Kyyre had been deep in the kind of sleep that made his bones feel like lead, the exhaustion clinging to him like a second skin. The moment the knock sounded at his door, his body reacted before his mind could catch up. He jolted awake with a strangled yelp, disoriented, tangled in the sheets that refused to let him go.

With a thud, he tumbled from the bed, crashing onto the cold floor in a mess of blankets and limbs. A groggy groan slipped from his lips as he tried to make sense of where he was, his bleary eyes struggling to focus.

The blonde woman at the door peered in, eyes filled with mild concern. “Are you alright, sir?”

Kyyre could only manage a pitiful, sleepy whimper in response. His body still felt heavy, like it was fighting to drag him back under.

The woman sighed softly, stepping inside and kneeling beside him, her hands gentle as she helped untangle him from the mess of fabric. “Dinner has been called,” she said, bowing her head slightly.

Dinner.

Kyyre’s brain caught up, and suddenly, he was scrambling to his feet. “Oh, gods—” The words barely left his mouth before he was sprinting to the bath, nearly knocking over his maid in his frantic attempt to make himself presentable. She gasped, startled, as he all but threw himself into the water, scrubbing at his skin with the urgency of someone about to be dragged in front of a tribunal.

Five minutes. That was all he had.

Water splashed everywhere, and Kyyre barely noticed the damp floor as he burst out of the bath, yanking on a hastily grabbed outfit—a black button-up, a slightly wrinkled vest, and dark dress pants that had probably been neatly folded at some point before he’d ruined them by rushing. His damp hair stuck to his forehead as he bolted for the door, pushing it open—

And slamming directly into something solid.

The impact knocked the breath from his lungs, and he stumbled backward, barely keeping his balance. A low, unimpressed grunt confirmed who he’d run into before Kyyre even had to look up.

Astrid.

The older man stood there, arms crossed, dressed in an outfit similar in its non-formality but far more put-together. His knuckles were bloodied, the bruising along his jaw stark against his skin, fresh wounds from training layered over the ones from earlier. He looked as if he hadn’t stopped moving since the trial.

Astrid exhaled through his nose, eyes narrowing as he surveyed Kyyre’s disheveled state. “You’re a disaster,” he muttered, voice low as they started walking.

Kyyre huffed, still breathless from his sprint. “I overslept.”

Astrid shot him a sideways glance. “Yeah, no shit.” He shook his head, voice dropping as they neared the dining hall. “You’re lucky I didn’t have to come get you myself. Move faster next time.”

Kyyre scowled, rubbing at his still-damp hair. “I didn’t exactly mean to sleep through everything.”

Astrid didn’t reply, just scoffed, shoving open the heavy doors to the dining hall and nudging Kyyre inside with a firm push to his back.

The moment Kyyre stepped in, his eyes found Leon.

It was immediate, as if his brain had been wired to seek him out. There he was, sitting with that effortless air about him, his presence filling the space like gravity. Kyyre’s stomach twisted, his throat suddenly dry.

Astrid noticed.

With a sharp nudge, he guided Kyyre toward his seat, forcing him down before he could do something embarrassing—like continue to stare. Kyyre forced himself to look away, but the moment he was off his feet, the weight of exhaustion hit him like a crashing wave.

His body slumped forward.

Astrid sighed, exasperated but not surprised. Without a word, he reached out, pressing a firm palm to Kyyre’s chest, pushing him back against the chair before he could collapse like a ragdoll.

“Sit up,” Astrid muttered, holding him steady. “Try not to fall asleep on your plate.”

Kyyre groaned softly but obeyed, eyes fluttering as he struggled to keep them open. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get through dinner without faceplanting into his food.

Leon was eying up the options laid out in front of him, the soreness of his arm mostly forgotten where it hung in the sling. For the most part, it felt okay. They had given him enough pain relief to kill an elephant and he was almost sure his bones would be completely healed before the day after tomorrow. Which, by his genius thinking, would mean the more nutritious meat he consumed the better for his healing journey.

