By the time Valdor finished the last strip of ridgeback jerky, Amor had only begun making serious progress upon the second tray of cakes.
The warrior folded the empty leather wrapping and returned it to the pouch secured at his waist, then settled into patient silence while Amor considered the remaining pastries with the concentration of a commander assessing troops before battle. There were cream-filled spirals dusted with powdered sugar, miniature fruit tarts glazed until they resembled polished jewels, and soft cakes decorated with flowers sculpted from lavender-colored frosting. Amor selected each one slowly, taking several delicate bites before deciding which flavor deserved his approval, apparently unaware that he had already consumed more sweets than Valdor had believed could fit inside his narrow body.
Valdor watched him with increasing wonder.
Amor was so small beside him that the top of his lavender head barely reached Valdor’s shoulder when they stood, and his waist appeared slender enough to be enclosed between two broad hands. Beneath the flowing silk, his limbs remained lithe and delicate, carrying none of the heaviness Valdor associated with someone capable of devouring two full trays of rich food in a single afternoon. Yet every time a servant replaced an empty plate, Amor’s pink eyes brightened with renewed interest, and another pastry disappeared without leaving any visible evidence upon his fragile frame.
Valdor had grown up among people who considered a large appetite a sign of vitality, strength, and good health, so Amor’s enjoyment of food pleased him far more than it alarmed him. What puzzled him was where the food went once swallowed, because Amor remained as slim and ethereal after the final honey cake as he had before eating the first. Valdor found himself glancing discreetly at Amor’s stomach, half expecting the soft fabric draped over it to reveal some change, but the flowing tunic continued falling smoothly over a waist that seemed offensively narrow.
Amor noticed the repeated glances.
He deliberately finished chewing before lowering his fork, then looked beside him from the table with one lavender brow raised in graceful challenge.
"You have been staring at my stomach for several minutes."
Valdor’s gaze lifted to his face.
"You ate much."
"I was hungry."
"You are still small."
Amor glanced down at himself, as though the amount of cake he had eaten might have caused him to shrink without noticing.
"Were you expecting me to expand before your eyes?"
"I do not know where the food rests."
The concern in Valdor’s voice was so sincere that Amor pressed his lips together, struggling not to laugh with his mouth still full of cream. The warrior appeared genuinely perplexed rather than critical, his dark eyes moving once more toward Amor’s waist as though some trick of noble anatomy had been concealed beneath the pale rose silk. Amor eventually surrendered and allowed a soft burst of laughter to escape.
"It rests precisely where everyone else’s food does..."
He assured him.
"This body simply appears to have been blessed with an unusually forgiving constitution."
Valdor considered the explanation, though his expression suggested he did not find it entirely satisfactory. Among the Blackstone Tribe, people ate according to their labor and accumulated strength accordingly, while those who remained too thin were watched carefully in case illness or grief had stolen their appetite. Amor’s enthusiasm made sickness unlikely, but his delicate build still awakened an instinctive concern Valdor could not easily dismiss.
"You should eat meat as well."
Valdor said. Amor’s smile faded into a mild offensive pout.
"I eat meat."
"Soft meat."
"Food is generally improved by being soft enough to chew."
Valdor glanced toward the pouch containing his jerky, apparently uncertain why anyone would consider ease of chewing an important quality.
"Hard food strengthens the teeth."
"Hard food breaks civilized teeth..."
Amor replied, reaching for the final pastry on the tray.
"I have no desire to replace mine merely to prove that I can gnaw through a monster."
The last pastry was a small crescent cake layered with pale cream and blackberry preserves, its surface decorated with flakes of edible silver. Amor examined it admiringly before taking his first bite, then closed his eyes as the sweet filling spread across his tongue. Valdor had already learned that this expression meant the food had pleased him greatly, and the subtle delight softening Amor’s face brought an answering warmth into the warrior’s chest.
He did not mind waiting.
