The evening began as it always did in Duke Maximilian's estate—with the systematic precision of a schor's routine. Night staff activated at sunset, preparing the east wing study for the Duke's emergence from daytime rest. Blood was warmed to precisely 98.6 degrees, documents arranged in order of priority, and the evening's scheduled activities neatly outlined on Maximilian's antique desk.

  By seven o'clock, the ritual of evening blood-breakfast was underway. The formal dining room—a space that had witnessed five decades of solitary meals before Elias's arrival—now accommodated two pce settings on the vast mahogany table. Crystal decanters of warmed blood stood beside fine porcein ptes holding the small selection of actual food that Elias, unlike most vampires, still needed to consume.

  Maximilian entered first, his movements precise as he settled into his chair with the day's reports. His wire-rimmed gsses—a purely habitual accessory from his human days—perched on his nose as he began sorting through territory updates. Despite having the entire table avaible, the night staff had begun setting their pces closer together with each passing week, a silent acknowledgment of the shifting dynamic between the Duke and his consort.

  The soft click of the door announced Elias's arrival. He moved with his characteristic grace, but tonight an unusual tension marked his typically fluid movements. He hesitated before taking his seat, fingers drumming briefly against the chair back before settling in.

  "The eastern border report shows promising stability," Maximilian observed without looking up, sliding a document toward Elias's pce setting. "Your suggestion about the security rotation appears to be working. Less predictability, fewer incidents."

  Elias didn't reach for the document. Instead, he stared at his untouched gss of blood, posture uncharacteristically rigid.

  "I need to tell you something," he said after a long silence, his voice missing its usual smooth cadence.

  Maximilian finally looked up, his schor's gaze noting every detail of Elias's unusual demeanor—the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers gripped the edge of the table, the absence of his customary diplomatic smile.

  "I'm listening," Maximilian replied, setting aside his papers with careful movements.

  Elias took an unnecessary breath—a human gesture that betrayed his nervousness. "When I was sent here by Archduke Orlov, it wasn't just as a political consort." He paused, his violet eyes meeting Maximilian's directly. "I was sent to spy on you. On your territory. On your technological preservation efforts. All of it."

  The confession hung in the silent dining room. Maximilian's expression remained unchanged as he methodically reached for his blood gss, took a careful sip, and returned it to its exact position on the table. The only sound was the soft ticking of an antique clock Maximilian had preserved from the pre-evolution era.

  "I was supposed to gather information, create detailed maps of your security systems," Elias continued, the words flowing faster now. "But I've been sending Orlov nonsense reports about magical devices like 'microwaves' and 'refrigerators'—things that sound fantastical to vampires raised in traditional courts. He wanted your technology, your preserved knowledge. He thought you wouldn't notice because..." He hesitated.

  "Because I'm socially oblivious and too absorbed in my collections?" Maximilian finished for him, his tone perfectly calm.

  "Yes." Elias's voice was barely audible. "I was expendable. An unusual vampire who needs food, a decorative piece from Orlov's court with no real value. If you discovered me, it would be no great loss to him."

  Maximilian took another measured sip of his blood, his face still unreadable behind his unnecessary gsses. The silence stretched until it seemed to fill the entire dining room.

  Then, with the same casual tone one might use to discuss the weather, he said, "I've known for months."

  Elias's composure—maintained through countless court intrigues and dangerous situations—completely colpsed. "You've what?"

  "Known. For months." Maximilian adjusted his gsses with methodical precision. "Since the night you accessed my private vault. I have preserved security systems from the pre-evolution era. Quite effective, actually."

  "But you never said anything," Elias said, confusion evident in his voice. "You've been letting me continue to... to..."

  "Spy?" Maximilian supplied helpfully. "Yes."

  "Why?"

  Maximilian finally set his gss down and looked at Elias directly, his schorly detachment giving way to something more complex. "Initially, scientific curiosity. I wanted to observe what information you prioritized, what you considered valuable. It provided fascinating insights into Orlov's strategic priorities."

  He paused, adjusting his cuff links with unusual attention. "Then, as time passed, my reasons... evolved."

  "Evolved?" Elias repeated, still struggling to process the revetion.

