Valdor corrected his balance, Amor’s chest pressing against the warrior’s while lavender hair spilled over one massive arm. The posture was intimate enough that several courtiers visibly reacted.

Alphonsins’s face darkened. His mouth tightened, and the controlled neutrality expected of a duke fractured beneath unmistakable agitation. His gaze locked upon Amor’s arms around Valdor’s neck as though the sight carried a personal insult greater than being thrown upon Master Edric’s carpet. One gloved hand closed slowly at his side.

Amor noticed the change. He did not understand what caused it. Valdor had merely lifted him, and Amor had prevented himself from falling. Alphonsins had already seen them together inside Maison Reverie, witnessed Valdor place himself protectively between them, and heard Amor openly defend the warrior afterward. The duke’s mood should not have worsened because Amor adjusted his hold. Before he could ask, Valdor looked toward Alphonsins.

"What are you doing here?"

The warrior’s voice carried no courtly greeting. Several palace attendants stiffened at the lack of title, though Alphonsins’s complaint had apparently stripped Valdor of any desire to indulge etiquette. His arms remained secure around Amor, and his body turned by a subtle degree, positioning one shoulder between the young noble and the duke. The movement was protective without concealing Amor’s face.

Alphonsins forced his hand open. His expression gradually returned to something resembling calm, though the anger remained visible beneath the surface. He descended one step and stopped at a distance that respected neither intimacy nor hostility, standing close enough to address Amor privately while ensuring nearby witnesses could still hear if the conversation became useful.

"I am here to offer you one final opportunity."

He said. Amor’s eyebrows lifted.

"How generous."

"You should listen before answering."

"I have found that listening usually encourages you."

Valdor’s hold tightened very slightly. The duke’s gaze flickered toward the warrior and returned to Amor.

"You can still prevent this humiliation from becoming permanent."

"Whose humiliation?"

Alphonsins’s jaw flexed. Amor almost smiled. The question forced the duke to remember that, according to every rumor already circulating through the capital, only one man had landed face-first upon a tailor’s carpet. Alphonsins had framed the royal complaint as an assault upon noble dignity and diplomatic order, but wounded pride remained beneath every legal phrase. The entire kingdom would know that if the hearing became public.

The duke lowered his voice.

"Admit what you did."

Amor’s amusement faded.

"Be specific. What did I do?"

"You arranged the confrontation."

"I entered a tailor’s shop."

"You knew I would be there."

"I did not."

"You followed Celestine and me!"

Amor stared at him. The certainty in Alphonsins’s voice would have been almost impressive if it were not so detached from reality. He genuinely believed Amor’s day—hosting Valdor, visiting shops, eating lunch, purchasing jewelry, and injuring himself in an alley—had been constructed around a chance encounter with him. Even after Amor’s public rejection, the duke could not imagine existing outside the center of his attention.

"I did not know you were courting Celestine."

Amor replied. Alphonsins’s expression changed faintly.

The word courting seemed to irritate him in a way Amor did not expect. Perhaps the relationship had not formally reached that stage, or perhaps hearing Amor acknowledge it without jealousy disrupted the narrative Alphonsins preferred. Amor did not care enough to investigate.

"You brought the barbarian to humiliate me."

Alphonsins insisted. Valdor’s eyes sharpened. Amor felt the change through the body holding him.

"He has a name."

Amor said.

"I know his name."

"Then use it."

The duke ignored the instruction.

"You encouraged him to attack me after I confronted you about your behavior."

"You grabbed my injured wrist."

"I tried to stop you from leaving before you answered!"

"That is still grabbing."

Alphonsins took another step. Valdor’s posture hardened so completely that the palace guards nearest them shifted their hands toward their weapons. Amor noticed and touched the moonstone clasp beneath his fingers, a silent reminder that the warrior did not need to react before the hearing. Valdor glanced down at the hand and remained where he was.

Alphonsins saw the exchange. His composure thinned again.

"You have made your point..."

He said to Amor.

"You found another man willing to perform devotion for you."

Valdor’s gaze became dangerous. Amor’s became cold.

"This is not a performance!"

The answer came without thought. Alphonsins went still. So did Amor.

