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The royal palace was a fascinating structure. Decades of use and tear, of rebuilds and additions, created a building full of secret tunnels, corridors of elaborate twists and turns, and the sort of character that was only befitting the home of a royal dynasty that flourished due to its willingness to break societal norms and redefine the political game.
Visitors always got lost. It was to be expected when the library was adjacent to the practice courts and the dining hall was only accessible via a single corridor pushed up against the trickling stream that made a quaint moat around the castle.
While it did get tiresome to constantly give confused passerby directions or escort them to their destination, the strange layout of the castle was an excellent deterrent for assassinations. By virtue of growing up in the palace, of knowing each nook and cranny by heart, the members of the royal family were given a distinct advantage when it came to warding off such attacks.
The strange layout of the palace had saved Dazai’s life no less than sixteen times.
In fact, it would not be a stretch for Dazai to claim that no one in the kingdom knew the castle better than he did. Dazai could travel from one end to the other without another soul catching a glimpse of him, had been able to use that knowledge to spirit himself away from would-be assassins since he was a child.
The false walls and abandoned wings were the closest friends Dazai had, and they provided precious hours of sanctuary in the dead of night: giving him a space to let go of the burdens and expectations of being the crown prince and allowing him to simply be.
Of course, he wouldn’t be a fitting successor to the throne if he didn’t use his superlative knowledge of the palace to his advantage. Dazai didn’t bother to keep track of how many valuable pieces of information he had happened to overhear while lounging in the shadows at the end of a hidden corridor.
And he really couldn’t express his gratitude enough for whatever architect thought it suitable to have the library pressed flushed against the largest practice court in the castle. Much less the genius that created the discreet observation window on the second level of the library that allowed him a perfect view of the guards practicing below.
The times when Chuuya was not a silent shadow behind Dazai were rare, limited only to when Dazai retired for the evening, the few times Chuuya requested a day off, and two hours right after lunch when Chuuya practiced with other knights and Dazai entertained private meetings or worked on matters of state.
Officially, Dazai was in the library to conduct ‘research that would further inform his stance’ on an upcoming council session.
Unofficially, Dazai couldn’t tear his gaze away from where Chuuya was in the middle of a ring of knights, engaged in a fierce practice bout.
Chuuya was Dazai’s bodyguard because he was the most skilled knight the kingdom had to offer. That was little more than an objective fact that Dazai had known for the last four years. However, it was rare for Dazai to actually see Chuuya in action.
Assassination attempts on Dazai had decreased drastically after Chuuya was assigned as his guard, and Chuuya was exceedingly skilled in preempting such attacks, dismantling them before the assassins were even in the same room as Dazai. The few attacks that Chuuya had dealt with over the last two years all occurred outside of Dazai’s sight, and he rarely had the time to peek in on Chuuya’s practice.
Which was a true shame because Chuuya in the middle of a fight was a piece of art. His movements were graceful, his sword flicked and slashed like it weighed nothing at all. Chuuya’s face was a blank canvas as if he was taking a stroll through the gardens rather than locked in a battle. He was quick—extremely fast on his feet—dodging attacks with ease as he forced his opponent back. Chuuya’s skill was considerable, obvious at first glance regardless of the combat experience of the observer.
Dazai let out a slightly forlorn sigh as he watched, eying the way the fabric of Chuuya’s shirt pulled and scrunched over Chuuya’s slim form, trying to imagine the way Chuuya’s muscles were undoubtedly rippling where they were hidden from sight. The city guards often practiced shirtless, it was a shame the habit had not been adopted in the palace for the sake of not offending the sensibilities of the nobility.
Damn propriety.
The fight finished with Chuuya as the victor: an unsurprising result. Even with such a decisive victory, there was clearly no ill will among the spectators or with the loser—Chuuya was quite popular among the masses in the castle.
From the distance, Dazai couldn’t hear what Chuuya said that set the others around him into laughter before he waved and left the center of the floor. Chuuya’s departure was early, however, there was about an hour left until Chuuya replaced the temporary bodyguard keeping watch on Dazai from several feet away.
He wondered what pulled Chuuya away from his practice so early.
Dazai wished he could slip away from his current guard and ask Chuuya himself. And while he could easily lose his nameless shadow, his disappearance would cause an uproar in the castle.
There were a frustratingly large number of things Dazai wanted to ask Chuuya about.
