Chapter 12

The warmth of the terrace lingered in Est’s skin long after the plates were cleared and the servants bowed themselves away. But that low, heated glow – the one that had filled the air between them all morning – was already beginning to cool.

He could feel it.

It started subtly. The way William sat back a little further in his chair, the way his posture straightened, smile softening into something more formal. The moment the first sound of hoofbeats echoed from the distant path toward the estate gates, a different air took over the terrace – the hush of incoming eyes, incoming names, and all the expectations they carried.

William glanced toward the gardens with a sigh, his fingers drumming lightly against his glass. “That will be them.”

Est only nodded. “Shall I prepare for their arrival?”

The words felt foreign in his mouth after the softness of the morning – after Est had kissed him against a marble column, after William had whispered filth into his ear on the eastern terrace and come breathless beneath him the night before.

But William didn’t falter.

“Yes,” he said, voice once again wrapped in that polished princely tone. “There will be six carriages in total. You’ll coordinate with the steward to help receive them.”

Est bowed his head. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

He rose smoothly, all trained movements and quiet deference, though something inside him pulled taut. He hadn’t expected more. Hadn’t thought William would keep him tethered at his side like some lover – it wasn’t his place. Still, something about the quick return to protocol stung.

By the time the first carriage arrived, Est was already waiting.

He stood by the front steps in his formal black uniform, tunic buttoned high, boots polished, expression carved from stone. The other guards stationed at the manor’s entrance deferred to him quietly.

He watched the carriages roll in – one by one, adorned with family crests, glossy with polish. Nobles and aristocrats spilled out, laughing, cloaked in furs and fine linen despite the warmth in the air. Gold rings, perfume, easy smiles. Lords and their ladies. Sharp-eyed women and their glittering companions.

William greeted them all like it was second nature – arms wide, laughter warm, every word the perfect mix of charm and reverence. The crown prince of pleasure and diplomacy.

Est stood at a discreet distance behind the main reception line, hands folded behind his back, chin lifted.

And he watched.

He watched as one Lord clapped William on the back and whispered something close to his ear that made him laugh. He watched a silver-haired courtier kiss William’s hand with a familiarity that made Est’s jaw tighten. Watched another young nobleman press too close as William led them inside, the angle of his smile just a little too easy.

Est said nothing.

But when one of the noblemen caught his eye – held it a second too long – he shifted forward slightly. That was all it took. The man looked away.

And then Est resumed his place in the shadows.

__________

Inside, the manor hummed with life again.

Servants bustled, trunks were carried to chambers, voices echoed up marble staircases and out onto balconies. There was wine again, and music – and too many people wearing too much perfume.

Est slipped into the rhythm of his old role like armor – patrolling the halls, eyes always scanning, answering orders softly, efficiently. Not once did he seek William out.

Not even when he saw the prince disappear down the corridor with two of his cousins, laughing about a story from some far-off hunting trip. Not even when he heard the roar of approval from the terrace where drinks were being poured.

He belonged elsewhere now.

And yet – as he passed by the eastern hall later that afternoon, he paused without meaning to.

The gallery was empty. The breeze fluttered the curtains. The marble pillar where William had first kissed him that morning stood warm in the light.

Est stood there, quiet, the ache in his chest pressing heavier than he wanted to admit.

After the fifth carriage had emptied its passengers and the last of the luggage was swept into the guest chambers by hurried hands, William turned briefly to Est – his smile still in place, though quieter now.

“You’ve done enough today,” he said gently, just low enough for Est to hear. “The rest of the evening is yours.”

Est blinked. “Your Highness, I – “

“That’s an order,” William added, though there was a hint of softness behind the firmness. “Rest. Read. Breathe. You’re not just my guard now.”

The words hung between them a moment too long, and then Est nodded. “As you wish.”

And just like that, he stepped away – not out of duty, but because he had to. Because if he stayed and watched one more guest cling to William’s arm with too much familiarity, he wasn’t sure his composure would last.