He had intended only to reject the insult, yet the certainty of his own words revealed more than he had planned to say in front of the duke. Valdor’s care was not staged, purchased, or manipulated. It existed in rough sweets, sleepless nights, careful questions, and the hand that remained around Amor even when fear made them argue.

Alphonsins looked toward Amor’s arms around Valdor’s neck.

"Then you admit it."

"Admit what?"

"That this entire display is meant to provoke me."

Amor’s brief vulnerability disappeared beneath disbelief.

"You believe my trust in another person exists to provoke you?"

"You wrapped yourself around him the moment you saw me."

Amor blinked. At last, he understood the darkening expression. He looked down at his own arms.

One remained looped around Valdor’s neck, while the other rested near the silver clasp against the warrior’s shoulder. Their closeness could not be dismissed as merely practical from the angle Alphonsins saw. Amor had unconsciously held Valdor as someone familiar, trusted, and welcome.

A faint blush touched his face. He did not remove his arms. Alphonsins noticed that too. Amor lifted his chin.

"Lord Valdor adjusted his hold so I would not appear diminished before the court. I caught him because I was surprised."

"You remain attached to him."

"I am comfortable."

The statement was simple. It wounded Alphonsins more than a deliberate insult might have. The duke’s expression tightened around something raw and possessive, though he forced his voice to remain controlled.

"You once refused to display this kind of shamelessness with me."

Amor’s stomach turned. The original Amor had often sought affection from Alphonsins, but the duke considered tenderness inconvenient unless it occurred privately and according to his terms. Public closeness might damage his reputation, encourage rumors, or imply commitment beyond what he wished to offer. Amor had learned to measure every touch before giving it.

Valdor had never asked him to hide.

"You disliked being seen with me."

Amor said.

"That is not true."

"You disliked being seen wanting me..."

The distinction struck cleanly. Alphonsins’s eyes hardened. Amor continued before he could deny what the original memories confirmed.

"You permitted pursuit because it flattered you, but you resented every expectation created by accepting it. I embarrassed you whenever I wanted more than private scraps..."

Valdor looked down at Amor. The young noble’s voice remained cool, but pain moved beneath it—a history the warrior had not experienced yet recognized from every defensive habit. His arms tightened, not to restrain but to reassure. Amor felt the support and continued.

"You do not get to accuse me of shamelessness now because another man is unafraid to hold me where people can see."

The palace entrance had grown quiet. Courtiers pretended not to listen with increasingly poor effort, while attendants stood frozen beneath the pillars. Even the royal guards watched Alphonsins more closely than protocol allowed. The duke had intended a private intimidation before the hearing.

Instead, he had offered Amor an audience. Alphonsins glanced around and lowered his voice further.

"You are making this worse."

"No..."

Amor said.

"I am refusing to make it easier for you."

The duke’s gaze returned to Valdor.

"Put him down."

Valdor did not move. Amor’s expression sharpened.

"You do not order him!"

"He is carrying an injured noble into a royal hearing as though displaying a conquest."

"I asked him to carry me."

"That does not improve the appearance."

"The appearance concerns you because you know exactly what it means."

Alphonsins’s face darkened again. Amor realized the truth only as he spoke it.

The duke could tolerate another man wanting Amor. Desire could be dismissed as lust, ambition, or opportunism. What unsettled him was Amor choosing to be held, publicly and without shame, by someone whose care had already earned trust.

Alphonsins had possessed months. Valdor had accomplished in days what the duke repeatedly squandered. The realization stood between them.

Alphonsins looked toward the mountain-glass pendant upon Amor’s chest and the moonstone clasp upon Valdor’s shoulder. His gaze lingered long enough to recognize that the pieces had been exchanged, even if he did not know their histories. Another sign of connection appeared where he expected only performance.

"You are being manipulated."

He said. Amor nearly laughed.

"By the man who asks permission before touching me?"

Valdor’s eyes warmed briefly. Alphonsins’s did not.

"You barely know him."

"I know how he behaves when angry..."

The answer surprised the duke. Amor continued, his voice steady.

"I know he argues without grabbing. I know he fears without imprisoning. I know he can admit when he speaks wrongly."