He wanted to ask about the tavern Chuuya took him to, about the woman with red hair who seemed to know Chuuya so well. Who knew a side of Chuuya that Dazai had never been privy to. He wanted to ask why Chuuya indulged his restlessness in the first place instead of dragging Dazai back to his chambers (which Chuuya was certainly strong enough to have done). He wanted to ask if that kiss—a stolen piece of normalcy under the moonlight—meant as much to Chuuya as it did to Dazai. He wanted to ask if Chuuya even wanted Dazai to try and circumvent his father’s wishes for his marriage or if Chuuya would be happy to see Dazai wedded to one of the dozens of ‘suitable’ matches that could be arranged for him.
None of the questions had left Dazai’s mouth in the week since that night. There had been times when Dazai wanted to ask, wanted to sit down with Chuuya and have a genuine conversation. But sincerity had never been Dazai’s forte and the possibility of Chuuya rejecting him was paralyzing.
To top it off, Dazai had the sneaking suspicion that Chuuya was avoiding him.
That was, of course, difficult to prove given the fact that Chuuya still performed his duties spectacularly, never missed so much as a minute of service and didn’t avoid answering Dazai when a question was directed his way. However, the late-night routine they had fallen into after so many years, of Dazai slipping away from his chambers and Chuuya being the one to find him, had all but vanished. Dazai still couldn’t stomach being locked away in his chambers like a treasure to be stored, still slipped out the balcony window or through a hidden door to find time alone throughout the night. Chuuya was still asked to find Dazai when someone finally realized the crown prince was missing and Chuuya still helped direct the search.
But Chuuya wasn’t the one to find him anymore.
If it weren’t for their history, the uncanny ability the knight had to find Dazai regardless of whatever secluded corner he had spirited away to, Dazai would just count it as chance. But before the last week, Chuuya was the one to locate Dazai during his late-night jaunts nine out of ten times. Now, it was always a random guard who just ‘happened’ to be assigned to search in the exact place where Dazai vanished to.
With a soft groan, Dazai pulled away from the observation window and slumped further into his seat.
He would have to work up the nerve to speak to Chuuya eventually. Marrying some random noble or royal without even pursuing the man who somehow captivated him without trying, without ulterior motive, would be something for Dazai to regret for the rest of his life.
Letting his eyes flutter shut, Dazai shifted away from the problem of talking to Chuuya to focus on a problem that was much easier for him to handle: confronting his father and subverting the entire premise of marrying for political clout.
His mind drifted as the minutes ticked by and Dazai was left undisturbed. He didn’t even realize he was also drifting off to sleep until someone shook his shoulder, waking him from a dream filled with failed negotiations.
“Your Highness, you have your appointment with the visiting delegation to attend.”
Blinking his eyes open, Dazai smiled lazily at Chuuya (who was freshly washed and dressed in a new uniform) as his brain caught up to the present. When he finally processed Chuuya’s words, Dazai resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
Stifling a yawn, Dazai let his head roll to one side to study his guard from underneath his lashes. “Surely, we won’t have anything of importance to discuss that hasn’t already been addressed in the ten other meetings they’ve forced me into since arriving last week. They won’t mind my being a little late.”
Chuuya’s eyebrow rose just a hair. “I am quite certain they would mind the crown prince being late.”
Keeping his voice even, Dazai brushed his hair from his face so he would have an unobstructed view to carefully watch Chuuya’s reaction as he replied. “All they want is to try and pressure me into marrying one of their princesses.”
There was not even the slightest change in expression from the knight at the comment. Chuuya merely straightened and took a step away from Dazai, falling into parade rest. “Seeing as you are the future king of this kingdom, it is to be expected that the topic of your marriage may be a part of the discussion, especially with the king’s newfound urgency on the matter.”
Chuuya glanced out the window, squinting at the sun’s position in the sky and missing the scowl that briefly flickered across Dazai’s face at the mention if the king’s new rush to get him married. “You will be late if you stall any longer, Your Highness.”
Dazai sighed at the use of his title. Chuuya hadn’t called him by name since they returned to the palace. He wanted to hear that again, wanted to relive the slight thrill it gave him to hear his name murmured into the barest sliver of space between them. At the moment, the respectable distance between them—the distance Chuuya carefully maintained since becoming Dazai’s guard—felt comparable to a ravine and thinking about it too much had the potential to be crippling.
Getting to his feet, Dazai straightened his clothes and started toward the door of the library, all too cognizant of Chuuya falling into his usual place behind him.
State dinners were dull.
Actually, most matters of state were dull. That was something Chuuya learned early on in his time at the royal palace, long before he was even considered a candidate for the position of the prince’s bodyguard.
