Being sick was never pleasant, but Xion had gotten used to it far too quickly.
Ever since that strange poison had wreaked havoc in his veins, his immune system had become embarrassingly fragile.
A single draft could send him into a coughing fit. A cold wind could ruin his perfectly working nose and lungs.
Somehow, he skipped the expected phase of envying the healthy and plunged straight into what could only be described as a hibernating phase.
It was almost as if his body had decided it was making up for every lost hour of rest in his life. That too — all at once.
And being with the Archduke came with its perks.
One of the most indulgent was that he could sleep however or wherever he wanted, and no one would try to wake him.
And certainly not Darius... who, for all his overbearing protectiveness, would scold the entire entourage of servants who dared to disturb his sleep.
Tonight was no different.
The soft quilt was warm over his legs, his head comfortably sunken into the pillow.
Xion was blissfully sleeping when the doors to his chamber creaked open.
Even now, Darius first warmed himself up before joining Xion in bed.
The moment he approached the bed, a slight smile appeared on his lips.
Dark hair spilled over the white fabric in loose waves. The ends brushed Xion’s cheek.
The scissors hadn’t won.
Much to his delight, the paleness on his tender face had faded, covered with a slight pink hue.
Darius gently combed the soft strands, and Xion, despite being in his sleep, leaned into his touch.
As if even in sleep, Xion was so attuned to his presence that he would subconsciously search for him.
Darius melted right then and there. His fingertips brushed against the gentle curve of his brows that were no longer furrowed.
His dear Xion wasn’t trembling.
There were no quiet tears slipping down his cheeks, nor was he sobbing. Just peaceful sleep.
"Sleep well, darling. Only dream of me and no one else."
Those words were more like a prayer.
More than once, he had wondered if he could step into Xion’s dreams, find whatever monster it was that made his baby cry so miserably, and kill it.
He would have gladly spilled blood for that chance. He would have found that person from the deepest pits of hell if it meant his lover could sleep without nightmares.
But no matter how many times he asked... Xion’s answer was always the same.
"Just... hold me."
So he did.
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lover’s temple. Gathering Xion against him, he arranged the duvet properly.
The chill was bad for Xion. And if he got another fever, it would be disastrous.
One more week. That was the time limit Allen had given him.
With mana being out of the question, they could only resort to other methods. Thankfully, Bard and the healers who came to the North were adept at that kind of thing.
But then again, it was his Xion who had taught them well.
His Majesty Silas Valaria knew far more than the people. And unlike them, he wasn’t fooled by talk of a mysterious illness.
One arm draped around the waist of the beauty perched on his lap, his fingers idly stroking the fine silk barely covering her thighs as if she were no more than a lapdog.
The sweet bite of the wine slid over his tongue, mingling with a sweeter, far more intoxicating thought.
Perhaps Xion wouldn’t even last until the Hunt.
Wouldn’t that be magnificent?
Suddenly, he wished for The Hunt and the Winter ball to come faster.
To watch the Archduke stride into the gathering with empty arms, carrying only that perfect look of pure despair.
Silas’ lips curved slowly.
He might gladly trade one of his precious beauties for such a sight. He was just that generous.
The thought pleased him so much that he tightened his grip on the concubine’s slender throat, tilting her face up sharply.
She gasped, or tried to, but he crushed his mouth against hers before the sound could escape, kissing her until she was breathless and trembling.
Letting her taste the sweetness of the intoxicating wine, he pushed his hand between her legs, roughly plunging his fingers into the wet warmth.
Her jeweled hairpins clinked faintly as her body jerked from the force, yet she remained there in his hold, whimpering under his rough touches.
Silas smiled into the kiss, tasting her panic with more vigor.
One of these days, the beauty in his arms would be replaced with his first love. He highly doubted she would be so docile.
But he had many methods for that, ways he had been testing on his beauties.
After all, being king came with many privileges.
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