The late afternoon light had turned golden by the time Est retreated to his private quarters – a richly appointed room just beyond the east wing, far more comfortable than the guards’ barracks at court. The bed was large, the furniture carved from deep, fragrant wood, and the balcony overlooked the south gardens, where the estate unfurled into sweeping green.

He didn’t change out of his uniform right away. Instead, he sat by the window with a book open across his lap, one hand turning the pages absently as his gaze drifted through the tall glass doors.

Below, the grand lawn was already dotted with parasols and cushioned lounges. Tea had been laid out on long tables, and nobles in flowing silks reclined with laughter and crystal cups in hand. William stood near the fountain, clad in soft white linen and dark navy trousers, his sleeves rolled to the forearm. Sunlight shimmered in his hair, and his smile was brighter than Est had seen all day.

There was a lady at his side – one of the visiting nobility, elegant and dark-eyed, her voice high and lilting. Her hand rested far too comfortably on William’s arm, her head tilted close as she laughed. William said something – Est couldn’t hear it – and she laughed again, mouth open, delighted.

Est forced his eyes back to the book. Read the same paragraph five times.

Of course the prince was charming. Of course he was attentive. It was his job. It was expected. William didn’t owe him anything beyond what they’d shared. He wasn’t his lover. He was a soldier in a borrowed room.

Est’s fingers tightened on the book.

He told himself, fiercely, that this was the life they both belonged to.
That whatever soft, greedy part of him that had come alive under William’s hands had to be tucked away now.

He had known this all along – hadn’t he?
That he was only the prince’s secret paramour. A soldier who could fight at his side, take him to bed in the dark hours. Nothing more.

Still, it left an ache in his chest.

Possessiveness – ugly, irrational – but it stirred inside him like a live wire. He hated the feeling. Hated that it made him want to go back out there and stand just behind William again, as if to ward off every greedy eye.

“Keep your head,” he muttered under his breath, moving to the small table and forcing himself to focus on the book in his hands.

He read without really seeing the words, hearing the hum of new voices, new arrivals as they filled the halls and salons of the estate.

He was just beginning to lose himself in the rhythm of turning pages when a sharp knock at his door pulled him abruptly to his feet.

“The prince requires you,” an attendant said briskly.

By the time he crossed into the great salon where William was entertaining, his expression was smooth and blank as polished marble.

The drawing room glowed with warmth and noise – laughter, flicking candlelight, a harpist’s soft melody floating under the hum of voices. William’s guests – lords in rich jackets, ladies in jeweled gowns – lounged in silk cushions, wine glasses half-full, eyes glinting with delight and mischief.

And there, at the heart of it, sat Prince William – draped in effortless charm, boot crossed over his knee, dark eyes glimmering with amusement at someone’s offhand joke.

When Est entered, every head turned.

He bowed, precise and composed. “Your Highness.”

William looked up lazily, lips curving into a pleasant smile. “Ah. There you are.” He stood and gestured him forward with a flick of two fingers. “Come. I should introduce you.”

Est walked forward, feeling the weight of their stares – the curiosity in it, the intrigue. And something else too. That veiled hunger court nobles often wore like perfume.

“This is Est,” William said lightly, the smile never leaving his lips. “My personal guard.”

Nothing more.

Not companion. Not guest. Just guard.

The message was clear.

Est inclined his head. “My lords. My ladies.”

He felt them appraise him like a fine-bred animal on parade.

A round of interested murmurs followed as Est inclined his head respectfully.

“Est, these are my friends – Sir Lowe and Lady Meryse, and….” He continued making introductions but Est barely listened.

The noblewomen gave him an appraising look that sent a ripple of awareness through him.

“Well,” drawled a lord with a lazy grin and a diamond pin in his cravat, “the crown prince wasn’t exaggerating. Told me you picked a pretty one, William. Didn’t think your taste had gotten this… dangerous.”

Laughter followed – the comfortable, indulgent kind that filled rooms like this.

