10:30 PM - Duke Maximilian's Estate, Eastern Wing Ritual Chamber"This is ridiculous," Maximilian muttered, adjusting his formal jacket for the twelfth time in as many minutes. The ritual chamber—normally his secondary library—had been transformed by the night staff into something that looked like a gothic fever dream. Bck candles lined the perimeter, a velvet-covered ceremonial dais had been set up in the center, and the air was heavy with incense.

  "Is this how the ritual is supposed to look?" Elias asked, eyeing the eborate setup with appreciation. Unlike Max, who found the ceremony excessive, Elias had been raised in Orlov's traditional court where such dark grandeur was standard. "It's quite beautiful, actually."

  "I have no idea," Maximilian admitted, pushing his completely unnecessary gsses up his nose. "The instructions in the manuscript were frustratingly vague on the aesthetic requirements. Something about 'atmosphere conducive to blood bonding' which could mean literally anything."

  The "ancient ritual" they were preparing for was, in fact, barely fifty years old—created during the early post-evolution years when the first vampire nobles scrambled to establish traditions that seemed suitably impressive. In vampire society's desperate attempt to create legitimacy, they'd developed ceremonies with all the trappings of ancient tradition, despite being barely older than some of Max's preserved furniture.

  Elias circled the ritual dais, trailing his fingers along the edge. "So we're essentially performing a made-up ceremony that someone decided should look ancient and mysterious?"

  "That's vampire society in a nutshell," Max replied, a rare smile tugging at his lips. "We've been vampires for less than a human lifetime, yet we act like we've had these traditions for millennia."

  "And this particur ritual was created by...?"

  "One of the early Archdukes, according to the manuscript," Max said, adjusting a candle that was already perfectly aligned. "It was established shortly after the formal hierarchy was created. The ritual is specifically designed to create a profound connection between consorts—to foster genuine intimacy in a society where most retionships are strictly political."

  "Direct blood sharing?" Elias paused, his usual composure faltering slightly. "You mean..."

  "Yes," Max confirmed, suddenly finding it difficult to meet Elias's eyes. "Drinking directly from each other. The manuscript is quite explicit about that part."

  "And you're only mentioning this detail now? Five minutes before we start?" Elias raised an eyebrow, his nervous energy manifesting as a slight shimmer in the air around him—his illusion ability responding unconsciously to his emotions.

  "I didn't want to worry you unnecessarily," Max said, looking genuinely apologetic. "Direct blood sharing between vampires is... intimate. More intimate than most of our manufactured traditions."

  The chamber door opened, and Morris, Max's unfppable butler, entered with a silver tray bearing two crystal flutes of blood-wine.

  "The preparations are complete, Your Grace," Morris announced. "The staff has been instructed to maintain absolute privacy until the conclusion of the ritual, as tradition dictates."

  "Tradition that's younger than most of the furniture," Elias whispered, earning a quick smile from Max.

  "Thank you, Morris," Max said. "We'll begin shortly."

  As the butler departed, Max took a deep breath and reached for the manuscript—or rather, the fifty-something-year-old document that had been deliberately aged to look ancient. The leather binding had been artificially weathered, and the calligraphy was unnecessarily ornate, as if the writer had been trying too hard to make it seem historic.

  "This whole ritual is just theater, isn't it?" Elias asked, sipping his blood-wine.

  "Most vampire ceremonies are," Max admitted. "But that doesn't mean they ck power. Whoever created this ritual understood vampire psychology even if most vampires don't. These ceremonies build cohesion in a society cobbled together from traumatized humans-turned-vampires."

  "And the blood connection itself? Is that real?"

  Max looked up from the manuscript, meeting Elias's eyes directly. "That part is very real. Direct blood sharing between vampires creates a genuine connection—not mind reading, but... awareness. Emotional resonance. It's why most vampires avoid it except with trusted individuals."

  "Is that why you've been so nervous about this ritual?" Elias asked softly.

  "Among other reasons," Max admitted, adjusting his gsses again despite them not needing adjustment. "I've never shared blood with anyone before. Not... directly."

  "Never? In fifty years?"

  "Fifty-five," Max corrected automatically. "And no. It always seemed too... intimate."

  That word hung in the air between them, making the candles seem suddenly brighter in the dimly lit chamber.

  "Well," Elias said finally, "at least your first time will be with someone who—" he caught himself, a rare moment of hesitation crossing his face. "Someone who won't use it against you."

  Max nodded, grateful for the sentiment even as he noticed the shift in what Elias had been about to say. He turned back to the manuscript, clearing his throat.

  "The ritual has three parts," he expined, academic tone providing comfortable distance from the emotional undercurrents. "First, the Decration of Intent, then the Blood Sharing, and finally the Affirmation." He looked up. "Are you ready to begin?"

  Elias nodded, setting aside his gss and straightening his posture in a way that reminded Max of their first formal introduction—all aristocratic poise and careful distance. How much had changed between them in these months.

  Max began reading from the manuscript, his schorly precision giving way to unexpected emotion as the words resonated more than he'd anticipated.

