The castle seemed quieter that night, yet Aelion felt no peace. Every shadow in the stone corridors felt like a pair of eyes watching him. Since the confession, since that kiss that still lingered on his lips, the world itself seemed sharper, brighter—but also more dangerous.
Kealen had not left his side, not even for a moment. The bodyguard's presence was steady, a fortress in flesh, but Aelion could sense the tension in him. It was in the way Kealen's hand hovered close to his sword hilt, the way his gaze flickered across every movement in the dark halls.
"Kealen," Aelion whispered as they turned a corner toward the eastern tower. The moonlight from the arched windows washed silver across Kealen's face, catching the intensity in his eyes. "You've been restless all evening."
Kealen didn't slow, but his voice was low and edged. "There's been talk. I heard the guards whispering—rumors of a plot within the court. Someone wants to use you, Aelion. Someone wants to break you."
The prince's chest tightened. He had grown used to politics, to lies dressed in silk and poisoned smiles. But this was different—Kealen's fear was never without reason.
"Then let them try," Aelion said, his chin lifting despite the weight in his heart. "I am not weak."
Kealen stopped abruptly. His hand reached out, fingers brushing against Aelion's sleeve, stopping him before the stairwell. His eyes, usually disciplined and unreadable, burned with something raw.
"You're not weak," Kealen said, almost sharply. "But you are precious. And that makes you vulnerable."
The silence between them deepened, thick with unsaid things. Aelion's pulse quickened. He remembered the heat of their kiss, the way Kealen had trembled slightly—as though restraining everything he truly felt. And now, standing in the cold corridor, Aelion could no longer ignore it.
"Kealen," he said softly, "I am not only your duty."
The bodyguard flinched, as though struck. His jaw tightened, his shoulders rigid. "You don't understand. My oath binds me. To protect you—even from myself."
Aelion stepped closer, heart pounding. His voice dropped, vulnerable yet fierce. "And if I told you I wanted no protection from you? If I told you I wanted more?"
For a moment, Kealen looked torn apart, as though every part of him screamed in different directions. Then his composure cracked. He stepped forward, closing the space between them until Aelion could feel the warmth of his breath.
"You drive me mad," Kealen murmured, his hand rising, hesitating at Aelion's jaw. "Every moment near you is a battle I can't win."
Aelion leaned into the touch, his own hands trembling as they found Kealen's cloak. "Then lose the battle."
The words undid him. Kealen's restraint shattered, and in the next heartbeat, his lips claimed Aelion's in a kiss both desperate and reverent. It was nothing like their first—it was hungrier, deeper, as though all the fear, longing, and forbidden desire had burst free at once.
Aelion melted into it, clutching Kealen's shoulders, feeling the solid strength that had shielded him for years. The kiss was fire, and in that blaze, Aelion no longer felt like a prince, no longer bound by thrones or crowns—just a man who wanted, and who was wanted in return.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, Kealen pressed his forehead to Aelion's. His voice was ragged.
"This is dangerous," he whispered. "If anyone saw—"
"Let them," Aelion interrupted, his eyes blazing with rare defiance. "I would rather burn with you than be cold alone."
Kealen closed his eyes, as if the words were both salvation and curse. His hand lingered at Aelion's cheek, thumb brushing gently over his skin.
But before he could reply, a faint sound echoed in the hall—a footstep, light but unmistakable. Both men froze, instincts sharpening.
The shadows weren't as empty as they had thought.