Est didn’t blink. “I serve where I’m ordered,” he replied smoothly.

“Oh, but you do it so well,” came a sharp, honeyed voice from the couch to his right.

One of the ladies – dark red lips, tight curls, a slit in her gown high enough to turn heads – raised her glass to him, eyes running openly down his body. “Strong arms. Stoic expression. That whole dangerous, silent thing. Do you know how rare it is for a guard to be both deadly and pretty?”

Est offered a mild smile. “I’m not usually accused of both in the same breath.”

“Such a voice,” her friend added – this one younger, plumper, her laugh quick and obnoxious. “Oh, say something else. Just one more line. Anything. Yes, my lady. Say that.”

He tilted his head slightly. “As you wish, my lady.”

Both women giggled like girls drunk on something stronger than wine.

“Well, you’ve already made my evening,” the first woman purred. “Come sit with us a while. Let us admire you.”

“Your bodyguard,” another one of the ladies – dark-haired, radiant – echoed with a hum of appreciation, her gaze raking up and down Est’s frame.
“He looks like something from a storybook,” she laughed.

Est allowed a slow, easy smile to curve his mouth – knowing exactly what they wanted.
“I’m flattered, my lady,” he answered smoothly. “Though I assure you, my skills are more than just decorative.”

That earned him delighted laughter, and a sir drawled across the table, “Skills in more than one area, I’d wager.”
“More than one,” Est replied, voice rich as aged whiskey. “A bodyguard must be… versatile, after all.”

Her friend followed suit, laughing as she leaned closer to William. “You must lend him to us for the evening,” she teased. “A strong one like this would make for a most pleasing diversion.”

“Careful,” Sir Lowe chuckled into his wine. “You’re making the poor boy blush.”

Est inclined his head politely, face impassive – though his heart thudded faster.

“Do you always stand at attention like that?” one of the lords drawled, voice rich with humor.

Est allowed a small, easy smile to touch his lips.
“Someone has to make sure His Highness is properly guarded,” he answered lightly – enough to make them laugh without giving too much away.

“Indeed,” the other chimed in – a blonde beauty who leaned just a touch too close as she spoke. “But what a pity,” she murmured, “to have someone so… very able watching, and never able to keep him for oneself.”

The way she said it sent a flicker of heat across Est’s skin.
And yet, beneath the warmth of her gaze and the teasing tones that filled the room, he felt a coolness – a careful part of himself folding into place like armor.

This was the game they played, these wealthy lords and ladies.
And though he could speak their language and meet their banter with a ready smile, Est never quite let himself believe that any of it was real.

He held the blonde’s gaze just a heartbeat longer before replying – soft and smooth as aged whiskey:
“You flatter me, my lady. But my first and most important duty is to my prince.”
He lowered his chin politely, a twinkle in his eye.

That earned delighted laughter and the delighted hum of scandal as the dark-haired lady leaned toward William with a wicked look.

The guests practically glowed with delight at his charm.
Est played the part smoothly, aware of every glance, every inch of him they admired – yet careful never to overstep.
And all the while, he could feel a particular pair of eyes on him like a blade.

When he finally dared to look toward William, the prince’s face was carved in unreadable stone.
No twinkle of amusement.
No warmth.
Nothing but a quiet, razor-edged chill.

That was enough to remind Est of his place.
He let his mouth curve into a practiced, harmless smile.

“How lucky you are,” one of the other ladies teased William. “A beautiful bodyguard and quick-tongued, too. Do lend him to me, my prince – just for one night?”

Est held his breath – and still William gave nothing away.
If this was a game, then the prince was better at it than any of them.

For one dizzying instant, Est felt almost dizzy with the want to demand more – a glance, a smirk, some small sign that William saw him.
But none came.

Est felt their eyes all over him like hands, light and ticklish and utterly meaningless.
And he smiled in return, lips polite and easy.
Still, behind that polished exterior, a more cautious voice threaded through his thoughts:

Play your part.
Smile where you must.
But don’t lose yourself to their games.

