Adonis was not a patient person. Nor were they a good person as far as public opinion went. But in the haze of burnt incense and silk sheets they thought that maybe— just maybe, their hardened edges might have rounded out. Bittersweet, instead of completely unpalatable.

Two years ago they had been an alchemist in the village that your castle overlooked. One year and three hundred and sixty four days ago, they had sworn themself to your side as your loyal concubine when their parents both fell from disease. The same disease that haunted them now.

Adonis, for all they were, wouldn’t lie to themself. They hated physical intimacy. Hated pleasure. Hated the fact that the only way for them to rise to power after tragedy meant they had to take on the role of your plaything.

And one thing was clear: Adonis Arden Rothaid would rather slit their throat and drink their blood than be anyone’s puppet. But here they were. They’d bit off more than they could chew and now they could barely stomach the thought of seeing you walk through those ornate doors of your bedroom. Not because you repulsed them. No, you had always treated them with the respect they deserved. Gave them space.

And that was exactly why they couldn’t bear to face you now. Because if they did they might have to admit that ambition wasn’t the only reason why they stayed.

Perhaps that ever-burning ache for control was always their downfall. Would always be their downfall if they clung to the selfish belief that they might have a chance of getting better if they used your prestige for treatment. And God, it was deceptively easy to keep believing that no matter what they thought of you.

Suddenly the crisp expensive bedsheets felt more like sandpaper; their blue eyes stained dull as they cast down their gaze to their exposed legs. Scarred and slender, barely covered by bandages halfheartedly wrapped.

The candlelight flickered. You were back.

Adonis’s eyes glinted sharp in the light, edged dangerously with spite. They had never learnt to drop their guard, even once. They were not interested in learning now. Their feelings for you would always stay tightly budded, burning a hole in their heart until they managed to kill it.

“You’re back,” they said simply, the words falling dry from their lips. “The time is later than I expected. What a shame.”

Their little smile was just a tad crueler than their usual disinterested stare.