Chapter 41: Allowed To Court

Amor woke late in the afternoon with no memory of returning home.

One moment, he had been inside the carriage with his cheek resting against the steady rhythm of Valdor’s heart, warm beneath the warrior’s mantle while the road swayed gently beneath them. The next, sunlight had shifted into a mellow gold across his bedroom floor, his injured ankle rested neatly upon three pillows, and the blankets had been tucked around him with almost suffocating precision. For several drowsy breaths, he could not understand how an entire journey through the estate had disappeared.

He lifted his head from the pillow. The movement drew immediate attention from the three maids gathered near the foot of his bed.

Elsie abandoned the folded robe in her hands, Mary nearly dropped a tray of fresh water, and Junia closed the wardrobe with such force that the doors thudded together. All three hurried toward him, their expressions brightening with the particular excitement of servants who had been waiting several hours for their master to awaken so they could report something scandalous.

"You’re awake!"

Elsie said.

"I had gathered that."

"How do you feel, Young Master?"

"Confused mostly..."

Mary adjusted the pillows behind him while Junia checked the blanket over his ankle. Amor permitted the fussing because he still felt too heavy with sleep to defend himself properly. His body ached faintly from the hearing and the strain surrounding it, but the ankle had settled into a dull soreness rather than the sharper pain of the previous evening.

"Did someone carry me upstairs?"

He asked. The maids became silent. Amor looked between them. The silence contained far too much delight. Elsie clasped her hands beneath her chin.

"Lord Valdor carried you from the carriage."

"He carried you through the entire entrance hall!"

Mary added.

"Up all three flights!"

Junia said.

"And not once did you wake..."

Elsie continued.

"Your head remained over his heart the entire time."

Amor blinked. He remembered falling asleep in the carriage, though he had not intended to do so. Valdor’s heartbeat had been slow and deep beneath his ear, its rhythm blending with the warmth of his body and the steady motion of the road until remaining awake became impossible. Everything after that was a blank. Mary sighed dreamily.

"He stepped from the carriage with you wrapped in his mantle, and the sunlight caught your hair while you slept against him."

Junia leaned against the bedpost.

"The entire household stopped!"

"That is an exaggeration."

"It is not..."

Elsie insisted.

"Even Mister Cloven paused halfway through reprimanding a footman."

The head steward’s inability to ignore disorder made that detail alarmingly credible. Mary continued with increasing romance.

"Lord Valdor carried you beneath the chandelier as though returning from some terrible battle, his clothing dark and severe, your lavender hair spilling over his arm."

"There was no battle."

"There was a royal hearing though."

"That is paperwork with witnesses! Not something romantic at all!"

Junia pressed one hand dramatically to her chest.

"Yet there you were, sleeping peacefully after surviving political intrigue, royal judgment, an injury, and the cruelty of an old lover, haaaah."

Amor stared at her.

"You make it sound as though I was rescued from an enchanted tower."

Elsie smiled.

"That is how it looked."

"I was transported from the front drive, nothing more!"

"By a massive northern warrior!"

Mary reminded him.

"While wrapped in his mantle!"

Junia added.

"And clinging to his neck!"

Elsie finished. Amor’s eyes narrowed.

"... I was not clinging."

All three maids looked at one another.

"Oh? But you had both arms around him."

Mary said.

"Th-that was likely necessary for balance!"

"You were asleep, though."

Junia replied.

"Then it was instinct!"

"Yes!"

Elsie said, far too quickly.

"That is what makes it romantic, Young Master."

Amor reached toward the bedside table for his fan. It had been placed just beyond easy reach, likely because Lanslet feared he might lean too far and injure himself. Mary saw his intention and helpfully passed it to him, though her smile suggested she expected the fan to serve as a shield rather than a weapon. Amor opened it across the lower half of his face.

"I am a man..."

He declared.

"Regardless of how beautiful I happen to be. That would make me a prince, not a princess..."

The maids became even quieter. Amor’s own words reached him a moment later. He sat upright too quickly. Pain flickered through the ankle, but political alarm overwhelmed it.