Just as he was reaching over towards a plate, Andromeda cleared her throat and shot him a sharp look that made him sulk back into his seat. She wanted him to wait for all the others to arrive. He returned his hand to his lap and waited, scanning around the table idly.

His eyes caught Fawn as they were glaring over towards himself and then more directly, Andromeda. It took all but a second for her venomous voice to carry across the table as more footsteps let Leon know the rest of the heirs had arrived.

“How’s your ribs, Andromeda?” She hissed, lip curled, malice lacing her voice despite the rather normal question. “I hope I didn’t break any.” Oh she hoped she had. “I wouldn’t want to stop your nightly activities.” Then her eyes light up brightly at the arrival of Kyyre and Astrid.

“Speak of the devil and he shall come.” Fawn’s eyes narrowed, sliding back towards Andromeda. Andromeda stared back at the other heir, her head level and eyes steady as she listened to the onslaught. Her hands rested comfortably in her lap despite the barrage and accusations. This is what she wanted after all.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Fawn.” She offered slowly, giving a long side-eye towards Astrid and letting a smile play on her lips. Her ribs did throb, her head hurt and her mind was still a blur of memories that were not her own.

“It would take more than a few cracked ribs to stop me achieving anything.” She let her eyes settle back onto Fawn, the bubbling irritation was almost visible to the naked eye. High and mighty Fawn completely enraged by the sultry mannerisms of Andromeda.

Leaning forwards, she took a champagne glass and sipped gently, keeping her gaze locked onto the other woman. “Why, Fawn? Do you want to join in?” She cooed, voice as sweet as could be with a smile to match.

Leon was left flicking his head back and forth to follow the discussion happening across him, eyes glittering with amusement at Andromeda’s comments and the steady increase in Fawn’s discomfort. In the blitz, he did notice Astrid and Kyyre. The latter looked exhausted as he flopped forwards towards the table, only to be fixed by Astrid. He felt that strange wave in his chest again. Whatever it was, it was annoying and it happened when Astrid touched him. The tiniest twitch of his tail tip and that was it, Leon was focusing on the arguing women again.

Fawn gasped, then scoffed and leaned all the way back in her chair and shook her head, completely disgusted by the invitation. She struck her hands down onto the table top, making the cutlery clink against the plates as she thrust herself away from the gathering. Stalking her way towards the high arches, the steady rainfall accompanying her fading footsteps.

Andromeda raised an eyebrow. “What was her issue?” Mumbled words as she spoke into her champagne glass, letting her eyes stray back over towards Astrid. She knew he had seen her episode. It would have been impossible not to have seen it. Everyone had seen it unless they had been knocked unconscious in those short few minutes. The real question was, was he going to say anything about it.

Leon finally moved into the meal, picking up pieces to add to his empty plate until it was almost overflowing with food. His tail slowly increased in speed as it swept from side to side in excitement, his mouth was watering.

As he began to tear into his meal, his amber eyes flashed up towards Kyyre again. Observing him diligently, head tilted to the side as he watched. He had not fared well mentally in that trail, no one else had taken such a mental toll except perhaps Andromeda, but that was different. Kyyre had looked like a petrified animal in the claws of its killer.

Tentatively, Leon moved his leg, pointing his dress shoe clad foot to gently poke at Kyyre from across the table. When he didn’t get much of a response, he pushed the tip into his calf and moved it up trying to nudge his leg to gain his attention.

Kyyre barely registered the words being exchanged across the table. The exhaustion was suffocating, pressing down on him like a thick, smothering fog. His limbs felt heavy, his mind slow and unresponsive, like he was wading through deep water with weights tied to his ankles. Even the sharp sound of Fawn’s voice barely pierced through the haze that clung to him. The only thing keeping him from slumping forward like a marionette with its strings cut was Astrid’s firm hand against his chest, a quiet but unyielding force that kept him upright.

The scent of the food on the table should have made his stomach growl. He knew he needed to eat, but right now, even the thought of lifting his utensils felt like an impossible task. His body screamed for rest, but he was here, seated at the table, expected to function.

Then something nudged his leg.