Valdor could remain still for hours while tracking prey through snow, watching the subtle movement of branches and listening for the faintest change in the forest’s rhythm. Sitting beneath the flowering arbour while Amor ate was far easier, particularly when the object of his attention made small, satisfied sounds after especially pleasing bites. The warrior rested one arm across his raised knee and watched with such calm focus that Amor eventually opened one eye.
"You truly have nothing else to look at?"
"I am looking at what interests me."
Amor swallowed carefully.
"You speak as though I am another strange creature you discovered during a hunt."
Valdor’s gaze traveled over his lavender hair, pale skin, and flowing garments before returning to his pink eyes.
"I have never seen a creature like you."
"That did not sound entirely complimentary."
"It was."
Amor tried to maintain his offended dignity, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him by lifting into a smile. Valdor’s compliments remained so direct that they often sounded like observations rather than attempts at courtship, which made them considerably more effective than the polished nonsense noblemen rehearsed before mirrors. Amor told himself that he was merely entertained by the difference, although the faint warmth beneath his cheeks suggested entertainment was not the only emotion involved.
He finished the crescent cake with deliberate slowness, savoring the final bite before setting the silver fork upon the empty plate. The second tray had been reduced to a field of crumbs, smears of cream, and several decorative sugar petals that even Amor could not justify consuming. He leaned back against the cushions with a soft, satisfied breath, one hand resting lightly over his stomach.
Valdor’s eyes followed the gesture. Amor immediately removed his hand.
"Do not begin inspecting me again."
"You are full?"
"That is usually what happens after one eats."
"You ate enough for three."
"Two!"
Amor corrected.
"...Perhaps two and a half, if they were especially restrained."
Valdor did not know enough about noble appetites to challenge the estimate, though the attendants standing beyond the arbour appeared to disagree. One servant lowered his gaze toward the empty trays with an expression of solemn disbelief, while another was already signaling for the dishes to be cleared before Amor discovered anything else edible. Amor pretended not to notice their silent judgment.
He rose gracefully from his chair, smoothing the flowing layers of his tunic as they settled around his legs. The movement revealed no sign that he had consumed an unreasonable quantity of cream and sugar, which only deepened Valdor’s confusion. Amor remained slender, poised, and almost weightless in appearance, as though the cakes had dissolved into the same soft radiance that seemed to surround him.
"I believe a walk is necessary..."
Amor announced.
"Remaining here after eating so much would be an unforgivable act of laziness, and I have not yet shown you half of the estate grounds."
Valdor rose immediately. He had been seated on the grass for so long that most men would have needed to brace a hand against the ground, yet he unfolded his enormous body with effortless control. His height returned all at once, casting a broad shadow over Amor and the table while the muscles of his legs and abdomen shifted beneath his bare skin. Amor’s gaze briefly wandered lower than propriety encouraged, though he redirected it before Valdor could catch him.
"We will walk along the outer grounds..."
Amor continued, lifting his fan from the table.
"The path circles the western orchard, the stables, and the small livestock farm before passing through the wooded edge of the estate. It should help me work off at least one of those cakes."
Valdor looked toward the devastated trays.
"Only one?"
Amor struck his forearm with the folded fan. The light impact could not possibly have hurt, but Valdor accepted the reprimand with grave silence, the faint warmth in his eyes proving he understood that teasing had earned it. Amor turned away with exaggerated dignity and stepped from beneath the arbour. His long lavender hair flowed behind him, while the soft heels of his shoes clicked delicately against the garden stones. Valdor moved to follow.
As he drew beside Amor, he adjusted his pace and held his left arm slightly away from his body. The gesture was subtle by Blackstone standards but deliberate, leaving ample space for Amor to thread his smaller arm through it as he had earlier. Valdor kept his expression stoic and his gaze directed toward the garden path, waiting for the familiar pressure of delicate fingers against his skin.
Amor walked straight past the offered arm. Valdor’s steps slowed.
Only for a moment, because he recovered before Amor could turn and discover him standing behind like an abandoned hunting dog. He lengthened his stride until he walked beside Amor again, though a faint heaviness entered the air around him. His arm returned to his side with reluctant restraint.