There were so many things one member of polite society couldn’t say to another, even more that couldn’t be discussed over dinner, or at the wrong point in the meal. There were words unfit for being spoken over food and others that weren’t suited for a meeting that occurred while servants milled in and out of the doors, putting down and picking up dishes at regular intervals.
Before being assigned his current post, Chuuya was under the impression that meetings over dinner were largely a waste of time, completely unproductive for any affair of state or politics.
He had learned, since becoming Dazai’s bodyguard, that there was actually a different game to be played at such gatherings. That there were maneuvers to be made in such a restricted setting that were too risky to make in any other scenario. That setting a trap in an arena with little room for movement made it more difficult for the target to weasel their way out of a line of questioning than it would at other times.
Such a tactic was unfolding before his eyes that very night. Although, the crown prince was not the executor of such a strategy but its target.
From his place near the wall behind Dazai’s chair, Chuuya couldn’t make out the prince’s expression as the delegates unrelentingly badgered him over the subject of a potential marital match, but he could hear the clipped tone in Dazai’s voice—a warning that his patience was fraying. He could tell that the prince was drinking more wine and eating less food than was his normal habit for such a meeting. He even thought he could see the prince’s back stiffening, an obvious sign that Dazai would not tolerate such a line of questioning much longer.
Though, Chuuya couldn’t pinpoint what exactly was bothering the prince so much. Considering that much more heated and pointed conversations on any number of more pressing issues surrounded Dazai every day, idle curiosity of their nature shouldn’t be more than a mild irritant.
“…we had the privilege of meeting with the king…”
Chuuya’s head tilted to the side and he immediately tuned in more closely to the conversation at the mention of the monarch.
“Yes, I heard he planned to meet with you,” Dazai all but mumbled into his goblet.
“He heavily implied that the matter of your marriage was one that your kingdom wishes settled as soon as possible. Considering that, in the past, we were given the impression that any decision on this topic was quite in the future, you might understand our renewed vigor in understanding this shift.”
The goblet was gently placed back on the table, but the ice in the prince’s voice was unmistakable. “My father told you I was actively searching for a consort?”
“Yes, just this morning.”
“And did you not think it pertinent to bring such a question to me seeing as this is the matter of my consort before you began bombarding me with proposals?”
“Meaning no disrespect, Your Highness, but such a decision ultimately rests with the king. Regardless of your opinion on the matter-”
“Of course,” Dazai cut off the speaker as he got to his feet. “If that is your opinion then there is no reason for me to be present for this discussion any longer. Good evening.”
Chuuya was already halfway across the distance between his station and the table by the time Dazai was pushing away from his chair and Dazai didn’t pause to make sure Chuuya was at his back before moving further. Instead, he made to step toward the door only to be stopped by a hand on his arm.
The closest delegate had jumped to his feet, rushing forward in an attempt to prevent Dazai from leaving. “Your Highness, please don’t be so hasty.”
It was rare for the crown prince to lose his temper, particularly in a diplomatic setting. Chuuya could, perhaps, count on one hand how many times he had witnessed so much as a flicker of anger in the depths of brown eyes. Chuuya couldn’t even fathom if he had witnessed such an expression on the prince’s face in the presence of foreign delegates. He almost wanted to hear what would leave the prince’s mouth in response to the affront, but Chuuya would never let it be said that he was not spectacular at his job.
His hand was closed around the wrist of the offending delegate before Dazai could even think of speaking. Chuuya’s own face was serene even as his grip bordered on bruising. “Please, I must ask you to restrain yourself. Such sudden movements toward the crown prince’s person could be misconstrued.”
At the reprimand, the delegate let go of Dazai’s arm as if it burned him and stumbled back a step. “My apologies. I never intended-”
“Emotions will get the better of the best of us. Do not concern yourself over it, my lord.” With a curt nod, Dazai swept out of the room, Chuuya not so much as a second of hesitation behind him.
The trip from the small dining room to the prince’s chamber took less time than it should due to the prince taking more than one shortcut along the way that in his early days as Dazai’s guard Chuuya would have raised a protest about. After all, his job was easiest when Dazai remained in the more traveled areas of the castle with plenty of witnesses rather than venturing through a hall that had been abandoned over fifty years ago.
Over time, Chuuya learned to pick his battles and he certainly knew better than to pick an argument with Dazai when the prince was so clearly upset for an as yet unclear reason.
When they were safe behind the doors that led to the prince’s private sitting room, Chuuya risked clearing his throat. “Your Highness, the delegates…”
“I’ll send a formal apology to them in the morning,” Dazai sighed, shrugging off his heavily embroidered overcoat and letting it drape over the back of a chair.
