Night had fallen over Duke Maximilian's estate, and with it came the awakening of its vampire inhabitants. Elias emerged from his daytime rest with the effortless beauty that had made him a prized decorative element in Orlov's court—like an exquisite vase pced strategically to enhance a room's aesthetic. His first evening as a formally recognized consort stretched before him—a role he had been prepared for only in the most superficial ways.

  "Good evening, my lord," greeted an elderly human servant named Morris, who had appeared precisely three minutes after sunset. "I trust your rest chamber was satisfactory."

  "Perfectly adequate," Elias replied with the dazzling smile that had once made a visiting Countess spill blood-wine all over herself. "Though I must say, I was half-expecting to wake up in a museum dispy case given His Grace's... collecting tendencies."

  Morris's face remained impressively neutral, though a hint of amusement touched his eyes. "His Grace's collection is quite extensive, but doesn't yet include living consorts, my lord."

  "How reassuring," Elias said with a light ugh that contained the perfect amount of court musicality—one of the few things his "education" had actually included. "Though I notice I seem to be in... guest quarters?"

  "These are your permanent chambers, my lord," Morris expined. "His Grace was most specific about the arrangements."

  "The east wing," Elias noted, gncing around while mentally cataloging possible exits and hiding pces—a habit formed through years of navigating the treacherous waters of Orlov's court. "Rather distant from the Duke's quarters, isn't it? Is this some important vampire consort tradition I should pretend to understand?"

  "Indeed, my lord. The Duke's personal chambers are in the west wing, beside his private library." Morris's expression remained professionally bnk, though Elias detected definite amusement in the slight crinkle around his eyes. "It's approximately a three-minute walk at a dignified pace."

  "Or ten seconds at panic-stricken running speed," Elias quipped, dropping the formal mask momentarily. "Which, based on yesterday's ceremony, seems the more likely scenario."

  This earned him the ghost of a genuine smile from Morris before the servant's professional composure reasserted itself. "His Grace spent considerable time researching historical consort arrangements before selecting this one."

  "Oh, I'm sure he did," Elias said, wandering to examine a particurly valuable-looking vase with deliberate casualness. "Let me guess—he found some dusty old precedent that coincidentally puts me as far away as possible?"

  "The Duke is quite thorough in his research," Morris acknowledged diplomatically.

  Elias set the vase down carefully, having already assessed its worth and breakability—information that might prove useful ter. "Please inform His Grace I'll join him for the evening meal once I've settled in properly. I promise to avoid making any sudden movements that might send him diving under the table."

  After Morris departed, Elias explored his new quarters with the precise eye of someone who had spent decades learning which corners of rooms offered the best vantage points to observe without being noticed. The suite was genuinely luxurious—a sitting room with elegant furnishings, a private study equipped with writing materials, a formal receiving room for visitors, and a spacious bedchamber. Everything a vampire consort could require, positioned as far from the Duke's living space as the estate's architecture would allow without actually pcing him in the garden.

  "Subtle as a stake to the heart," Elias murmured to himself, amused rather than offended. In Orlov's court, he'd been treated as decorative furniture—pretty to look at but not expected to have opinions or take up space. Being actively avoided was almost refreshing in comparison.

  A soft knock at the door interrupted his exploration.

  "Begging your pardon, my lord," a nervous young human servant girl curtsied in the doorway. Behind her stood two vampire attendants with armfuls of clothing and personal items. "We've moved His Grace's belongings here, as is customary for the consort chambers."

  "His Grace's... belongings?" Elias asked, momentarily confused.

  "Yes, my lord. Everything the Duke will need now that he'll be sharing the consort quarters with you," the girl expined, as if stating the obvious. "The west wing will be maintained, of course, especially for His Grace's collections, but his personal effects have been transferred here as tradition dictates."

  Elias stared at her, a smile slowly spreading across his face as understanding dawned. "I see. How... traditional. Please, do bring everything in."