Amor noticed everything.
He had seen Valdor angle his elbow outward and recognized the silent invitation immediately, yet he had continued ahead because the warrior’s refusal to ask amused him. Valdor could speak calmly about hunting monsters, family deaths, and tribal fertility, but apparently requesting physical affection exceeded his courage. The contradiction was irresistible.
Amor kept his face serenely composed as they crossed the garden.
Valdor fell one step behind at first, then gradually moved closer until their arms were nearly aligned. Every few paces, his gaze lowered toward Amor’s arm, tracing the loose chiffon sleeve and the pale hand holding the painted fan. He looked from Amor’s arm to his own, then ahead again, as though hoping the solution would somehow present itself without requiring words.
It did not.
Amor’s lips threatened to curve. The warrior’s disappointment was invisible within his stern expression, but his body betrayed him with nearly comical clarity. His shoulders had lost some of their earlier ease, and the bright satisfaction that had surrounded him after Amor first took his arm had faded into something pitifully restrained. He walked like a man enduring an unexpected trial with honor, unaware that the source of his suffering was deliberately extending it for entertainment.
They passed the central fountain and continued toward the western hedge maze, where the garden paths broadened into a road suitable for riding horses and small carriages. Amor kept his pace leisurely, partly because his heels were not designed for hurried travel and partly because he wanted Valdor to experience every step of his self-imposed misery. The warrior remained firmly beside him.
Amor allowed the side of his sleeve to brush Valdor’s arm.
The contact was so slight that it could have been accidental, though the path offered more than enough room for them to walk separately. Amor did not respond. He merely shifted his fan from one hand to the other, leaving the arm nearest Valdor conveniently free but making no attempt to claim him.
A few moments later, Valdor brushed against him again. Amor looked toward the orchard as though fascinated by the rows of pear trees beyond the low stone wall.
"The western fruit harvest begins in approximately three weeks."
Valdor’s eyes dropped toward Amor’s free hand.
"Do you walk here often?"
"Not previously, although I intend to change that."
Another deliberate brush of skin against chiffon followed.
"The orchard is divided into four sections..."
Amor continued, showing no sign that he noticed.
"Pears and apples grow nearest the manor, while the southern slope is reserved for plums and moonberries. The gardeners claim moonberries require constant attention, which is probably why noble families enjoy them."
Valdor moved closer until barely an inch separated their arms.
"They prefer difficult fruit?"
He asked.
"They prefer announcing how much effort was required to obtain it."
Valdor stared at Amor’s sleeve. Amor stared resolutely ahead. The silence lasted several steps before Valdor attempted a different approach, extending his arm as though pointing toward the orchard.
"That tree is damaged."
Amor followed the direction of his gesture and pointed to it as well.
"It was struck by lightning last winter."
Valdor left his arm suspended near Amor’s hand. Amor lowered his and walked beneath Valdor’s without touching him. The warrior lowered his limb slowly. Amor nearly laughed aloud.
He had not expected a man of Valdor’s size and severity to produce such an unmistakably forlorn atmosphere merely because their arms were no longer linked. Anyone watching from a distance would have seen nothing beyond a stoic barbarian escorting a delicate noble heir along a country path. Only Amor, who had already learned the language of Valdor’s smallest reactions, could recognize the silent plea hidden within every calculated brush and conveniently offered elbow.
"You seem distracted, Valdor."
Amor observed innocently. Valdor’s dark eyes shifted toward him.
"I am not."
"Then perhaps the kingdom’s air always causes you to stare so intensely at sleeves."
His gaze moved from Amor’s face to the flowing chiffon in question.
"They move."
"Fabric often does when one walks."
Valdor understood that Amor had caught him. His jaw tightened slightly, but embarrassment did not drive him away. Instead, he kept pace beside Amor with renewed determination, as though proximity itself might eventually force the desired contact. Amor found the stubbornness just as adorable as the disappointment.