That wasn’t Chuuya’s reason for speaking up; the crown prince was an exemplar of everything one might expect from a royal, and Chuuya had already known Dazai would apologize for the outburst no matter how restrained it had been.
“Considering that you anticipated their subject of questioning, it was a surprise to see it bother you so much.”
Dazai glanced over his shoulder to meet Chuuya’s gaze briefly before turning his attention back around to stare out the closest window. “Surely, you’re not asking after why it bothered me, Chuuya. I have always had such high hopes for your intellect.”
Despite the fact that the prince’s back was turned to him, Chuuya (barely) restrained himself from rolling his eyes at the response. Dazai’s penchant for needling at Chuuya at every opportunity was almost comically childish considering the decorum displayed by the prince in every other facet of is life, it would be more comical if it didn’t also test Chuuya’s own patience.
“From my perspective, the delegates didn’t speak anything that was untruthful or out of line.”
An exasperated sigh left the crown prince. “Are you playing dense or do I actually have to spell it out for you?”
Chuuya narrowed his eyes at the question, at the strain that was unfiltered in the prince’s tone as if something had been weighing heavily on him for some time. “If you’re implying that their questions upset you because of what occurred between us the other night-”
“Ah, and now he finally acknowledges it. I wondered if you had simply forgotten anything happened at all, but then that would have made no sense. If you forgot there would have been no reason to avoid me.”
That was the dangerous thing about talking to Dazai. How quickly the prince could turn a conversation around on a dime, could shift it from a relatively safe subject to toeing a dangerous line. Suddenly, Chuuya was on the defensive and he subconsciously straightened his shoulders as if fortifying himself in the face of the upcoming discussion he had been hoping to put off for a few days more.
Keeping his voice even, Chuuya said, “I’m not sure I know what you mean. Have I been performing my duties inadequately?”
Finally, Dazai turned to face him. The cool facade of the crown prince was fraying at the edges, his jaw a touch too tight, his eyes flickering with anger much like they had in the dining room. “Give it a break, Chuuya, I know you’re not an idiot. We both know you’ve been directing other guards where to find me instead of taking the chance on being alone with me again.”
With such a blatant accusation, Chuuya didn’t see any point in lying. “Our being alone at night bordered on indecent behavior twice in one week.”
Dazai’s eyes narrowed just slightly at the response. “You are given permission to speak freely.”
“I was unaware I asked for such a thing, much less that I needed your permission.” The dry retort slipped out of Chuuya’s mouth before he could catch it, but he didn’t draw a breath to apologize.
“Then tell me the truth. What happened the other night in the town square, I thought it was something you desired as well. I was under the impression that my feelings were reciprocated. Why would you go to such lengths to avoid it happening again if it is something we both want?”
Chuuya didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied the man before him, taking in the tension that would be all but invisible to someone who spent less time with the crown prince, with someone who didn’t know him as well as Chuuya did. It was obvious by the way that Dazai refused to take any of the outs Chuuya provided that there was no desire on the prince’s part to delay this particular conversation any longer and that there was little chance of Chuuya talking himself out of it without sharing his true thoughts.
Letting out a slight sigh, he relaxed his posture with a shake of his head. “What we both want? You mean convincing your father to consider me an eligible suitor for the future monarch of this kingdom?”
“My intentions were laid out quite plainly that night.”
Of course, they had been. But Chuuya had blamed emotional turmoil and bizarre circumstances for the unbridled naivete that dripped from each word of Dazai’s declaration. It felt a little ridiculous to be the one explaining why such a plan was so outrageous to Dazai. “You are the crown prince. Regardless of your feelings, or mine, we can’t entertain a future together.”
“For once, drop the respectability. Pretend it is just you and me, that there is no crown to worry about or country to be concerned over. You are the only person I have interest in, Chuuya. These are my feelings. Do you really have none for me?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me,” Dazai snapped. “I’ve spent two years trying to get you to see that. I think I at least deserve an honest answer from you on the matter.
Chuuya closed his eyes briefly, as if blocking out the picture of the man before him would make the conversation any easier. As if not having to look at Dazai, not having to see the crown nestled on brown curls would help him picture the strange universe Dazai expected him to mentally place himself in. “Of course I have grown fond of you.”
“Fond?”
Incredulity was laced in the single syllable and Chuuya flinched at the implication of his poor word choice.
Suddenly, he understood why Dazai had been so irritable during the dinner meeting. Being forced to engage in a conversation he would rather shove to the back corners of his mind for several years, if not an eternity, was a quick way to lose one’s temper. And feeling cornered into the topic, with little room to change subjects and an even smaller chance of being able to exit the room without causing a bigger problem, Chuuya felt his own patience wearing thin at record speed.