  As the servants began arranging items around the room, Elias watched with growing amusement. Schorly robes were hung in the wardrobe, a stack of research journals pced on the writing desk, and—most delightfully—a pair of pajamas embroidered with tiny, meticulously accurate star charts id carefully across the bed.

  Elias lifted the pajamas, examining them with genuine curiosity. "These consteltions appear to be extraordinarily precise. Is the Duke an astronomy enthusiast?"

  The servant girl smiled proudly. "Oh yes, my lord. His Grace has several telescopes in the north tower. He often stays up until just before dawn, charting star positions."

  "How fascinating," Elias murmured, picturing Maximilian in these star-covered pajamas, earnestly tracking celestial movements. The image was oddly... endearing.

  Just then, a commotion erupted from the distant west wing, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps in the corridor.

  "Morris!" a familiar voice called out, growing increasingly frantic as it approached. "There appears to be a significant logistical error in the household arrangements! My personal effects have been—"

  Duke Maximilian rounded the corner and came to an abrupt halt outside Elias's doorway. He was dressed in a simple bck robe, his hair slightly disheveled from sleep, spectacles slightly askew—a striking contrast to his carefully composed appearance at the ceremony. His expression shifted from confusion to horror as he took in the scene: servants arranging his personal belongings throughout Elias's quarters while his new consort stood holding his astronomical pajamas.

  "What," he managed, voice strangled, "is happening here?"

  The servant girl curtsied deeply. "We've moved your belongings to the consort quarters, Your Grace, as is traditional following a consort union. The shared chambers have been prepared according to standard protocol."

  "Shared... chambers?" Maximilian's voice rose at least an octave.

  Elias struggled to maintain a straight face. "Your staff seems under the impression that we'll be maintaining a traditional consort arrangement, Your Grace. Apparently moving your star charts—" he held up the pajamas, "—and other personal effects into my quarters is customary."

  Maximilian's expression suggested he might combust if vampire physiology allowed it. "There appears to be a significant misunderstanding regarding the residential arrangements," he announced with strained formality. "Morris!"

  The butler appeared so promptly he might have been waiting just around the corner. "Yes, Your Grace?"

  "Can you expin why my personal effects have been relocated without authorization?"

  Morris's expression remained impressively neutral. "The staff understood that traditional consort protocols would be observed, Your Grace. Standard procedure following a consort ceremony includes preparation of shared quarters for the newly united couple."

  "But I specifically researched and approved the separate wings arrangement!" Maximilian protested, pushing his gsses up in agitation. "The historical precedent of the Eastern Territories clearly establishes—"

  "If I may, Your Grace," Morris interrupted with gentle firmness, "your instructions regarding separate wings were indeed noted. However, as no specific directive was issued regarding the relocation of personal effects, the household staff defaulted to standard protocols for consort unions."

  "A simple misunderstanding," Elias offered, his eyes dancing with amusement as he carefully set the star-patterned pajamas on a nearby chair. "Though I must say, your astronomical sleepwear is quite impressive. Is that Cassiopeia meticulously stitched along the colr?"

  Maximilian lunged forward with surprising speed, snatching the pajamas and clutching them protectively against his chest. "Research attire," he muttered, clutching the pajamas protectively against his chest. "For astronomical study purposes only."

  "Of course," Elias agreed solemnly, though his eyes betrayed his amusement. "Very schorly. Though I must say, the attention to detail is impressive. I've never seen such precise stelr positioning on sleepwear before."

  "The separate wing arrangement is based on extensive historical precedent," Maximilian decred, clearly desperate to change the subject. "The Consortium of Eastern Territories maintained consort separation for optimal territorial administration during the Third Decade."

  Elias blinked at the sudden topic change, but adapted with the smooth grace of someone accustomed to following conversational whipsh during court functions. "Did they? How fascinating. In Orlov's court, they never bothered teaching me actual history—just which side of the room to stand on during ceremonies."

