The grandfather clock in Duke Maximilian's study chimed midnight, its sonorous tones echoing through the corridors of his estate. Max gnced up from the territorial maps spread across his mahogany desk, pushing his completely unnecessary gsses higher on his nose. The gsses were a stubborn habit from his human days—fifty-five years as a vampire had done nothing to break it.

  "They're te," he muttered, straightening a stack of reports for the third time. The border incidents had increased over the past week—nothing major yet, but the pattern was concerning. Rival nobles testing his defenses, perhaps, or something more coordinated from the Orlov faction. Either way, it required attention.

  Max checked his watch—an antique mechanical timepiece he'd preserved from pre-evolution days—and frowned. He'd instructed the staff to bring Lord Elias at midnight precisely. Had something happened? His mind immediately conjured seventeen different disaster scenarios, each more improbable than the st.

  The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted his catastrophizing. Max hurriedly rearranged the security reports, then reconsidered and deliberately misaligned them, not wanting to appear too eager or organized.

  "Your Grace," his night butler announced from the doorway, "Lord Elias has arrived for the security meeting you requested."

  Elias swept into the study with that effortless grace that still made Max's dead heart do peculiar things. Tonight he wore a midnight blue jacket that brought out the violet in his eyes—eyes that shifted like mood rings depending on his emotions or when he was using his illusion abilities.

  "Duke Maximilian," Elias said with the careful pronunciation of someone who had memorized formal greetings without fully understanding their context. "I understand we have... security matters to discuss?" His slight hesitation betrayed his unfamiliarity with the technical terminology.

  Max nodded stiffly, gesturing toward the maps. "Yes. Quite urgent. Border incidents. Increasing frequency. Potentially problematic." He winced internally at his fragmented sentences. Fifty-five years as a vampire nobleman, and he still couldn't manage basic conversation without sounding like a particurly awkward telegraph.

  "I see," Elias said, moving closer to examine the maps with genuine curiosity rather than practiced diplomacy. At only 21 years old, he cked the decades of court experience that older nobles had accumuted since the evolution. "May I?" he asked, gesturing toward the documents.

  "Of course. Your perspective would be... valuable." Max knew exactly why it would be valuable—Elias's background in Orlov's court gave him unique insight into traditional faction tactics—but he maintained the pretense that this was simply general strategic consultation.

  As Elias leaned over the maps, Max caught the faint scent of the cologne he'd recently started wearing—something with notes of cedar and night-blooming flowers. Max had found himself stocking the estate with that particur fragrance, though he'd die (again) before admitting it.

  "These marks," Elias said, pointing to the red dots along the border, "they show where people came into your nd without permission?" His question was straightforward, cking the ornate phrasing typical of vampire nobility, but astute nonetheless.

  Max blinked, momentarily surprised by Elias's direct approach. "That's... precisely correct. They're probing for weak points in our surveilnce system."

  "It's what Orlov always does first," Elias added casually, then froze momentarily, as if realizing he'd revealed too much.

  "Is it?" Max asked innocently, secretly delighted by this confirmation.

  Elias recovered smoothly. "That's what I heard the older nobles say. I wasn't supposed to be listening." He smiled disarmingly. "Should we make a pn to stop them?"

  For the next several hours, they worked side by side, analyzing reports, marking vulnerable points on the maps, and developing security protocols. Despite his social awkwardness, Max found these strategic sessions with Elias surprisingly comfortable. Their minds worked well together—Max's historical knowledge and analytical approach complementing Elias's intuitive understanding of court dynamics and fresh perspective.

  "What if we move the night guards to these three pces?" Elias suggested, marking points on the eastern border with a surprising strategic instinct that contrasted with his limited formal education. "And change when they patrol so no one can predict it?"

  "The unpredictability factor would be highly advantageous," Max nodded enthusiastically, automatically shifting to more academic nguage before catching himself. "That's... a really good idea, actually." He reached for the same marker as Elias, their fingers brushing briefly. Max pulled back as if shocked, knocking over an inkwell that narrowly missed the maps.

  "Watch out!" Elias excimed, moving papers out of harm's way with supernatural speed.

  Max grabbed tissues from his desk, blotting the spilled ink with methodical precision. "Terribly sorry. Spatial awareness has never been my... that is, I tend to... accidents happen with arming frequency in my vicinity." He grimaced. "As you've no doubt noticed."

  Elias's expression softened. "I like that about you, actually."

  "You... what?" Max looked up, genuinely startled.

  "The way you get excited about things and forget to be perfect," Elias crified, speaking more naturally than his usual careful court manner. "In Orlov's court, everyone's always performing, never real. I was just decoration there—pretty to look at, not supposed to think."

  Max felt momentarily speechless—a rare condition for someone who could lecture for hours about the historical significance of pre-evolution doorknobs. "They underestimated you," he said finally.

  Elias shrugged, an unrefined gesture that betrayed his youth. "They never bothered to teach me much. Just how to stand properly and look decorative at parties."

  "Their loss," Max said simply, then cleared his throat. "We should continue with the security pns."

  As the night progressed, they moved from the desk to the more comfortable seating area near the firepce, surrounding themselves with maps, reports, and security diagrams. The grandfather clock chimed three, then four, but neither noticed the passing hours. Max found himself rexing, his usual social anxiety fading as they focused on the tactical challenge.