He knew what this was – the game the nobles played. The flirtation, the performance, the show of civility just thin enough to be scandalous. He knew his station. He knew how far he could go.

So he smiled – barely – and turned to the women.

“I’m afraid I’m not much for conversation,” he said, voice velvet-low. “But I’m told I’m quite nice to look at.”

They laughed again, delighted.

“Oh, dangerous and clever,” the red-lipped one cooed, touching his sleeve as though testing the strength beneath it. “You must tell me, Est… are you this obedient with everyone?”

Est let the smile reach his eyes. “Only with those who outrank me.”

“Oh, I’ll find a title somewhere, I swear it.”

Across the room, William said nothing.

Another noble leaned in, smirking. “You may need to arm him with another sword, William. These women look like they plan to devour him.”

But the prince only sipped his wine.

Est answered every question with just enough charm to be polite – never more. He didn’t step out of line, but he never shrank either. When the conversation turned lewder, he offered mild replies. When the women touched his arm again and again, he let them – no encouragement, no withdrawal.

He knew what this was.

And William? William let it go on.

When William finally spoke – his voice smooth as velvet and utterly unreadable.
“Est,” he said, gaze skimming over him with an expression so composed it was impossible to read, “you’re dismissed. Return to your duties.”

The words hit like a slap – colder than anything they’d ever shared in private.

He dipped his head in a bow so smooth it was as if he felt nothing at all.
“Your Highness,” Est replied, stepping back with all the grace of someone well-trained for the part – back straight, face blank as marble.

And still those bright, painted faces pouted and protested as Est bowed low and left the salon without another word.

Out in the corridor, the hum of conversation and clink of glassware faded into a far-off murmur.
He paused, drawing a slow, measured breath into his chest as though he could somehow will away the aching knot just beneath his ribs.
Then he straightened his shoulders, face settling into its proper blankness again.

And as the salon’s candlelight and laughter fell away behind him, he reminded himself that tonight – whatever the prince was playing at – was just one more game among many.

And Est intended to play it on his own terms.

___________

Est slipped outside into the cool night air, hands tucked into his pockets, his boots scuffing the path as he left the house behind him. The hum of the party was distant – all polished manners and ringing laughter that had begun to taste a little sharp. Away from it all, his thoughts roamed. A gentle breeze brushed his face, and for the first time all day, he let his shoulders ease.

By the time he returned to the estate, it was well past dinner. The halls were mostly quiet. An attendant appeared as if sensing his arrival, bowing and leading him to a small, candlelit room where dinner had been laid out just for him. Est ate slowly, more out of duty than hunger, hands still, eyes unfocused as his thoughts churned.

Afterwards, he went straight to his quarters. Officially dismissed for the evening and with nothing more to do, he undressed, stretched, and let himself collapse into bed, hoping sleep would come quickly.

He had just begun to doze when a knock broke the silence.

“My apologies,” murmured the attendant as Est sat up, blinking the haze of exhaustion from his eyes. “His Highness requests your company downstairs. And,” the servant added, lifting a neatly folded garment box into view, “he’s had this suit set aside for you. Uniform not required tonight – he insists you dress comfortably.”

Est’s brow arched, but he accepted the suit, fingers brushing the fine fabric. So much for sleep.

He dressed carefully – the tailored suit fit him perfectly, accentuating his shoulders and trim waist – and followed the attendant downstairs.

When he reached the drawing room, most of the guests from earlier were gathered around a card table, glasses of wine in hand. Candles glimmered in glass, casting warm pools of light over their faces. William was seated at the head, dressed in a relaxed linen shirt that contrasted wildly with his usual formality.

“You’re here,” the prince said with an easy smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good. My guests insisted you join us for drinks and cards – thought it might amuse them to have you along.”

Est hesitated. “Isn’t that a bit unorthodox, my prince?”

