"I admit," Lioran began, looking up at me, "I was surprised when you requested I help you patrol—I thought that was the job of the King's Guard?"
Of course, he would have seen through my silly excuse. I swallowed hard, struck again by the beauty of his face in the morning light. Struck by the softness of his features, the width of his eyes, the fullness of his lips—all so fucking feminine.
"Yes, I will admit… the patrol was merely a guise."
He frowned up at me in obvious confusion.
"Would you walk with me to the rose garden? There is something I wish to discuss—away from any potentially curious ears."
He hesitated briefly, then nodded. "Of course."
We moved along the winding paths, past gardeners tending to the blooms. The formal rose garden lay beyond a stand of cherry trees, their pale blossoms creating a soft pink canopy overhead. Few wandered here so early in the season—the roses had barely begun to bloom—which made it ideal for a private conversation.
The garden’s design offered what the court valued most: discretion. Tall yew hedges formed intimate alcoves where many a deal had been struck and secrets whispered. I led Lioran to the farthest corner, beneath a weathered stone pergola that would soon be cloaked in roses. Here, even the highest towers couldn’t overlook us.
It was one of the reasons I'd brought Elenora here—so I could fuck her without an audience. Now the thought of Elenora did nothing for me. Strange.
“No one will disturb us here,” I said, turning to face him.
Lioran stood in the dappled light beneath the latticework, sunlight painting soft patterns across his skin. He looked almost… otherworldly. I pushed the thought aside. No matter how much I wished it otherwise, he was not a woman. And thus, anything that occurred between us could be punishable by death. It was a risk I was not willing to take, but I had to make him understand, all the same.
“I’ve tried to understand it,” I began, without preamble, once we were alone.
“Understand what?”
“I’ve never desired… a man before. And the weight of that realization…” I paused, exhaling. “It’s taken its toll. It continues to do so.”
Lioran's eyes widened slightly—clearly, he hadn’t expected such frankness.
“I’ve questioned myself,” I continued. “Reexamined everything. My past. My sense of self. And I can tell you without any doubt that there was never any sign of this in me. Nothing to suggest I could feel this way for another… for another…man. Yet here we are.”
Lioran looked up at me, his voice quiet. “Perhaps what you feel isn’t about appearance. Perhaps it’s… about something deeper.”
“What do you mean by that?”
He turned his attention to a budding rose beside us. “I mean that sometimes connection goes beyond form. Beyond flesh. We recognize something in another that mirrors something in ourselves—a resonance. A knowing.” He paused. "And it has nothing to do with our outside bodies and everything to do with what's in here." Then he held his hand over his heart.
His words settled into me like a whisper as I considered them, turning them over in my mind.
“I’ve known many men in my life—brothers in arms, friends, rivals. Never have I felt for them what I feel for you.” I stepped closer, drawn by something I still couldn’t name. “There’s something about your essence, Lioran, that calls to me... despite every conviction I’ve held about myself.”
The vulnerability of my admission startled me, but it was true. What was more, I felt more exposed in this moment than ever before.
Lioran's gaze dropped to where my shadow fell across his boots. He stared at that patch of darkness as his chest rose and fell in quick, shallow bursts—each breath a confession his words wouldn't make.
His face remained carved from stone. Perfect. Controlled. But I caught something flash behind his eyes—a spark of fear? Or something hungrier? Whatever it was disappeared beneath layers of carefully constructed walls.
I reached for his wrist before my mind could argue against it, and my fingers closed around the skin where his pulse hammered against my thumb. What I felt beneath my grip stopped me. His wrist was slender, the bones fine and delicate. His hands had always seemed small, but now... the contrast between my own rough, weathered fingers and his narrow wrist struck me as somehow—off.
“There’s more to you than you reveal,” I said quietly, my voice low with certainty. “I can't explain it, but I feel it all the same.”
Beneath my hand, his pulse raced like a trapped bird’s. For a moment, I thought he might jerk it away. But instead, he looked up, his eyes meeting mine with something raw and unguarded.
We stood like that for a few seconds that felt much longer, his heartbeat fluttering beneath my fingertips.
“We all have secrets,” he said softly. “But some are too dangerous to share.”
The words hovered between us—neither confession nor denial, but something heavier than both.