"Actually, forget that entirely!"

Elsie’s lips pressed together. Mary looked down at the floor. Junia’s shoulders began trembling.

"No one repeats the word prince outside these four walls..."

Amor continued, pointing the fan at each of them in turn.

"The king has several legitimate heirs, and I have no desire to explain a claim of treason to Father merely because you three transformed a carriage ride into a fairy tale."

"We would never."

Elsie promised solemnly.

"Yes, yes. Our silence is absolute."

Mary said. Junia placed one hand over her heart.

"The enchanted northern warrior and his beautiful, politically neutral nobleman will remain entirely private."

Amor struck her shoulder with the fan. Junia laughed. The other two followed. Amor retreated farther behind the painted silk while color spread through his cheeks.

"You are enjoying this far too much."

"We are happy for you, Young Master."

Elsie said.

"There is nothing to be happy about. Humph!"

"Lord Valdor carried you home."

"He has carried me several times, it doesn’t mean anything."

"True, it is becoming the new normal. But... You refused to let him stop."

Amor lowered the fan slightly.

"What?"

Mary looked delighted to provide the detail.

"Lord Lanslet offered to take you when the carriage arrived."

"And?"

Amor asked warily.

"You tightened your arms around Lord Valdor’s neck."

"I did not."

Elsie nodded.

"You did."

"I-I-I was asleep!"

Junia nodded as well.

"Yes, very deeply in fact."

"That means I had no control over my actions!"

Mary tilted her head.

"Does that make them less honest?"

Amor closed the fan with a sharp snap. The question unsettled him more than the teasing. He wanted to dismiss the entire incident as an unconscious response created by convenience, warmth, or simple familiarity. Yet his sleeping body had made a choice before his waking mind could arrange excuses. When Lanslet offered another set of arms, Amor had held more tightly to Valdor.

"Perhaps I mistook him for a large pillow!"

He said unconvincingly.

"All three of us saw it, my lord."

Elsie replied.

"Independently on each three floors."

Mary added.

"With clear broad daylighting."

Junia finished. Amor pulled the blanket over his face. The maids laughed again.

For several moments, he remained hidden beneath the covers, listening to them recount the scene in progressively more impossible language. Valdor had apparently crossed the entrance hall like a victorious warrior carrying his beloved from a besieged castle, climbed the staircase without allowing Amor’s hair to catch upon so much as one banister, and looked down at him with an expression so tender that Elsie had nearly forgotten she was holding the door. Amor suspected at least half the details had been invented for his humiliation.

Then a quieter truth reached him. He had slept through all of it. Amor lowered the blanket. The maids were still speaking, but their voices receded beneath the realization.

There were no ruined streets. No infected creatures scraping against walls. No empty cupboards, distant screams, or gnawing terror that food would disappear before he woke. No parents standing over him, deciding whether he had eaten too much or asking what he was willing to sacrifice so they could survive another day. He remembered none of the nightmares.

More than that, he had not awakened when the carriage stopped, when the door opened, or when Valdor rose with him in his arms. He had remained asleep while being carried through a crowded entrance hall, up three flights of stairs, and into his bedroom. Even being lowered onto the mattress had not disturbed him. That should have frightened him.

Unconsciousness had always been dangerous in Lovell’s life. Sleep meant surrendering awareness, giving other people the opportunity to steal food, move him, abandon him, or decide his usefulness while he could not object. Even in House Moons, where every room was guarded and every servant devoted, some part of Amor still surfaced at the smallest unfamiliar sound. His body had never fully accepted that safety could continue while his eyes were closed.

Yet it had remained asleep with Valdor.

Amor touched his own chest. The memory of the warrior’s heartbeat returned, solid beneath his cheek and unchanging no matter how the carriage moved. Perhaps his body had listened to that rhythm and decided vigilance was unnecessary. It had recognized something his mind was still afraid to name. Valdor was safe.

Not merely kind or merely protective.