One of the ladies – the one who’d admired him earlier – cut in with a delighted hum.
“Maybe,” she agreed, eyes sparkling wickedly, “but when the bodyguard is this handsome, who cares about orthodox?”

That earned a few light laughs, and Est chuckled, bowing his head gracefully. “Your Highness’s friends seem very persuasive,” he said, moving to take a seat.

And so the hands began.

Wine was poured and refilled as they played – William’s friends teasing and flirting as though they’d known Est forever. Est played along with practiced ease, returning compliments when they were offered, letting his smile linger just long enough to draw them in without crossing any lines.

More than once, he felt the prickle of someone’s stare across the table. Every time he glanced up, William’s expression was unreadable, hands idle on his drink, eyes hooded.

But he never spoke a word.

When Est wasn’t looking, he could feel it most – that weight of William’s gaze like a touch at the back of his neck.

Finally, as the clock crept toward midnight and the guests began to yawn, the prince excused them. “We’ve an early start at dawn,” he said smoothly. “Get some rest. My thanks for your company tonight.”

As they filed out, one of the ladies brushed Est’s arm lightly and winked.
“Do join us again,” she murmured.

Est replied with a warm, polite grin, bowing slightly as she passed – careful, careful – then felt the prince’s eyes on him as everyone departed.

Est moved smoothly alongside the prince as they left the drawing room together, hands clasped behind his back. The halls were hushed and golden with lantern light, his boots clicking softly against polished marble.

When they reached the door to William’s chambers, Est paused at the threshold, bowing his head respectfully before turning to leave.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

The prince’s voice was light, almost bored, but it stopped him mid-step.

Est glanced back, one brow lifting. “To my own rooms, Your Highness.”

William studied him for a heartbeat too long. Then, with an elegant shrug that did nothing to hide the glimmer in his eyes, he replied, “You’ll spend the night in my chambers.”

That subtle glimmer in the prince’s eyes, sharp as a blade, tugged a slow, knowing smirk onto Est’s lips. So much for the aloof prince he’d paraded before his guests tonight. Est’s lips twitched into a smirk as he followed the prince inside.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Est answered smoothly, stepping past the threshold as William closed the door behind him with a decisive click.

He settled into one of the chairs tucked into a dark corner as servants padded in soundlessly, moving around the prince with practiced hands. They unbuttoned his shirt, loosened his belt, and folded his clothes, their touch light and deferent. Est’s gaze followed every graceful motion as the prince was slowly undressed – as if that too was a kind of show.

When the servants had withdrawn and the door clicked shut, leaving them truly alone at last, William turned toward him. The prince’s face was a mask of casual disinterest, though something darker and hotter glinted behind his gaze.

“You certainly charmed my guests tonight,” William drawled, prowling slowly across the room toward the bed, fingers idly toying with the tie at his throat.

“Very popular,” William said after a beat, his tone deceptively light.

Est blinked. “I – what?”

“The ladies,” William clarified, still not looking at him. “They were quite taken. Especially that baron’s daughter – I’m fairly certain she was imagining your mouth on her neck by the end of the second glass.”

Est’s posture stiffened slightly. “It was just banter.”

“Was it?” William finally turned, one brow arching, lips curved into something that was meant to be amusement. “You seemed rather at ease with it. I suppose it’s part of your training – how to charm royals and noblewomen alike.”

Est met his gaze evenly. “I’ve trained to be a soldier, my Lord, not a courtier and I was only being polite.”

“Ah,” William mused, smile tightening. “Polite. Is that what you call it when you let them run their fingers down your arm and giggle over your ‘pretty eyes’?“

Est was quiet for a moment. Then:

“I see.” A pause. “And the lady – “

“Est.” William’s voice sharpened just slightly – enough to cut the question off before it formed. “Don’t.”

A silence fell again, heavier now.

Then William finally turned to him. His eyes were darker than they’d been all evening, and not from wine.

“I didn’t like hearing you flirt back,” he said plainly.

