Take Me Away, Dark Lord!

Count Valerius was currently experiencing a full-blown, systemic biological failure. The pompous, arrogant nobleman’s face had drained of all color, replacing it with a sickly, nauseous shade of gray.

His jaw hung open so wide it practically unhinged. His thick hands were trembling violently around his gold-tipped walking stick.

’He... the Archduke... the Reaper...’ Valerius’s brain short-circuited, his traditionalist, homophobic, aristocratic mind entirely unable to process the horrifying audio data he had just intercepted. ’The tutor... all night... the physical exertion... and, and, even gagging?!’

Behind the Count, the situation was even more chaotic.

Caspian von Nacht, the tall, brooding, tragic brother, had clamped both of his hands firmly over his own mouth.

He had turned around, facing the wall of the corridor.

His broad shoulders were shaking uncontrollably. He was biting his own tongue so hard he was drawing blood, actively, desperately fighting a losing battle against a hysterical, explosive fit of laughter.

’He’s talking about stealth missions,’ Caspian’s sharp, military mind realized instantly, tears of suppressed hilarity streaming down his face. ’Kaelus is talking about espionage. And that absolute madman of a tutor knows exactly how it sounds. He is playing my brother like a fiddle. Oh, by the Light, this is the greatest day of my life!’

But the true, unmitigated casualty of the performance was Elara.

The beautiful, elegant, and emotionally repressed sister was currently undergoing a catastrophic, unprecedented fujoshi awakening.

Elara had pressed her back against the marble pillar in the hallway.

Her face was flushed a brilliant, burning, violent shade of crimson. Her hands were clamped over her burning cheeks.

She was physically twisting her torso back and forth, shifting her weight from foot to foot, emitting a series of high-pitched, suppressed, squealing noises that sounded like a tea kettle boiling over.

’My brother...’ Elara’s mind raced, her emerald eyes spinning with highly inappropriate, romanticized imagery. ’The cold, untouchable Reaper... and the handsome, bespectacled, tragic scholar... all night... rough... demanding... oh my gods... OH, MY GODS!’

She peered around the pillar, desperately trying to catch a glimpse through the cracked door.

She saw Roan’s unbuttoned, sweaty shirt. She saw Kaelus sitting in his leather chair, looking incredibly dark, dominant, and demanding.

Elara let out another muffled, strangled squeal, her knees literally buckling under the overwhelming power of the shipping dynamic. She slid down the pillar, crouching on the blueberry carpet, burying her glowing red face in her silk skirts.

Count Valerius finally managed to unstick his paralyzed vocal cords.

”This... this is an abomination!” Valerius shrieked, his voice cracking into a horrified, scandalized falsetto. He couldn’t even bring himself to push the door fully open. He slammed his walking stick against the doorframe, refusing to look inside. ”Kaelus! You... you degenerate! You filth!”

Inside the study, Kaelus frowned.

He looked toward the cracked door, his violet eyes narrowing at the sound of his Uncle’s screaming.

”What is the old fool shrieking about now?” Kaelus muttered, confused, completely missing the fact that Roan was currently biting his own lip to stop himself from laughing out loud.

Kaelus stood up, striding toward the door and throwing it wide open.

The Archduke stood in the doorway, towering and imposing.

Roan stepped up right behind him, casually leaning a hand against the doorframe, his shirt still highly scandalous, offering the Uncle a lazy, thoroughly exhausted, post-coital smirk.

”Is there a problem, Count Valerius?” Kaelus demanded, his voice cold and hostile.

Count Valerius took three rapid, terrified steps backward, raising his walking stick as if to ward off an evil spirit. He looked at Kaelus, then he looked at the half-undressed, panting tutor.

”A problem?!” Valerius spat, his face twisting in absolute, unadulterated revulsion. ”You... you pervert! You engage in this... this foul, unnatural sodomy in broad daylight?! While your innocent ward is in the estate?!”

Kaelus blinked.

The terrifying, brilliant, geopolitical mastermind of the North completely stalled.

His brain processed the words ’unnatural sodomy’ and ’pervert’.

He looked at Valerius’s horrified face.

He looked at Caspian, who was currently sliding down the wall in a silent, suffocating fit of laughter. He looked at Elara, who was crouching on the floor, bright red, peeking at Roan’s exposed chest through her fingers.