Each sentence formed a comparison no one needed explained. Alphonsins heard it. His pride reacted before reason.

"And you believe that makes him superior to me?"

Amor looked at him.

"Yes."

The single word landed without ornament. Alphonsins lost color.

Valdor’s mood sharpened, though not from jealousy this time. He could feel the duke’s anger gathering toward Amor rather than himself, the same anger that had closed around a bruised wrist when words failed. Every instinct urged him to step forward, but Amor rested securely in his arms and needed no one to speak over him. The duke regained control with visible effort.

"This is your final chance!"

He said.

"You have said that twice."

"Admit that you engineered the confrontation, apologize to me and Celestine, and withdraw your accusation against my conduct!"

Amor’s entire expression changed. The invitation revealed the true purpose of Alphonsins waiting outside rather than proceeding directly to the royal chamber. He did not seek reconciliation. He sought control of the official narrative before witnesses could dismantle it.

"What accusation?"

Amor asked.

"That I injured you."

"You did."

"I touched your wrist!"

"You seized it."

"You exaggerate everything!"

Valdor’s chest expanded beneath Amor as he drew one slow breath and a low growl escaped out his throat. The warrior’s anger had become so precise that Amor felt it like a blade held motionless behind him. Valdor did not interrupt. He waited for Amor to decide whether help was needed. Alphonsins continued.

"You will tell the council that the bruises came from an earlier incident unrelated to me and that your companion misunderstood."

"The original bruises came from you. You want me to lie to the king and council?"

"Amor."

"The new pain came from you as well. Should I just over look that because you say so?"

The duke’s composure fractured.

"You are willing to endanger the treaty over a quarrel?"

"You endangered it when you put your hands on an envoy’s host after insulting him."

"I am a duke!"

"That does not make my body royal property!"

Several guards shifted. The words carried dangerously near treason only because Alphonsins’s relation to the king made every accusation politically charged. Yet Amor had framed the issue precisely:

Noble rank did not grant bodily ownership. The surrounding witnesses would remember it.

Alphonsins looked toward Valdor.

"If you continue this farce, he will be punished..."

Amor’s mood plummeted. The duke recognized the opening and pressed it.

"At minimum, he will be removed from the capital. The council may suspend his participation in the envoy tradition while the matter is investigated. If the king considers the assault politically motivated, he could be detained..."

Valdor remained still. Amor’s arms tightened around his neck. Alphonsins saw the reaction and mistook fear for surrender.

"The Blackstone agreement will be examined. House Moons may lose the right to host future delegations. Your father’s silverwood negotiations could collapse before they begin."

The consequences were plausible enough to hurt. The king might not accept every request, but Alphonsins possessed rank, blood relation, and influence within the court. Even a temporary removal would separate Valdor from House Moons and allow the duke to portray the incident as proof that Blackstone envoys were dangerous. Villages depending upon treaty protection could become bargaining pieces.

Amor looked toward the palace doors. For one moment, the weight of politics pressed down more heavily than his injured ankle. Valdor felt it.

"Do not listen."

He said. Alphonsins’s gaze sharpened.

"You should."

Valdor ignored him and looked only at Amor.

"The treaty is not yours to carry alone."

The young noble’s eyes returned to his.

"Nor yours."

Amor said. Valdor’s expression softened by a fraction. Alphonsins watched the exchange with growing fury.

"He will be sent away because you refuse to admit what everyone knows!"

"What everyone knows?"

Amor asked.

"That you acted from jealousy."

Amor stared at him. The absurdity returned enough strength to his spine.

"You are standing outside a royal hearing you initiated, offering to withdraw consequences if I apologize for being attacked, while glaring because another man is holding me..."

Alphonsins’s face went still.

"And I am the jealous one?"

A courtier near the doors coughed abruptly to conceal a laugh. The duke heard.

His eyes flashed toward the sound, but the offender had already lowered his head behind a document. Whispers moved through the waiting crowd like wind passing through grass. Amor almost pitied Alphonsins.

Almost.

The duke stepped closer despite the guards watching.

"Do not confuse my concern with jealousy."

"I would not dare confuse it with concern!"

Alphonsins’s hand moved. Not enough to touch Amor. Only enough that Valdor noticed the beginning.