Est blinked, then let out the faintest scoff – not disrespectful, but real. “You were letting them paw at me.”

“You could’ve stopped them.”

“So could you.”

That hung in the air, suspended between them like a blade.

William took a few steps closer, too calm. “Would you have gone with her if she asked again? Spent a few hours entertaining her in the gardens, perhaps? She certainly looked like she’d have welcomed it.”

Est’s jaw ticked. “My prince – “

“No, indulge me.” William’s voice turned sharper, laced with something colder. “You must be used to it by now. The attention. The hands. The invitations.” His gaze flicked to Est’s mouth, jaw, neck. “It doesn’t bother you, does it?”

There was something vicious behind the softness in his tone now, and Est felt heat rising to his face – not from shame, but from something else. The edge of humiliation, the bite of unfairness.

“You think I wanted it?” Est asked, voice low.

William shrugged. “You didn’t look uncomfortable. And you flirted back.”

Est’s fists clenched behind his back.

“I was doing what was expected of me,” he said carefully. “You know what the court is like. I can’t afford to be rude to the nobility. You wanted a bodyguard, not a eunuch.”

“And I tend to have that effect on women,” he continued smoothly. “Didn’t know I could have the same effect on noblewomen as well – but I suppose it was nice to find out.”

That hit a nerve.

William’s smile dropped completely.

A silence spread between them, cold and sharp.

The lazy look in William’s eyes sharpened, lips pressing together in something almost possessive. “You seem to forget,” he said, voice like silk over steel as he let the tie drop onto a chair, “you’re bound to me now. You can charm whomever you like – but you’re not allowed to act on it.”

Est’s gaze never wavered. “I remember my contract quite well,” he replied, lifting one brow in quiet challenge. “And unless I misread it, I’m free to leave at any time this year, with no consequences. Meaning, if I decided to act on anything, you don’t really have a say.”

The words hung between them, thick and charged.

Est’s throat was dry, but he forced himself to speak evenly. “So don’t speak to me like you own me.”

He swallowed.

The words hung between them like a blade in the dark.

William’s eyes darkened as though Est had just struck him. Silence stretched, then the prince turned away with a sudden, sharp grace that left a ripple in the room.

“You’re right,” he bit out, the chill of his voice like a door closing. “You owe me nothing. I don’t own you.”

And then, without looking back at him, he strode toward the bed as though that was the end of it.

“You’re dismissed for the night.”

Est didn’t move.

William didn’t look at him.

“You may go.”

The words were quiet, but they carried finality.

Est’s mouth opened – a reflex, a protest maybe – but the look on William’s face as he finally turned again silenced him. The prince’s gaze was calm, impassive, and utterly closed off.

For a moment Est just sat there, his heart thudding in his chest – a part of him aching at the coldness, another part relieved to hold his ground. Finally, he rose to his feet.

“Goodnight, Your Highness,” Est said softly, every inch a soldier bowing before an order.

William didn’t answer.

And when Est left, shutting the door quietly behind him, it felt as though the tense silence in the prince’s chambers followed him all the way back to his own rooms, like a weight between his shoulder blades.

_________

The next morning unfolded like a careful performance, a choreography they both knew too well. Est shadowed the prince during the shoot as his appointed guard, hands clasped behind his back, gaze watchful, his expression an elegant mask.

Yet under that perfect composure ran a heated current, alive with tension – like a bowstring stretched too tight, like hands always a breath away from grasping at one another.

William never acknowledged that invisible thread between them. Every word the prince spoke to him was crisp, cool, and flawlessly professional. Orders. Directions. Nothing more.

And Est – loyal, steadfast – answered with the same polite reserve, as if the bitter chill of last night had wiped their closeness away.

And yet the entire day, that electricity never dissipated. Every glance they exchanged across a stretch of forest or over a cartridge of shot felt like an unspoken dare – as if they were both circling some volatile flame.

By the time the evening settled into a subdued hush, the house was alive with laughter and drink.

