Amor did not realize how much time had passed inside Master Pellin’s shop until the jeweler began lighting the small enchanted lamps mounted along the walls.
The afternoon sun still streamed through the front windows, but its warm golden color had deepened toward amber, stretching the shadows of passing pedestrians across the polished floor. Beyond the glass, merchants were beginning to close their river-facing displays, and the musicians stationed along the promenade had shifted from bright afternoon melodies to slower songs suited for early evening. Amor glanced toward the silver clock above Master Pellin’s counter and felt his contentment collapse beneath immediate calculation.
"We need to leave."
Valdor looked down at him, one hand still resting near the moonstone clasp Amor had fastened upon his mantle.
"Now?"
"Unless you wish to explain to my father why we failed to return before dinner."
Amor crossed quickly toward the front door, looking beyond the promenade as though the route home might somehow shorten beneath sufficient scrutiny. Their carriage remained parked near the restaurant district, having been moved there by the coachman after the staff from The Open Hearth delivered their carefully packed leftovers. From Master Pellin’s shop, they would need to follow the riverside promenade west, turn back through the artisan quarter, retrieve the carriage, then endure nearly an hour’s ride to House Moons.
Even if they left immediately, they would barely arrive before the evening meal. Amor touched the mountain-glass pendant at his chest, the rough little bead grounding him as his thoughts raced through alternate routes. The shortest formal path required looping around several blocks because the promenade’s commercial streets curved away from the carriage square. There was, however, a narrow service alley running between the jeweler’s row and the rear streets of the restaurant district. The shortcut would save perhaps fifteen minutes.
More importantly, those fifteen minutes might allow their return journey to remain unhurried, preserving the quiet carriage ride Amor had begun anticipating. He could sit beside Valdor, perhaps hold his hand again, and continue whatever conversation arose without spending the entire journey anxiously checking the time. Amor refused to examine why the possibility of several additional private minutes mattered so much. He turned toward Valdor.
"We will take the alley behind the southern row."
Valdor’s expression changed immediately.
"No."
Amor blinked. The answer had arrived before he finished turning toward the door.
"What do you mean, no?"
Valdor looked through the small window above the front door toward the narrow passage Amor indicated. The alley entrance lay between a closed flower shop and a merchant’s storage building, its interior obscured by long evening shadows even while the promenade remained bright. Several delivery carts had left muddy tracks near the opening, and stacked crates reduced the already narrow path.
"Your father said no alleys."
Valdor replied. Amor stared at him. Of all the concerns he expected Valdor to raise, obedience to Lanslet’s anxious breakfast instructions had not ranked highly.
"My father also implied that I should travel with an entire military escort and avoid every district containing strangers."
"He said no crowded alleys."
"This one is not crowded!"
"It is still an alley."
"That is an admirably literal interpretation!"
Valdor did not respond to the sarcasm. Amor opened his fan just to close it and tapped it against his palm, attempting patience.
"Haah... the formal route will take too long. That passage leads almost directly into the street behind The Open Hearth, which places us near the carriage."
"We will take the road."
"We will be late!"
"A few moments."
"My father will count every one!"
Valdor looked unconcerned by the threat. Lanslet’s protectiveness might make dinner unpleasant, but arriving after sunset remained preferable to ignoring a warning specifically intended to preserve Amor’s safety. The capital’s refined avenues did not deceive him; every city possessed hidden places where thieves, hired blades, and desperate people waited beyond the sight of guards. A narrow route with limited exits offered too many opportunities for ambush.
"No alley."
He repeated. Amor’s brows lifted.
He had grown accustomed to Valdor accommodating nearly every request, often before Amor stated it fully. The warrior followed him through shops, accepted unfamiliar clothing, cooked whatever Amor selected, and allowed himself to be dragged from one destination to another without complaint. Even when disagreeing, Valdor usually found some practical way to satisfy Amor’s desire.
Now he stood unmoving. The unfamiliar resistance irritated Amor more than the issue deserved.
"My father is overprotective..."
He said.
"He believes an ordinary breeze might carry me away if he does not personally supervise the weather."
"He worries because danger finds you."
"One ram escaped!"
"A duke grabbed you."
Amor’s expression tightened.
"Neither occurred in an alley."
