Lucien didn't remember falling.
He remembered the kiss — both of them.
Kael: hard, hungry, desperate.
Elias: soft, sacred, trembling.
He remembered the curse flaring. The sigil on his chest glowing like fire branded into his skin. Then pain. Cold. Darkness.
And the voice.
Choose.
But he hadn't.
And now he was paying the price.
---
He woke in the Royal Infirmary, half-naked, breath shallow, body slick with sweat. The collar still burned faintly. The sigil over his heart looked raw — like something had clawed at it from the inside.
A soft hand rested on his forehead.
Elias.
His robes were rumpled. Eyes hollow from lack of sleep. He'd been here the whole night.
Lucien opened his mouth.
"You're alive," Elias whispered, voice catching. "Don't move."
Lucien ignored him. "Where's Kael?"
"…He left."
Of course he did.
That was what Kael did when things got complicated — he became a sword. He ran before he could break.
Elias looked at him, voice low. "Why didn't you push me away?"
Lucien stared at the ceiling.
"Because I didn't want to."
Elias flinched. "The curse almost killed you."
"Then maybe you kissed me right."
Silence.
Elias stood, jaw tight, walking to the window.
"You can't keep playing us both."
"I'm not playing."
"Yes, you are," Elias snapped. "You kiss him, you taunt me, and you walk through fire like you want to be burned. But this isn't some street game anymore. There are rules here. And if you keep doing this... you'll die."
Lucien sat up, wincing. "Then help me live."
Elias turned. "You know I would."
Their eyes locked.
There was no more pretending.
---
Meanwhile, in the War Tower…
Kael slammed his fist into stone.
He hadn't slept. Not since he watched Elias kiss him.
No — not him.
Not Lucien.
Whatever that thing was.
And yet… his hands still remembered Lucien's waist. His lips still burned with the taste of him.
Kael was losing himself.
To the enemy.
To his brother.
To the boy he once loved and the man who now wore his face.
He turned as a shadow stepped into the room.
A servant. Pale. Trembling.
"Your Highness," they whispered. "The Emperor has summoned the Council. It's about the cursed prince."
Kael's blood ran cold.
---
Back in the Court of Gold, hours later, the imperial throne chamber filled with nobles in ceremonial robes, whispering behind fans and enchantments.
The Emperor sat on his marble throne, cold-eyed and unreadable.
Lucien entered slowly, supported by Elias on one side, draped in dark robes that concealed the bruises from his collapse. His silver hair had been loosely tied, but his posture remained perfect — even after pain, even after betrayal.
Kael stood already at the base of the throne.
Lucien noticed how he looked away.
Coward.
The Emperor raised a hand.
"Let it be known: the cursed sigil has reacted. The council has deemed it unstable."
Gasps.
Lucien's eyes narrowed.
"What are you saying?"
A Minister stepped forward.
"We are saying, Prince Lucien, that you are a ticking weapon."
"And weapons," the Emperor added, "must be controlled. Or destroyed."
Silence.
Lucien smiled — sharp, dangerous, defiant.
"Then I hope you brought a sword sharp enough."
Kael stepped forward suddenly. "He is no threat."
Lucien froze.
Even Elias looked up, startled.
Kael's voice was steady — but underneath it, something cracked.
"I will take personal command of the prince's containment. I will watch him, guide him… and end him, if necessary."
Lucien felt the words like a slap.
He didn't know if he wanted to laugh… or break.
"End me, brother?" he asked softly. "You'd kill me after kissing me?"
Kael's eyes didn't move.
"I don't kiss strangers."
Lucien smiled.
But it didn't reach his eyes.
---
That night, Elias came to Lucien's chamber. He didn't knock. He didn't speak.
He just crawled into bed beside him.
Lucien turned to face him.
"I'm not safe," he whispered.
Elias touched his chest, just above the sigil.
"Then I'll learn how to hold you without breaking."