Safe enough for Amor to surrender consciousness and remain there. The knowledge frightened him for one sharp moment. Then warmth followed. Elsie noticed his expression changing.

"My lord?"

Amor looked toward her.

"Did he leave after placing me in bed?"

The maids exchanged another glance, though this one contained less teasing.

"No, not at all."

Mary said. Amor’s fingers tightened against the blanket.

"What did he do?"

"He checked your ankle..."

Elsie replied.

"He removed his mantle, examined the bandage, and asked Doctor Haverin whether the position of the pillows would reduce the swelling."

"Doctor Haverin had already given instructions."

"Lord Valdor made him repeat them..."

Junia smiled.

"Then he adjusted every pillow himself."

Amor looked toward the three beneath his leg.

’Valdor had arranged them.’

"He also checked your wrist..."

Mary said.

"Without waking you."

"How?"

"He looked at the wrapping and asked whether it should be changed..."

Elsie continued.

"Doctor Haverin said no. Lord Valdor remained beside the bed while the physician examined your breathing and pulse."

"For how long?"

"Until your father ordered him downstairs to eat..."

Junia folded her arms.

"Even then, he asked Mary to remain near the door and call him if you woke frightened."

Amor looked away. The embarrassment returned, but it had changed. It no longer came only from imagining the household watching him cling to Valdor. It came from understanding that Valdor’s care continued after no one required it. The warrior had not simply transported him, handed him to servants, and considered the responsibility complete.

He stayed. He checked. He made certain the safety surrounding Amor did not end merely because the carriage ride had. Valdor’s heartbeat had replaced the nightmares before. His presence had protected Amor after they reached home. Junia sighed again.

"He looked like a savage northern prince carrying his beloved prince home after battle."

The bedroom door opened.

"Nope!"

Lanslet entered carrying a stack of papers and wearing the expression of a father who had heard precisely enough to object. His lavender hair had been retied since the hearing, though several loose strands suggested the afternoon had involved arguments with advisers, carriage masters, and possibly the entire royal bureaucracy. He placed the papers upon a side table and looked toward Junia.

"He is neither savage nor a prince."

Amor pointed his fan toward him.

"You are focusing upon the wrong potentially treasonous word."

Lanslet paused. Then his gaze moved toward the maids. All three adopted expressions of perfect innocence.

"Haah, you three. My son is not claiming royal status."

Lanslet said.

"No one said he was, Lord Lanslet."

Elsie replied.

"Within these four walls at least."

Amor added quickly. Lanslet closed his eyes. He appeared to choose not to ask. Instead, he crossed toward the bed and touched Amor’s forehead.

"How do you feel?"

"Mm, well rested, Father."

"Dizzy?"

"No."

"Nauseous?"

"No."

"Pain?"

"Only in the ankle."

"Chest tightness?"

"None."

"Difficulty breathing?"

"Father."

Lanslet ignored the warning and inspected the pillows, apparently verifying that Valdor had followed Doctor Haverin’s instructions correctly. He then checked the water, the medicine schedule, and the untouched plate of biscuits left beside the bed. His expression tightened upon discovering Amor had not eaten since waking.

"My moonlight, you need lunch. What can I get you?"

"It is nearly evening. Isn’t it too late for the kitchen staff to make lunch?"

"Then it will be a late lunch. You must eat. All you had today was a light breakfast."

"It’s fine, Father, I can skip one meal. I can just wait to eat dinner."

"You will eat both and I will not hear another word on the matter..."

Amor sighed. Lanslet turned toward the maids.

"Bring broth, roasted vegetables, bread, poultry, fruit, and something sweet."

"Father, I am injured, not starving."

"You experienced severe distress before the king."

"And recovered during recess."

"You were confronted alone by Alphonsins."

"And survived with all four limbs attached."

"You entered an alley yesterday."

"That’s unrelated!"

"It proves a pattern of poor decisions on your part..."

Lanslet moved toward the foot of the bed and adjusted the ankle support by less than an inch.

