They were heading for the Great Gilded Arch—the entrance reserved strictly for the Imperial family.

It was a deliberate, public provocation. By bringing Julian through those doors, Aurelian wasn’t just presenting a guest; he was declaring a possession. He was telling the court, and specifically the man waiting inside, that the scholar of the North had been swallowed by the shadow of the Crown.

By the time they got there, Aurelian was already waiting.

He stood with his back to the doors, his own mask—a golden lion—resting atop his head.

When he saw Julian approaching, his eyes didn’t go to the costume or the silver embroidery. They went straight to Julian’s eyes, searching for a flicker of the man who had broken down in the hallway.

He found only a calm, terrifyingly still void.

"You’re late, Master Astrea," Aurelian remarked, his voice a low, melodic hum. "You seem to have a knack for making your Emperor wait for you at all times."

Julian didn’t respond. No one asked him to wait, and no one asked him to do something so ridiculous by trying to bring him past that entrance.

Aurelian stepped forward, his hand coming to rest firmly on the top middle of Julian’s back, a claim in physical form.

"But I suppose a star should only appear when the darkness is absolute, right?"

Julian remained silent. Though Aurelian would have preferred to see Julian beg and plead for him not to go this far, this lack of response was fine, too. To the Emperor, it only meant he had succeeded; the fire had been smothered, leaving behind nothing but a compliant doll.

"We’re ready. Make the call," Aurelian commanded.

The trumpet resounded, and the music—a soaring, complex waltz—immediately came to a halt, as well as every conversation in the ballroom. A thousand masked faces turned as one toward the Imperial entrance.

The herald in the hall immediately announced,

"Entering, his Imperial Majesty, Aurelian Alaric Viremount the 7th!"

Then, the heavy doors swung open andJulian was suddenly exposed to the blinding, multifaceted light of the ballroom’s crystal chandeliers. Below him lay a sea of masked nobles, a wave of silk and lace that dipped and swayed as they bowed their heads in respect to their Emperor.

The pressure was a bit overwhelming. There were hundreds of gazes trying to pierce through his porcelain mask, wondering who the ’star’ standing beside the Emperor could be. Julian felt his knees threaten to buckle, but he stayed standing, his back straight.

Aurelian leaned in, his lips nearly grazing the edge of Julian’s ear as they began their slow descent down the red-carpeted stairs.

"Look at them, Julian," Aurelian whispered, his voice thick with a dark, triumphant glee. "They are bowing to us. You may never get this opportunity again, so I suggest you savor it. This is the only time you will ever stand this high above the world."

His hand tightened on Julian’s back, steering him like a prize horse toward the edge of the grand landing.

Rowan appeared, holding a golden tray. Upon it sat a singular, crystalline grail filled with the Emperor’s nectar—a deep, honeyed vintage that caught the light like liquid amber.

Aurelian took the grail, lifting it high above the sea of bowed heads.

"Citizens of the Empire! Noble houses of the high and low!" his voice rang out, projected with a practiced, effortless authority that filled every corner of the ballroom. "Tonight, we do not just celebrate a ball. We celebrate the strength of the Sun that binds us together. I thank you for your presence, for your loyalty, and for the secrets you bring to my table. Let the wine flow and the masks never slip!"

"Long live the Emperor!" the crowd roared in unison, the sound echoing off the vaulted ceiling like a physical blow.

As the cheers erupted, Julian felt his head drop. He couldn’t help it.

The weight of so many eyes—curious, some envious, but all speculative—was crushing. He could hear the low, frantic hum of gossip beginning to rise like a swarm of insects.

"Who is he?"

"The Imperial Arch... surely a relative? Or a very close aide?"

"Look at the stars on his coat... he looks like a Northern ghost."

"Good heavens, haven’t you all heard the rumors?"

"Rumors? What rumors?"

"The rumors about a certain son from house Astrea. The ’tutor’."

Julian’s fingers curled into his palms, his nails biting into the skin. He wondered how much longer he had to stand here, pinned to the Emperor’s side like a butterfly in a display case. He just wanted the floor to open up and swallow him.

Suddenly, he felt Aurelian’s arm move. The Emperor intentionally wrapped his arm firmly around Julian’s waist, pulling him flush against his side for the entire ballroom to see.

Julian flinched, his body reacting before his mind could stop it. He bit his lip hard and tasted his own blood. This... What was the Emperor doing?

He could feel the Emperor burning an amused gaze into his head. It was so intense he felt his skin burning and his heart beating frantically.

"I thought you had completely lost your soul when you refused to respond this whole time," Aurelian said, his voice a low, mocking thread meant only for Julian’s ears. "But it seems you still have a bit of it left."

To the crowd, this seemed to be an intimate moment, but to Julian, it was a violation he would rather not put up with. Not here, where eyes were more lethal than daggers.

The Emperor didn’t look at him for long as his eyes traveled over the crowd, sharp and predatory, scanning the sea of masks until they locked onto a specific direction—a place where the air seemed to thicken with a burning, murderous gaze.

Ah, yes, there he was. Who else would look at him with so much hostility when he was busy minding his own business? Besides, there was no hiding that massive and gorgeous frame under a single mask. He was just too extraordinary to be hidden.

"Don’t look down at your feet, Master Astrea," the Emperor teased, his breath ghosting over Julian’s neck, sending a shiver of pure revulsion down the scholar’s spine. "Look at the fountain. Look at the man who thinks he can still recognize you."

Julian finally lifted his head, slowly as he trembled and his eyes widened.