The warrior shifted him instantly, turning his body so Amor rested farther from the duke while one shoulder blocked any possible reach. His eyes became cold. The movement remained controlled but carried unmistakable warning.

"Do. Not."

Valdor said. Alphonsins stopped.

The palace guards responded to the tension, two advancing several steps while their captain raised one hand. No weapon was drawn, but the proximity of a royal duke and foreign chieftain’s son made every gesture dangerous. Amor’s heartbeat quickened. He touched Valdor’s neck.

The warrior felt the signal and remained still. Alphonsins looked toward the hand resting against dark skin. Whatever restraint he recovered became brittle.

"You believe he will stay once he understands you?"

He asked. Amor’s fingers paused. The question struck unexpectedly close to the fear beneath his trust.

Alphonsins did not know about Lovell, the apocalypse, or the identity Amor concealed. He meant the original noble’s vanity, past affairs, and difficult temperament. Yet the words touched the secret Amor carried more accurately than intended. Valdor noticed his hesitation. The duke noticed too.

"You think he admires your beauty?"

Alphonsins continued.

"He has seen you for a handful of days. Let him live beside you long enough to know the demands, the manipulation, and the constant need to be adored."

Amor’s face cooled.

The original body’s memories supplied echoes of similar accusations. Whenever Amor wanted time, Alphonsins called him demanding. Whenever he sought reassurance, the duke accused him of dramatics. The relationship taught him that needing affection was evidence of weakness and that every desire made him burdensome.

Valdor’s hold remained firm. He looked toward Alphonsins.

"I have seen him frightened, angry, reckless, embarrassed, tired, and wrong..."

Amor’s eyes widened. Valdor continued.

"I remain..."

The words carried no theatrical force. Their simplicity made them unshakable. Alphonsins stared. Valdor looked down at Amor.

"And he has seen the same in me."

The alley argument passed between them. So did the apology, the sleepless night, and Amor defending him before Lanslet. They had not shown each other perfection. They had already seen enough failure to know how the other repaired it.

Amor’s heart warmed despite the confrontation. Alphonsins’s expression hardened around defeat he refused to name.

"You have been warned."

He said. Amor looked at him coolly.

"So have you."

The duke turned toward the palace. He climbed the steps without another word, though the stiffness in his back revealed how little control he retained. Courtiers moved aside before him. Several watched Amor afterward with expressions ranging from curiosity to astonishment.

Valdor did not follow immediately. He looked down at Amor.

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Your face changed."

Amor knew which moment he meant.

"His words..."

He said. Valdor’s expression remained intent.

"They touched an old fear."

Amor admitted.

"Nothing more."

"When you tell me—"

"You will listen."

"Yes."

Amor’s arms tightened around his neck again. This time, he knew exactly what the gesture looked like. He chose it anyway.

"We should go inside before Father arrives and discovers you abducted me from the estate only to remain arguing on the palace steps."

"I did not abduct you."

"You closed the carriage door before he could object."

"You gave permission."

"To something unspecified!"

"You trusted me."

Amor became quiet. Valdor had said it without realizing how deeply the truth affected him.

"Yes..."

Amor replied.

"I did."

Their gazes held.

Then a second carriage entered the royal drive at a speed just below what palace regulations permitted. House Moons banners snapped behind it.

The coach had barely stopped before the door opened and Lanslet stepped out, his expression so composed that every servant nearby instinctively moved farther away. Vervath emerged behind him wearing open amusement, followed by two legal advisers clutching document cases.

Lanslet looked toward Amor. Then toward Valdor. Then toward Amor’s arms around Valdor’s neck. His smile brightened dangerously.

"I see you have arrived safely."

He said. Amor knew better than to trust the calm voice.

"Ye-yes."

"You departed without your chair. I had to have it brought along."

"The-the palace would have provide one I’m sure."

"Of course theg would have. You also departed without me."

"You-you were following behind, th-though."

"I was standing beside the carriage. The carriage arrive just as you had left. A few moments Amor, only a few and you couldn’t have waited for me."

Vervath began laughing. Lanslet ignored him with immense effort.

"Haah, we will discuss this later."