He allowed their arms to brush once more, this time because he shifted deliberately closer.
Valdor looked down immediately. Before the warrior could take encouragement from the contact, Amor moved half a step ahead and pointed toward a broad building visible beyond the orchard wall.
"Those are the estate stables."
Valdor’s expression did not change, but the air around him seemed to sink. Amor bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.
The stable complex rested near the western edge of the main grounds, constructed from dark timber and pale stone in a long U-shaped arrangement surrounding an open exercise yard. Its roof had been tiled in slate, while climbing vines softened the exterior walls and provided summer shade near the entrances. Beyond it stood several fenced pastures where horses grazed beneath the afternoon sun.
Amor had chosen this portion of the estate deliberately.
The refined galleries and cultivated gardens were beautiful, but he suspected Valdor would relax more easily among animals, open fields, and the wooded land stretching beyond the manor’s formal boundaries. The Blackstone settlements sounded inseparable from nature, whereas the capital’s polished streets and controlled landscapes likely felt artificial to someone raised beneath mountain skies. Even the estate’s livestock pens might offer more familiarity than rooms filled with fragile porcelain and servants anxious about his monster furs.
Valdor’s attention lifted from Amor’s arm as the scent of hay, leather, and animals reached them. His posture changed almost immediately.
The rigid awareness he carried through the manicured gardens eased, his shoulders lowering as he surveyed the broad pastures and open stable doors. Several horses raised their heads at the approach of unfamiliar footsteps, ears turning toward the enormous warrior before their bodies followed. Valdor breathed more deeply, drawing in the honest smells of soil, sweat, fur, and feed.
Amor watched the reaction from the corner of his eye.
"You appear more comfortable."
"I understand this place."
"The garden confused you?"
"The flowers were placed where people wanted them."
"That is generally the purpose of a garden."
Valdor looked across the pasture, where grasses grew in uneven shades beneath the horses’ hooves.
"Here, the land still chooses some things."
Amor found the distinction strangely insightful. The estate’s gardeners shaped every hedge and flowerbed into deliberate beauty, whereas the outer grounds allowed nature to negotiate with human design rather than surrender completely. Valdor could apparently sense that compromise immediately.
A stable master emerged from the largest building and bowed when he recognized Amor. Master Halwen was a broad, weathered man with graying hair, though even he appeared modest beside Valdor’s immense frame. His gaze moved cautiously over the tribal markings and exposed monster furs before returning to Amor with trained professionalism.
"Young Master!"
Halwen greeted.
"I was not informed you would be visiting the stables this afternoon."
"The decision was spontaneous..."
Amor replied.
"This is Valdor Rhazien, son of High Chieftain Vervath and our honored guests for the next month."
Halwen bowed again, this time toward Valdor.
"House Moons welcomes you."
Valdor touched one fist to the center of his chest and inclined his head. His eyes had already moved beyond the stable master toward the animals, noting their posture, coats, hooves, and reactions with the instinctive assessment of someone accustomed to judging health quickly. Amor suspected Valdor had inspected the entire nearest pasture before Halwen finished speaking.
"May we look around?"
Amor asked.
"Of course, Young Master."
They entered the central aisle of the stables, where light streamed through high windows and illuminated drifting particles of straw. Horses shifted within spacious stalls on either side, some approaching the half doors with curiosity while others watched Valdor warily from the shadows. The scent was earthy and warm, lacking the perfumed refinement of the manor but possessing an honesty Amor found refreshing.
Valdor slowed near a tall black gelding.
The horse drew back when he approached, nostrils widening at the unfamiliar scent of predator hides and monster blood carried within his clothing. Valdor stopped several feet away rather than forcing the encounter, turning his body slightly to reduce the threat of his size. He extended one hand at waist height and waited.
The gelding watched him.
Valdor remained completely still, his breathing calm and his gaze lowered enough to avoid challenging the animal. After several cautious breaths, the horse stretched its neck forward and sniffed his fingers. Valdor allowed the inspection before lightly touching the side of its muzzle.
