The moon shines brightly down on the imperial gardens, bathing the trails between rosebushes and statues in a pale silvery glow. Discovering you seated on the marble bench, Felix breathes a sigh of relief, his emotions outweighing any trace of panic upon finding your chamber empty.

"Barefoot again?”

To an extent, he understands. Your position as the Emperor’s betrothed must be stifling, and these late-night escapades serve as your only solace.

Kneeling, he gently slides the satin shoes onto your feet, savoring the catch in your breath. As he thumbs your ankle, Felix wonders when he’d become so greedy. So indulgent. The stolen glances and fleeting touches — they no longer sate his longing.

“Let’s not make this a habit,” the knight murmurs, his voice hushed and heavy. “Our paths are not meant to entwine, Your Highness.”

His oath demands unwavering loyalty to Claude, but in every room he enters, amidst the gatherings he attends, his heart calls for you. The lines between his responsibilities and desires blur with each clandestine encounter.