"I am considering banning alleys from House Moons property."

Amor stared.

"The estate does not contain alleys."

"Then the rule will be easy to enforce. Now to implement it in the capital."

Junia turned away to hide laughter. Lanslet noticed.

"Do not encourage him, Junia."

"I said nothing, my lord."

"Your shoulders spoke."

Amor opened his fan again.

"Perhaps you should ban shoulders as well."

His father looked toward him with the terrifyingly gentle smile that had preceded the grounding. Amor immediately fell silent.

Knock, knock—

A knock sounded at the door. Before anyone answered, Valdor entered carrying a large meal tray.

He had changed out of Master Edric’s tailored court clothing and returned to the familiar furs that left most of his marked chest and arms visible. Dark hide rested over one shoulder, broad leather straps crossed his waist, and the small medical pouch remained secured at his belt. Amor’s moonstone clasp still gleamed beside his shoulder, silver and pale lavender fitted carefully into the rough fur. The sight struck Amor more deeply than expected.

Valdor had still not discarded the kingdom gift when he returned to his own clothing. He had not allowed it to transform him, either. The moonstone remained existing within the furs as though it had always been intended to join them. The maids became silent. Suspiciously silent.

Elsie looked toward Mary. Mary looked toward Junia. Junia’s gaze moved from Valdor to Amor, then toward the bed where they had just described the warrior carrying him like a beloved prince. Their expressions became nearly identical. Amor saw everything.

"Leave, you three."

The maids looked offended.

"My lord, we have duties."

"You have enjoyed my humiliation enough."

"We were only reporting facts, Young Master."

Elsie said.

"With literary embellishment I’m sure, Elsie."

Amor replied. Mary bowed.

"We will return later."

"Much later."

Junia glanced toward Valdor.

"Should we bring another place setting?"

Amor raised the fan. She fled first. Elsie and Mary followed with barely concealed laughter, closing the door behind them. Their retreating whispers remained audible for several steps down the corridor before fading.

Lanslet looked toward Valdor. The warrior looked toward the bed. Amor looked between them, sensing the next argument before it began. Valdor placed the tray upon the rolling table.

"He needs food."

"I already ordered food."

Lanslet said.

"I brought it."

"That does not make you responsible for feeding him!"

Valdor adjusted the table to the proper height.

"I know."

Lanslet stared. Amor decided intervention was necessary.

"Father, you have not eaten enough either."

"I ate."

"You consumed half a biscuit while reading the council record. I bet you haven’t rested since this morning either..."

Lanslet’s expression tightened.

"Go downstairs..."

Amor continued.

"Make certain Vervath has not convinced the kitchen staff that removing limbs is an acceptable response to minor injuries."

That possibility appeared serious enough to distract him. Lanslet looked toward Valdor.

"Do not overtire him."

Valdor nodded.

"Do not allow him to stand."

"Yes."

"Do not carry him anywhere without asking."

"Yes."

Amor raised one brow.

"You are giving him authority over me again."

"I am giving him instructions concerning your injury."

"You could give them to me."

"I have. You ignored them."

The answer was difficult to dispute. Lanslet touched Amor’s hair before leaving, his hand lingering for a moment as though confirming his son remained safely within reach. Then he crossed toward the door.

"I will return before dinner."

"I will still be here."

"You promised that at the palace."

"That... that was different...."

Lanslet glanced toward Valdor, apparently remembering that both Blackstone guards had left Amor alone after making the same assurance. His expression became polite again. Valdor straightened. Amor wisely said nothing. His father left. The door closed. Silence settled differently now that they were alone.

Valdor stood beside the bed, tall enough that his presence seemed to narrow the room, though Amor no longer found the effect overwhelming. The warrior began arranging the meal without ceremony, uncovering broth, roasted poultry, bread, vegetables, and a honeyed fruit tart. The portions suggested he had either followed Lanslet’s instructions or independently reached the same excessive conclusion. Amor watched him.

"Did you truly carry me all the way from the carriage?"