At first, he thought he imagined it—a stray twitch of his own muscles, perhaps. But then it happened again, firmer this time, prodding at his calf with undeniable intent. He barely had the energy to react, but his sluggish mind lurched into motion, sluggish gears grinding together as realization set in.

Someone was touching him.

More specifically—Leon was touching him.

His breath hitched, his pulse spiking so suddenly it left him lightheaded. Slowly, as if afraid of what he might see, he forced his eyes to open, dragging his heavy gaze downward first, then across the table—straight into the sharp, observant amber eyes of Leon.

Leon, who was watching him. Intently.

Leon, who was still chewing through his plate of food, tail flicking lazily, yet showing a clear interest in Kyyre’s reaction.

Kyyre could feel the heat climbing up his neck, creeping across his face like an unstoppable wildfire. His entire body tensed as if the mere touch of Leon’s foot had ignited something volatile inside him. It was barely anything—a simple nudge—but to Kyyre, it might as well have been a deliberate, earth-shattering act of intimacy.

He could hardly think. His mind was screaming, short-circuiting, an embarrassing rush of thoughts all colliding at once.

Is this real? Am I hallucinating? What do I do? Should I nudge back? Would that be weird? Oh gods, am I breathing too loud?

His foot twitched involuntarily, but he was too paralyzed to move it properly. He wanted to respond somehow, but his brain had completely abandoned him, leaving him frozen under Leon’s scrutiny.

Beside him, Astrid shifted.

Kyyre barely had the sense to realize that Astrid had been watching him too. He felt the quiet but exasperated sigh more than he heard it, followed by the brief but firm press of Astrid’s fingers tightening against his shoulder before releasing him.

“Eat, Kyyre.”

Astrid’s voice was low, quiet, carrying a weight of both amusement and command. There was something knowing in his tone, something that made Kyyre’s already overheated face burn even hotter. He didn’t comment on what had just happened—didn’t acknowledge Kyyre’s clear and obvious spiral—but the way he said those two words made it obvious that he knew.

Kyyre swallowed thickly, nodding once, jerky and automatic. His fingers curled against his lap, gripping the fabric of his pants in a desperate attempt to ground himself. Slowly, hesitantly, he forced himself to look away from Leon before he did something utterly humiliating, like melt into a puddle on the floor.

His hands moved on instinct, reaching for the nearest plate, though his mind wasn’t even registering what he was grabbing. His fingers trembled slightly, but he shoved food onto his plate anyway, barely aware of what he was doing. His ears burned.

Leon was still watching him.

He knew it.

Kyyre had never wanted to disappear more in his entire life.

Meanwhile, Astrid’s attention had shifted, sharp eyes locking onto Andromeda, who he could feel was watching him just as intently. He didn’t need to look directly at her to know what she was waiting for. She wanted him to acknowledge what had happened earlier.

She wanted him to say something about it.

But he wouldn’t.

Not here. Not now.

Instead, he tore a piece of bread in half, his jaw tensing slightly. If Andromeda wanted to talk, she would have to come to him. He wasn’t about to put on a show for the entire dining hall. He had no interest in making a spectacle of what had transpired.

For now, his hands were full making sure Kyyre didn’t vibrate out of his seat over Leon nudging his damn leg.

Leon’s eyes remained trained on Kyyre as he watched the other man meet his gaze, his lazily wagging tail increasing in vigor at the attention. The fur fluffing up ever so slightly, he could feel it pushing at the dress shirt along his spine, but did his best to ignore the way it itched his skin.

He was waiting expectantly for Kyyre to start eating, glancing from the food back up to the man encouragingly. However, it was Astrid’s words that kicked Kyyre into motion, his arms jerking into a staccato pace to bring food to his plate. Either way, Kyyre was eating and Astrid’s hand was off of him.

Leon paused in his eating to grin widely, satisfied, his tail thumped audibly against the chair he was sitting on. Hitting the plush fabric steadily, he didn’t seem to care that he was making a fair bit of noise.

“You should try the venison, it’s to die for.” He bleated suddenly, still grinning over at Kyyre as he pointed his clawed finger towards the still steaming roast meat.