Valdor inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the technical truth without conceding the argument.
"Danger does not require the same place twice."
Master Pellin remained discreetly behind the counter, pretending to rearrange several velvet trays while listening with increasingly obvious interest. The jeweler had witnessed noble couples argue over money, gifts, social obligations, and infidelity, but this disagreement possessed an oddly domestic quality despite the pair refusing to name their relationship. One wanted punctuality and freedom; the other wanted safety and adherence to a father’s instructions.
Amor glanced toward Pellin. The jeweler immediately lowered his magnifying lens over one eye and became deeply absorbed in an empty ring setting. Amor turned back toward Valdor.
"I have used that shortcut before."
The warrior’s gaze sharpened.
"Alone?"
"Occasionally."
Valdor’s jaw tightened. Amor recognized the reaction and continued before it could become another lecture.
"Nothing happened to me!"
"That does not make it safe."
"It makes the danger hypothetical!"
"The ram was hy-po-fet-tical but then it charged."
Amor’s fan struck his palm more sharply. Valdor had apparently learned enough about noble arguments to reuse inconvenient evidence.
"You are enormous, armed even when you appear not to be, and capable of throwing a royal duke onto his face without effort. Do you truly believe anyone will approach us?"
"They might."
"They would need to be blind!"
"Or prepared."
The reply carried enough seriousness to cool Amor’s irritation for a moment.
Valdor did not fear ordinary thieves. He feared an attacker who saw his size and still chose to approach, which would suggest planning, numbers, magic, or desperation. The distinction made sense, but Amor remained focused upon the clock and the possibility that Lanslet would use lateness as proof that future outings required guards.
"We cannot arrive late."
Amor insisted.
"We can."
"My father will worry!"
"He will see you returned safely."
"He may decide this day was too dangerous!"
"It was..."
Amor stared. Valdor counted the events without amusement.
"A duke insulted you, grabbed your injured wrist, and threatened consequence. Many men followed you. Rumors spread across the city."
"You are not helping!"
"You asked whether the day was dangerous."
"I did not!"
Valdor considered that and nodded once.
"No alley."
Amor stepped closer and took his arm. The gesture had guided Valdor throughout the day, moving him toward shops, restaurants, and streets with the effortless expectation that he would follow. Amor turned toward the door and pulled. Valdor’s arm remained exactly where it was.
Amor took one step.
Valdor did not.
The resistance was so complete that Amor felt as though he had attempted to lead a stone monument from its foundation. The warrior neither jerked him back nor tightened his muscles dramatically; he simply stood, allowing Amor to pull without yielding an inch. The moonstone clasp at his shoulder caught the lamplight with maddening serenity. Amor looked over his shoulder.
"Move."
"No."
His pink eyes narrowed. He pulled again, placing more of his weight into the attempt. The soles of his boots slid slightly across the smooth floor, while Valdor remained planted with effortless stability. Master Pellin coughed into his sleeve.
Amor released Valdor’s arm and straightened his coat.
"You could at least pretend I nearly succeeded!"
"That would be dishonest."
"I am beginning to find your honesty deeply irritating!"
Valdor’s expression softened, though not enough to indicate surrender.
"The road is safer."
"The road is longer."
"Yes."
"We will miss dinner!"
"We will eat when we arrive."
"That is not the problem!"
Valdor studied him. Amor looked toward the clock again, frustration tightening beneath his ribs. Lanslet had only reluctantly permitted the outing after Amor promised they would return before the evening meal. If they arrived late on the same day Valdor publicly humiliated the king’s nephew, his father might decide that future excursions required half the household guard—or refuse to allow them entirely until the political consequences settled.
Amor did not want that. He had spent only one day outside with Valdor, and already the thought of losing the freedom to repeat it felt unbearable. There remained entire districts he wished to show him, gardens beyond the royal quarter, museums, theaters, public festivals, and shops containing things Valdor had never seen. More privately, Amor wanted further carriage rides where their hands could remain joined without witnesses.
He wanted another day. Several more. Perhaps enough that counting became inconvenient.
"If we return late..."
Amor said.
"Father may not permit us to go out alone again."
Valdor’s expression shifted. He understood the fear beneath the irritation now.