And finally, Kaelus slowly turned his head. He looked at Professor Roan.

He took in the unbuttoned shirt. The messy hair. The sweat.

He played back the conversation in his head.

’I am aching in places I didn’t know existed.’

’I will not be gentler.’

’The positions you forced me into.’

’I will gag you.’

The realization hit Duke Kaelus von Nacht like a speeding freight train composed of solid iron.

The blood instantly drained from Kaelus’s face, leaving him paler than a ghost. His violet eyes widened, and his jaw slackened.

”I...” Kaelus wheezed, his voice failing him completely. He took a stumbling, horrified step backward, pointing a trembling, black-gloved finger at Roan. ”You... you didn’t... we weren’t... I meant the ventilation shafts!”

Roan didn’t break character. The Archmage possessed the theatrical discipline of a god.

Roan simply lowered his eyelashes, letting out a soft, highly scandalous, incredibly fond sigh. He reached out and gently, casually rested his pale hand directly on Kaelus’s shoulder.

”Shh, Kaelus,” Roan murmured, his voice loud enough for the hallway to hear, dripping with fake, protective affection. ”You don’t have to hide our truth anymore. Let the Uncle judge us. Our shared secret is beautiful. Even if you are a brute.”

”DO NOT TOUCH ME!” Kaelus roared, violently swatting Roan’s hand away, jumping backward as if the Archmage had caught fire.

The Archduke’s face was now cycling through a spectrum of colors, finally landing on a violent shade of crimson. ”I AM NOT! WE ARE NOT! HE WAS CARRYING BOXES! HE IS A COVERT OPERATIVE!”

”A likely story for a degenerate!” Valerius shrieked, clutching his chest.

The Count looked at the portfolio of marriage candidates he had brought with him. He looked at the furious, blushing Kaelus and the half-naked tutor.

The Uncle realized with horrifying certainty that the noblewomen of the Capital were completely, permanently useless as leverage.

The Archduke bent the wrong way. The bloodline was dead.

”You have ruined the Nacht legacy!” Valerius bellowed, throwing the velvet portfolio onto the floor in sheer, scandalized despair. ”I will not stand here and bear witness to this filth! I am leaving! I must cleanse my eyes with holy water! Do not contact me! You are dead to the Council, Kaelus! Dead!”

Count Valerius turned and fled.

He literally hiked up his gold-embroidered robes and sprinted down the hallway as fast as his plump legs could carry him, screaming for his carriage.

Caspian finally lost the battle.

The brooding brother collapsed onto the blueberry carpet, clutching his stomach, howling with loud, barking, tears-streaming-down-his-face laughter.

Elara scrambled to her feet, still bright red.

She looked at Kaelus, then at Roan.

She offered a frantic, highly supportive, incredibly awkward thumbs-up gesture before turning and fleeing after the Count, emitting tiny, high-pitched squeals all the way down the corridor.

Kaelus stood frozen in the doorway.

The Uncle was gone. The marriage threat was completely, permanently eradicated.

But the cost was his dignity.

Kaelus slowly, mechanically turned his head back to Roan. The Archduke’s aura began to violently manifest. Black frost rapidly covered the walls.

”I am going to kill you,” Kaelus whispered, his voice vibrating with such intense, homicidal embarrassment that the stained-glass windows cracked. ”I am going to flay the flesh from your bones, and I am going to feed you to the hounds.”

Roan didn’t look terrified.

The Archmage simply grinned, casually buttoning his shirt back up.

”You can’t kill me, Your Grace,” Roan chuckled, picking up his clipboard. ”If I die, who will do your heavy lifting in the dark?”

”I WILL BURN YOU TO ASH!” Kaelus roared, drawing Requiem, completely abandoning his sanity.

As the Archduke chased the cackling, highly evasive Archmage through the primary study, swinging a priceless sword and shattering antique furniture, the true mastermind of the operation sat safely out of the blast radius.

Seraphina von Nacht was perched comfortably on a high window seat at the far end of the corridor.

She was kicking her small boots back and forth, happily munching on one of the remaining, slightly burnt chocolate-chip cookies.

She watched Caspian laughing on the floor.

She listened to the sounds of Kaelus destroying his own office.