Lucien liked the quiet hours of the palace best.
Just before dawn, when the halls were still and even the assassins slept. That was when the masks slipped. The palace didn't breathe during the day — it held its breath, choking on lies and lace. But in the early dark?
It whispered.
Lucien wandered the north wing barefoot, robe dragging behind him, long silver hair unbound, carrying only a stolen apple from the royal kitchen. He bit into it slowly. Sweet. Crisp. Forbidden.
Like everything he seemed to touch in this new life.
"Out of bed again?" came a soft voice.
He turned — not startled.
Elias.
He stood in the shadow of the moonlight, barefoot as well, wearing loose white night-robes that clung to his frame like silk poured over candlelight.
Lucien tilted his head. "Can't sleep. You?"
Elias stepped forward. "I felt… your energy. Your magic. It brushed the edges of the Temple Shield."
"You can feel me from across the palace?" Lucien asked, lips curling.
Elias's cheeks flushed. "Don't make it sound like that."
"But it is like that, isn't it?" Lucien whispered, stepping closer. "You feel me."
He let his voice drop, laced with challenge and temptation. The air shimmered faintly — a response from the curse, or maybe from something deeper between them.
Elias swallowed, standing still. "You're dangerous."
Lucien leaned in, so close he could taste the warmth between them. "You came anyway."
For a moment — the tension broke.
Elias closed the distance, reaching out — not to kiss, but to touch the cursed collar.
His fingers glowed faintly with holy light.
"This is what's killing you," he murmured.
"No," Lucien said. "This is what's protecting everyone else."
Their eyes locked.
Lucien knew he could lean forward, take Elias's lips, test the waters of that old love he never lived. He could unravel him.
But instead—
He stepped back.
And smiled.
"Not yet, Priest."
Elias let out a shaky breath, torn between relief and regret. "You'll drive me mad."
"That's the plan."
---
He left Elias in the corridor, skin flushed, magic humming in the air.
But his smile faded the moment he entered his chambers again.
Because Kael was there.
Not standing. Sitting on his bed. Uninvited. Arms crossed. Boots muddy. Sword against the headboard like he owned the room.
Lucien raised a brow. "Comfortable?"
Kael didn't answer.
Lucien sighed and walked to the vanity, untying his robe. He made a show of it — slow, deliberate, letting the silk slip off his shoulders, revealing the etched lines of his cursed body in the low firelight.
He could feel Kael's eyes.
"You've never looked at me like this before," Lucien said quietly, not turning around. "Not even when we were younger. Not when I bled for you. Not when I begged."
Kael stood.
Lucien turned.
And for one breathless moment — neither spoke.
Kael's face was hard, jaw clenched, eyes burning. But there was a tremble in his hands.
"Say it," Lucien whispered. "Say you want me."
Kael stepped forward.
"I want answers."
Lucien chuckled. "You always want the wrong thing."
Kael reached up — not to strike, but to grip the collar, fingers tightening.
"You shouldn't exist," he growled. "You're not him. You're wearing his skin. His voice. But you're wrong."
Lucien's smile faded. "And yet… you still want me."
Kael's breath caught.
For a heartbeat, the world narrowed — firelight, silver hair, a forbidden body wrapped in secrets and silk.
Lucien lifted his hand slowly, brushing his thumb across Kael's lower lip.
"You hate me because you feel more alive around me than you ever did with your crown."
Kael's hand dropped.
He turned.
Left.
Without a word.
---
Lucien collapsed onto the bed, heart pounding.
Two men.
One who sees the ghost of who he was.
One who knows he's something else entirely.
Both circling like wolves.
He stared at the ceiling.
"I'll make you both fall," he whispered.
And when you do…
I won't catch you.