"Your Majesty," Elara said lightly, a knowing smile on her face, "are you giving us a special goodbye?" Her tone carried a hint of teasing. "Or…"

Her gaze shifted to Florian.

Florian stiffened instantly. He was already tense enough, already braced for departure, for distance—for not having to face Heinz again any more than he already had.

'Please don't make this harder,' he thought.

Heinz didn't answer right away. His eyes lingered on Florian for a heartbeat too long before he turned back to Elara.

"Out of all the dukes," Heinz said calmly, "you have my trust."

The words landed heavier than expected.

Elara blinked, clearly surprised. Eleonor looked up at his uncle, eyes widening. And Florian—

Florian froze.

"King Heinz…" Elara said softly, visibly moved.

"So I trust you," Heinz continued, his voice steady, "to keep Florian safe."

The moment the words left his mouth, a sudden wave of cold air swept through them.

Florian's eyes widened.

Elara's smile deepened, something almost satisfied flickering across her expression. Eleonor glanced between Florian and Heinz, curiosity written plainly on his face.

And Florian—

Florian felt overwhelmed.

Because it wasn't just the words.

It was the implication.

Despite Prince Hendrix being present. Despite Athena and Scarlett—still technically under Heinz's care. Despite all of that—

Heinz had singled him out.

'Why me?' Florian thought, heart pounding. 'Why say it like that?'

Heinz turned fully toward him.

Florian lifted his gaze just as Heinz stepped closer, the space between them shrinking far too quickly.

'His eyes…' Florian thought.

They were soft. Unguarded. Nothing like the king who ruled a kingdom, nothing like the man Florian had argued with, pushed away, tried so hard to distance himself from.

Florian expected words. A warning. A quiet goodbye.

Instead—

Heinz raised his hand.

His fingers brushed Florian's cheek, warm and gentle, as if touching something precious.

Florian felt his face heat instantly.

'What is he doing?' his thoughts spiraled. 'Here? In front of Elara?'

Before he could react, Heinz leaned down.

Florian heard a sharp intake of breath—someone gasped. Maybe everyone.

Maybe just him.

Then everything else vanished.

Lips pressed against his.

Soft. Careful. Certain.

Florian's breath was knocked right out of him.

'I should push him away,' Florian thought frantically. 'I should stop this. I should—'

But he didn't.

God help him, he didn't.

Instead, his body betrayed him completely. His tension melted. His fingers curled slightly, as if grounding himself in the moment.

He closed his eyes.

And for that brief, dangerous heartbeat—

Florian kissed him back—and the moment it happened, he hated himself for it.

Not for the act itself.

But for how much he missed it.

For how easily his body remembered the warmth of Heinz's lips, the familiarity of it, the way it made his chest ache instead of settle.

He had been so close. Far too close.

To staying.

To telling Heinz he forgave him.

To believing, just for a heartbeat, that maybe they could try again. That maybe this didn't have to end here.

'It's just a kiss,' he told himself desperately. 'It's just a kiss… it's just a—'

God.

'Please. I don't want to give in this early.'

Stupid Drizelous. Stupid story. Stupid timing. All of it tangled together, blurring Florian's resolve at the worst possible moment.

Thankfully—mercifully—it was Heinz who pulled away.

Their foreheads rested together, breaths brushing, the space between them still humming with everything neither of them dared to say. It felt intimate in a way that hurt more than distance ever could.

"I don't care whether or not you pass this task," Heinz said quietly.

There was no authority in his voice. No command. No king.

Just him.

"What matters is you," Heinz continued. "Come back. And let's have a conversation."

The words sank deep.

Too deep.

Florian didn't answer.

He couldn't.

Not when Heinz sounded like that. Not when he was being so unbearably sincere. So… annoyingly charming.

'Stop,' Florian thought. 'Please, just stop talking.'

Because if he opened his mouth, something reckless would spill out. Something honest. Something he wouldn't be able to take back.

So instead, he stepped back.

He broke the closeness before it could break him.

And he looked away.

His gaze drifted without meaning to.

It landed on Elara first.

She looked pleased. Almost smug. Like she had just witnessed something she had anticipated all along and was quietly filing it away as confirmation.

'Of course you saw this coming,' Florian thought, resisting the urge to sigh.