Amor observed with open interest.
"You are patient with animals."
"Animals tell you when they are afraid."
"People do as well."
"People lie."
Amor’s lips curved.
"You truly believe every social difficulty can be solved by comparing people to prey."
"No..."
Valdor replied, stroking the gelding’s nose.
"Prey is easier."
The horse gradually relaxed beneath his touch, lowering its head while Valdor examined the clarity of its eyes and the smoothness of its coat. He ran one broad hand along the animal’s neck, feeling the muscle beneath the skin before looking toward its hooves. His attention was methodical but gentle.
"You know horses well?"
Amor asked.
"We ride mountain stock."
"Are they different from ours?"
"Smaller, stronger, and less likely to break a leg while frightened by a bird."
The stable master coughed into one hand. Amor lifted his fan to hide his amusement.
"Our horses are bred for elegance as well as endurance."
Valdor looked at the black gelding, whose polished coat and carefully braided mane displayed considerable refinement.
"Elegance does not cross a mountain."
"Elegance has people carry it across mountains."
Valdor’s gaze moved toward Amor. The meaning of that look became clear enough that Amor’s brows rose.
"You are not carrying me anywhere."
"You wear shoes made for falling."
"These are fashionable!"
"They are narrow and high."
"They make my legs look excellent!"
Valdor looked down at Amor’s legs. Amor immediately regretted the argument, particularly when the warrior’s stare lingered upon the fitted lavender trousers disappearing into his heeled shoes. Valdor made no effort to disguise his inspection, his obsidian eyes following the elegant line from Amor’s ankle to his hip. When he finally raised his gaze again, his expression remained solemn.
"They do."
Valdor agreed. Heat brushed across Amor’s face.
The stable master abruptly became fascinated by a nearby saddle, while two young stablehands retreated several steps and pretended to adjust a stack of feed sacks. Amor snapped open his fan and stirred the air in front of himself, refusing to acknowledge the warmth entering his cheeks. Valdor turned back toward the horse with the quiet satisfaction of a man who believed he had merely answered honestly.
They continued through the stable.
Valdor examined the stalls without intruding, noticing fresh straw, clean water troughs, and feed bins sealed against vermin. He asked Halwen what grains were used during winter, how frequently the horses’ hooves were inspected, and whether animals too old to work were sold or retained. Each question was practical, revealing concerns Amor had not expected a tribal warrior to direct toward aristocratic livestock.
"Most remain on the estate..."
Halwen explained.
"A few are given to retired staff or neighboring farms where they can manage lighter work, but Lord Moons does not permit elderly animals to be sent to slaughter merely because they can no longer carry riders."
Valdor’s eyes shifted toward Amor.
"My father is sentimental."
Amor said.
"That is not weakness."
"I did not say it was."
Valdor inclined his head, apparently pleased by the correction.
When they emerged through the rear doors of the stable, the smaller household farm stretched before them. Low stone barns stood beside fenced enclosures containing goats, sheep, pigs, chickens, and several plump geese wandering freely near a shallow pond. The farm supplied fresh milk, eggs, meat, and wool to the estate, reducing the household’s dependence upon merchants during storms or trade disruptions.
Valdor paused at the sight.
The setting was far more orderly than the communal animal grounds of the Blackstone settlements, but the sounds and smells were familiar enough to ease the remaining strain from his body. Goats bleated from behind wooden fencing, hens scratched through dirt in search of insects, and young pigs slept together beneath a shaded shelter. Nothing was ornamental, and everything served a clear purpose. Amor studied him.
"Better?"
Valdor looked toward him.
"You brought me here because you thought I would prefer it."
It was not phrased as a question. Amor lightly tapped the closed fan against his palm.
"I suspected that the animals and open grounds might feel more familiar than the manor’s reception rooms. You looked as though you feared breaking the furniture."
"I did break nothing."
"Your father’s chair may disagree."
