The night air in the southern gardens of the Duke’s manor was cool and gentle, carrying the faint sweetness of midnight flowers and the distant hum of the capital beyond the gates. It was the kind of quiet that usually brought peace to a chaotic mind, but for Flio, it only amplified the silence.
He sat alone on a stone bench, a half-empty bottle of high-grade amber liquor resting beside his thigh. He didn’t use a glass. That was a luxury for those who wanted to savor their drink, Flio was simply looking for a dull edge to blunt the sharp corners of his thoughts.
Swirling the liquid in the bottle, he watched the moonlight catch the amber glass. His mind drifted, pulling him back into the past. He had been by Zarius’s side since they were children. While other noble heirs were learning how to flaunt their status, Flio had been learning how to balance ledgers, morize political lineages, and read the subtle shifts in a room’s atmosphere.
He had known from the very mont he could form coherent thoughts that his life was predetermined. His father had served the previous Duke faithfully until his final breath, and Flio was bred to dedicate himself to Zarius in the sa way.
Professionalism wasn’t just a trait he had developed, it was literally the basis of his entire existence. He was the shield in the shadows, the ticulous planner who ensured the Duke’s path was clear of obstacles. Personal feelings, desires, and hesitation, none of those things had a place in the mind of the Duke’s aide.
At least, they never used to.
Flio’s grip tightened on the neck of the bottle as an unwanted image flashed behind his eyes.
Karson.
He rembered the heavy, intense gaze the man had directed at him earlier that day, a stare that lingered a little too long and carried a aning Flio had no interest in figuring out. He disliked anything he couldn’t explain through reason, planning, or careful political calculation.
"Ugh."
With a low hiss of irritation, Flio raised the bottle to his lips and took another long, burning swig. He needed to wash the thought away.
"I hate wasting good things," Flio spoke aloud to the empty garden, his voice flat, cutting through the rustle of the leaves without a hint of surprise. "But keep appearing beside without a sound, and one day I really will pour this over your head. Just sit down and drink."
A beat of silence passed before a soft laugh echoed from the shadow of a large willow tree. Elios stepped into the moonlight with both hands raised in mock surrender, a grin spread across his face.
"Wow. Caught before I could even plant a foot," Elios joked, shaking his head as he strolled over to the stone bench. He reached into his coat pocket and miraculously pulled out a clean, small crystal glass. "How co you’re out here drinking the expensive stuff all by yourself and not inviting ? Don’t tell you don’t think of as a friend anymore, Flio. My fragile heart can’t take that kind of rejection."
Flio didn’t even look at him as Elios practically made himself at ho on the other end of the bench. "I just told you to sit and not leave. Don’t push your luck by demanding an invitation."
"Good enough for ," Elios chuckled, holding out his glass expectantly.
Flio sighed quietly. He tipped the bottle, pouring a generous splash of the amber liquid into Elios’s glass.
Elios took a sip, humming in appreciation as the warmth settled in his chest. His expression softened, his usual playful deanor dialing back just a fraction as he leaned back against the stone structure. "It’s rare to see you drinking like this, Flio. Especially straight from the bottle. Why? Got a problem you can’t solve with a pen and paper?"
Flio let out a dry, humorless snort, staring straight ahead at the manicured hedges. "No. If that is your hypothesis every ti soone decides to have a drink, then it ans you and Marielle have a life entirely full of problems."
"Hey, leave Marielle out of this, she’s sleeping," Elios barked out a laugh, swirling his glass. "And for the record, we just love to drink. Bad day, good day, why wait for a crisis to have a good ti? Life is too short to only drink when you’re miserable. You should try it soti. Drinking for joy, I an."
"Right, and then my job magically does itself," Flio replied, taking another asured sip from his bottle.
Elios watched him through the darkness, and for a long mont, neither of them said another word before Elios finally broke it.
"Is it about that man?"
Flio’s hand paused for a fraction of a second, the bottle hovering just an inch from his lips. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t deny it, nor did he confirm it. He simply lowered the bottle back to his lap, his expression freezing into a blank, unreadable mask.
"I am just tired because of the eting," Flio said, shifting the subject so seamlessly it was almost artful. "Everything was ant to fall neatly into place. Then the blood union issue appeared and turned the entire situation troubleso."
Elios sighed, respecting the boundary but letting his gaze soften with concern. He took another sip of his drink. "Do you really think the marriage arrangent will be that much of a problem?"
"For now, it’s not," Flio replied, his mind spinning back into focus. "Let’s just hope that the King won’t take his son’s crazy suggestion. His Majesty needs to realize he already arranged Cherion for Zarius. He can’t just change or alter things anymore because really, he’s no matchmaker."
"An to that," Elios said, letting out a soft chuckle. He leaned in a bit closer, his eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and genuine curiosity. "But seriously, Flio. Are you really telling you’re not even a little bit bothered by Karson?"
Flio’s gaze shifted to Elios, steady and piercing beneath his composed expression. "I have already told you. I have absolutely no ti for personal affairs, and it is better if we do not talk about that."
Elios opened his mouth to reply, a teasing retort right on the tip of his tongue, when a sudden, chaotic blur of white silk launched itself out of the nearby bushes.
"DRINKS!"
"Oof!" Elios gasped as a pair of arms securely locked around his neck, a heavy weight slamming directly onto his back.
Marielle wore nothing but a silk nightgown, her hair a complete ss as she wrapped herself around Elios like a stubborn leech. She glared dramatically at the crystal glass in his hand, her lower lip pouting in profound offense.
"I knew it!" Marielle yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at Elios’s face while still hanging onto him. "I truly believed we were lifelong drinking companions, Elios! But here you are, sneaking out into the garden in the dead of night to drink my brother’s top-shelf liquor without ! Is this how betrayal feels? Does our friendship an nothing to you?!"
"Marielle, get off! You’re suffocating !" Elios choked out, trying to pry her arms off his neck while keeping his glass from spilling. "And what are you even doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping already?!
"The spirit of alcohol called to !" she declared dramatically, finally sliding off his back and imdiately reaching for Flio’s bottle.
As Elios and Marielle instantly fell into their usual loud, bickering banter, Elios trying to protect his glass and Marielle loudly demanding her share while complaining about the lack of snacks, their arrival completely broke the heavy mood lingering over the garden.
Flio didn’t yell at them to be quiet. He didn’t even try to stop Marielle from stealing a sip from his bottle. Instead, he slowly turned his head away, looking out past the estate walls toward the dark, sprawling expanse of the capital.
User Comments
0 comments from readers