Trigger Warning: Sexual assault is described in this chapter, and from here on in, this will be a recurring theme in Light & Reverie. If this is something that is difficult for you to read, please take care of yourself and refrain. 

It was not often that Simon encountered Mari through anything other than notes left on his desk in the morning. Entering his office to find her standing with her arms crossed over her chest and her thick brows narrowed was immediately worrying. He furrowed his brow. “Is everything alright?” Simon already knew the answer to that.

Mari’s face was pale. “Simon, where is the scepter?”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean? The second section of the basement, toward the back.” He didn’t have the item index number memorized, but as he watched Mari’s face drop, he was certain that didn’t matter. “What is this about?”

”The First Scepter is missing from its case. You are the only archival employee who would have unmonitored access to it.” Her hands flexed and her eyes fell shut. “In all my years, we have never had an artifact stolen or even missing.”

Simon’s stomach sank.

”Aria.” His voice was hardly a whisper.

”Did you give her your key?” Mari had never sounded so urgent.

Simon shook his head quickly. “No, I would never—“ He raised his hands in defense. “No. But she was still studying when I left. If she took the key from my desk…”

As Simon stepped forward, Mari’s hand was already in his drawer. Her face scrunched. Simon peeked inside. The drawer contained nothing but blank sheets of parchment.

”I will contact the royal family.”

”Mari, no.” It was as if his entire body had gone cold. He swayed in place, grasping the edge of his desk. That was going to ruin everything. If the royal family held any malice for him, it was going to destroy this entire plan. If he was removed from his position, he was never going to find another that paid as well. “I’ll get it back. I know Aria. I— I think I know where she’ll be.”

Her eyes softened, but she shook her head. “No. I feel for you, but this is your responsibility. I can’t refuse to contact the royal family when their property has been stolen. Especially this.”

She moved past him, sighing audibly. “Wait here. I’ll reach out and they’ll ask you what you know.”

Simon didn’t move. As the door shut behind her, Simon wondered if there were any feasible methods of execution in this room. His life was over anyway. Either he was going to be indebted to the royal family or he was going to be fired. Possibly both.

If they were kind, they would send Isador. It would be easier if he sat down and listened to the man soften the blow and offer him a thousand hopeful solutions.

Isador would give him the rest of the money if he asked.

No. That wasn’t an option.

Besides, for something of this magnitude, it was most likely that one of the monarchs would approach him. The disappointment in their eyes would be crushing, even if he had never intended to fulfill their wishes of marriage into the royal family.

Simon straightened, smoothing his jacket and tying back his hair. The silk ribbon and velvet fabric felt like barbs against his fingertips. He may as well be presentable for this. If he pleaded his case and made himself appear decently professional and in control of it, perhaps they would offer enough sympathy to allow him to resolve this himself.

The sound of a knock at the door eliminated any loose hope he had piled together, scattering it across the floor. Simon turned, clasping his hands in front of him.

There was a worse option than Their Majesties.

Dorian stood in a shimmering gray suit, black hair dripping from his scalp like glimmering tar. With gently tanned skin and piercing ocean eyes, he was a perfectly handsome man.

”Mm, I hear you’ve been causing trouble, darling.”

The click of the doorknob was like an explosion.

Simon bowed. “My apologies, Your Highness. I did not mean for this to happen.”

Dorian’s tongue clicked. “Explain yourself.” He stepped closer, the heel of his clean leather booths clicking against the wooden floor.

”The key to the archives was stolen from my desk after I left.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I know who did it. I can get it back. I swear.” He was sweating. The back of his neck was hot and damp, the collar of his shirt sticking to it.

”You swear, do you?” Dorian was closer now. “Look me in the eyes.”

Simon pulled his gaze upward. Dorian’s eyes were too blue, always looking too intensely. It made Simon’s skin crawl. “Your Highness.” His tone was sharper than he had intended, but it served as a warning. The sharp corner of his desk dug into his hips as he took a step backward.

Dorian had never been one for picking up cues. It was not that he did not notice them, but rather that he saw them and left them lying on the floor. Unimportant. There was so little space between them. “I’m merciful. I know you love your work. No one else knows of your mistake. If you cooperate, I’m willing to forget the whole thing.”

Simon’s breath came more quickly as the space between them was closed, Dorian’s groin pressing hard against his own. The sweat on his neck grew cold and his head became light. Sharp hands gripped his shoulders, pinning him down. He gasped as his back connected with the back of his desk. “Dorian—“

”Shh. You know as well as I do that my engagement is a farce. You’re the real thing.” Hot breath spewed against Simon’s neck. “You could be everything. You know that.” Soft lips touched Simon’s skin and he felt his own face contort into something squirming and ugly.

”Dorian, get off me.”

Something hard pressed against Simon’s thigh. “Why?” Dorian’s hips shifted and his breath quivered against Simon’s neck.

Dorian had never been especially strong. He was a snake, not a warrior. Simon hissed as teeth nipped at his flesh and thrust himself forward, throwing his arms before him. Dorian’s weight wasn’t enough to hold him down, but the dizziness that spun the room around them was violent. As Dorian stumbled backward, Simon pressed a hand to his own chest, curling in on himself as he struggled to keep himself from falling or vomiting.

Dorian moved forward again. Simon rose to his feet, throwing his hand forward to keep the distance between them. He winced as the back of his hand struck Dorian’s cheek and grit his teeth when he felt his ring snag against flesh.

The scarlet against Dorian’s skin cut a striking image.

”This needs to stop,” Simon hissed. “Even if I wanted you, and I do not, I wouldn’t do that to Isador.”

He shouldn’t have said that. The fire in Dorian’s eyes the moment that his brother’s name was mentioned was beyond anything Simon had seen before. He half expected that the man would grab at him and try again. But when Simon hurried out of the room, Dorian didn’t attempt to stop him or to follow.

Simon wanted to curl into a ball there on the floor of the archives, but more than that, he wanted distance between himself and Dorian. As his stomach churned and his heart pounded, he walked as quickly as he could past Aria’s empty desk and out the doors.

He had pushed Dorian before. He had rejected his advances dozens of times.

Simon had never drawn blood.

The smallest speck of scarlet was striking on the gold of his ring. Simon’s hands trembled at his sides. The ringing echo of his heels against marble floors was nearly as rapid as his heartbeat.

He was done for.

It was one thing to brush Isador off of him or swat his hand away. The man always took it as a joke. He had never taken anything seriously and he wouldn’t start with that. But Dorian…

Dorian was a viper always ready to strike.

This would be used against him.