  "Absolutely," Maximilian continued, warming to his subject as schors tend to do when offered an audience. "The practice dates back to the Bckwood-Chen Agreement of Year 10, when administrative efficiency was prioritized over traditional cohabitation."

  Morris, who had maintained a carefully neutral expression throughout this exchange, made a small coughing sound. "Your Grace, if I might correct a minor historical detail—the Bckwood-Chen arrangement you refer to was a military alliance, not a consort retionship. Nara Chen is legally cssified as Archduke Lucius's pet, with Baron Cassian appointed as her caretaker. Their separate quarters arrangement was necessitated by vampire w regarding pet ownership, not by choice."

  Maximilian's face would have flushed if vampire physiology allowed it. "Ah. Yes. Different historical context entirely."

  "Perhaps the separate wings arrangement was inspired by Duke Constantine's consort protocols?" Elias suggested helpfully, throwing out a name he vaguely remembered from court gossip. "I recall hearing something about that during one of the many ceremonies where I was positioned like a decorative mp."

  "Precisely!" Maximilian seized the expnation gratefully. "Constantine's model. Exactly the precedent I was following."

  Morris's expression remained impressively neutral as he added, "Lord Constantine was stripped of his title for corruption and sent to Archduke Valerian as a resource twenty years ago, Your Grace. I believe his consort arrangements were deemed... unconventional."

  The silence that followed was exquisite in its awkwardness.

  "Well," Elias finally said, taking pity on his flustered husband, "traditional or not, I appreciate having my own space to adjust to my new home." He gestured to the servants still arranging Maximilian's belongings. "Though perhaps we should rectify the current situation? Unless you'd actually prefer to share quarters after all?" The st question was delivered with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

  "No!" The word escaped Maximilian with such force that a nearby vase wobbled precariously. "I mean—logistical corrections. Immediately." He seemed pathetically grateful for the subject's resolution. "Morris, please oversee the return of my personal effects to the west wing, and ensure Lord Elias's belongings are properly delivered here."

  "Very good, Your Grace," Morris replied with a slight bow. "And shall I inform the kitchen that you'll be taking evening blood-meal together as scheduled?"

  Maximilian's expression flickered with what appeared to be panic. "I, ah, have pressing cataloging commitments this evening. Extremely time-sensitive artifact authentication. Perhaps Lord Elias would prefer to dine privately tonight after his journey?"

  Elias hesitated, then sighed dramatically. "I suppose I should mention this now rather than ter. In addition to the usual blood consumption, I also require... actual food." He carefully watched for a reaction. "It's unprecedented among vampires. One of many reasons I was considered fundamentally defective in Orlov's court."

  Maximilian blinked rapidly, his schorly interest visibly overriding his social discomfort. "You consume solid nutrition? That's... impossible for vampires. Our digestive systems don't—" He trailed off, studying Elias with new intensity.

  "Impossible, and yet here I stand," Elias finished, with practiced lightness that didn't quite mask the bitterness beneath. "As far as anyone knows, I'm the only vampire in existence who requires actual food. An aberration. It's why I was relegated to decorative status—keep the fwed vampire visible enough to show Orlov's generosity, but not important enough to embarrass anyone."

  Maximilian's spectacles slipped down his nose as his eyes widened. "Natural-born? That's—" He stopped himself, clearly wrestling between schorly fascination and social propriety. "Forgive me. I shouldn't pry into personal matters."

  "It's hardly a secret," Elias shrugged with deliberate casualness. "Just an embarrassment. The decorative consort who needs actual food like a human while still requiring blood like a vampire. Neither one thing nor the other."

  Morris, demonstrating the impeccable timing of an experienced servant, interjected, "We can certainly accommodate special dietary requirements, my lord. I'll inform the kitchen to prepare a suitable meal with both liquid and solid components."

  Elias smiled gratefully at the butler. "Thank you, Morris. I appreciate your discretion in this matter."