“I bet they shipped it up from Nibrook, we have the best game.” His brag wasn’t exactly hidden, and Luka wasn’t exactly pleased with the gloating. His eyes darted up from his meal to glare over at the beaming Leon.

“Mausegate is clearly the superior supplier for game meat, we have more land.” He commented, the edge in his voice was obvious but for the time being it didn’t get a rise out of Leon.

“More land doesn’t mean better game, it’s how it’s hunted and prepared that makes the difference. You all use metals and rubbish that taint the meat, we kill clean with our bare hands.” Leon tipped his head towards Luka as if he were simply informing him of some new information. Luka scowled, nose bridge crinkling in annoyance towards Leon’s apparently blatant boasting.

“You kill like beasts, you end up covered in blood. It’s disgusting!” Luka spat out, shaking his head as he ripped into another hunk of his meal. It produced a hearty laugh from the back of Leon’s throat, making him lean all the way back in his chair and turn his torso to look at Luka, ignoring the way his tail froze at his side.

“Disgusting!?” His words were harsher, eyes glittering with a new found fury that had appeared far too suddenly within his gaze. Lips still drawn back into a grin, but his eyes carried the malice of an entire army.

“I think that the way you do anything is disgusting, Luka. Your royal family couldn’t even send their own heir to compete, they sent you here like a lamb to slaughter, I think that’s disgusting.” Leon quipped, the very edges of his voice carried the beginnings of a snarl. His foot was still resting against Kyyre, now stiff and unmoving from the small touch it was giving before.

Andromeda let her eyes rest on Astrid’s hands as they drew up the bread, only pulling her eyes away as Leon spoke. Nothing was going to be said. That was enough information for her to come to that conclusion. The blank stare that she had gained in response, he wasn’t planning on talking about it at all.

She let her champagne flute settle beside her plate, the promise of food was turning her stomach but she needed to eat. If she didn’t eat it would be taken as a weakness, but she knew it would make a reappearance the moment they stepped away from this table.

Her eyes did not lift once as the argument began to brew beside her, keeping her hands occupied with separating the mushrooms from a vegetable medley on her plate. Sliding them away to the very edge of the plate with the fork, pale eyes completely focused on that task. Andromeda could not be bothered handling Leon’s fiery outbursts today, he was more than capable of not dying on his own. It was just a lot neater when she got involved, he was messy.

Sticking to her vegetables, Andromeda swallowed a limply chewed mouthful as Leon’s harsh laughter rang out through the sound of rainfall. Still her eyes did not lift, even as Luka twisted in his chair to face him. The sound of the chair feet screeching across the stones sickening.

Andromeda had to focus on herself. If she let her mind wander too far, in the absence of conversation and a focal point, she knew the blurry memories would rise in her mind once again. Tainting her present self with strange recollections of murder, death, heartbreak, elation. It was too much for her to deal with at the moment, not when her torso felt like it was going to break with each breath she took.

Kyyre could feel his heart hammering against his ribs as Leon and Luka’s argument escalated. The sharp-edged words, the venom lurking beneath their tones—it made his breath come shorter, his muscles locking up as tension coiled in his stomach like a viper ready to strike. He wasn’t built for this kind of verbal warfare. The sharp exchange of words, the cutting insults, the way Leon’s usual easy-going grin had sharpened into something laced with malice—it was too much.

He focused on his plate, or at least, he tried to. His hands were shaking, fingers clumsy as they picked at his food. His grip on the fork was too tight, his knuckles whitening as he forced himself to take a small bite, but it may as well have been sawdust in his mouth.

Leon’s foot was still pressed against his.

Kyyre thought he might actually pass out.

His mind was already tangled in knots from that alone, but combined with the raised voices, the barely restrained hostility crackling in the air, and the way Leon’s presence felt like an inescapable force pinning him in place, it was all just—too much.

And then, Luka spat out his disgust.

"You kill like beasts, you end up covered in blood. It’s disgusting!"