“What do you want me to say?” he asked, tone heated in a way he normally would never dare in a place where someone might overhear them. “That watching you charm nobles and royals on a near daily basis is painful for me? That I wish to be anywhere else when I’m forced to stand guard outside of parlor doors when you feel the need to test the limits of proper relations? That I couldn’t stomach remaining in your service once you’re wed off to someone else? Because it is true but that means nothing.”
Letting the words out into the open felt cathartic, as did the way brown eyes widened slightly in the middle of Chuuya’s tirade—both of them surprised by how much Chuuya was revealing.
It took Dazai a second to respond. When he did, his voice was little more than a murmur, a smile playing around his lips. “It means something to me.”
Looking away from his prince, from the look almost akin to relief on Dazai’s face, was a herculean task, but Chuuya did so. He fixed his gaze at a spot over Dazai’s shoulder, staring at nothing.
“And what will you do about it? Abdicate the throne and run off with me? This kingdom needs you as its next monarch, there are too many people relying on the stability of your succession. I won’t interfere with that future.”
“What of me?”
“Pardon?”
“The needs of the kingdom, the line of succession, my duty to this kingdom, where in my life do I get a chance to live my life for myself? Am I forever relegated to being a tool for everyone else’s happiness?”
Chuuya pursed his lips at that. There had been times—many times—over the course of his post when the very same question had flicked through his head. After he managed to peer past the arrogance and the self-assurance that Dazai projected and understood just how little of his own life the prince had any control over, Chuuya found himself wondering how anyone could live like that. But Dazai did live like that, had been raised and groomed to become the next king. Surely, when the title of monarch was his, Dazai would have much more control over his own choices.
For now, Chuuya was still a knight, still a bodyguard. And Dazai was still the crown prince.
Dropping his gaze to the ground, Chuuya swept into a bow. “Is there anything else I can assist you with or will you be retiring for the evening?”
There was a long pause.
Chuuya could feel Dazai’s gaze on the top of his head, could feel the tension between them only made worse by Chuuya’s refusal to answer Dazai’s last question (as if someone without royal lineage would have an answer to such a question). For a brief moment, Chuuya wondered if Dazai would try and keep him there to finish the argument. In the next second, Chuuya considered how horribly such an order would play out for both of them because Chuuya would be damned if he followed such a childish command but he certainly wasn’t quite prepared to pack his bags and leave the palace that night.
“I will be retiring for the evening. Do not let me keep you from the rest of your night.” Dazai’s response was completely impersonal, almost mechanical.
It wasn’t a tone that had been directed at Chuuya in nearly three years. Chuuya wished it didn’t sting as much as it did.
Straightening, he gave the prince a curt nod and stepped out of the room as quickly as he could while still telling himself he wasn’t running away.
Frantic pounding woke Dazai from a fitful night of sleep.
His eyes flew open and he was upright in bed, hand wrapped around the dagger that stayed stashed under his pillows before he registered the sound of knocking on his door.
“Your Highness! Are you well?”
At the shout from outside the heavy door—a voice he vaguely recognized as one of the palace guards—Dazai slumped back into bed with a groan. “I was until you tore me from my rest.”
The door was eased open and Dazai covered his eyes with his forearm, trying to filter out the light of the handful of lanterns carried in by what had to be no less than an entire squad of the guard. While the lush rugs covering his bedchamber floor muffled the sound of their heavy boots, the clink of armor and their reports as they searched his (obviously empty) room all but guaranteed he wouldn’t be getting back to sleep anytime soon.
“What time is it?” he asked the room at large.
“Almost an hour past midnight, Highness. Our apologies for disturbing you but we had reason to be concerned about your safety.”
“And the reason you barged in here with your men instead of letting the head of my personal security organize such an affair must be spectacular, I’m sure.”
Even if Chuuya was now earnestly avoiding Dazai after their argument that evening (which Dazai very much expected he would be), it was cruel for the knight to subject Dazai to the lumbering noise of the guards around him. Much less, Dazai knew that Chuuya didn’t really trust any of the other guards to do an adequate job in keeping Dazai safe. If there was a real threat at hand, Chuuya would have been the first person here.
“Nakahara-sama was attacked. He ordered us to check on your wellbeing as an attempt on your life would be easier undertaken with him out of the picture.”
Dazai’s arm dropped from his face and he was upright in bed again before he even realized he was moving. His eyes fell on the man talking, a captain of the guard, who was now motioning his subordinates out of Dazai’s chambers in an orderly manner.