  "What about using your..." Max gestured vaguely, conscious of nearby staff, "your special talents to help with security?"

  Elias gnced toward the door, ensuring no servants were within earshot. "I could make fake targets with my... trick," he suggested quietly, avoiding the technical term 'illusions' that he had only recently learned to describe his innate abilities. "Make them think they found a weak spot when really it's a trap."

  Max nodded eagerly. "Combined with my pre—" he caught himself, lowering his voice, "my special tools, we could create quite effective countermeasures."

  "You know," Elias said, leaning closer, "for two people who supposedly only married for politics, we work really well together."

  "Is that unexpected?" Max asked, genuinely curious.

  "The other consorts I knew never actually did anything important with their... husbands?" Elias hesitated over the word, clearly still getting used to the concept. "They just showed up at parties together and lived separate lives."

  "Oh," Max said, defting slightly. "If you'd prefer that arrangement—"

  "No!" Elias interjected, then composed himself. "I meant it as a good thing. I like working with you. It's... nice." The simple word carried more sincerity than any eborate court compliment.

  Max felt a smile tugging at his lips. "As do I."

  They returned to the security pns with renewed focus, but something had shifted subtly between them. The formality had decreased further, repced by a comfortable, almost intimate working retionship.

  By the time the clock chimed six, they had developed a comprehensive security strategy, complete with patrol schedules, response protocols, and contingency pns. The first hints of dawn were beginning to lighten the sky outside the windows—a warning for vampires that daylight sleep would soon be necessary.

  "We should finish these st details," Max said, stifling a yawn. Vampire or not, the approaching dawn affected him physically.

  "Just a little more," Elias agreed, his own eyes growing heavy, the formal court posture he usually maintained slipping away as fatigue set in. "Need to check the east border pn one more time..."

  As they leaned over the documents together on the sofa, the combination of approaching dawn and mental fatigue took its toll. Max found his eyelids growing impossibly heavy, the words on the page blurring. Beside him, Elias's head nodded forward once, twice, before coming to rest against Max's shoulder.

  Max should have moved, should have called for staff to escort them to their separate chambers before daylight immobilized them completely. Instead, he felt himself sliding into daytime sleep, his st conscious thought noting how perfectly Elias fit against his side.

  When Max's eyes opened at sunset the following evening, the first thing he registered was warmth pressed against him. The second was the mortifying realization that he and Elias had fallen asleep together in the library, limbs entangled in a manner that could not possibly be expined as anything other than intimate.

  The third realization, most arming of all, was that they were not alone.

  "Good evening, Your Grace," his night butler said with maddening professionalism. "I've taken the liberty of bringing fresh clothing for yourself and Lord Elias, as well as warmed blood for your evening meal."

  Elias stirred against him, violet eyes blinking open in confusion before widening in arm as he took in their position and audience. He sat up so quickly he nearly fell off the sofa.

  "This is—" Max began.

  "We were—" Elias said simultaneously.

  They exchanged panicked gnces, then both turned to the butler, who maintained an expression of perfect neutrality that somehow made the situation worse.

  Max tried again. "What you're witnessing is a perfectly logical outcome of tactical pnning requirements."

  "Indeed, Your Grace," the butler replied, his tone revealing nothing.

  "We needed to be close to... look at the maps properly," Elias added, his vocabury simplifying under stress as he straightened his rumpled clothing with as much dignity as possible.

  "The complex nature of border security necessitated extended close-quarter analysis," Max continued, reaching for the most technical expnation possible.

  "Naturally, Your Grace," the butler said, pcing their evening clothes and blood containers on a nearby table. "The staff noted your tactical proximity requirements and took care not to disturb your strategic positioning during daylight hours."

  Something in the butler's tone made Max suspect that "tactical proximity requirements" would become the staff's preferred euphemism by nightfall. He'd have to significantly increase the household budget for discretionary bonuses this month.

  "Your evening schedule has been adjusted accordingly," the butler continued. "The territorial patrol captains will arrive at nine for briefing on the new security protocols."

  "Thank you," Max said stiffly. "That will be all."

  As the butler retreated, closing the doors behind him, Max and Elias sat in excruciating silence for several seconds.

  "Well," Elias finally said, dropping any pretense of formal court nguage, "that was..."

  "Mortifying?" Max suggested.

  "I was going to say 'nice,'" Elias replied, a smile pying at his lips, his youth and ck of aristocratic polish showing in the simple honesty of his response.

  Despite his embarrassment, Max found himself smiling back. "Do you suppose anyone will believe our tactical proximity expnation?"

  "Not a chance," Elias ughed, the sound warming Max more effectively than any firepce could. "Though I must say, as security strategies go, I found it really comfortable."

  Max adjusted his gsses, a flustered habit that persisted despite his perfect vampire vision. "Perhaps we should implement such tactical arrangements more regurly," he suggested, surprising himself with his boldness. "For security purposes, of course."

  "Of course," Elias agreed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "After all, keeping your nd safe is very important."

  As they prepared for the evening ahead, changing into fresh clothes and consuming their blood breakfast, Max reflected that some political arrangements turned out to be far more rewarding than expected. And if the night staff exchanged knowing looks when they entered the dining room together, well, that was simply the price of effective security pnning.