That night at dinner, Est had taken his place discreetly in a corner of the room as a guard would. The prince sat at the long table surrounded by his guests – noblemen and noblewomen who knew him well and competed subtly for his attention.

As dinner ended and wine began to flow, one of the ladies – Lady Kesiri – ran her fingers lightly over Est’s arm as she passed him. Her painted lips curved into a smile when he looked up.

“You must join us,” she purred. “And after… you might join me in my chambers, if you’re so inclined. I’d be delighted to host you privately.”

Est held her gaze as if considering it, then glanced – ever so quickly – at the prince across the room.

William’s face was an unreadable mask of indifference, gaze fixed straight ahead. Not a muscle twitched.

Est smiled slowly at the lady. “That’s kind of you,” was all he offered before stepping away, leaving the invitation perfectly suspended in ambiguity.

That night, when the guests finally began to scatter to their rooms – some leaning into one another, some laughing too loudly – Est kept a careful pace just behind the prince as they made their way back up the marble halls.

Est fell into stride just behind William, hands folded neatly at his back, every inch the perfect guard.

But under his uniform, his skin was alive with tension – every glance they had exchanged earlier, every deliberate indifference that had passed between them all day, coiled in him like a dark thrill.

He followed the prince up the marble staircase, the only sound the faint scrape of their boots against stone and the distant echo of laughter and clinking glasses from the rooms they’d left behind.

When they reached the prince’s suite and paused at the door, Est moved forward, accustomed by now to entering first to check the room.

They paused before William’s door, he moved to follow him in without hesitation –

“You’re dismissed,” the prince said curtly, his back to Est as the door swung inward.

Est stopped mid-stride and looked at him – really looked at him – noting the sharp glint in the prince’s eyes that didn’t quite match the easy mask on his face.

Est held his ground. “Of course, your Highness,” he said, pitched so calmly it was almost insolent.

And then he took one more quiet step across the threshold.

The prince froze.

The door swung shut behind them with a definitive click that felt louder than it was.

That earned him a sharp look. The prince spun, one brow arched, lips pressed into a hard line.

“You seem to have grown bold,” William finally murmured, back still to him as he began unfastening the heavy clasps of his cloak. The fine material whispered against his shoulders as it slid down into his hands.

Est could feel the charged weight of the prince’s focus even though his face was hidden. The room was all shadows and honey-gold light, the scent of bergamot and smoke coiling between them.

“You told me to leave,” Est replied slowly. “Yet here we both are.”

A short, sharp laugh broke the silence – humorless, almost incredulous. “And what?” William’s voice lowered, more dangerous now. “You thought you’d just invite yourself into my rooms – after practically entertaining my guests tonight?”

Est felt heat rise up his neck – not from shame but from the way those words scraped against him, possessive, charged.

“You mean Lady Kesiri,” he said, careful as a knife.

Finally the prince turned.

And the way he looked at Est was something like hunger caught in a vice – blue eyes darkened to an almost feral gleam.

“Yes,” William agreed slowly, stepping toward him, every inch a predator in silks. “That invitation. Tell me – did you like the attention?”

Est swallowed, heart thudding painfully as his gaze tracked the slow prowl of the prince toward him.

“I was polite,” Est answered. “Nothing more.”

“Polite,” the prince echoed, lips curved into a bitter, beautiful smile. “And yet, she offered you her bed – and you did not refuse.“

Est held his breath as William stopped only a breath away, gaze raking his face like a touch.

“I did not accept either,” Est countered, voice dropping as if to match the charged intimacy of the moment.

And for one searing heartbeat, silence stretched between them – all the unspoken pulling taut as a bowstring.

“You could have,” William murmured finally, eyes glinting. “And I could hardly have stopped you.”

Est could feel the prince’s breath on his lips, feel that dangerous, perfect heat thrumming through him like a live wire.

He didn’t look away. “And you could hardly have wished me to,” Est said – and the honesty of it was too sharp to hide.