Valdor looked toward him.

"Yes."

"Through the entrance hall?"

"Yes."

"Up every staircase?"

"Yes."

"You could have asked a servant."

"You were sleeping."

"That does not explain why you needed to do it."

Valdor placed the bowl of broth within Amor’s reach.

"You held me when Lanslet tried to take you..."

Amor became silent. The maids’ account returned.

"...Both arms around Valdor’s neck... Refused to release him..."

Yet he still had no memory of any of it. Valdor’s gaze softened with quiet pleasure.

"You chose to remain."

"I was unconscious."

"Yes."

"That makes the choice unreliable."

"It was honest."

Amor looked toward the broth. Heat spread into his cheeks.

"You seem very pleased with yourself!"

"I am pleased with you."

The answer was worse. Amor lifted the spoon and focused upon the soup with excessive concentration. The broth tasted rich and carefully seasoned, though his embarrassment made identifying ingredients difficult. Valdor sat upon the low chair beside the bed rather than remaining on the floor. For several minutes, only the sounds of the meal filled the room.

Valdor passed him bread when requested, cut the poultry into smaller portions without being asked, and moved the tart farther away until Amor ate the vegetables. Amor accused him of assuming unlawful control over dessert. Valdor remained unmoved. Once the soup bowl was empty, Amor looked toward him again.

"Did you sleep in the carriage too?"

"No."

"You appeared tired."

"I was."

"Then why remain awake?"

Valdor considered.

"You were peaceful..."

Amor’s spoon paused.

"I did not want to wake you..."

The warrior continued.

"The road moved you. I held your ankle so it would not turn."

That was all he offered. He did not mention the temptation that came while Amor slept, the closeness of their faces, or the promise he made while pressing his cheek to lavender hair. Those truths belonged to Valdor until a time came when sharing them would not burden the trust Amor offered. Amor touched the mountain-glass pendant at his chest.

"It... it was soothing."

He admitted.

"What?"

"Listening to your heart..."

The confession emerged softly. Valdor looked toward him. Amor’s gaze remained on the blanket.

"I think that was why I slept. The sound was constantly steady and warm."

"May I?"

"Mm."

The warrior shifted closer. Amor looked up as Valdor took his uninjured hand, moving slowly enough that refusal remained possible. He placed Amor’s palm against the center of his bare chest, directly over the deep rhythm beneath skin and muscle.

"It remains here."

Valdor said. Amor’s breath caught. The heartbeat pressed against his palm. It was still steady, warm and unmistakably alive.

Before, he had received the comfort unconsciously, his body using it as shelter while his mind slept. Now the contact was deliberate. Amor could withdraw whenever he wished.

He did not.

His fingers spread slightly against Valdor’s chest. The warrior remained still, allowing Amor to feel each beat without turning the gesture into anything more. The moonstone clasp rested only inches above their hands, pale light caught beside dark fur. Amor found himself breathing in time with the rhythm.

"Is it really so soothing?"

Valdor asked.

"Yes."

The answer carried no teasing. Neither did the silence that followed. Eventually, Amor remembered the unanswered question from the carriage.

"Um, I know you said you would tell me later but... Who did you meet inside the palace?"

Valdor’s heartbeat changed beneath his hand. Only slightly. Amor noticed.

"You said family."

"Yes."

"Your father behaved as though the identity required secrecy."

"Yes."

"Was it someone employed by the royal household?"

"No."

"Someone working in a noble family?"

Valdor looked toward him.

"The queen."

Amor blinked. The meaning did not arrive immediately.

"The queen knew your family?"

"She is family."

Amor lowered his hand. Valdor continued with the same direct calm he might have used to explain the weather.

"Your queen, Samara Solaris, was born Samara Rhazien. She is my dad’s elder sister. We have not seen her but dad told us stories about her. Everything but why she disappeared."

Amor stared. The breath he attempted to draw went down incorrectly.

He coughed.

Valdor immediately moved the meal tray aside and placed one hand behind his shoulders and rubbed.