Amor leaned closer to Valdor and whispered.

"I may remain grounded for life."

"Then I will visit."

The answer made him smile. Lanslet saw that too.

His expression became more complicated, anger tangled with reluctant recognition that his son looked happier in the warrior’s arms than he had looked beside Alphonsins in months. The realization did not erase paternal fury, but it prevented an immediate explosion. He turned toward the two footmen.

"Bring the wheeled chair."

Both servants hurried inside the carriage and carefully maneuver the folded wheeled chair out. Vervath approached his son.

"[You left me.]"

"[The second carriage arrived.]"

"[After you left. I had to endure that lord’s incessant nagging. He complains a lot.]"

"[You traveled.]"

"[Yes? We traveled and got here.]"

"[Then the problem ended.]"

Vervath looked toward Amor.

"He has learned rebellion quickly."

Amor smiled.

"I am an excellent teacher."

Lanslet looked back pointedly.

"Do not encourage him."

Valdor remained expressionless, though warmth entered his eyes. A footman returned with a narrow wheeled chair upholstered in royal violet. It was a temporary chair because the first ended up being too heavy for the horses to move while inside the carriage. The design appeared elegant but barely sturdy enough for ordinary use, let alone the hurried transfer of an injured noble surrounded by three large men. Valdor examined it with visible distrust. Amor followed his gaze.

"It will hold me."

"You are small."

His fan struck Valdor’s shoulder. Lanslet’s brows rose. Vervath grinned.

Valdor accepted the familiar punishment without flinching and lowered Amor carefully into the chair. His hands remained at Amor’s waist until the injured ankle rested upon the extended support and the young noble confirmed he felt no pain. Only then did he step back.

Amor immediately reached for his hand. Valdor gave it. Lanslet looked toward their joined fingers.

No one commented.

The party entered the palace together.

Royal corridors opened before them in white marble, gold-veined pillars, and vaulted ceilings painted with scenes of the kingdom’s founding. Guards escorted them past waiting courtiers toward the council wing, where the hearing would occur before the king and selected nobles rather than the full ceremonial throne room. Every person they passed watched Amor and Valdor.

Some had already heard the rumors. Others saw enough to create new ones.

Amor remained upright within the chair, one hand resting upon the dark mountain glass at his chest while the other remained linked with Valdor’s. The warrior walked beside him, moonstone bright against the tailored clothing Amor selected. Their fathers followed close behind.

At the final doors, a herald waited.

"The royal council is assembled..."

He announced.

"Duke Alphonsins Solaris and Lady Celestine have already entered."

Amor’s expression shifted at Celestine’s name. He did not blame her.

Yet Alphonsins demanded an apology to them both, implying she supported his accusations or had been injured by Amor’s conduct. The hearing would reveal whether Celestine stood beside the duke willingly or had simply been drawn into his complaint. Valdor felt Amor’s fingers tighten. He looked down.

"Ready?"

He asked. Amor remembered the carriage, the alley, and the hand holding his through sleep.

"Yes."

The herald opened the doors.

The council chamber stretched beyond them in a half circle of raised seats, royal banners descending behind the central dais. The king sat beneath the kingdom crest, older than Alphonsins but carrying the same steel-blue eyes in a face shaped more by restraint than pride. Noble advisers occupied either side, while clerks waited below with ink and parchment.

Alphonsins stood before the council. Celestine waited several paces behind him, pale and visibly uneasy.

Master Edric Reverie had already taken a witness seat near the side of the chamber, dressed in silver and black with such dramatic precision that he appeared prepared to testify before history itself. Two assistants from Maison Reverie sat behind him, including the young man who had expected Valdor to strike him and now looked terrified by the royal surroundings.

Every face turned toward the doors. The herald announced them.

"Marquess Lanslet Moons, heir Lord Amor Moons, High Chieftain Vervath Rhazien, and Lord Valdor Rhazien of the Blackstone Tribe."

Amor entered first in the wheeled chair. Valdor walked beside him. Alphonsins’s gaze dropped immediately toward their joined hands. His expression darkened once more.

The king noticed. Amor saw him notice.

The hearing had not yet begun, and Alphonsins’s wounded pride was already becoming evidence against him.