“Chuuya was attacked?” he asked, almost certain that he was hearing things.
“In his chambers, Your Highness. Apparently, they were waiting for him to enter.”
His mouth was dry and Dazai had to swallow several times before he was certain he would come off the proper amount of politely concerned. “Surely he had no trouble fighting them off.”
The captain frowned thoughtfully. “He did fight them off, after all, he is Nakahara Chuuya. But they got the jump on him. When I last heard the royal doctor was visiting his chamber. I’m afraid I don’t know the extent of his injuries.”
Sliding out of bed, Dazai was across his chamber in a blink, pulling on the first tunic his hand closed around and grabbing a matching pair of trousers (annoyed that his need to upkeep the royal image meant he was delayed here until he was properly dressed). “Select no more than two of your men to accompany me, quickly.”
“Your Highness, it would be best if you waited here under guard until we are certain there are no more attackers in the palace.”
Dazai didn’t spare the man so much as a withering glance. “That was not a request, captain.”
He knew his voice was no longer passable as ‘politely concerned’ but the harshness in his tone warned the man against arguing with him further. The captain bowed and quickly backed out of the bedchamber. Dazai changed out of his sleep pants and into his trousers, trying to ignore the slight tremble in his hands as he did so.
Being in danger was nothing new to him. People attempting to kill him no longer gave him cause to be upset. But for someone to try and kill Chuuya…Dazai wished he could force his rapidly pounding heartbeat to slow down. It was, of course, a perfectly suitable target for someone trying to destabilize the crown. Chuuya was the reason why no assassin had been able to get within a stone’s throw of Dazai for the past two years and regardless of the skill of whoever might replace Chuuya if necessary, they would not have the familiarity with Dazai, the ability to predict his movements and react accordingly that Chuuya had developed. With Chuuya gone, Dazai was a much more vulnerable target.
And Chuuya was so damn focused on his duty, on keeping Dazai safe, that he likely hadn’t even considered the possibility of someone going after him while he was off-duty.
Presentable, Dazai strode out of his bedchamber and across the sitting room without a word to the two guards who rushed to fall into step behind him. Even as he made his way through the corridors, Dazai gave no mind to the patrols crawling through the halls in search of additional fighters, his attention solely focused on getting to Chuuya as quickly as possible.
He arrived outside of Chuuya’s rooms just as the doctor left. To her credit, she didn’t seem at all surprised at Dazai’s presence and merely swept him a bow as she readjusted her grip on her kit.
“Your Highness,” she said in greeting.
“How is he?”
The royal doctor had been in her position for nearly six years, serving only the royal family and those closest to them. Though, Dazai could never really say if her lack of deference to him was a result of how long she had known him or just a part of her character. As it was, the corner of Yosano’s mouth quirked up in amusement at his lack of formalities but she didn’t comment on it.
“I am not sure what you were told, but he is fine.” At the response, Dazai felt like the strange force constricting his chest and making it difficult to breathe suddenly vanished. “There were a few scrapes and a bruise or two. I was summoned to make sure none of the blades used in the attack were laced with poison. Fortunately for Chuuya, they weren’t organized well enough for that.”
Nodding in understanding, Dazai glanced past Yosano to the closed door that led to Chuuya. “He will be back on duty soon?”
“Tomorrow, if he has any say about it.”
“And if you have any say about it?”
That time, Yosano let the smirk curl onto her lips and she gave another slight bow. “I don’t, so I’m not sure it matters. Good evening, Your Highness.”
She continued on her way without waiting for a response. It was a relief to know Chuuya was okay, but Dazai couldn’t bring himself to turn around and go back to his chambers, felt like he couldn’t ascertain the truth until he actually laid eyes on the man in question.
Glancing at his shadows, he said, “stand watch outside the door. I will call if I need assistance but no one is to enter without my express order. Understood?”
Both guards nodded and Dazai pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The smell of copper immediately assaulted him and Dazai grimaced slightly, glancing around to take in the handful of servants scrubbing the evidence of the night’s events off of the stone floor. Thankfully, the bodies were long gone as were any obvious signs of gore.
Seated on the bed, speaking with yet another palace guard, was Chuuya. Just as Yosano said, he didn’t look too worse for the wear. A bandage was wrapped around his exposed chest, and another along the length of his right forearm. Dazai could pick out a few bruises on the otherwise pale skin but nothing that seemed overly concerning.
Clearing his throat, Dazai waited for the soft discussion to die down before saying, “I require a few minutes alone with my bodyguard. Immediately.”