"Breathe."

Amor waved him away while coughing again.

"Kah, kah, The—the queen!?"

"Yes."

"King Cassian’s wife??"

"Yes."

"The woman wearing the crown inside the palace?"

"Yes."

"How many queens do you believe the kingdom possesses?"

"One."

Amor took the water Valdor offered and drank too quickly. The revelation rearranged several days of anxiety at once.

Valdor was not merely the son of a foreign chieftain tolerated through treaty. His aunt sat beside the king. By kingdom social standards, the supposedly uncivilized envoy had a closer connection to the crown than most titled nobles who mocked him. Amor placed the cup down.

"You are effectively part of the royal family."

Valdor frowned.

"I am a Rhazien."

"That is not a denial."

"The king married my aunt. I do not know what title that creates."

"At minimum, it creates a great deal of political inconvenience for anyone who has called you a barbarian within the queen’s hearing!"

Valdor considered.

"She may fight them."

Amor remembered Vervath’s mysterious injuries and narrowed his eyes.

"What happened during the meeting?"

"She attacked Father."

The answer came too quickly to be a joke. Amor stared.

Valdor described the headlock, the forced surrender, and Vervath’s complaint that his elder sister continued bullying him well into middle age. By the time he mentioned the queen bending the high chieftain backward until his spine cracked, Amor’s mouth had fallen open.

"She wrestled him onto the carpet?"

"Yes."

"While wearing a crown?"

"Yes."

"And a formal gown?"

"Yes."

Amor looked toward the ceiling.

"The novel truly wasted everyone interesting..."

Valdor did not understand the remark. Amor recovered quickly.

"Ah! Nothing!"

The warrior studied him for another moment but chose not to press.

"Did you know?"

"No."

"Your father never told you his sister was the queen?"

"No."

"That is an absurd secret."

"Yes."

"Are you angry?"

"Yes."

Valdor’s honesty remained simple. Amor looked at his face, searching for the deeper impact beneath the stoicism.

"Does it change anything?"

The warrior became quiet.

"It does not make me better..."

He said eventually.

"I am not more capable because Aunt Samara wears a crown."

"No."

"I can hunt the same. Lead the same. Build and provide the same."

"Of course."

"But it changed... something..."

Amor waited. Valdor’s eyes lowered briefly toward the hand upon his chest.

"I did not like what I felt inside the capital."

"What did you feel?"

The warrior’s jaw tightened. Answering required the same vulnerability that had made asking Vervath for courtship advice difficult. He could speak about danger, anger, and action without hesitation. Inadequacy demanded another kind of courage.

"Less..."

He said. Amor’s brows drew together. Valdor continued before pride could stop him.

"Not because I am Blackstone. I know my worth."

"Then why?"

"Because kingdom nobles decided their worth through titles, estates, and blood. You belong among them..."

Amor’s expression sharpened.

"I wondered whether they would always see me beneath you..."

Valdor said.

"Whether choosing me would force you to defend the choice in every room..."

The hand against his heart pressed more firmly. Valdor looked down.

"I knew their judgment was foolish..."

He continued.

"I still felt it."

"That does not make it true."

"No."

"Did you believe I thought you were beneath me?"

"No!"

The immediate answer eased Amor only slightly. Valdor’s voice lowered.

"I feared what the difference would cost you..."

Amor stared at him. This was not merely masculine pride wounded by silk and titles. Valdor had worried that courtship would become another burden Amor carried, another relationship requiring secrecy, defense, or constant explanation. The feeling came from care even where it twisted into inadequacy.

"Learning Aunt Samara is my aunt changed how the kingdom measures me..."

Valdor said.

"It should not matter."

"But it quieted the doubt, didn’t it?"

"... Yes."

He clearly disliked admitting it. Amor’s chest tightened with anger, though none of it belonged to Valdor.

"That is ridiculous!"

Valdor’s face became still. Amor sat straighter.

"Not your feelings. Their standard!"

The warrior waited.

"You fed me with food you hunted and cooked yourself..."

