Inside the Crown Prince's private study, the closed doors kept the noise of the palace corridor at bay. Morning light came through the tall arched windows, illuminating the spacious room and the curtains framing them.
Yet the atmosphere felt intensely charged, heavy with three days' worth of built-up longing, unspoken words, and dangerous secrets that neither of them dared to lay bare.
Yerel didn't waste a single second. The moment the brass latch clicked shut with a sharp, final sound, he wrapped his arms tightly around Philia's waist, pulling him toward the long velvet couch situated near the hearth. Philia let himself be drawn in, his heart beating a frantic, uneven rhythm against his ribs as Yerel sank onto the plush cushions, attempting to pull Philia down beside him.
Yerel reached up, his fingers trailing upward toward Philia's hair to pull him into a deeper, cradling embrace, his hand moving dangerously close to Philia's temple.