Something in Kyyre’s brain must have short-circuited, because before he could stop himself, before he could think about the consequences of his words, the sheer overwhelmed state he was in made him blurt out, weakly—

“...I… I thought it was hot…”

The moment the words left his mouth, Kyyre wanted to die.

Silence.

His stomach lurched violently. He could feel the heat crawling up his neck, setting his ears, his face, his entire body on fire. His fingers clenched around his fork so tightly it nearly slipped from his grip.

Oh gods.

Oh gods.

He had just said that. Out loud.

His throat felt like it was closing up. His entire body went rigid, his wide eyes darting around the table as if desperately searching for an escape route, as if he could physically flee from the horror of what had just left his mouth.

His hands snapped up to cover his burning face, his ears practically glowing with embarrassment. Stupid, stupid, stupid! He hadn’t even meant to say it—it had just slipped out, his already scrambled brain throwing the words into existence before he could clamp his mouth shut.

Astrid sighed deeply beside him.

Not a sigh of anger, or even frustration—just the long, drawn-out exhale of a man who had been cursed to endure this nonsense for far longer than he ever wanted. Astrid didn’t even look at Kyyre, choosing instead to continue piling food onto his plate and eating, ignoring everything unfolding before him.

Kyyre, meanwhile, was actively wishing for death.

He couldn’t look up. He wouldn’t look up.

If he made eye contact with anyone—Leon, Luka, anyone—he might just spontaneously combust right then and there.

Andromeda’s hand paused by her mouth, fork in hand, her eyes slowly slid to the side to watch the interaction. The complete silence that followed the soft voice of Kyyre, she waited and waited to see what was about to come next. It wasn’t exactly unexpected, Leon was a magnetic man. She could attest to that, but it was certainly a little bit soon to be so forthright. Then again, Leon had saved him, that could be bringing on this train of thought more than anything else.

Leon, however, simply paused his glaring at Luka to swing his heavy head to look over Kyyre in vague confusion. His tail flicked once by his thigh as his eyes displayed the obvious cogs turning within.

“But you’ve never seen me hunt deer.” He cocked his head to the side, the innocent and blatant confusion scrawled across his features. He was outright oblivious to the incident that Kyyre was referring to.

Even has Kyyre buried his face into his hands, skin rising in colour, Leon remained cheery. The bewilderment melted into a bright smile that made his tail begin to thump in a wag once more.

“I can always take you out deer hunting if you want to learn the proper way.” He hummed happily, earning a hefty groan from Luka who leaned back in his chair and stared up at the invisible barrier the rain was hitting, watching that rather than the mess that was playing out in front of him. The anger fizzled out and was replaced with repulsion.

Andromeda only then continued to chew her meal, sparing one glance over towards Astrid with the quickest of questioning looks. She didn’t know much about Kyyre, she had only brushed up on her Astrid knowledge. Was it a common occurrence of the pale man to be swept off of his feet, or was Leon simply that alluring?

“Well…” She began, turning her head to look down the rest of the table, past the beaming image of Leon and Kyyre’s shrivelled up form. “I hope that you all have an uneventful recovery and I wish you luck in the upcoming trails. I also hope that Keir makes a perfect recovery.” Her gentle words drew out a rough exasperated sigh from other heirs at the table, it was obvious she was being overly cordial. Right now she couldn’t care less.

Right now she wanted to get out of here, the food was beginning to turn her stomach. Even the few small mouthfuls she had swallowed were twisting the organ and making the nerves along her throat tingle with the familiar sensation before her saliva secretion took an uptick.

Standing up from the table a little too sharply to be natural, Andromeda dipped her head in dismissal and began to walk away. Making sure all her effort went into making her stride appear normal, at least until she managed to sneak away round the corner pillars and vanish into the night. Away from the prying eyes of the nobles and other heirs, she would let her body have its release.

Once she made it around the corner, her skin was covered in a cold sweat the precursor, her hand dragged along the crumbling stone as she fought to keep herself in check until she was out of view. It was becoming impossible as her feet began to fumble beneath her, inhibiting her ability to escape the public hallways.