A faint smile threatened Valdor’s scarred mouth. He turned toward the nearest enclosure, where several goats had gathered against the fence to inspect the visitors. One stretched its narrow head between the rails and began chewing the edge of a rope secured to the post. Valdor reached over, removed the rope from its mouth, and examined its teeth with efficient care.
"Their coats are clean."
He observed.
"They are brushed regularly."
"Their hooves are trimmed."
"I should hope so."
Valdor moved along the fence, assessing each animal as thoroughly as he had examined the horses. He checked the space available beneath the shelter, the cleanliness of the water trough, and the quality of hay stored nearby. His approval emerged through small nods rather than praise, but Amor recognized it.
"You expected worse?"
Amor asked.
"Many settled people treat food animals poorly."
"And Blackstone people do not?"
"We kill them..."
Valdor replied.
"We do not make their lives painful first."
The distinction was delivered without sentimentality, yet its moral clarity caught Amor’s attention. Valdor did not pretend that livestock existed for companionship, nor did he romanticize the fact that many would eventually be slaughtered. He simply believed an animal destined to become food still deserved proper care before death.
"Some nobles would consider that an unnecessary expense."
Amor said.
"They eat fear and sickness without knowing."
Amor’s nose wrinkled.
"That was an unpleasant way to phrase it."
"It remains true."
Valdor stepped into an enclosure after receiving permission from the farm steward, then crouched beside a young goat favoring one rear leg. The animal attempted to retreat, but he moved slowly and allowed it to sniff his hands before touching the injured limb. His fingers, so large and rough against Amor’s skin, became remarkably precise as they explored the joint without causing distress.
"It has a stone trapped near the hoof."
Valdor said. The steward hurried forward, embarrassed that the problem had escaped notice, but Valdor waved him back before carefully removing a small jagged pebble. The goat shook its leg, tested its weight, and then wandered away with immediate relief. Valdor watched until its gait returned to normal.
Amor leaned against the fence.
"You noticed that from outside the enclosure?"
"It stepped unevenly."
"I did not see it."
"You watched me instead."
The accusation was accurate enough that Amor offered no denial.
He had watched the way Valdor moved among the animals, large enough to frighten them but disciplined enough not to do so. The same man who wore a wolf’s tooth at his throat and ate monster flesh like dried fruit had handled the goat’s hoof with almost impossible gentleness. Amor found the contrast increasingly difficult to dismiss as mere curiosity.
Valdor rose and returned to the fence.
A curious piglet approached his bare calf, sniffed the leather wrapping around his ankle, and then attempted to bite one of the dangling cords. Valdor looked down with severe disapproval. The piglet remained unimpressed. Amor laughed.
"It does not respect your authority."
"It has poor judgment."
"It sees a man wearing edible accessories."
"The cord is hide."
"That supports my argument."
Valdor bent and lifted the piglet beneath its belly with one hand.
The animal squealed briefly, legs paddling through the air, before settling against his broad chest with surprising ease. Valdor adjusted his grip automatically, supporting the small body as though he had handled livestock from infancy. The piglet nosed against the black markings near his shoulder and made a contented grunt.
Amor stared at the absurd sight.
Valdor, still wearing his stoic expression, stood nearly naked in monster furs while holding a pink piglet against muscles sculpted by years of combat. The animal looked impossibly tiny within his arms, yet completely secure. Amor’s thoughts returned to Valdor admitting that he had held his infant sister only twice because she had been too small.
"You hold that creature more confidently than Mevara."
Amor observed.
"The piglet is not my sister."
"That seems like an inadequate explanation and a poor excuse."
"If I drop it, it lands on four legs."
Amor covered his mouth with the fan, though his laughter still escaped around it. Valdor’s gaze warmed at the sound. He lowered the piglet gently to the ground, watching it trot back toward the others before stepping out of the enclosure. A faint smear of dirt remained along his forearm, which he wiped away without concern.
"You are pleased with the farm?"
Amor asked.
"Yes."
The answer held more warmth than most of Valdor’s statements.