That drew a reaction.

Something flared in William’s gaze – possessive, heated, aching – before his mouth curved into that dangerous smile again.

“You know,” William’s voice was a low drawl as his fingers brushed up Est’s chest – light as a whisper but leaving fire in their trail. “You seem to have forgotten your place tonight.”

William took another slow step toward him, close enough that Est could feel the heat bleeding off his body, close enough that one breath was all that separated them.

“Or maybe you want me to put you back in it?”

Est’s gaze didn’t waver. Blood was roaring in his ears, but he held steady. “I haven’t forgotten anything, my prince,” he answered – lower, daring. “But if you’d like to show me my place, I’m listening.”

That earned him a short, wicked laugh – soft and disbelieving – as William’s eyes darkened, gaze dragging slowly down his body like he was already undressing him.

“Oh,” the prince breathed, “you are listening, are you?”

He closed the last inch between them, chest just grazing Est’s.

“You didn’t look like you were listening when Lady Kesiri was practically climbing into your lap,” he went on, voice dropping into a silky growl. “She was wet for you. Practically begged you to come to her room after dinner.”

A shudder went through Est at the explicit words – and the dangerous jealousy laced beneath them.

William snapped – sharp and possessive – then leaned in, lips almost brushing his ear as he whispered, “Did you like hearing her offer? Tell me – did you imagine fucking her?”

Est’s breath caught – everything tightening like a coiled spring.

And before he could reply, William pulled back enough to look him in the eye, gaze blazing.

“You must enjoy attention,” he continued, voice like velvet and fire. “Your mouth could say one thing, Est, all that pretty silence. All that blushing. And then just enough coy little glances to make her think you were flattered. Enough to make her want to fuck you.”

Est felt a jolt straight to his gut at William’s filthy provocation.

His jaw tensed, but he held. “That wasn’t my intention.”

“No,” William said with false sweetness. “It never is, is it? You just stand there and let the world fall over itself to touch you. And gods help anyone who wants more.”

That landed.

Est didn’t move. Not for a beat. Not for two.

Then he took a slow step forward, closing the distance.

“You’re jealous,” he said softly.

William gave a brittle laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Another step. “You are.”

“I could have any one of them,” William snapped. “Any.”

Something in Est’s composure cracked – not loudly, but sharp, like a single thread breaking under tension.

And then he was in front of the prince. “I don’t fuck people I don’t want,” he said quietly. “And I don’t want anyone but you.”

William’s breath caught.

“But if you’re going to push me away,” Est went on, voice thick with fury and want, “then don’t whine when others get close.”

William’s mouth opened – to retort, maybe to scream – but all that came out was a broken sound, caught between a gasp and a moan.

The air between them pulsed. Too close. Too hot.

Est growled – then suddenly grabbed a fistful of silk at William’s collar and strode him backward until the prince’s shoulders hit the wall with a breathless thud.

William’s eyes widened, just a flicker – and then sharpened with heat as Est loomed over him, crowding into his space.

“You seem to want to show me my place,” Est continued, voice a dark, deliberate rumble. “But tonight, I’ think I should show you yours.”

For a heartbeat, the prince stared up at him – shocked, yes, but also thrumming with a charged hunger that made his lips part and his hands twitch like he wasn’t sure whether to push him off or pull him in.

Still, William tilted his chin up, all bratty arrogance and defiance. “You dare?” he taunted, voice light but eyes burning. “I’m your prince, Est – you dare to forget who I am?!”

Est’s gaze never left his, and a slow, knowing smirk pulled at his mouth. “Believe me,” he murmured, leaning in so close their lips nearly brushed, “when you’re choking and drooling around my cock, my prince, you won’t care who you are – and neither will I.”

_____________

There’s trouble in paradise already??

What do y’all think is going to happen next? Will Est make good on his promise? Or will there me more drama and tension??

Let me know your thoughts in the comments.

And as usual, I hope y’all enjoyed the chapter.