Amor was not merely concerned about dinner etiquette. He feared that a small failure would close a door they had only just opened. Lanslet’s love could become restriction when worry overcame trust, and the events at Maison Reverie provided ample justification for renewed control. Valdor moved closer.
"He will permit it."
"You cannot know that."
"I will speak to him."
"That may make matters worse!"
"Dad will speak."
"That will certainly make matters worse!"
Valdor almost smiled. Amor remained unconvinced.
"You do not understand my father when he believes I have been placed in danger. He will agree pleasantly while arranging twelve guards, three physicians, and a priest behind my back."
"He loves you."
"I know that!"
The answer emerged more sharply than Amor intended. He softened it with a breath.
"Hah, that is exactly why punctuality matters."
Valdor looked toward the alley again. For one moment, Amor believed he might reconsider. Instead, the warrior turned back with the same immovable certainty.
"I will not risk you to preserve permission for another outing."
Amor’s chest tightened.
"It is not a risk!"
"It may be."
"You treat every shadow as though it contains a monster!"
"Some do..."
Valdor’s voice remained low and patient, though his position did not change.
"Your safety is not trivial because you dislike the con-sequence of caution."
Amor bristled.
"Going outside the estate is not trivial!"
"I did not say it was."
"You did!!"
"I said being late is trivial."
"To you!"
The distinction struck between them. For Valdor, time beyond the estate could be reclaimed later. He assumed that if Amor wished to go somewhere, arrangements could be made again through direct conversation. Amor knew how easily affection became confinement, even when the person restricting him believed the act protective.
His parents in the old world had controlled him through survival. Alphonsins had controlled him through rank, anger, and physical strength.
Lanslet’s love was nothing like either, yet the thought of permission being withdrawn still awakened an old, immediate resistance. Amor had died after other people decided where his body should stand. In this life, he refused to let fear—his own or anyone else’s—determine every path he took.
Valdor saw danger. Amor saw a door closing. Neither understood the other fully enough to recognize how deep the disagreement reached.
"I have traveled that alley many times..."
Amor said again, his voice colder.
"I know the capital better than you."
"Yes."
"I know which districts are dangerous."
"You know which were dangerous before today."
Amor frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"Now people know you are separated from the duke. They know you are with a Blackstone envoy. They know he was thrown down..."
Valdor’s gaze moved toward the promenade beyond the window.
"Rumors change what people choose."
The warning was reasonable. That only made it more infuriating. Amor took Valdor’s arm once more, though this time his touch carried no playful expectation.
"We are leaving through the alley."
Valdor looked down at his hand.
"No."
"I am not asking permission!"
"I am not giving it!"
The words struck precisely where they should not have.
Amor released him. His face became still. Valdor noticed the change and immediately understood that something in his phrasing had wounded rather than persuaded. He had not intended to claim authority over Amor’s movements, only refuse to accompany him into a route he considered unsafe, he was still learning to use the common language of the empire and used what he thought were the best words to stop Amor. Yet the distinction had disappeared beneath the firmness of his answer.
"Amor..."
He began. The young noble turned toward the door. Valdor stepped after him.
"We will return. Your father will not prevent—"
"You do not know that."
"No."
"Tsk, at least you admit it!"
Amor pushed open the shop door. The bell chimed sharply above him, and cool evening air swept inside. Valdor followed immediately, his unease growing as Amor descended to the promenade with quick, elegant steps. Master Pellin watched them disappear, then looked toward the darkening alley with a troubled frown.
Outside, the river reflected bands of orange and violet from the sinking sun.
The promenade remained busy, but several merchants were packing their stalls while lamplighters moved from post to post, igniting enchanted globes before the daylight fully faded. The carriage district lay west beyond the longer commercial route. The alley waited only a short distance east.
Amor walked directly toward it. Valdor caught up within two strides.
"Stop..."
Amor continued. Valdor moved beside him without touching but kept his arm close so Amor could take it.
"I spoke wrongly."
That admission slowed Amor slightly.
"I do not give permission for where you walk..."
Valdor continued.
"You choose."
"Then the issue is resolved!"
"No..."
Amor looked up in disbelief. Valdor’s expression held both apology and resolve.
"You may choose the alley. I may refuse to call it safe."
"Oh thank you! That is very philosophical!"
"I will not help you enter danger because you wish to arrive for dinner."