He looked across the livestock enclosures again, taking in the clean bedding, sturdy fencing, and animals that showed neither fear nor neglect. House Moons was wealthy enough that proper care required little sacrifice, yet Valdor had seen rich households ignore suffering simply because the creatures involved could not complain in human speech. The condition of the animals told him something important about the people who lived here.
"Your house protects what it owns."
Valdor said. Amor’s brows lifted at the phrasing.
"The animals are property, but I would prefer not to consider every living thing beneath our roof an owned object."
Valdor turned toward him.
"Blackstone words do not separate ownership from duty."
"Explain."
"If a tool is yours, you maintain it. If an animal is yours, you feed it and keep it from needless suffering. If land is yours, you protect those who live upon it."
"And if a person is yours?"
The question emerged before Amor fully considered it. Valdor became very still.
His obsidian eyes settled upon Amor with such immediate intensity that the air between them seemed to tighten. The noises of the farm continued around them—goats bleating, chickens clucking, workers speaking near the barns—yet Amor felt as though the world had narrowed to the warrior’s unreadable face. Valdor’s answer, when it came, was lower than before.
"A person is not owned..."
Amor’s grip loosened around his fan. Valdor stepped closer, his immense body shielding Amor from the afternoon sun.
"But when someone gives themselves into your care, you protect them before yourself. You feed them before hunger reaches them, stand between them and danger, and never use their trust as a chain."
The seriousness of the declaration left no room for flirtatious interpretation, yet something deeply personal moved beneath it. Amor thought of Alphonsins gripping his wrist and declaring that he did not possess the right to end a relationship he had once forced into existence. The male lead had spoken as though past obsession entitled him to future control, while Valdor described affection as a voluntary trust that created duty rather than possession.
Amor lowered his gaze toward the faint yellowing marks still concealed beneath his sleeve.
Valdor noticed.
His eyes sharpened, descending toward the wrist Amor had unconsciously drawn closer to his body. He had seen the fading bruises when they first linked arms, though the translucent chiffon had obscured their shape. Now the guarded movement confirmed that they had not been accidental.
"Who harmed your wrist?"
Valdor asked. The direct question carried no visible anger, but the air around him changed.
Amor looked up quickly and found the earlier warmth in Valdor’s eyes replaced by something cold and dangerous. The warrior had not raised his voice, nor had he reached for a weapon, yet the entire farm seemed suddenly too peaceful for the force contained within his stillness. Amor understood at once how Valdor could face a monster without appearing afraid.
"It is nothing requiring your attention."
Amor replied. Valdor’s gaze did not move.
"That is not an answer."
"It is the only one I intend to provide."
The warrior studied him for several long breaths. Amor expected insistence, perhaps even the crude possessiveness he had grown accustomed to from powerful men, but Valdor eventually inclined his head. He did not approve, yet he accepted the boundary because Amor had set it. The restraint was subtle, though Amor felt its significance.
"I will not force the answer—"
Valdor said.
"How gracious."
"But I will know if the one who caused it enters this house."
Amor lifted a brow.
"Will you?"
"Yes."
Valdor’s certainty left no space for doubt. Amor chose not to ask what the warrior intended to do upon discovering Alphonsins’s identity, because the answer would likely involve more physical violence than House Moons’s marble floors could comfortably withstand. Instead, he turned toward the path leading beyond the farm, where the estate’s cultivated fields gradually surrendered to woodland. The shade beneath those distant trees promised cooler air and a subject change.
"We still have the outer trail to walk."
Amor said. Valdor fell into step beside him.
This time, he made no attempt to brush their arms together, perhaps believing the mention of Amor’s injury had changed the mood too sharply for his earlier silent requests. His restraint created a different kind of disappointment within Amor, though he refused to acknowledge the feeling. He had spent the entire walk teasing Valdor for wanting contact, and now that the warrior had stopped asking, the absence seemed unexpectedly noticeable.
They passed through a wooden gate and followed a path bordering the pasture.