She would not allow these people to see her like this. It was humiliating to be seen in such a state. It was humiliating to be beaten in the trials, it was humiliating to be in this forsaken place. But she had to come back year after damn year and suffer through the same frustating bloodlines just with new voices and different hairstyles. Those lucky bastards could all go home after this one tournament and live out their lives, she was stuck doing this rubbish until she birthed her own child. Something, that with each passing day, seemed like a crueler and crueler act.

Kyyre swallowed thickly, his hands still hovering awkwardly near his face, caught between the desire to shield himself from further humiliation and the desperate need to keep looking at Leon.

Hunting. With Leon.

Leon, drenched in blood, wild and unrestrained, every movement sharp with lethal intent, his grin flashing through the chaos like a predator in its prime. It was already too much for Kyyre to handle, the image burning itself into his brain like a brand, and yet the mere suggestion of being there to witness it sent a fresh wave of heat flooding through his face.

He could barely breathe.

He wanted to say yes. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to accept, to agree, to grab onto the opportunity with both hands and never let go.

But he couldn’t. Not without looking like an absolute fool.

So instead, Kyyre stayed frozen, staring helplessly at his plate, his lips parting uselessly as if trying to form words, but nothing—nothing—was coming out.

Leon was still beaming at him, completely oblivious to the internal meltdown unraveling at a terrifying speed inside Kyyre’s mind. It was like being trapped in a whirlwind of shame, excitement, and sheer, uncontrollable mortification, all crashing together into one catastrophic mess.

Kyyre’s fingers curled against the tablecloth, trying to anchor himself to something—anything—that wasn’t Leon’s stupidly dazzling presence.

Then, Andromeda spoke.

His head snapped toward her, latching onto the distraction like a lifeline, though his body still radiated enough heat to set the tablecloth ablaze.

Her words were… diplomatic. Too polite, too measured. Kyyre barely processed the meaning behind them, but he did notice the way her tone seemed off, the way she stood too quickly, the subtle tension in her stride as she turned away.

Astrid noticed, too.

Kyyre didn’t even need to look at him to feel the shift in his energy. Astrid had gone still, his usual quiet, brooding air sharpening into something more focused as his dark eyes tracked Andromeda’s retreating form.

He didn’t move to follow her—at least, not yet—but his pause in eating spoke volumes.

Kyyre, however, turned his head away. He didn’t want to think too much about Andromeda, or whatever that interaction meant.

He needed to focus on not embarrassing himself further.

Unfortunately, that was proving impossible when his gaze landed right back on Leon, still smiling at him like the absolute menace that he was.

Kyyre’s face somehow burned even hotter.

He had to say something. Anything to move this conversation along before his brain exploded.

“I—uh—” His voice cracked. Humiliating. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to speak properly. “I—um. I’ll… think about it.”

He wouldn’t think about it.

He was already planning exactly how to say yes.

Andromeda’s departure was the only thing that made him glance away, but her sudden dismissal wasn’t unusual. She wasn’t one to hang around and Leon hadn’t noticed her tight voice, the lack of food on her plate or the pallor that had taken over her already pale skin.

His eyes creased with a smile at Kyyre’s eventual answer. He had been looking at him expectantly the entire time, utterly unaware of the effect he was having on him. His foot was still pinned to Kyyre’s ankle, tail steadily swaying away beside him. He tucked into another hunk of his meat, a low hum of satisfaction rising from within. With a rough gulp, he swallowed it down and flicked his tongue out to lick his lips.

“Perfect. I’ll teach you all that, hunting and preparing it the proper way.” Leon gave Luka a pointed look, earning a sharp hiss from the champion before he totally turned away to ignore the other two heirs, chuntering under his breath with Maia about the ridiculousness of the two of them.

“But I don’t think hunting at this time of year is hot, I think we’d need to wrap up, especially you.” Leon continued on with his thought process, tapping his fork on a portion of poultry thoughtfully before diving back into the delicious plate. He was almost finished, having taken little to no time at all to cram it all down his throat.