Amor said.

"You can build shelter, craft tools, make medicine, lead warriors, protect villages, preserve food, and navigate places where half the court would die before finding breakfast..."

Valdor’s brows rose faintly.

"You are honest even when honesty embarrasses you. You ask before touching me. You listen when I tell you that your fear sounded like an order, and you change instead of punishing me for objecting..."

Amor’s voice warmed with conviction.

"You make me feel safe enough to sleep..."

He stopped there. He did not mention the nightmares, ruined streets, or the truth that Valdor’s heartbeat had driven away monsters belonging to another world. That confession remained too large for the afternoon. Valdor understood the importance anyway. Amor continued.

"A royal connection cannot make any of those qualities more valuable..."

His hand shot back up to Valdor’s chest and his fingers moved slightly with each heartbeat.

"And lacking one could never make them less..."

Valdor looked at him. The doubt had not vanished completely; feelings built over years only to be recently dug up rarely disappeared beneath one conversation. Yet Amor’s words reached deeper than reassurance offered by Vervath or recognition from a queen. Amor belonged to the world Valdor feared might judge him. Amor’s judgment was the one that mattered.

"I would defend choosing you..."

Amor said. Valdor’s heart struck harder beneath his palm. The words surprised them both. Amor’s cheeks warmed, but he did not withdraw them.

"I would prefer not to defend myself at every dinner..."

He added quickly.

"However, should anyone require an explanation, I am extremely capable of making them regret asking."

"I know."

"You sound pleased again!"

"Yes."

Valdor covered none of his expression now. Affection softened his dark eyes, while the faintest curve appeared near the scar at his mouth. Amor had seen that smile only a handful of times. Each appearance felt earned. The room settled into quiet.

Their conversation had reached an edge neither could pretend not to see. Valdor had spent the afternoon thinking about courtship, his father’s advice, his newly discovered bloodline, and the temptation he denied inside the carriage. He had wanted to wait until certainty replaced every question. Certainty had not come. Something better had.

Honesty.

He moved his hand toward Amor’s, then stopped before covering it.

"May I?"

Amor looked at their hands. His palm rested against Valdor’s chest. The warrior waited before placing even one finger over it.

"Mm."

Valdor covered Amor’s hand with his own. The large palm enclosed the smaller one against his heartbeat. He did not press hard enough to trap it. The contact merely held the choice in place.

"Will you allow me to court you?"

Amor stared. The question came with no elaborate preparation, no flowers, jewels, or ceremonial announcement. Valdor asked it in his familiar direct manner while seated beside Amor’s bed, dressed in furs, with half-finished lunch cooling nearby. The simplicity made it more serious. Amor’s mouth opened.

Then closed.

He looked toward the moonstone clasp. The mountain-glass pendant rested against his chest.

The man had fed him, carried him, held his hand through nightmares, treated his injuries, given him an irreplaceable heirloom, challenged a duke, and nearly escaped the estate with him before the second carriage arrived.

"What exactly have you believed you were doing until now?"

Valdor considered.

"Wanting..."

Amor’s breath caught.

"Learning..."

Valdor added. His fingers remained warm over Amor’s hand.

"Not claiming."

The distinction entered Amor more deeply than any polished declaration might have. Alphonsins had treated courtship, affection, and history as forms of possession. Even rejection became something Amor could not choose because the duke considered their connection permanent enough to override consent. Valdor had wanted him openly while refusing to transform desire into entitlement.

"What would courtship mean to you?"

Amor asked.

"That I tell you my purpose."

"You have stated it."

"That I learn what you want."

"From kingdom courtship?"

"And Blackstone..."

Amor’s curiosity sharpened. Valdor continued.

"I would bring gifts. Spend time with you. Ask what future you could accept."

"Would your tribe consider us engaged?"

"No."

"Would your father?"

"... He... already does..."

Amor sighed. Valdor’s mouth moved faintly.

"His opinion does not make it true."

"Would courtship mean I am expected to marry you?"

