It was the fifth day—just one day before the treaty was to be finalized and signed.
Lord Veylar leaned forward with a courteous smile. "You must ride with us for the hunt, Your Majesty. A gesture of peace and goodwill between our great empires. The forests here are legendary."
Aiden opened his mouth, ready to fire off a scathing remark, but was halted by the discreet squeeze of Elliott's hand beneath the table. Elliott, gaze flickering with amusement, answered smoothly, "I would love to."
The next question came almost too quickly.
"The prince will be joining us too, I take it?"
Something about the timing grated on Aiden. No way was he letting Elliott anywhere near these men without him. He responded coldly, "Of course I will. Is that a problem, Lord Veylar?"
"Not at all," the envoy said with a soft chuckle. "How could the prince's presence be a problem?" His tone was pleasant, but the glint in his eyes was something else—like a man watching a cornered animal react exactly as expected.
The royal hunting grounds stretched wide and majestic, blanketed in lush green. The party had assembled—Elliott, uncharacteristically dressed in riding leathers, sat atop an ivory mare, gentle and graceful, much like the emperor himself. He ran a calming hand along the horse's neck.
Beside him stood Aiden, a storm cloud in armor. His own horse, a sleek black warhorse known for speed and strength, mirrored his brooding presence. The envoys were already mounted, Lord Veylar wearing a smile that felt far too smug.
Veylar nudged his horse closer to Elliott's and offered a rectangular velvet case.
Elliott took it, brows raised in curiosity.
"A gift, Your Majesty," Veylar said smoothly. "The hilt is carved from serpent bone—a prized material in Altherian lands."
Elliott didn't need to look at Aiden to imagine his expression. Defiantly poisoned. And if it "accidentally" nicked him during the hunt? A tragic incident, easily dismissed. Everyone knew Elliott rarely hunted—this was not a gift for an amateur. It was a trap dressed as generosity.
For a seasoned warrior, it was a prized token. For someone inexperienced, it was a deadly risk.
Still, Elliott smiled. "How thoughtful," he said, but left the dagger untouched in the box. "A shame I prefer the bow. Why don't I give this to the Crown Prince? He's fond of rare blades."
Aiden didn't need to be asked twice. He stepped forward and accepted the dagger, equally leaving it sheathed. Wordlessly, he handed it to a nearby attendant—who, in truth, was his second-in-command in disguise. Aiden gave a subtle, meaningful look. No words were necessary: Get it tested. Quietly.
The first part of the hunt passed without incident.
Then, just as the sun reached its peak, a guttural roar split the air.
A massive, enraged wild boar burst from the underbrush—far too large, far too aggressive, and certainly not native to these woods.
Veylar's men scattered. Too quickly. Like clockwork, rehearsed and precise.
The boar charged.
Straight for the emperor.
For a moment, Elliott froze—stunned, unmoving.
Aiden reacted before anyone else could.
He leapt from his saddle and tackled Elliott off the mare just as the boar thundered past, goring the horse instead. Aiden and the emperor hit the ground hard. Aiden's arms instinctively wrapped around Elliott, shielding him from the worst of the impact as they tumbled down a slight slope.
They rolled to a stop, Aiden stabbing his dagger into the dirt to halt their momentum.
And then—
Stillness.
Elliott lay sprawled across Aiden's chest, breath coming fast. His legs tangled with Aiden's. One of Aiden's hands gripped Elliott's waist tightly, the other braced against the ground beside his head. Protective. Possessive.
Their faces were close.
Too close.
Dirt clung to Elliott's cheekbone, smudging against the smooth skin. His chest rose and fell against Aiden's armor, and for a moment, the world narrowed down to the fact that their hips were practically aligned and Aiden hadn't let go.
Aiden didn't move.
Couldn't.
His eyes flickered—to Elliott's lips. Just for a second. Just enough to burn it into memory. Then back to his eyes, still wide and stunned and—beautiful.
Elliott swallowed. His voice came out breathless. "I told you I can ride."
Aiden's voice was lower, rougher. "Told you this was a bad idea."
Neither of them moved.
A leaf drifted past, carried on a breeze neither of them noticed.
Then—
"Your Majesty! Are you alright?" Lord Veylar's voice rang out, far too conveniently timed, as knights finally managed to capture the beast.
The moment shattered.
Elliott jerked like he'd just remembered how to breathe. Aiden, with one last lingering look, finally sat up—still holding him like he weighed nothing.
"...Aiden, I can walk," Elliott repeated for the third time in the last five minutes.
Aiden didn't answer. Just held him closer, arms curled tightly around him in a princess carry like it was the most obvious thing to do.
Elliott sighed. "You took most of the impact. I'm fine—"
Aiden glared again. Though it looked less like intimidation and more like a grumpy toddler being told no candy.
Elliott gave up.
Aiden's voice was quieter when he spoke again. "You know that wasn't natural."
Elliott looked up. His fingers brushed against Aiden's forearm in quiet understanding. His voice, when it came, was casual—loud enough for eavesdroppers. "That was a wild animal, Aiden. Accidents happen. Perhaps we should tighten security—just in case any more… undesirable beasts get in."
He didn't look back, but he knew Veylar was listening.
And he smiled.