The movement was instantaneous. Everyone bowed and rushed out of the room, slipping past Dazai as he remained still just inside the doorway, gaze fixed on Chuuya. When they were left alone, and the door had slid shut with a dull thud, Dazai stepped forward.
“What happened?”
Chuuya shrugged. “They were waiting for me when I walked inside.”
“How many?”
“Four.”
“You usually sniff out attacks well before they happen. How did they surprise you?”
He watched Chuuya’s jaw clench momentarily before the knight admitted. “I was preoccupied.”
Dazai moved closer, stopping at the foot of the bed so he could speak softer—preventing eavesdroppers from overhearing him. “Over our argument?” Chuuya nodded slightly and Dazai swore. “You almost got killed because I let those damned delegates get under my skin.”
“Your Highness-”
“Don’t.” Dazai cut him off, exasperation seeping into his tone even as he struggled to regain control over his emotions. “Just…don’t call me that, Chuuya, not here, not right now.”
Chuuya shifted slightly on the bed, not quite able to disguise a wince as the movement pulled at his injuries. At any other time, Dazai would be drinking in the sight of Chuuya shirtless, his physique on full display in a way that it technically never should be for Dazai. But right now, all Dazai could see were the wounds that could have been prevented if he had kept his mouth shut, if had played the part of the proper prince as he did every day of his life.
“Can you forget the propriety for one damned moment in your life, Chuuya? I did just rush here upon hearing you were attacked.”
Chuuya’s lips quirked into a wry smile. “Thank you for your concern, Dazai.”
“Ah, back to Dazai are we?”
“Would you prefer ‘Your Highness’ after all?”
“I would prefer it if my title never left your lips again,” Dazai said.
He had nothing to lose by being completely honest to Chuuya about the matter. Perhaps, if Dazai hadn’t tried quite so hard to balance his own desires with the expectations of his position. If he had been more honest with Chuuya from the beginning, had given them both more time to explore the possibility before being faced with the rapidly ticking time-line of the king’s creation, perhaps things might have progressed differently.
Tilting his head slightly, Chuuya’s gaze roved Dazai’s face, his own expression thoughtful. “It really bothers you, doesn’t it?”
“Doesn’t it bother you?”
“All my calling you by name will do is make it more painful later when we are brought back to reality.”
“Reality,” Dazai let the word roll over his tongue as he considered the statement. “Very well, let us speak of reality, Chuuya.”
Blue eyes narrowed as if Chuuya suspected a trick but couldn’t place it. “Okay.”
“The reality of the matter is that I have never thought I would have the misfortune of dealing with someone as stubborn as my father is and it is quite unfortunate that you seem to surpass him in the category of bullheadedness.” Chuuya blinked, his jaw slightly slack in surprise at the new turn of conversation.
Grinning slightly, Dazai stepped further up the length of the bed as he mused. “The reality of the matter is that I have fancied you for quite some time and I highly doubt I will come across someone able to surprise me quite like you do, much less someone as able to capture my attention as you have. The reality of the matter is that a week ago, I kissed you and have not been able to rid myself of the memory of how wonderful your lips felt against mine.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed, much too close to Chuuya to be considered proper. In fact, so close that (considering Chuuya’s state of undress) it was all but highly indecent and Dazai wanted nothing more than to lean in closer, to soak in the heat that radiated from the other man and curled through his body as if trying to tempt Dazai into a decision that he needed no temptation to partake in.
“The reality of the matter is that I cannot recall the last time I felt true panic like I did upon hearing you were attacked.” Dazai frowned. This close to Chuuya he could pick up details that he hadn’t noticed from further away and he reached up, tracing a light scratch along the side of Chuuya’s face. “The reality of the matter is that if you had left a single one of those attackers alive I would have already sentenced them to death for daring to lay hands on you.”
Chuuya sighed. “You are one to speak about stubbornness. I wish you would let this go.”
“No, you don’t.”
That startled laughter from the knight and he amended. “It is quite the sight to see you pursuing me when you could have a dozen nobles at your feet in seconds.”
“I want you, Chuuya. What do you want?”
He could see the conflict reflected in Chuuya’s gaze: the war between what Chuuya really desired and his stubborn need to maintain propriety.
Finally, Chuuya shook his head as if in defeat even as he gave Dazai a small smile. “You know what I want.”
“I wish I did. It has been impossible to feel certain of it, I’ve wondered if I was just projecting my desires onto you.”
“You’re usually much more observant than that,” Chuuya said, a teasing lilt in his tone. He reached out, hand hovering just inches away from Dazai’s skin before he finally curled his fingers along the side of Dazai’s neck, thumb brushing against Dazai’s cheek. “I do want you.”
