The balcony shimmered in the moonlight, but the peace was a lie. Alec felt it first a ripple in the air, like the shiver of danger before a blade sinks in. His gaze swept the nearby rooftops and shadows, but saw nothing. Damien's fingers brushed his cheek, grounding him.
"You're tense," Damien murmured.
Alec's voice was quiet. "We're being watched."
Before Damien could respond, a servant burst onto the balcony, breathless. "Your Highness… there's been another incident."
Damien straightened, the warmth between him and Alec evaporating like smoke. "Where?"
"Lady Elira. She was attacked on her way home from the palace. Her carriage was ambushed. Guards were found unconscious drugged."
Alec was already on his feet. "Is she alive?"
"Yes, shaken but alive. They left… a message."
The servant unfolded a piece of cloth. Burned into it was the same sigil from the previous murder—three crescents inside a broken crown.
Damien took the cloth with a trembling hand. "They're not just targeting the crown. They're targeting me."
Alec's gaze darkened. "Or me."
A tense silence settled between them.
"Whoever's behind this," Damien said, "is getting bolder."
Alec looked toward the horizon. "Then so should we."
Later that night, Alec slipped away from his quarters. The barracks were quiet, the scent of steel and sweat thick in the air. He entered a shadowed room where Julian, a loyal soldier and longtime friend, waited.
"You shouldn't have come," Julian muttered, closing the door. "Too many eyes these days."
"I had to," Alec replied. "You said you had something."
Julian nodded grimly. "I've been watching the guard shifts. Someone's been bribing their way into the East Wing. Three times in the past week. They're leaving no trail whoever it is has money, power, or both."
"And me?" Alec asked. "Has anyone been watching me?"
Julian hesitated. "Yes. I found a hidden note in the mess hall. Your name. Circled. With Damien's underneath."
Alec stiffened.
"Someone's connecting dots," Julian said. "And they're ready to pull the thread."
Caspian intercepted Alec in the hallway the next morning. His expression was unreadable.
"You're in deep," Caspian said.
"I know."
Caspian leaned in, lowering his voice. "Love like that... it won't survive this place. Not in the light."
Alec said nothing.
"You think you're protecting him," Caspian continued, "but you being here, loving him it paints a target on his back."
"You think I should leave?"
"I think," Caspian said carefully, "you should be prepared. Because the palace doesn't just kill with daggers. It kills with whispers."
Then he walked away.
That evening, a grand dinner was held in honor of a visiting ambassador from Verenthia. Damien was forced to attend with Lady Elira, now recovered, but visibly shaken. She clung to his arm, smiling too hard, her laugh brittle.
From a shadowed pillar, Alec watched, fists clenched. His eyes followed Damien's every move, the way he leaned in to whisper something to Elira, the way her hand lingered too long on his sleeve.
The ambassador raised his goblet. "To the future Queen of the kingdom!!!!
The entire room applauded. Elira beamed.
Damien didn't smile.
After the dinner, Damien stormed into Alec's room, slamming the door behind him.
"Tell me," he demanded, "how I'm supposed to smile through that farce while you stand in the corner like a ghost."
Alec's jaw tightened. "It's not my choice to stand there."
"You think I don't see how they look at her? How they look at me?" Damien paced, furious. "I'm choking on this lie. And you… you're just watching."
"What do you want me to do?" Alec snapped. "Kiss you in front of them? Declare my love while they sharpen their blades?"
"I want you to act like we matter," Damien said, voice breaking.
Alec stepped forward. "You matter. You matter more than I ever wanted you to."
Their mouths crashed together. Desperation, hunger, fire as they collided, knocking over a chair, breath mixing, hands frantic. Alec pushed Damien against the wall, then the bed, then onto the sheets, tangled and gasping.
This time, their touch was wild and wordless—a cry for safety, for belonging, for something real in a world built on lies.
After, as their bodies cooled, Alec whispered, "We can't keep doing this."
Damien laid a hand over Alec's heart. "Then don't stop."
But Alec's eyes remained distant.
Damien's breath came in short, desperate gasps beneath Alec's weight. Their kiss deepened, messier now, fueled by fury and lust. Alec's fingers tangled in Damien's golden hair, yanking his head back to bare his throat.
"You're mine," Alec growled against the skin just beneath Damien's jaw, where his pulse thundered wildly.
"I've always been yours," Damien whispered, voice trembling, "even when I wasn't allowed to be."