  "I seek connection beyond words, understanding beyond speech. Through blood freely given, I offer truth without concealment."

  Elias repeated the phrases, his usual smooth delivery momentarily faltering as the gravity of the moment registered. This wasn't just another vampire ceremony—this was something fundamentally changing between them.

  They moved to the velvet dais, kneeling across from each other as the manuscript directed. Max set aside his gsses, an action more intimate than it appeared—he so rarely removed them despite not needing them at all.

  "With my blood freely offered, I create a bond that distance cannot break," Max continued, his voice steady despite the thundering in his chest. The academic formality that usually characterized his speech had given way to something more genuine.

  The next part was simple in instruction but profound in meaning. Each was to offer their wrist to the other simultaneously, a symbol of mutual trust and vulnerability.

  "Together?" Elias suggested softly.

  Max nodded, and they each extended their wrists. Unlike humans who would need to cut themselves first, vampire fangs were perfectly designed for this purpose. The moment felt suspended in time as they both hesitated, eyes locked on each other's.

  Then, with synchronized movement, they took the offered wrists and drank.

  The moment their fangs pierced skin, the connection formed instantly—not mind reading, but a sudden, overwhelming awareness of each other. Max felt Elias's carefully hidden vulnerability, his fear of being expendable, the genuine affection he'd been trying to dismiss as political convenience. Elias, in turn, experienced Max's self-doubt, his passionate dedication to knowledge, and the unexpected depth of his feelings that had been buried beneath schorly reserve.

  The connection wasn't just emotional—memories fshed between them in fragments: Elias as a child, overlooked in Orlov's court; Max in his human days, passionately lecturing to disinterested students; their first awkward meeting; the moment in the vault when they'd first seen each other as more than political constructs.

  Then, unexpectedly, a fsh of something beyond their own experiences—a fragment of shared sensation, intense but fleeting, gone before either could fully comprehend it.

  They withdrew simultaneously, the physical communion complete but the connection remaining—a warm, persistent awareness of the other's emotional state that hadn't existed before.

  "That was..." Max began, finding words inadequate for perhaps the first time in his schorly life.

  "I know," Elias said simply. "I felt it too."

  They remained kneeling on the dais, the candles burning around them, the supposedly ancient ritual having created something genuinely profound despite its manufactured origins.

  "You weren't what I expected," Elias said finally, a slight tremor in his voice. "When I was sent here."

  "Nor you," Max admitted. "I thought you'd be..."

  "Just a pretty spy?" Elias finished, the newly formed blood connection making it easier to read Max's intended meaning.

  "Essentially, yes." Max touched his own wrist where Elias's fangs had been moments before. "I never expected to actually..." He trailed off, still uncomfortable putting certain feelings into words.

  "Care?" Elias suggested, a ghost of his usual teasing smile returning.

  "That's one word for it," Max agreed.

  The ritual called for one final exchange—the Affirmation—but neither seemed to remember the formal words. Instead, Elias reached out, taking Max's hand in his own.

  "I don't regret it," he said simply. "Whatever happens next, I don't regret this."

  "Nor do I," Max replied, squeezing Elias's hand.

  A sudden knock at the door made them both jump apart like guilty teenagers.

  "Your Grace?" Morris called through the door. "The ritual's customary hour has epsed. Shall I have the night staff prepare refreshments?"

  Max and Elias exchanged a look, both suddenly aware of how the other was feeling through their new connection—embarrassment, lingering wonder, and something deeper neither was quite ready to name.

  "Yes, Morris," Max called back, his schorly composure reasserting itself. "We'll join you shortly."

  As Morris's footsteps receded, Elias began ughing softly.

  "What's so amusing?" Max asked.

  "Just thinking about how we're participating in the grand vampire tradition of pretending we're ancient and mysterious, when really we're just making it up as we go along."

  "Some traditions have merit despite their recent origins," Max said, a hint of defensiveness in his tone.

  Elias stepped closer, the blood connection between them humming with unspoken understanding.

  "I agree completely," he said softly, and for once, Max didn't need any further expnation.

  11:45 PM - Main Corridor, Duke Maximilian's EstateMorris stood at perfect attention as his master and Lord Elias emerged from the ritual chamber. The butler's expression remained impeccably neutral despite noting several interesting details: the lingering way they looked at each other, the slightly mussed state of the Duke's usually immacute hair, and most tellingly, the fact that they were actually voluntarily standing within arm's reach of each other.

  "The blood-refreshments have been prepared in the eastern salon, Your Grace," Morris announced. "And may I be the first to offer congratutions on the successful completion of the consort ritual."

  "Thank you, Morris," Max replied, his usual discomfort with social niceties temporarily forgotten.

  As the pair walked ahead of him down the corridor, Morris noticed one final detail that confirmed his suspicions: their hands brushed against each other's as they walked, and neither pulled away.

  The butler allowed himself the smallest of satisfied smiles. The household staff's betting pool on when the masters would finally acknowledge their feelings had just reached its conclusion, and Morris had just won a substantial sum.

  Some vampire traditions, it seemed, were worth preserving after all.