Chapter 455: A Matter of Trust

The heavy drapes were pulled halfway open, letting the late-afternoon light creep into the study like it had somewhere better to be.

Cherion sat on the edge of the sofa, his fingers mindlessly tracing the brass trim while his brain was clearly somewhere else entirely.

Behind him, heavy, familiar footsteps rustled against the rug.

Zarius stepped up to the sofa, resting his hands casually over the back of the frame, leaning down until his chin rested near Cherion’s temple. His breath was warm against Cherion’s skin, smelling faintly of black tea and dried cedar.

"You’re very quiet," Zarius murmured, his heavy gaze settling on the side of Cherion’s face. "Let me guess. You’re thinking about the trip to the south?"

Cherion let out a short, quiet breath, leaning his head back just enough to rest against Zarius’s shoulder. "No. Not that." He paused, a tiny, faint curve touching the corner of his lips. "I was actually just thinking about how all of this started."

Zarius tilted his head slightly, his dark eyebrows pulling up in quiet curiosity. "All of what?"

"Us," Cherion said softly, turning his head so he could look Zarius in the eye. "Our... contract relationship. Does that sound familiar?"

Zarius let out a low, rumbling laugh that vibrated against Cherion’s shoulder. He reached down, his fingers wrapping firmly around Cherion’s jaw, tipping his face up just a fraction.

"Why does that sound like an eternity ago?" Zarius teased, his thumb gently brushing across Cherion’s cheekbone.

"It’s just... this whole thing with Marielle having a contract with Iryna kind of brings back some memories. Feels weirdly familiar."

"I suggest you forget about that piece of paper. The contract itself became ashes."

Cherion chuckled softly, his hand rising to cover Zarius’s fingers, feeling the rough, familiar warmth of his skin. "I know. It’s not as if it was the most romantic start we could have had. But... it was where we began. It’s part of how we grew into this. It’s worth remembering, isn’t it?"

Zarius’s gaze softened, the sharp, authoritative edge he carried through the palace halls completely melting away. "You’re right," he whispered.

He bent his head down, pressing his lips against Cherion’s in a slow, deep, and unhurried kiss.

Cherion closed his eyes, his fingers sliding up into the thick, dark hair at the nape of Zarius’s neck, pulling him closer. His mouth moved against Cherion’s with a warm, almost teasing patience, drawing a quiet breath from him before deepening the kiss.

The gentle press of their lips gradually grew heavier, softer, until Cherion found himself leaning into him without even realizing it. Zarius’s thumb caressing Cherion’s jawline until Cherion let out a low, contented breath against his lips.

When Zarius slowly pulled back, he didn’t go far. He rested his forehead against Cherion’s, his eyes looking down into Cherion’s blue ones.

Cherion swallowed quietly, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. "Zarius?"

"Hmm?"

"I know I shouldn’t be overthinking it now... but this union with the Solaric Empire," Cherion murmured, his tone shifting into something slightly more cautious, more reflective. "I’m still a bit nervous about how things will go in the long term. But... do you truly believe it will give the North the leverage we need?"

Zarius’s hand shifted from Cherion’s jaw, his broad palm coming to rest flat against his upper back, holding him secure against his chest.

"You’re right," Zarius answered, his voice firm and completely devoid of hesitation. "There is no way for us to know what the years ahead may bring. No man has ever been granted such knowledge. We can only consider what lies before us, make our preparations, and hope that our choices lead us where we wish to go."

His hand moved slowly along Cherion’s back, his touch calm and reassuring. "But there is little use in allowing your thoughts to wander too far into what might go wrong. Once you begin imagining every possible misfortune, your mind will gladly find ten more waiting behind it. You will worry yourself over dangers that may never come to pass."

He paused, his thumb moving slowly against Cherion’s back. "And right now, all we can do is stand beside Marielle. We support her, place our trust in her judgment, and have faith that she will see this through."

A faint smile touched Cherion’s lips. "You really have complete faith in her, don’t you?"

"She’s my sister," Zarius said simply, a proud, quiet glint touching his eyes. "She’s far more ruthless than most of those old men give her credit for. If anyone can turn a political marriage into an iron fortress, it’s Marielle."

Cherion looked up at him. "You’re right," he whispered softly, leaning up to press his lips against Zarius’s mouth once more, catching him in another deep, lingering kiss that tasted of quiet relief.

Knock Knock

The sudden, sharp rap against the wooden door frame made Cherion flinch slightly. He immediately tried to pull back from the embrace, his hands pushing gently against Zarius’s chest, but Zarius didn’t let go. Instead, Zarius simply shifted his grip, wrapping his arm securely around Cherion’s waist, holding him firmly against his side as he turned his head toward the entrance.

"Come in," Zarius called out, his voice instantly dropping back into its low, resonant command.

The heavy door creaked open a few inches, revealing Flio standing in the doorway. The aide wore an utterly deadpan, unbothered expression as he took in the sight of the Duke holding Cherion tightly against his hip.

"My apologies for intruding upon your very busy... agenda, Your Grace," Flio said dryly, raising one eyebrow with a faint, mocking twitch of his lips. "I see the state affairs are progressing smoothly."

Cherion felt a warm flush creep up the back of his neck, though he forced himself to stay still under Zarius’s heavy grip. "Flio," Cherion murmured with a dry sigh. "What is it?"

Flio’s playful demeanor vanished, his eyes turning serious as he stepped fully into the room, letting the heavy door rest against the latch behind him.

"We have guests downstairs, Lord Cherion," Flio reported quietly, his tone dropping into a cautious key. "They just arrived at the inner gate, requesting an immediate audience with His Grace."

Zarius didn’t move, but his dark eyes narrowed slightly. "Who?"

"The court mages."