The prince’s private chambers were dimly lit, the flickering glow of the fireplace casting long shadows across the bookshelves and gilded decor. It was a quiet sanctuary compared to the bustling servants and officials preparing for his birthday celebration, and Celestio was relieved for the moment of rest before returning to his house.
He sat on the plush chair across from Edess, his hands in his lap as he waited for permission to speak. The polished tea table between them bore the weight of Celestio’s thick ledger containing the day’s letters and Celestio’s notes summarizing his interviews with the nobles and emissaries. Each page was filled with meticulous notes: who would be in attendance, what their concerns were, the gifts they had brought, what topics the prince should address – or avoid – during the celebration.
Prince Edess, however, did not seem particularly interested in the reports. He laid on the sofa, his ankles crossed on the far armrest and a teacup held on his chest. Another cup sat on the table for Celestio, its steam drifting lazily upwards. The prince’s clothing had been exchanged for a simpler tunic and breeches, though the fine embroidery on the cuffs still spoke of his position.
“You’ve outdone yourself, as always, Celes,” Edess said as he warily eyed the ledger. “I’m sure every page is invaluable. But do I really have to read them all?”
Celestio’s expression didn’t falter. “It would be to your benefit,” he replied evenly. “The notes contain everything you need to know to navigate the celebration successfully. I will test your knowledge tomorrow night.”
The prince laughed and took a sip from his delicate cup. “I should have guessed. Fine. I’ll get to them. Since you’re here, is there anything you think I should be aware of right now?”
Celestio hesitated for only a moment before speaking. “There is only one matter that caught my concern,” he said. “Lord Kamaria of Almwick in the southwest of Soura will not be attending. He has sent his fourth son, Sir Sabas, in his stead.”
The prince raised an eyebrow. “That’s the town under quarantine,” he remembered.
“Indeed. Young Sabas was away when the plague struck and he has not returned since. Lord Kamaria wishes he could attend in person, of course.”
Edess made a face unbecoming of royalty. “As long as he doesn’t dare bring the plague to us.”
“Of course,” Celestio said. “I recommend that you acknowledge Sir Sabas’s presence as a gesture of goodwill. His family’s continued loyalty to the crown is critical, especially once the quarantine is lifted. We cannot allow them to think they have been abandoned during their time of need.”
The prince gave a small nod, his gaze drifting toward the fire beyond his feet. “You always think of everything, don’t you?”
“I try.”
The room fell into a comfortable silence, the crackling of the fire filling the space between them. Edess’s gaze lingered on the reports for a moment before he leaned back in the sofa and stretched.
“I’m proud of you, Edy,” Celestio said, his tone softer as he addressed his friend. “King Conrad has been away for years, but the kingdom remains strong under your guidance. You’re proving yourself as a capable ruler.”
Edess chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. He sat up, his feet dropping to the floor as he placed his teacup on the table, and he patted the now-empty space on his sofa for Celestio to join him.
Celestio moved to the sofa and lowered himself with his usual grace. Edess leaned against him without hesitation, resting his head on the older man’s shoulder. Celestio smiled to himself and leaned his own head on top of the prince’s. Edess had grown fond of the gesture when he was old enough to learn how to write own name. He didn’t seem to enjoy affection as often anymore, so Celestio gladly accepted any gestures when offered.
“And Sir Celestine, as well,” Edess murmured. “Our fathers have always been more interested in the battlefield than their own children.”
“We’ll always had each other,” Celestio assured him.
He felt Edess’s eyelashes flutter on his neck.
“You’re always so tense these days,” Edess said, his voice soft. “Even when it’s just the two of us. Don’t you ever relax?”
“How can I relax when your twentieth birthday is in a few days?” Celestio replied. “Would you rather have a subpar celebration?”
The prince sighed, his breath warm against Celestio’s neck. “Another day, then. I want to you stay late and keep me company. I get bored in the evenings.”
Another silence fell between them, heavier this time. The prince’s head remained on Celestio’s shoulder, his presence warm and solid. Celestio’s mind raced for a moment before he took a slow, steadying breath. “Edy,” he began, his voice carefully restrained, “I need to ask you something… personal.”
He felt the prince’s eyebrow arch against his neck. “Hm?”
Celestio hesitated, his gaze dropping briefly to the floor before meeting the top of the prince’s head. “Can you – can you smell my pheromones?”
The question hung in the air for a moment. Then Edess slowly straightened, his casual demeanor giving way to something more serious. His dark eyes narrowed as he studied Celestio’s face.
“Not very,” he said, and Celestio thought he could detect a tinge of disappointment. The prince sighed and put his head back on Celestio’s shoulder, breathing in deeply next to the scent glands on Celestio’s neck.
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Celestio’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though the tension in his jaw remained. It made sense that, by now, the suppressant was wearing off. He took it every night before going to bed, so its effects would be weaker now than it had been in the afternoon.
Edess grumbled. “Your suppressant is the most effective humans can brew. I know your scent exactly, and even I can barely smell it.” He raised his head again, regarding Celestio with quiet intensity. “Why are you asking me this? Are you concerned that your suppressant is losing its effectiveness?” He sat up straight. “Did one of the nobles behave inappropriately towards you?” he demanded, his expression darkening.
Celestio hesitated, his fingers brushing against the sleeve of his robe. “I… I’m not certain,” he admitted.
Edess frowned, his sharp eyes narrowing further. “What happened?”
Celestio hesitated again, weighing his words carefully. “One of the guests claimed to have caught my scent, though he seemed to mistake it for the flowers the servants kept in the room.”
The prince’s frown deepened, and his fingers tightened at the edge of the sofa cushions. “He said that to you?”