Alec's lips traveled downward, teeth grazing collarbone, tongue soothing where he bit. Damien arched up into him, hands sliding beneath Alec's shirt, fingers greedy and rough.
"You wore that cursed suit tonight just to torture me," Alec rasped, pulling the shirt over his own head and tossing it aside.
Damien grinned darkly. "You noticed."
Alec didn't answer. He dipped his head and captured one of Damien's nipples between his lips, sucking hard, rolling the sensitive peak with his tongue. Damien cried out, hips jerking beneath him. Alec used one hand to pin Damien's wrists above his head, dominating him completely.
"Stay still," Alec ordered, voice low and commanding.
Damien bit his lip, nodding, breath hitching as Alec trailed kisses down his chest, slow and deliberate. When Alec reached Damien's waistband, he met Damien's eyes. "Tell me to stop."
Damien's response was a breathless, "Don't you dare."
Alec undid the buttons one by one, teasingly slow, his fingers brushing over the hard line of Damien's arousal through the fabric. Damien's body trembled beneath the touch, his breathing shallow, erratic.
When Alec finally freed him, Damien gasped, the air cool against his heated skin. Alec paused, just looking at the flushed red of Damien's skin, at the hunger in his eyes, at the way he offered himself so completely.
Then Alec leaned down and took him into his mouth.
Damien let out a broken moan, hips bucking instinctively, but Alec's strong hand held him down by the hip, forcing him to take it slow. His tongue swirled, lips tight, drawing out every sound, every twitch, every tremor.
"Gods, Alec," Damien gasped, twisting against the sheets.
Alec pulled back slowly, a wicked smirk on his lips. "Patience, Your Highness."
He climbed back up Damien's body, kissed him deeply, letting him taste himself on Alec's tongue. Then Alec reached into the drawer, pulling out a small vial of oil he kept hidden beneath his weapons.
Damien's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't flinch. "You… were prepared?"
Alec kissed the corner of his mouth. "I'm a bodyguard. I'm always prepared."
The scent of the oil was rich and dark—spiced cedar and smoke. Alec poured some into his palm, warming it between his hands before trailing slick fingers down Damien's inner thigh.
Damien's muscles tensed, not from fear—but from anticipation. Trust.
Alec's touch was slow, reverent at first—teasing circles, gentle pressure, soft whispers against his skin. Damien writhed beneath him, gasping his name over and over, losing himself in the rhythm, the tension building and building.
Then Alec pushed inside.
Damien's breath caught—half pleasure, half shock. Alec stilled, giving him time, kissing every inch of skin he could reach.
"You okay?" Alec whispered against his neck.
"Yes," Damien panted. "More."
Alec moved, slow at first torturously slow. He watched every reaction, memorizing every sound Damien made, every clench of his muscles, every flicker of ecstasy in his expression. Damien clung to him, nails raking down his back, head thrown back in abandon.
Then Alec lost control.
He moved harder, faster, their bodies crashing together like a storm. The bed shook. The air filled with moans, curses, broken prayers. They were desperate, filthy, wild no longer prince and guard, but two men who had bled for each other, fought beside each other, loved each other in secret for far too long.
Their climax tore through them like a wave. Damien cried out Alec's name, voice cracking as he shattered, trembling under the force of it. Alec followed seconds later, burying his face in Damien's neck as his body convulsed with pleasure.
They collapsed together, sweat-slicked and trembling, bodies still tangled. For a long time, neither spoke. Their hearts beat in sync. Their breaths mingled in the quiet.
Damien finally broke the silence. "We can't hide forever."
Alec didn't reply. His hand slid into Damien's, squeezing gently.
A knock on the door shattered the moment.
Alec sprang up instantly, grabbing a dagger from beneath the mattress. Damien sat up, pulling the sheet over his waist, still breathless.
"Who is it?" Alec called out.
No answer.
Alec's eyes narrowed. He approached the door cautiously and yanked it open empty hallway.
Then, a sound.Soft.....Behind them.
Damien turned first. His eyes widened in horror.
"Alec…"
A figure stood by the window. Cloaked. Masked. Watching.
Then it vanished into the shadows.
Alec bolted after it, leaping out the window barefoot into the cold night, but all he found was a rooftop empty of everything ,except a small dagger stabbed into the stone the blade was engraved with one thing:
"I KNOW EVERYTHING".