–

Andromeda winced as her hand drew along a sharp section of brick, snapping her hand back towards her chest to see the welling of fresh blood across the meat of her palm. Another thing she had to deal with.

Almost immediately, she felt the wave of nausea overtake her and she scrambled towards the wrought iron fencing to the side of the hallway. The arches reached high above her, fencing off a small decorative garden in which she proceeded to upheave the contents of her stomach. Covering the flowers below with grime, her knuckles gripping the cold iron tightly and turning them white with the force exerted.

What followed was a barrage of coughing, it made her body tremble with the effort. Beneath it, the frustration grew, that her body was so useless in comparison to her brain. There was so little she could actually do and this reminded her that time was limited.

Finally, Andromeda hacked up a collection of red stained phlegm and spat it into the garden. The complete opposite to the usual ethereal beauty that she presented herself as, her body was sweating, her make up running and turning the area under her eyes black.

Her eyes stung with tears as they welled in the corners. Andromeda finally let go of the fence and staggered backwards, her limbs limp. There was no energy left within her, she wanted to curl up on the cold stone floor and fall asleep right there. She couldn’t do that. Maia or Fawn would find her and gut her like a fish, leaving her innards splayed across the floor for someone to find in the morning.

The soft shuffle of footsteps made Andromeda look up, turning her head to look down the hallway to figure out who it was. Her eyes were blurry and the image was tainted by something she knew was in her mind, a familiar trace of a person’s past long lost to them mingling with the present moment.

Was it Fawn? Was she truly about to be gutted like a fish? Had the other woman noticed her reluctance to eat? Andromeda tried to square her shoulders, to prepare herself for whatever was about to happen. Whether it meant taking blow after blow and crumpling to the floor or crushing their mind, she was preparing herself through the fuzzy feeling that lingered in her head.

Kyyre couldn’t stop himself from staring.

Leon was so casual about it, still beaming, still touching him—his foot pressed to Kyyre’s ankle, warm and firm, sending sparks shooting up his leg like lightning. And then there was that offhanded little quip about wrapping up for the cold. Especially you.

Kyyre swallowed hard.

That was so unfair.

It wasn’t even the words—it was the way Leon said them, like he was just talking, just thinking aloud, utterly unaware of the havoc he was wreaking on Kyyre’s rapidly deteriorating composure.

Because all Kyyre could think about now was being bundled up in thick layers, trudging through snow, following Leon’s powerful form as he tracked their prey. And then—then shedding those layers, watching Leon tear into a fresh kill with bare hands, blood steaming in the cold air, his muscles flexing with each motion—

Gods.

Kyyre barely noticed the heat creeping down his neck, his entire body flushed with an unbearable mixture of embarrassment and something far, far worse.

His fork trembled in his grip. He dropped it.

The soft clatter of metal against porcelain jerked him back to reality.

Astrid’s hand was in his hair, fingers gliding through the strands with a slow, grounding touch. The moment startled him, but the warmth of it—gentle, steady, familiar—kept him from outright combusting on the spot.

He exhaled shakily, gripping his napkin with both hands to keep from reaching up to physically grab his own face and hide.

Astrid had stopped eating.

Kyyre noticed that much through the haze of his own spiraling thoughts. Astrid looked—wrong. His shoulders were tense, his face unreadable, but Kyyre could feel the way his presence had shifted, like something inside him had locked up tight.

Then, Astrid moved.

Kyyre barely had time to register the absence of his hand before he was already rising, his expression set with quiet determination as he stepped away from the table and vanished into the halls.

Kyyre blinked.

Andromeda.

It had to be about Andromeda.

The realization briefly cut through his overwhelming Leon-induced suffering, but only just. Kyyre fidgeted, fingers twitching against the fabric of his napkin, his mind threatening to spiral in another direction entirely.

He risked another glance at Leon.

Still grinning. Still there.

Kyyre remained frozen, his heart hammering against his ribs as he willed himself to regain even a fraction of his composure. But it was impossible, really. Leon was still so casual, so effortlessly devastating, tearing through his meal with the same energy he did everything else. Like he wasn’t having any kind of impact at all.