Then there was Eleonor.

The boy had very clearly turned his head away, ears flushed red, staring far too intently at the ground as if it were suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world.

Florian almost smiled.

From farther away, he caught sight of Hendrix.

He stood still, watching with a blank expression that gave nothing away. No anger. No surprise. No amusement.

Nothing.

And for some reason, that unsettled Florian more than any obvious reaction would have.

'Not that I care what he thinks,' Florian told himself quickly, even as the thought lingered longer than it should have.

And then there were Scarlett and Athena.

The two of them were whispering animatedly to each other, barely hiding their giggles, eyes sparkling with thinly veiled delight.

'Of course,' Florian thought tiredly. 'Of course they're enjoying this.'

He drew in another breath, slow and deliberate, forcing himself to steady.

Enough.

This was already more than it should have been. More than he could afford.

Florian turned back to Elara, his face composed, even if his chest still felt too tight.

"We should go," he said quietly.

Elara held his gaze for a brief moment. There was understanding there. Too much of it. The kind that made Florian feel uncomfortably seen.

"Yes," she replied at last. "It's time."

Florian didn't look back at Heinz as he turned toward the carriage.

'If I do,' he thought, his resolve hardening, 'I won't leave.'

So he didn't.

"Goodbye, Your Majesty," Elara said, lowering into a graceful curtsy. Beside her, Eleonor bowed deeply, proper and composed once more.

Florian stepped into the carriage and took his seat, positioning himself carefully as if the space itself might betray him.

He kept his gaze fixed anywhere but outside, anywhere but toward Heinz. His heart was still racing, loud enough that he was certain the others could hear it.

'Calm down,' he told himself. 'You're already leaving. It's over. Just breathe.'

It wasn't long before Elara and Eleonor followed him inside. Elara settled across from him with practiced ease, Eleonor beside her, and then the carriage door was shut with a firm click that felt final.

The sound made something in Florian's chest tighten.

As the carriage began to move, Florian pressed a hand to his chest, grounding himself, willing his heart to slow. He focused on his breathing, on the rhythm of the wheels, on anything that wasn't the memory of warm lips and soft words.

'Forget it,' he thought desperately. 'Just for a few days. Please.'

The silence didn't last.

Someone cleared their throat.

"So…" Eleonor began, his voice light, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Your Highness."

Florian froze.

"I take it," Eleonor continued innocently, "that scene was His Majesty's way of announcing you as his future consort?"

'Oh my god.'

Florian very nearly covered his face with his hands.

Very nearly.

But he was seated across from a duke and her son, in a moving carriage, with no place to hide and far too much dignity expected of him to actually do it. So instead, he forced himself to straighten and take a slow, steady breath.

One breath. Then another.

'Get it together.'

What followed was… painful.

Awkward, and very humiliating.

Florian tried to explain. Truly, he did.

He stumbled through his words, insisting that he wasn't the consort—wasn't going to be the consort—and that whatever that was back there wasn't an announcement or a declaration or anything of the sort.

He talked too much.

He talked too fast.

And when it came to the kiss, his explanation completely fell apart. He couldn't even remember exactly what he said anymore, only that it sounded flimsy and unconvincing even to his own ears.

Something about emotions running high.

Something about poor timing.

Something about misunderstandings.

At some point, he just… stopped talking.

The carriage went silent.

No teasing. No commentary. No reactions at all.

The worst kind of silence.

'I want the floor to swallow me whole,' Florian thought faintly.

By the time he gathered the courage to glance out the window again, the Diamond Palace was already far behind them, its white silhouette shrinking into the distance like something from a dream he was trying very hard to wake up from.

Lancelot rode alongside the carriage on horseback, steady and alert, completely unaware—or blissfully unaware—of the social disaster that had just occurred inside.

Elara sat quietly, her expression unreadable.

Eleonor, too, had gone silent, staring ahead with a thoughtful look that made Florian deeply uncomfortable.

Florian didn't know whether the quiet was a relief or just another form of torture.

'At least no one is talking anymore,' he thought. 'But God… what are they thinking?'

He leaned back against the seat, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Whatever had happened back there—whatever that kiss meant—it was already behind him.

He told himself that.

He had to believe it.

"Your Highness, if you don't mind, may I ask an unrelated question?"