Julian buried his face into Alaric’s shoulder in a desperate attempt to vanish. He could hear the soft, collective gasp from the women, as well as the whispers and giggles.

Lucius, sitting in the corner, quickly clamped his hands over his mouth to hide a giggle. The maids quickly bowed their heads, their eyes darting between the Duke’s protective hold and Julian’s bright red ears, before scurrying over to the bed.

"Are you uncomfortable?" The Duke asked, acting completely oblivious, and Julian had this strong urge to tell him to shut up, but kept his own mouth shut. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

It was too embarrassing.

When Alaric finally settled Julian back into the fresh, crisp sheets, the room felt different. Julian was sure that his title as the Duke’s Lover would circulate all over the house in an instant just from what the maids had seen and heard.

That bunch would never keep their mouths shut.

"Are you sure you do not have a fever?" The Duke asked, placing his hand on Julian’s forehead and watching his pale face glow red.

"It’s not a fever, Yo— Lucien," he said, though he refused to meet the Duke’s gaze until the embarrassment faded. "Worry not."

Later that afternoon, the physician arrived to check on Julian’s progress. But first, he made sure the swelling on Lucius’s shoulder was not getting worse.

Thankfully, it wasn’t.

And then, he went to Julian’s side, asking,

"Are you ready?"

Julian pursed his lips. It was time to change the bandage.

He had never been conscious while the dressing was going on, but he was beyond certain that it would hurt as if he was getting stabbed by the stake all over again.

"Julian," the Duke called, and Julian looked up at him, the worry spreading over his pale face. "I’m here,"

"Thank you... Lucien," Julian said, and then held the Duke, his fingers already digging into his arm before the physician even started.

The physician looked at the duo, unable to tell frankly what the relationship between the Duke and his tutor was. But one thing was clear, the Duke cared deeply about Julian.

Even with the anesthesia provided, the process of cleaning and re-dressing the wound was agonizing. Every time the physician moved him or touched a sensitive area, Julian’s body tensed until he went completely rigid. He grabbed onto the Duke’s arm, his knuckles turning white as he bit down on his lip to keep from crying out.

Alaric didn’t take it well. He stood over them like a dark cloud, his eyes fixed on the physician’s every move.

"Do it lightly," Alaric growled, his voice vibrating with a threat that made the air in the room feel heavy. "If he is in pain because of your clumsiness, I’ll make sure you’re the one in pain next."

The poor physician began to tremble visibly. His hands shook so much as he held the bandages that Julian could feel the uneven pressure on his skin. Seeing the man about to have a nervous breakdown, Julian reached out with a shaky hand and patted Alaric’s arm. He forced a small, weak smile through the cold sweat on his forehead.

"It’s... " It’s fine, Lucien," Julian panted. "Don’t blame him. It’s just how it is."

Alaric’s gaze softened instantly as it moved from the doctor to Julian. He didn’t pull away; instead, he stroked Julian’s head with a surprisingly gentle hand and pulled him closer, holding him tight against his chest to steady him.

The maids, who were still lingering by the wardrobe, couldn’t look away. Their eyes were practically bleeding with gossip. They had never seen the Duke look so completely undone by someone else’s discomfort after the Duchess’s death. This was a first.

By the end of the day, every servant in the estate would know that the Duke was essentially a slave to his tutor’s well-being.

Julian stared at the new bandage rolled over his thigh and finally let out a breath of relief.

He thought it would never end, and could vividly see the trauma returning to him, but thankfully, the Duke was there to comfort him.

"By tomorrow," the duke whispered softly. "It’ll be over. The pain will be gone for good."

Julian nodded, sinking into the Duke’s comfort as he closed his eyes.

What would he have done if he didn’t have the Duke to comfort him like this?

What if he had been taken away by his father and locked away in a basement, left to endure the dark, the pain and the trauma all alone?

He shuddered, the thought making his skin crawl. Never. He would never go back to that house.

He told himself the day he walked out those heavy doors that he would never return and he planned to keep his words.

The rest of the day was quiet, filled with the scent of fresh lavender to aid Julian’s rest, and the sound of the crackling fire. It was once again peaceful, until the sun began to set.

TRUUUU-UUUM-PET.

The sound of a trumpet blowing outside was sharp and aggressive, echoing off the stone walls of the courtyard.

Julian nearly jumped from his sleep, his heart leaping into his throat. What was that?

From the gates, a loud, booming voice yelled over the walls.

"By the golden mandate of His Imperial Majesty! Grand Duke Alaric Lucien Blackspire is summoned to stand trial for the concealment of an Imperial official! Open the gates and surrender!"

Julian’s breath hitched as he looked at Alaric, his heart beating frantically. When did he become an imperial official?

It looked like the Emperor planned to impose the title of Royal Tutor to his name whether he accepted it or not.

What would the Duke do now that a signed mandate was at his door step again?

And a summons for trial at that.

The Duke, however, did not look panicked. He stood up slowly, walked to the balcony, and looked down at the sea of gold and crimson capes gathered outside his gates. He watched the leader of the Golden Guard waving a scroll around for a moment, and then the Duke simply stepped back inside and shut the glass doors.

"Don’t worry about the noise," Alaric said, walking back to the bed. He sat on the edge and took Julian’s hand, his grip firm.

"But the Emperor..." Julian started, worried about the rebellion charges that would follow his refusal to heed to the summon.

"They can say whatever they like," Alaric said. "And they can do whatever they want,"

"But—"

"Until the priest arrives," Alaric interrupted, looking firmly into Julian’s eyes and making it known that he did not plan to change his mind no matter what. "My men will not open the gates, and no one is getting in."

He brought Julian’s hand to his lips and kissed it.

"As long as I am in this room, you are safe."