_*]:min-w-0 !gap-3.5">The garden at night was a different world from its daytime appearance. Silver moonlight bathed the carefully arranged paths in ethereal light, casting long shadows from the ancient statuary Maximilian had collected from pre-evolution estates. Night-blooming flowers released their heady perfume, creating an intoxicating atmosphere that mingled with the rich scent of blood-wine.

  Maximilian had suggested the garden for their evening conversation, a departure from their usual library discussions. The past few weeks had seen a gradual shift in their interactions—from the stiff formality of political consorts to something approaching genuine companionship. Tonight's setting seemed deliberately designed for intimacy, with a small table arranged near the central fountain, its gentle spshing providing a soothing backdrop.

  "A vintage from the south," Maximilian expined as he poured the blood-wine into delicate crystal gsses. His hands moved with schorly precision despite the personal nature of the setting. "From human donors with a diet high in specific fruits. The hint of sweetness is quite distinctive."

  Elias accepted the gss, noting how the deep crimson liquid caught the moonlight. "I'm still learning to appreciate the subtleties. In Orlov's court, I was never permitted at formal tastings." He took a sip, savoring the complex fvor. "It's remarkable how different regions produce such varied notes."

  "Blood chemistry is a fascinating field of study." Maximilian rexed slightly into his chair, the tension in his shoulders easing. "I have several preserved texts on the subject, if you're interested."

  The conversation flowed more easily than usual, perhaps aided by the blood-wine and the romantic setting. They discussed the estate's operations, recent territorial news, and eventually circled to Maximilian's collection of pre-evolution literature—a subject that never failed to animate the usually reserved Duke.

  After their second gss, Maximilian gestured toward one of the garden's more eborate statues. "That piece dates from approximately thirty years before the evolution. The craftsmanship is extraordinary—look at the detail in the feathering."

  "I've never seen anything like this," Elias said with genuine wonder, studying the marble angel's intricate wings. His fingers hovered near the statue without touching it, tracing the contours in the air. "At Orlov's court, statues were just... statues. Decorations no one really looked at."

  Maximilian's smile was brief but genuine. "Art is more than decoration. Each piece carries its creator's story and the history of its time." He gestured toward the angel's face. "Look at the expression - you can see the sculptor was familiar with grief."

  The conversation lulled into a comfortable silence. Moonlight pyed across the garden's careful ndscape, highlighting the meticulous arrangement of pnts and statuary. The blood-wine had warmed Elias from within, creating a pleasant fullness that seemed to soften the edges of his usual caution.

  Maximilian refilled their gsses, his movements slightly less precise than usual. "I've never been particurly skilled at... this." He gestured vaguely between them. "Social interaction. Even before my transformation, I was more comfortable with books than people."

  "You seem perfectly capable to me," Elias offered, surprised by the unexpected confession.

  "Practice and necessity." Maximilian removed his gsses, a rare gesture that made him look suddenly vulnerable. "Fifty-five years of immortality provides ample time to develop workable approximations of social skills, but they never come naturally. Schorly isotion is both my comfort and my prison."

  The candid admission hung in the night air, unexpected and strangely touching. Elias had never imagined the composed Duke might struggle with something so fundamental. He took another sip of blood-wine, feeling its warmth spread through his body, loosening his own carefully maintained barriers.

  "I understand isotion," Elias said softly. "Though of a different kind."

  Maximilian looked at him with genuine interest, no trace of his usual schorly detachment. "Of course you do."

  The blood-wine seemed to make the words flow more easily than Elias had intended. "I've been thinking about what we discussed st week," he said, swirling the crimson liquid in his gss thoughtfully. "About how differences are viewed in vampire society."

  "Yes?" Maximilian prompted when Elias paused.

  Elias set his gss down carefully. "There's more to my differences than I initially shared. Things I've never told anyone willingly."

  Maximilian's schorly interest visibly kindled, but he tempered it with unusual restraint. "You don't need to share if you'd prefer not to."

  "I think I'd like to," Elias replied, surprising himself with the truth of it. He extended his hand palm up over the table and concentrated briefly. Above his hand, a small violet fme appeared, casting impossible shadows that moved independently of the fme itself. "I can create illusions."

  Maximilian's eyes widened, his schorly composure momentarily shattered by genuine wonder. "Remarkable," he breathed, leaning closer to study the phenomenon. "I've never seen anything like it."

  "No one has," Elias said, maniputing the illusory fme, making it dance and shift. "It's not something other vampires can do—not even those born rather than turned. I'm... unique, somehow."

  The fme vanished as Elias closed his palm. "But that's not all." He hesitated, then continued, "I can walk in daylight."

  Maximilian went absolutely still. In vampire society, this cim was extraordinary—sunlight incapacitated even the strongest vampires and killed the weaker ones outright. "You've... experienced daylight?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Elias nodded, lowering his voice despite the garden's privacy. "I've seen the sunrise. Felt real sunlight on my skin." He ran his fingers along the stem of his gss. "It doesn't weaken me much, nothing like what happens to other vampires. I can use my powers and abilities during the day almost as well as at night. I'm slightly stronger after sunset, but the difference isn't dramatic."

  "That's... unprecedented," Maximilian breathed, his academic mind visibly racing behind his eyes. "Have you ever been observed during daylight hours?"

  "Only once, accidentally. A servant entered my chamber when I was sitting in a beam of morning light that came through a gap in the curtains." Elias smiled wryly. "She screamed so loudly the entire wing came running. I had to create an illusion that I was burning and in agony to expin why I hadn't instantly combusted. It was quite theatrical."

  "And your other abilities?" Maximilian asked, his schor's curiosity fully engaged now. "The illusions—what else can you do?"