“Yes,” Celestio replied. “It caught me off guard, but I dismissed him quickly.”
Edess was silent for a moment, his jaw tightening as he considered the information. Then he rose from the sofa, crossing the room until he reached his fireplace. He seemed to stare at the mantel for a moment, admiring his extensive wine collection, before returning and standing directly in front of Celestio. His instincts flared as he looked down at his Omega advisor, and Celestio had to breathe shallower, trying to avoid breathing in too much of his prince’s scent.
“Has anyone else said anything like this to you?” Edess asked, his voice low and steady.
“No,” Celestio said firmly. “This is the first time anyone has mentioned my scent in years, thanks to the suppressant. It’s always been perfectly effective.”
“And the name of this noble who made my advisor uncomfortable?”
Celestio shook his head. “I met far too many, and I only remembered it now when you were next to me. I have no increased concern for my well-being.”
Edess studied him for another moment before nodding. “Fine. But if anyone so much as sniffs at you, you will tell me immediately. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” he said quietly.
Edess nodded again, his posture relaxing slightly. “I will have the castle alchemist prepare a stronger batch. I’ll make sure they prioritize it.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Celestio assured him. “The current formula has always been the most potent that anyone can make. During the celebrations, I will monitor my condition more closely.”
The prince tilted his head, his dark eyes glinting with faint amusement. Then he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Celestio. “You’re always so calm and composed, Celestio. I hope you’re not misplacing your trust.”
The streets of Soura’s capital city were quiet by the time Celestio reached his familial house, the soft glow of lanterns casting long shadows across the cobblestones. His house stood apart from the neighboring residences, a cozy wood-and-stone structure with dark beams and whitewashed walls. Ivy crept along the edges of the stone foundation and the peaked roof loomed against the night sky.
Celestio unlocked the door and slipped inside quickly. The faint creak of the hinges echoed in the stillness, a sound as familiar to him as the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of the front room. The house was dark, save for the faint moonlight streaming through the windows, but Celestio didn’t bother lighting any other lanterns. He knew every corner of this place as well as he knew the castle.
It was his home, but it felt hollow without his father’s booming presence. Sir Celestine, like the king, had departed on crusade to the southern border at Bakadana years ago, leaving Celestio to manage both the household and the prince. To cut back on unnecessary costs, he had dismissed the servants years ago, though one came by once a week to deliver groceries and wash his laundry. Celestio preferred the solitude, anyway.
He ascended the narrow staircase, the polished wood cool beneath his fingers as he ran his hand along the banister. Each step brought him closer to the small study at the end of the hall. He passed through his bedroom and opened the door, wincing at the usual high-pitched squeak that was loud enough to wake the dead. He had been meaning to fix it since before his father had left, but it was an annoyance that he had grown accustomed to over the years. It revealed a room lined with towering bookshelves and a heavy desk that bore the weight of countless tomes, ledgers, and scrolls that he hadn’t had time to touch in ages.
His gaze lingered on the desk for a moment, his thoughts drifting back to the day’s events. Edess, the nobles… It was a web of politics and power, and Celestio was at the center of it, pulling the threads to ensure the kingdom remained stable. It was exhausting, but it was necessary for the sake of Edess.
He tossed his ledger on his desk and returned to his bedroom. It was simple and orderly, much like the man who inhabited it. A large canopy bed stood against one wall, its dark wood frame polished to a shine. The fireplace next to the study door sat dark, the nights still too warm to require the extra heat. A small table and chair sat near the hearth, alongside a battered trunk that he used for the rare times he traveled.
Celestio removed his outer jacket and hung it on the back of the door, revealing the crisp white shirt and dark trousers he wore beneath. He rolled up his sleeves, exposing muscular forearms that Edess teased him as being an unexpected contrast to his scholarly appearance. Although he no longer needed the energy and strength to run after the prince during games of tag, Celestio maintained a strict regimen of physical exercise. Additionally, the exercise meant he stood a better chance of defending himself should the need arise.
He lowered himself to the floor and began his nightly exercise routine. The faint lantern light danced across his skin, highlighting the defined lines of his shoulders and arms. By the time he finished, a sheen of sweat clung to his brow and his heartbeat thrummed in his ears.
Rising to his feet, Celestio rolled his shoulders and returned downstairs, heading to the small kitchen in the back of the house. He savored the silence and darkness as he ate, peering out the window to the starry sky above the city, then went to the large basin in the kitchen corner to wash up.
When he returned to his bedroom, he approached the small table near the fireplace. A narrow, dark bottle sat waiting next to a short stack of shot glasses. He uncorked the bottle, the faint scent of the Omega pheromone suppressant wafting into the air. It was bitter and the foulest thing he ever tasted, but it was also a necessary concoction he had been taking nightly ever since his pheromones developed and revealed him – disappointingly – as an Omega. In a court as politically charged as theirs, such a scent could be dangerous and exploited by those seeking to create disturbances in Prince Edess’s power. Celestio could not afford to take that risk. The suppressant was a necessity, a reminder of what he was and what he could never allow himself to be.
He poured the liquid into a clean shot glass and he hesitated, his reflection flickering on the dark surface of the drink. Then, with a sharp inhale, he downed it in one gulp, the bitterness coating his tongue and burning its way down his throat. He exhaled slowly, setting the glass back on the table with a quiet clink, separate from the clean ones so the servant would know to wash it.
Finally, he climbed into bed, pulling the covers over him as he curled onto his right side. The only sound in his house was the faint rustle of the wind against the windows. Celestio closed his eyes, his mind already running through the list of tasks that awaited him in the morning as they continued preparations for Edess’s banquet.