  "I found I didn't want you to leave," Maximilian admitted, the words clearly difficult for someone more comfortable discussing historical artifacts than personal feelings. "Which was... unexpected."

  Before Elias could respond, the dining room door opened with perfect dramatic timing. The butler entered carrying a silver tray with a fresh decanter of warmed blood.

  "Will you be requiring more blood this evening?" he asked with impeccable professional detachment, as though he hadn't walked into the middle of a life-altering confession.

  Maximilian and Elias stared at each other across the table, the moment suspended between them—a spy's confession, a schor's admission, and a butler's impeccable timing creating an absurd tableau.

  "I believe we're adequately supplied at present, Morris," Maximilian finally replied, never taking his eyes off Elias.

  "Very good, Your Grace." Morris bowed and retreated, closing the door with a soft click that echoed in the silence.

  The moment the door closed, an unexpected sound filled the room—Elias's ughter, slightly hysterical but genuine. "I've been terrified for days about confessing, and you've known all along?" He shook his head in disbelief. "I've been sending Orlov carefully crafted misinformation for weeks, trying to protect you while gathering the courage to tell you everything."

  "You've been protecting me?" Maximilian asked, his academic interest clearly piqued.

  "Yes," Elias admitted. "I realized I couldn't go through with it. I couldn't betray..." He hesitated, searching for the right word. "This. Whatever this is."

  Maximilian's expression softened into something rarely seen by anyone in his territory. "I believe traditional vampire literature would cssify this as 'developing genuine feelings despite originally political arrangements.' Though I find most vampire romance novels historically inaccurate and melodramatic."

  "You've read vampire romance novels?" Elias asked, momentarily distracted by this unexpected revetion.

  "For research purposes," Maximilian crified hastily, a hint of embarrassment coloring his typically composed features. "I have an extensive collection of all literary genres from the past several months. They provide valuable cultural insights."

  "Of course," Elias agreed, hiding a smile. "For research."

  A comfortable silence settled between them, the tension of confession giving way to something new and undefined.

  "So," Elias finally said, "what happens now?"

  Maximilian considered the question with his characteristic thoroughness. "I suppose we should discuss the strategic implications of your confession. The political ramifications of your rejection of Orlov's mission. The security protocols we should implement moving forward."

  He paused, then added with uncharacteristic hesitation, "And perhaps, at some point, we might also discuss those... evolved reasons I mentioned."

  "I'd like that," Elias said softly.

  He hesitated before adding, "There's something else you should know. I have... abilities. I can create illusions, small ones. And sometimes I have prophetic dreams. It's why Orlov kept me around despite considering me fwed. He never fully understood what I could do, but he sensed I was useful."

  "That expins several inconsistencies I've observed," Maximilian said, his academic interest clearly piqued. "The vase that seemed to repair itself. The servant who appeared in two pces at once. Fascinating."

  "I'll keep sending Orlov nonsensical reports," Elias said, suddenly looking more confident now that his confession had been accepted. "I've been describing your artifacts in ways that sound magical but are actually just basic technology."

  Maximilian's lips twitched in what might have been the beginnings of a smile. "The amusing part is that Orlov himself was human during pre-evolution times. He knows perfectly well what refrigerators and microwaves are, even though his court has rejected all such technology."

  "Exactly," Elias said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "He can tell I don't recognize basic technology because I was raised in his traditional court where such devices were forbidden. But he can't determine if you actually have some extraordinary magical devices beyond the normal pre-evolution items. He's hesitant to act on my reports because they sound like the confused observations of someone who's never seen technology before."

  "You're not upset? About any of it?" Elias asked cautiously.

  Maximilian considered this with schorly precision. "I find I'm more interested in our future possibilities than past deceptions."

  They looked at each other across the table, the political marriage that had begun as a strategic arrangement now irrevocably changed. Whatever came next would be uncharted territory for both the schorly duke and his no-longer-spying consort.

  Morris, listening discretely from the hallway as any good butler would, allowed himself a small, satisfied smile before continuing with his evening duties. He'd been witnessing this particur story unfold for months—it was about time the main characters caught up.