"I did not ask you to help!"
"You tried to pull me."
Amor’s lips tightened. Pedestrians moved around them, curious glances lingering upon the beautiful nobleman arguing with the enormous warrior. The story from Maison Reverie had made them recognizable, but neither currently cared about the growing audience. Amor’s thoughts remained fixed upon the time slipping away.
"We have already wasted several minutes debating."
He said. Valdor looked toward the main road.
"Then we should begin walking."
Amor looked toward the alley. The entrance appeared narrow but ordinary, lined with stacked crates and rear doors belonging to reputable businesses. A strip of fading sunlight reached partway through before giving way to shadow. He had used it before without incident.
He would prove there was no danger. Then Valdor would stop treating him as though he might shatter the moment he entered an unfamiliar place.
Amor stepped away from his arm. The sudden loss of heat drew Valdor’s attention immediately.
"What are you doing?"
He asked.
"Demonstrating that you are worrying unnecessarily."
Valdor’s expression hardened.
"Amor."
The warning in his voice made Amor hesitate for less than a heartbeat.
Then the fear of losing future outings, the frustration of being denied, and the stubborn need to prove control over his own movement aligned into one reckless decision. Amor gathered the flowing side of his coat in one hand and darted toward the alley.
Valdor reached for him. His fingers closed upon empty silk. Amor was already several paces away. The warrior’s heart struck violently against his ribs.
"Amor!!"
The young noble glanced over his shoulder, lavender hair streaming behind him while moonstones flashed beneath the darkening light. A brief, defiant smile touched his face, as though the chase remained an extension of their earlier teasing rather than a rupture in Valdor’s restraint. Then he crossed beneath the shadow of the alley entrance.
Lavender disappeared into darkness.
Panic surged through Valdor with enough force to erase the street around him.
For one terrible instant, he saw not the narrow capital passage but a funeral-pyre flower vanishing beneath snow, something small and precious swallowed before his hands could reach it. He remembered the ram charging from an unexpected path, Alphonsins closing his hand around Amor’s wrist, and every whispered warning his instincts had carried since the rumors began spreading. The alley seemed to close behind Amor like a mouth.
Valdor moved.
The pedestrians upon the promenade scattered as the massive warrior launched forward, his refined robes and fur-lined mantle streaming behind him. He entered the alley at a run. Master Edric’s reinforced clothing allowed each stride without resistance, the boots striking stone hard enough to echo between the walls. He ignored every startled shout.
Amor was fast.
The realization would have impressed him under any other circumstances. Despite the heels of his boots, shortened though they were for walking, Amor moved with startling agility through the narrow passage. He avoided broken paving stones, slipped between stacked crates, and lifted his coat before it could catch upon a protruding nail. His years as Lovell had taught him how to run through far worse terrain.
Valdor knew none of that. He saw only the distance remaining between them.
"Stop!!"
Amor heard the command echo through the alley. He ran faster.
Part of him understood that Valdor was genuinely frightened, but pride and momentum made stopping feel like surrender after he had insisted the route was harmless. If he reached the far end first, he could turn, prove the alley contained no threat, and perhaps laugh until the tension between them disappeared. The exit already seemed visible beyond a bend.
He rounded the corner.
Valdor’s blood went cold when Amor vanished from sight again. The warrior accelerated.
His shoulder brushed one stacked crate, knocking it sideways despite his attempt to avoid it. Wooden boxes toppled behind him, splitting open across the stones and spilling folded fabric into the alley. He did not stop.
The medical pouch at his sash struck against his hip. The moonstone clasp gleamed faintly as he passed beneath a hanging lamp. Ahead, Amor’s heels continued striking the pavement in rapid, light beats.
Valdor followed the sound. He had never known panic like this—not when facing monsters, winter storms, or enemies whose weapons were already drawn. Those dangers remained visible and could be fought. Amor’s disappearing figure awakened something far more helpless.
Valdor could not protect someone who refused to remain within reach. The thought struck harder than fear. He turned the corner.
Amor was still ahead, his lavender hair bright against the shadows as he hurried toward the distant opening. Relief and anger crashed together within Valdor so violently that his next breath emerged almost as a growl. He pushed forward, determined to reach him before the alley had an opportunity to prove either of them right.