  Elias gnced around the garden, ensuring they were truly alone. Then he held Maximilian's gaze and concentrated. The Duke gasped as he suddenly saw not one Elias but three, each identical down to the slightest detail. Two were illusions, but so perfect that even vampire senses couldn't immediately distinguish the real Elias.

  "Remarkable," Maximilian whispered as the duplicates dissolved into shimmering light that dissipated like mist. "And no one else knows of these abilities?"

  "No one knows about these abilities," Elias admitted. "You're the first person I've chosen to share this with. Ever."

  "I'm honored by your trust," Maximilian replied, his typical schorly reserve completely absent. "These abilities are truly remarkable."

  Elias hesitated for a moment, then continued. "There's more. I also have prophetic dreams." His voice dropped even lower. "Visions of things that haven't happened yet. Sometimes they're clear enough that I can remember every detail when I wake. Other times they're just... impressions. Feelings. But they always come true in some form."

  "Prophetic dreams?" Maximilian asked softly, leaning forward with intense interest.

  Elias nodded. "They're actually quite powerful and come more frequently than most would suspect. Sometimes they show me specific events, other times just impressions or feelings. I don't always understand what they mean until after events unfold." He looked up at Maximilian. "I dreamed of this pce before I arrived. I saw the library with its dder reaching to the highest shelves. I saw this garden under moonlight." He paused. "I saw you, though your face was unclear."

  They fell silent, the weight of these revetions settling between them. The night air carried the scent of night-blooming jasmine, mingling with the rich aroma of blood-wine. In the distance, an owl called softly.

  "I've never shared this with anyone," Elias said quietly.

  In the silence that followed, something shifted between them—a boundary crossed not with grand decrations but with the quiet recognition of mutual understanding. They weren't merely political consorts fulfilling an alliance, but two beings who genuinely saw and valued each other.

  "I have a recent dream I haven't been able to decipher," Elias said thoughtfully. "I saw a room I've never been in, filled with technology I didn't recognize. You were there, showing me something important. There was a feeling of urgency, but also excitement. Like we'd discovered something crucial together." He shook his head. "It was unusually vivid but made no sense to me."

  "How often do you have these prophetic dreams?" Maximilian asked, his expression thoughtful.

  "They come fairly regurly," Elias expined. "Perhaps once or twice a month. Sometimes they're quite clear, other times just impressions that I only recognize after events unfold." Elias gave a small smile. "They're one of the few abilities I can use just as effectively during the day as at night—they often come during daytime rest."

  "I have so many questions," Maximilian admitted, his schor's curiosity reasserting itself. "About all your abilities, how they manifest, how you've developed them..." He caught himself and smiled. "But I don't want to treat you like a research subject. Perhaps another time."

  "I don't mind your questions," Elias assured him.

  They fell into conversation about Elias's abilities—how the illusions formed, their limitations, the prophetic dreams that appeared both day and night. Maximilian listened with genuine fascination, occasionally asking insightful questions that revealed his analytical mind without ever making Elias feel studied or examined.

  Time slipped away as they talked, the gentle spshing of the fountain marking the passing hours. Their hands remained connected on the table, a small but significant tether between them.

  It was Maximilian who first noticed the subtle lightening of the eastern sky. "Dawn approaches," he murmured, gncing toward the horizon where the inky bckness had begun to fade to deep blue.

  Elias followed his gaze and nodded, reluctance visible in his expression. "We should head inside."

  "Yes, of course." Maximilian seemed equally hesitant to end their conversation, despite the necessity. "We should both seek our daytime rest."

  Elias nodded, but with a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Though for me, it's more a matter of preference than necessity."

  They gathered the blood-wine and gsses, their movements unhurried despite the approaching dawn. The night's confessions had changed something fundamental between them, creating a connection neither had anticipated when they'd first sat down in the moonlit garden.

  As they walked toward the house, their hands brushed briefly—a touch that might have been accidental but felt deliberate. Neither commented on it, but neither pulled away either.

  At the threshold of the estate, they paused, both seemingly reluctant to return to the formality of their daily roles after such intimate revetions.

  "Thank you," Elias said finally, "for seeing value where others saw only aberration."

  "Thank you for trusting me with your secrets," Maximilian replied, his usual schorly reserve softened by genuine warmth. "Perhaps we could continue our conversation tomorrow evening? I have some texts that might shed light on your unique abilities."

  "I'd like that very much," Elias replied, a genuine smile lighting his features. "Though perhaps I'll find you during daylight hours to show you what I can really do when the sun is up. It might surprise you."

  "I would be delighted," Maximilian said, a rare excitement breaking through his schorly demeanor. "Few vampires have ever witnessed daylight abilities firsthand."

  The first hint of golden light touched the distant horizon as they stepped inside, closing the door behind them. The night garden with its moonlit confidences gave way to the practical necessities of vampire existence—daytime rest, protection from the weakening sun, the rituals of their separate chambers.

  But something had fundamentally changed between the Duke and his consort. Political arrangement had given way to genuine connection, built on vulnerability and acceptance rather than duty or alliance. What shape that connection might take remained uncertain, but its existence was undeniable.

  As Elias prepared for his daytime rest, he reflected that for the first time since arriving at Maximilian's estate, he felt truly seen for who he was, not what role he pyed. The political consort, the spy, the aberration—all these bels seemed less important than the simple truth of being valued for himself.

  The conversation had ended too soon, cut short by the unavoidable sunrise, but there would be other nights. And perhaps, he thought as his eyes closed, other days as well—days where he might finally share all of himself with someone who would appreciate rather than fear his unique pce in the world.