"Are you really alright, Cherion?"

The question came out low and rough, more like a vibration from Zarius’s chest than actual words. Cherion blinked himself out of the warm, floaty haze currently occupying his brain and looked away from the blur of pine trees outside the carriage window. Zarius was staring at him again with that intense, borderline overprotective look he’d perfected over the last few days.

"I’m fine, Zarius. Really," Cherion mumbled, though there wasn’t much bite left in his voice.

Zarius clearly didn’t buy it. His brows pulled together into that stubborn little frown he usually reserved for battle plans and paperwork he hated. "Then why are you pouting? You’ve been doing it since we crossed the creek."

Cherion’s lower lip twitched.

Was he pouting?

...Maybe a little.

He leaned his head against the cool carriage window and watched the cabin disappear farther into the forest until it became nothing but a tiny dark blur swallowed by endless green.

"It’s nothing," Cherion lied, feeling kind of ridiculous about it. "I’m just... a little sad, I guess. It felt like time stopped existing in that cabin. Now it’s all ticking again."

He glanced around the carriage interior. Plush seats. Velvet lining. Expensive leather smell. And underneath it all, that sharp clean scent that always clung to Zarius like power itself had decided to wear cologne.

It felt completely different from the tiny cabin where they’d spent three or four straight days forgetting basic concepts like dignity, personal space, and where one body ended and the other started.

"How did you even get this thing out here?" Cherion asked, gesturing vaguely around them. "It’s not like there’s a carriage rental place in the middle of forest."

Zarius shifted slightly, which somehow made his giant frame take up even more space. "I made some arrangements."

He reached out, his large hand finding Cherion’s and squeezing it with a gentleness that still felt a bit startling. "I would have stayed longer. You know that. But the party is approaching quickly. Don’t look so mournful, Cherion. We can return here whenever you wish. Or anywhere else you find a fancy for. The world is quite large, and apparently I own an unreasonable amount of it."

That finally made Cherion smile for real.

Instead of answering, he slid across the seat until he could tuck himself against Zarius’s shoulder. The trip back to the estate stretched on in comfortable silence, filled with the steady sound of hooves and the heavy sort of peace that came from two people finally giving up on pretending this thing between them wasn’t happening.

Cherion drifted in and out of sleep most of the ride, wrapped in Zarius’s warmth and scent, until the carriage finally rolled over the gravel courtyard outside the estate.

The second the carriage door opened, the vibe changed instantly.

Zarius stepped out first.

And wow.

"Refreshed" didn’t even begin to cover it.

The man looked terrifyingly alive. His aura hit the guards like a physical force, sharp and dense enough that several of them instinctively stepped backward without meaning to. Zarius ignored all of them completely and simply turned back toward the carriage, holding out a hand for Cherion.

Cherion climbed out slowly into the bright sunlight and immediately regretted existing.

He was buried inside one of Zarius’s enormous travel cloaks, fur collar pulled up high enough to hide most of the absolute disaster decorating his neck. He felt less like a person and more like a poorly hidden secret wrapped in luxury fabric.

Elios was the first to meet them. He took one look at Zarius, then shifted his eyes to Cherion, and his jaw practically hit his chest.

"Welcome back, My Lord," Elios began, his voice trailing off into a strangled sort of squeak. "Oh. Wow. I see... things were... settled?"

He wasn’t the only one. Within seconds, the courtyard seemed to fill up. Reiner, Ezek, and Winston appeared like shadows, followed closely by Marielle, who looked like she was about to explode into a thousand tiny pieces of maternal anxiety.

The silence that followed was brutal.

Not awkward exactly.

More like everyone had collectively been punched in the face by pheromones.

Zarius’s scent was everywhere, dark, possessive, heavy, and completely tangled up with Cherion’s. It was impossible to separate them anymore. The entire courtyard basically got hit with a giant public announcement that whatever "fake" situation had existed before was very much not the main thing anymore.

Flio stepped forward, his expression a mix of professional neutrality and a "told-you-so" smirk. "Well, I believe everyone has successfully gathered the general idea of what occurred," he remarked dryly. "And from the looks of it, you both took care of the... situation... quite thoroughly."

Marielle’s eyes were wide, darting from the Duke’s smug expression to the way Cherion was practically hiding in the cloak.

Elios leaned in toward Zarius, though Cherion’s ears, sharpened by days of heightened sensitivity, caught every word. "Marielle was about five minutes away from organizing a full-scale manhunt. We practically had to sit on her to keep her from storming the woods."

Cherion felt a spike of genuine fear. He knew Marielle had a bit of a ’brother complex’ when it came to Zarius, and part of him had genuinely expected her to see him as some random homewrecker who’d corrupted her beloved Duke. He braced himself for a lecture, or perhaps a very polite stabbing.

Instead, Marielle’s expression completely collapsed into dramatic emotional devastation.

"Oh, Brother," she wailed, looking at him as if he had just won a war single-handedly. "You’re finally a grown-up man! AAn actual adult man!"

Zarius looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him. "Marielle, for the love of the Gods, I have been a grown man for many years."

She didn’t seem to hear him, her gaze shifting to Cherion with an intensity that made him want to burrow deeper into the fur. "And thank the Heavens it was with our little healer," she added, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "If it had been anyone else, well, I don’t know if I could have handled it. But this? This is perfect."

Cherion flushed a shade of red that probably matched the Duke’s eyes. He shared a look with Zarius, who simply exhaled a long, suffering sigh and began leading him toward the castle doors.

As they walked inside, Flio fell into step beside them, his tone shifting back to the business of the realm. "The preparations for the Capital are nearly finished, My Lord. The guard is ready, the documents are sealed, and the carriage is being reinforced for the long haul. We depart in two days."

"Good," Zarius said, all cold Duke authority again.

But even while discussing politics and travel logistics, he never let go of Cherion’s hand. If anything, his grip tightened slightly, thumb rubbing slow circles against the back of Cherion’s hand like he was making sure he was still there. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Zarius glanced down at him, expression softening for just a second.

"You’re alright? You look worried again."

"It’s nothing," Cherion answered automatically, even though his heart was pounding hard enough to be medically concerning.

He let Zarius guide him through the familiar halls, though the giant luxurious estate suddenly felt strangely hollow compared to the cabin.

But then he looked at Zarius properly.

The Capital was a nightmare waiting to happen. He knew that. The party was probably a trap, and the people there were terrifying.

And the entire court would love to watch the Iron Duke crash and burn.

But Cherion wasn’t the "real" Cherion of this world anymore.

I’m ready, he thought, his fingers tightening around the Duke’s. Let’s go to the Capital. And let’s find the as*h*le who put this curse on you. I have a few things I’d like to say to them.