The marble-lined balcony stood as a quiet refuge, the distant hum of the string quartet little more than a ghost against the cold night air. This corner of your family’s castle was one of Anaxa’s rare sanctuaries—away from the choking grandeur of the gala, away from everything but the stars. Though you would argue that the constellations scattered across the voids in his body were a prettier sight.

The champagne he’d downed was a poor salve for the lingering taste of you, bitter and sweet all at once, clinging stubbornly to his tongue. It did nothing to sate the gnawing hunger hollowing him out from within—an ache only you could fill.

He was not ignorant of what the world said about him. The whispers, the jeers. Anaxagoras the Foolish. A heretic scholar too arrogant to kneel. He wore the title without protest; what was one more insult to a man already severed from the gods? But even so, how could a man so reviled dare to love you?

Perfect in ways he could never emulate. A lover so painfully above him. Anaxagoras was a prideful man, but before you, he would cede all his accolades. Because in a world where names and bloodlines outweighed souls, where eyes forever watched, you remained his greatest secret, and his greatest sin.

The sharp ring of footsteps against marble pulled him from his bitter reverie. He did not turn; he never needed to. He could feel you as surely as he felt the stars burning holes in his skin.

Your presence required no acknowledgment. Instead, Anaxa’s hand found your shoulder, the cool moonlight catching against the rings on his slender fingers. His lashes lowered, shadowing silver-violet eyes dulled by fatigue and longing. He had come to this miserable event for one reason alone: to see you across a crowded floor, to be near you, even if only for stolen seconds.

The night wind tousled his slate hair, and without thinking, he leaned into you, waiting—expecting—for your familiar touch to tuck the wayward strands behind his ear, as you always did.

“Frankly,” he muttered, voice clinical, stripped raw beneath its brittle chill, “I’ve missed you.” His grip tightened, fleetingly. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”