Those four words were so simple and yet Dazai felt them lifting away months’ worth of stress, of self-doubt and paranoia regarding where he stood with this man. Smiling, he leaned into Chuuya’s touch. “It is a relief to hear you say that.”
Chuuya let out a short of huff of amusement. “To think the self-assured crown prince was so concerned about the opinion of a lowly knight like myself.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Chuuya, you are the best fighter in this kingdom. Lowly knight doesn’t do you credit.”
The knight gave a considering hum, his eyes scanning Dazai’s face as if wanting to map every feature of it. Dazai knew his expression as unusually open, his trademark unreadability gone thanks to an evening of emotional vulnerability he normally never indulged in.
“Chuuya.”
“Yes?”
“Are you going to kiss me or will we sit here staring at each other until the sun rises?”
“You, my prince, are quite impatient,” Chuuya replied, the admonishment too lighthearted to be convincing.
Dazai grinned. “Perhaps only when it comes to you.”
Rather than giving a reply, Chuuya leaned forward, his lips brushing against Dazai in a touch too light, too fleeting, to satisfy how much Dazai had been craving the moment since their last kiss. He wasn’t given a chance to complain because, as if reading his thoughts (which Dazai wouldn’t put it past Chuuya being able to do), Chuuya was back again, pressing into a fuller embrace as his other arm wrapped around Dazai’s waist, pulling him flush against Chuuya.
Eyes fluttering shut, Dazai let himself sink into the slow deliberate movements of Chuuya’s mouth against his. His hands splayed against Chuuya’s chest, the bare skin under his fingertips almost scalding.
If there hadn’t been people standing just outside the doors, waiting to reenter the room, Dazai would have left himself explore the curves of Chuuya’s chest, would have let his lips part just far enough to accommodate Chuuya’s tongue. Just the thought of those outside, of the possibility of them stumbling open a sight nothing short of scandalous made the fire rushing through Dazai’s veins feel even hotter.
Pulling back just enough to speak, Chuuya murmured, “You’re unexpectedly pliant in my arms, Osamu.”
Biting his tongue to hold back a less than appropriate noise in reaction to the sound of his name rolling over Chuuya’s tongue, of the feeling of Chuuya’s breath against his face, Dazai took much too long to regain his composure. When he did, and finally blinked open his eyes to take in Chuuya’s smug grin, Dazai settled with retaliation, surging back into a kiss that was hot and deep, fingers curling against Chuuya’s chest as he nipped on Chuuya’s lip before pulling back.
Flashing a smirk of his own at the other man, Dazai replied, “only for you, and don’t expect it to be a consistent pattern, Chuuya.” Dazai let his hands travel up, reveling in the skin-on-skin contact (something he hadn’t allowed himself to even dream about), before stopping at the nape of Chuuya’s neck. “I’m sure the servants outside the door are getting impatient. I should leave.”
At the reminder of where they were, of who they were, the smile on Chuuya’s face faded at rapid speed and he nodded. “Before we get caught. You shouldn’t even be here.”
“I suppose that is precisely what you will say to me tomorrow night when I secret myself out of my bedchamber and you happen to come across me in a deserted area of the castle. I am, however, curious if it will be said before or after I get the chance to thoroughly explore your lips as I want to at this moment.”
Shaking his head, Chuuya muttered, “You are incorrigible.”
Indulging himself in one last chaste kiss, Dazai pulled away from Chuuya and got to his feet, stepping away from the bed. “Chuuya, do you have confidence in my political abilities?”
The question was sudden, and Chuuya quirked an eyebrow curiously even as he replied with no hesitation. “Of course, I do.”
“Then let me worry about issues like our ranks and the court’s opinion. You have plenty to take up your concern.”
“So do you.”
Dazai nodded, conceding the point. “But, for once, this is something to concern myself with that I actually care about. Let me handle it.”
“Very well.”
Grinning at the agreement, Dazai turned to make his way to the door. “Rest well, Chuuya.”
“And you, Osamu.”
His name, all but whispered in the quarters of the only person to catch Dazai’s affections, had Dazai very near floating out of the small room and into the corridor. The servants who streamed inside to finish cleaning and the guards who fell into place behind him meant nothing to Dazai in comparison to the lingering phantom sensation of soft lips pressed assuredly against his own.
Dazai would find a way to make their desires work even if he had to restructure the entire court itself. He had been the perfect prince for nearly all of his life, he was owed the spark of happiness that existed in the curve of Chuuya’s smile.