  Maximilian adjusted his gsses, scientific curiosity temporarily overwhelming his social anxiety. "A vampire requiring actual food is completely unprecedented in all recorded research. Perhaps at some point, you might allow me to document your unique nutritional requirements? For scientific purposes only, of course."

  "I'd be delighted to serve as one of your research specimens, Your Grace," Elias replied with a teasing smile that made Maximilian immediately retreat back to nervous awkwardness.

  "Not a specimen," the Duke corrected hastily. "A valuable... data contributor. Consensual participation in academic documentation only."

  "Of course," Elias agreed, his amusement evident. "Either way, I believe I'll dine alone this evening. Though perhaps His Grace might recommend some reading material? In Orlov's court, books were just pretty things to be arranged on shelves—never actually opened."

  For the first time since their wedding, Maximilian looked at Elias with something resembling genuine interest rather than panic. "You... enjoy reading?"

  "I've hardly had the opportunity to find out," Elias admitted with a candidness that surprised even himself. "But I'd like to try. I've always wondered what's actually inside all those impressive-looking volumes that nobles use to decorate their studies."

  Something shifted in Maximilian's expression—a subtle change that transformed his face from that of a cornered animal to a schor presented with an interesting new specimen. "I could... select some introductory volumes. If that would be acceptable."

  "I would appreciate that, Your Grace," Elias replied, dropping the court mask for a moment to show genuine gratitude.

  "Excellent. Practical. Educational initiative," Maximilian said, nodding several times in quick succession. "I'll have appropriate selections delivered with your evening meal."

  He backed toward the door with the careful movements of someone trying not to startle a dangerous animal, still clutching the star-patterned pajamas against his chest. "I'll leave you to your settling in, then. Morris will attend to anything you require. Good evening."

  With that, he disappeared down the corridor with remarkable speed for someone attempting to look like they weren't fleeing.

  Once Maximilian had gone, Morris directed the servants to exchange the mispced items, his expression betraying nothing of his thoughts on the situation. When the others had departed, he turned to Elias.

  "Will there be anything else, my lord?"

  Elias considered for a moment, then asked, "Has His Grace always been so..."

  "Chronically avoidant of social interaction?" Morris supplied helpfully. "Indeed, my lord. The Duke has maintained minimal personal contact with other vampires for several decades. His research and collections generally take precedence over courtly matters."

  "And yet he's agreed to a political consort arrangement," Elias mused. "Curious."

  "Most curious indeed, my lord." Morris's professional mask slipped just enough to reveal a hint of fondness. "His Grace spent three nights practicing appropriate greetings before your arrival. He broke two antique vases during rehearsals."

  Elias bit his lip to suppress a genuine ugh—not the practiced court chuckle he'd perfected for nobles' jokes, but something real and spontaneous. "How terrifying I must be," he said with mock seriousness. "A decorative consort from Orlov's court who doesn't even know which fork to use at dinner."

  "Precisely why His Grace has prepared the separate wings arrangement, I imagine," Morris replied with perfect diplomatic gravity. "To spare you his social awkwardness."

  "And to spare himself my decorative presence," Elias added, wandering to the window to gaze out at the night garden. "Well, if nothing else, this should be considerably more interesting than standing silently at court functions for the next century."

  As Morris departed with a respectful bow, Elias remained by the window, watching the moonlight transform the garden into a silver-touched wondernd. For the first time in decades, he felt something unfamiliar stirring in his chest—not the practiced charm or strategic calcution that had kept him alive in Orlov's court, but genuine curiosity about what might happen next.

  His new husband might be socially inept and clearly terrified of him, but at least he wasn't treating Elias like an expensive vase to be dispyed and ignored. Being actively avoided was, in its way, a form of acknowledgment he'd rarely experienced.

  "Separate wings," he murmured to the empty room, a small smile pying at his lips. "How very interesting."