"Not if you do not want it to."

"Would I have to move north?"

"Not if you do not want to."

"Will I become part of Blackstone?"

"Only if you choose to."

Amor watched him carefully.

"Would you assume exclusivity?"

Valdor paused.

"I would want it."

"That was not the question."

"No..."

He answered.

"You can ask. I just want you..."

The honesty satisfied him. Valdor’s thumb moved once against the back of Amor’s hand.

"You may stop the courtship."

"At any time?"

"Yes."

"For any reason?"

"Yes."

"Even if you disagree?"

The warrior’s expression tightened at the possibility but his answer remained immediate.

"Yes."

Amor believed him. That was the frightening part.

He did not merely believe Valdor meant the promise now. He believed the man would honor it while hurt, angry, or afraid. Everything they had experienced so far supported that trust. Amor looked toward the window.

Late sunlight spread across the room in warm gold, softening the furniture and catching upon the edges of Valdor’s markings. Outside, the estate continued its ordinary movement, servants crossing gardens and distant carriages departing from the front drive. Nothing within the world paused for his answer. His own heart did.

"I have conditions."

Valdor straightened slightly.

"Say them."

"You will not issue orders when you mean to express fear."

"Yes."

"You will not decide what I want without asking."

"Yes."

"You will not threaten every man who looks at me."

Valdor became silent. Amor waited. The warrior’s brows drew together as though examining the practical difficulty of the demand.

"... I will try."

Amor almost laughed.

"That is not an agreement."

"It is honest."

"What if they merely compliment me?"

"I will not threaten them."

"What if they flirt?"

Valdor’s jaw tightened. Amor’s smile grew.

"What if they ask whether I am available?"

"I will tell them you are being courted."

"Mm, that is acceptable."

"And look at them."

"How?"

Valdor did not answer. Amor understood.

"That look will probably count as a threat."

"... I will try."

Amor laughed softly. The sound loosened the remaining tension.

"I accept that as the most honesty currently available."

Valdor’s heartbeat struck harder. Amor felt it beneath his palm. The warrior’s expression remained restrained, but the warmth in his eyes deepened until Amor could almost see the emotion Valdor refused to display more dramatically. He had faced monsters, royal councils, and enraged dukes with greater ease than this quiet answer.

"Then you may court me..."

Amor said. Valdor’s heartbeat struck harder again. Amor smiled.

"You appear frightened."

"I am."

"Good. It means I have an advantage."

Valdor closed his hand more securely over Amor’s.

"Not for long."

The words carried promise rather than warning. Amor kept his palm over the warrior’s heart, fully awake and aware of every beat. No nightmare had driven him toward the sound. No exhaustion had made the choice for him.

He had placed his hand there. He had granted permission for Valdor to cover it. He had agreed to be courted without offering engagement, forever, or any promise greater than the truth of the present. Valdor accepted that freedom as though it were more precious than certainty. Neither leaned forward for a kiss.

The absence did not feel incomplete. Valdor had denied himself a stolen moment inside the carriage, choosing instead to wait until Amor could decide. Now Amor gave him something better than an unconscious softness he would never remember. He gave him conscious trust.

The meal cooled beside them. Lanslet would return soon. The maids were undoubtedly waiting beyond the corridor, prepared to interpret every silence as romantic evidence. Vervath would probably discover the courtship within minutes and announce that the childhood flower nest had finally become legally relevant. For now, the room belonged only to them.

Amor felt Valdor’s heart beating beneath his palm. Steady, though no longer calm. He smiled brighter.

"Your first duty as my official suitor is to return the tart."

Valdor looked toward the covered tray.

"You have not finished the vegetables."

Amor’s expression hardened.

"Courtship is already disappointing."

"You agreed."

"Humph! I can stop at any time."

Valdor handed him one piece of roasted carrot.

"After this."

Amor struck his shoulder with the fan. Valdor accepted the blow with the faint smile of a man who had just been granted far more than permission to court. He had been chosen.

Not forever. Not yet but freely.