Kyyre sucked in a breath through his teeth. Gods. He could not survive this man.

He tried to focus on Astrid’s departure instead, his brows knitting slightly as he traced his friend’s retreating form with his eyes. There was tension in the set of Astrid’s shoulders, the kind that rarely bled through to the surface. Kyyre had the sudden and overwhelming urge to follow, to make sure Astrid was okay, but—

But no.

Astrid didn’t need him right now.

And Kyyre could not handle anything else at this moment.

So he stayed where he was, forcing himself to breathe, forcing himself to not look at Leon for too long.

Astrid, meanwhile, walked with purpose.

The halls were dim, the flickering sconces casting uneven shadows across the stone. The rain outside was steady, its rhythmic pattering filling the silence as he followed the faint signs of Andromeda’s departure.

When he finally spotted her, slumped against the wrought iron fencing, he made no effort to mask his approach. His boots scuffed deliberately against the floor, giving her plenty of warning before he was close enough to touch.

And then he did—lightly, carefully, a firm palm settling at the small of her back as he took in the state of her.

Andromeda was a mess.

Pale, trembling, her usual effortless beauty undone by streaked makeup and the sickly sheen of sweat. The bile pooled among the flowers confirmed what he already suspected.

“You look half dead,” Astrid said bluntly.

There was no sympathy in his voice, but there was concern.

His gaze flickered down to the vomit-streaked garden, then back to her face, sharp and calculating.

“Would you like an escort back to your room?” A beat of silence. His frown deepened. “Or… perhaps a friend to aid you through the night?”

His mind was already churning through possibilities.

Because if she had been drugged—if this was more than just stress or sickness—he would not let it stand.

He was quite happy with the progression of his conversation, nibbling away at the last tidbits on his plate, blatantly ignoring the mumbling of the other heirs. Occasionally he would peer over at Kyyre just to check that he hadn’t evaporated into thin air. On one of those glances he saw the movement of Astrid’s hand as it pushed into the pale hair and it made his jaw stop chewing, his tail guttered to a halt in its idle swaying. Rigid now, the vertebrae held straight with a kink at the end, frozen in time as he watched the interaction.

He saw the flicker in Kyyre’s eyes as he met the touch. There was that spark in his nerves again. Leon’s eyes remained trained on the point of contact until Astrid pulled away. Completely ignoring the departure of the other man, he watched how Kyyre turned to see him off. There was a few long beats of silence before he let his voice cut through it sharply.

“Everyone seems to have something better to do than eat.” His comment was innocent enough, but he did give a rather pointed look over towards Astrid’s back as he walked around the final corner and out of sight. He hadn’t done anything in particular to bring out the strange feeling of…anger? Was it anger that cut through his body or was it something else? It didn’t feel like his usual temper, it felt different like a twinge in his chest that made him want to strike away Astrid’s touch.

“After all this, I officially invite you to Nibrook to see our way of life.” He hummed rather casually, letting his tail swing back and forth once more, the fur lining his spine relaxing. It wasn’t often the people received invitations to Nibrook, especially another royal family. But he wanted to take Kyyre there, he wanted him.

–

Saliva had dripped from her mouth and she made no effort to try and wipe it away, her throat burned with acid and her eyes stung with tears. Her eyes focused on the approaching figure, noting it to be Astrid. At least it wasn’t Fawn here to finish her off for good. Right now, Andromeda wasn’t in any state to fight back.

The touch to her back barely registered, she did not move away from it as she clung to the iron posts like a lifeboat.

“I am half dead.” Her voice was coarse, gritty and strained. Andromeda tilted her head to look up at him, eyes heavy as he questioned her. After a moment came her slow nod, releasing her grip on the fence to let Astrid lead her down the hallway.

Her steps were stuttered, grazing across the floor as it took all her concentration to not fall over her own feet. Her breathing was still ragged and her body slick with sweat, she felt like she was going to die. Which she supposed is what was happening.

Her arm flicked as the guards gave her a look of concern, but they dutifully moved to the side at her command and opened the door for the pair of them.