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    Summary

    "Y'know," Lance's voice was a soft, slurred murmur against the pillow, so close it vibrated through Keith's own skull. "I'm glad... I'm glad it was you that stayed."

    Keith's breath hitched, his lungs seizing in his chest. Don't say it, he chanted silently, a desperate prayer to any deity that might be listening. But Lance, in his current state, had no access to Keith's internal monologue. "Even with all the... the bickering. And the fighting."

    A small, breathy giggle escaped him at his own muddled phrasing. "I'm... I'm really glad I met you. We make a good team, don't we?"

    Or

    A diplomatic mission to Ryxara was supposed to be simple—formal talks, polite smiles, a few days of uneasy peace.
    But something in the palace is wrong.

    Or at least, Keith thinks it is.

    It’s hard to tell where genuine danger ends and his own jealousy begins, especially when Lance has always been good at drawing attention without even trying.
    He’s not sure if he’s seeing patterns where none exist—if it’s paranoia, jealousy, or instinct screaming too loudly to ignore.

    But when Lance falls violently ill after the masquerade ball, Keith is forced to consider a possibility far worse than being wrong.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    135,754
    Chapters:
    6/8
    Comments:
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    Kudos:
    167
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