The forest edge rose ahead in layers of green and shadow, its ancient trees marking the point where the estate’s maintained land met the wilder territory beyond. Birds called from the branches, and the distant rush of a narrow stream reached them beneath the softer sounds of grass moving in the breeze. Valdor’s body relaxed further with every step toward the woods.
Amor watched his profile. Valdor’s expression remained severe, but the pitiful disappointment that had followed him from the garden had faded beneath genuine interest in the land. Amor had wanted the nature and animals to make him feel more at home, and the plan had clearly succeeded. The knowledge gave Amor a quiet sense of satisfaction he could not entirely explain.
"You like it here, I assume."
He said. Valdor looked toward the trees.
"More than the ballroom rooms."
"They are called reception chambers."
"They are rooms where people sit and hide their intentions."
"That remains the most accurate description I have ever heard!"
Valdor’s mouth shifted faintly. Amor allowed several more steps to pass before slowing. The warrior adjusted immediately, keeping pace without questioning the change. His arm remained at his side, no longer offered, though Amor noticed the smallest space between them had been preserved as though Valdor still hoped. The sight revived Amor’s earlier amusement.
"You are remarkably poor at requesting what you want."
Amor observed. Valdor looked down at him.
"I request what is necessary."
"And when what you want is unnecessary?"
"I wait."
"How noble."
Amor stopped walking. Valdor halted beside him, his expression becoming wary as though uncertain whether he had failed another obscure kingdom custom. Amor regarded him for a moment, savoring the faint confusion beneath his stoicism. Then he slipped his hand around Valdor’s forearm and threaded their arms together once more.
The warrior’s entire body relaxed. It happened so visibly that Amor nearly laughed again, the tension leaving Valdor’s shoulders while warmth returned to the air around him. His gaze dropped immediately toward their linked arms, and the severity of his expression became almost absurd against the unmistakable satisfaction radiating from him. The great Blackstone warrior looked as pleased as a man receiving a treasured weapon after a victorious hunt.
"There..."
Amor said.
"You may stop staring at my sleeve."
"I did not stare."
"You nearly attempted to lure my arm toward yours by pointing at a damaged tree."
"The tree was damaged."
Amor resumed walking, tugging Valdor along the shaded path.
"You are a terrible liar."
"I did not lie."
"Mmhmm, you simply exploited the tree’s suffering for personal gain!"
Valdor considered the accusation.
"It worked."
Amor looked up at him. The faintest smile had appeared upon Valdor’s scarred mouth, so restrained and rare that Amor could not bring himself to maintain his outrage. He turned away before the warrior noticed his own answering smile. Their arms remained interlocked as they entered the shade of the woodland trail.
Behind them, the animals returned to their afternoon routines, and the estate workers watched the unusual pair disappear beneath the trees. The small, silk-draped heir walked close beside the towering barbarian, their bodies so different that the sight should have appeared mismatched. Instead, Valdor adjusted every stride to Amor’s pace, while Amor leaned against his arm with an ease that suggested the place beside him had already become familiar.
Valdor looked down once more at their joined arms.
The gesture had been given freely this time, without his asking and after Amor had deliberately withheld it long enough to prove that he understood precisely what Valdor wanted. Among the Blackstone people, such teasing would have carried unmistakable interest, though Valdor did not yet know whether the same held true for kingdom nobles. He knew only that Amor’s warmth had returned to his skin and the world felt properly balanced again.
Amor glanced up and caught him staring.
"You are doing it again."
Valdor met his pink eyes without shame.
"I am looking at what interests me."
Amor’s fan opened with a graceful snap, hiding the smile that formed despite his best efforts.
"Then try not to walk into a tree."
Valdor looked toward the trail ahead.
"If I do, you will care for me."
"I might leave you there as a warning to other barbarians."
"You would not."
The certainty in his voice made Amor’s smile deepen behind the painted silk.
He did not answer, and Valdor did not require one. They continued along the wooded edge of House Moons with their arms linked, the warrior warmer and more content than he cared to admit, while Amor privately decided that teasing him had become one of the most enjoyable discoveries of his new life.