Aselet burst into his room at the inn, slammed the door shut, and leaned back against it, trying to catch his breath. His heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might leap out of his chest. He slowly slid down the wall to the floor, clenching his fists, and suddenly felt a heat spreading across his face. First, his cheeks flared up. Then his forehead. Then his nose.

"Kherai!" he swore, conveniently remembering a word from his homeland.

He had been pinned under men before—during fights, of course, sparring with his brother, training with comrades. But never, never had it stirred such a strange tremor within him. Such a yearning. But now, with the danger past, his body suddenly reminded him: you liked it. Liked how that mysterious nobleman pressed him to the ground with his hips. Liked how he loomed over him, liked the sound of his magnetic, low voice.

And Aselet swore again, more crudely. He had made love to women. Only women. He hadn't thought of men in that way — but hadn't felt any aversion either. Yet now his body was behaving as if it had been swapped out.

"I need to get out of here," he said, abruptly getting to his feet. "Before I get tangled up in something even more stupid!"

He had absolutely no need for heart problems.

***

The evening air was cool, and a peaceful silence surrounded him when Moe finally escaped the stuffy chambers. He took a deep breath, trying to push out of his head the annoying drone of negotiations, endless reports, and especially—those cursed wardrobe curators who seemed to have conspired to drive him insane.

"Your Highness, this shade of purple will accentuate…"

"No."

He fled to the garden as if to a safe harbor, dreaming only of quiet, a cup of Iltal black tea, and the book he hadn't been able to finish for three days. But fate, it seemed, decided he hadn't had enough irritation for the day.

A shadow flitted between the bushes. Moe froze. Someone was in the garden. His body reacted before his mind—years of training with his cousin had done their job. A lunge, a grab, and he was already pinning the intruder to the ground, feeling a lithe, tense body under his fingers. And then he saw him.

Perfect features, golden eyes, black hair spilled across the grass. For a moment, Moe even thought it was a girl—he was so beautiful and supple. But the hard hips beneath him, muscular and strong, and something else between them left no doubt: a man.

And then the scent reached him. Light, barely perceptible, but familiar. Tea. His favorite Iltal black tea. Moe frowned. What was an Imperial spy doing here? The relations between their countries were… amicable. Well, as much as possible in politics.

Just what he needed, he thought, already envisioning having to deal with this new complication. Suddenly a guard hailed him, and he quickly sent him away—no point in causing a scene. And beneath him… the pretty one beneath him suddenly laughed. Fired questions at him. What a curious and impudent kitten!

And then the stranger escaped.

One sharp jerk—and the lithe body slipped from his grasp. Moe even froze for a moment, stunned. But the black Cat was already vanishing into the darkness, vaulting over the fence with an ease that made Moe bite his lip. He sighed and got up, brushing himself off. Had he been enchanted? Why on earth had he decided not to give him away? He remembered the stranger's last words. Moe smirked.

"A rat, you say…"

He should look into the words of that mysterious and, for some reason, disturbingly cute Cat.

***

The wide marble corridors of the palace glittered under the light of hundreds of candles, reflected in gilded mirrors. Yujin walked unhurriedly, feeling the weight of the silver-embroidered jacket on his shoulders. Beside him, gracefully leaning on an official's arm, walked his sister—in a flowing pearl-colored dress, with short golden curls adorned by a delicate tiara.

"Lavish," she remarked quietly as soon as they stepped over the threshold into the banquet hall.

And indeed—the hall was dazzling. Towering painted ceilings, massive crystal chandeliers, tables groaning with exquisite delicacies. Guests in silks and jewels conversed, laughed, all to the quiet music of a harp.

Yujin exchanged pleasantries with important guests, nodded to a couple of ambassadors, and then—his gaze finally caught *him*. Errol, the First Prince of Raumliveria, his audacious nocturnal visitor. He stood slightly apart, resplendent in a perfectly fitted dark blue suit with gold embroidery, accentuating his broad shoulders and narrow waist. His light blond hair was styled with impeccable precision, and diamond earrings sparkled in his ears, shimmering with every movement. Yujin had already taken a step in his direction when he suddenly noticed—the prince was not alone.

Beside him, arms crossed, stood another young man. Tall and stately, with a magnificent physique, just like Errol's. His face wasn't as perfect as the First Prince's—it seemed somewhat plain, detached to Yujin. But his hair was unusual—burgundy, gleaming like cinnabar under the chandelier light.

"Your Highness Yujin."

Yujin flinched. Errol was looking at him, smiling. Only this smile somehow seemed slightly menacing. Yujin's heart began to beat anxiously. Had he done something wrong? He gasped and performed the appropriate greeting gesture of etiquette.

"I greet you, Crown Prince Errol. You have arranged a magnificent banquet," he said politely, trying to smile casually. "I am sincerely impressed."

"I'm glad you like it," his tone softened, and Yujin saw those same affectionate sparks in his violet eyes, dear to his heart. Yujin's cheeks turned pink. His gaze involuntarily shifted to the young man standing beside him, who was looking back at Yujin with genuine interest.

"This is my cousin, Moe," Errol introduced him, sounding displeased, and folded his arms across his chest. Then suddenly added:

"He only likes women. No men!"

Yujin blinked in bewilderment, and Moe suddenly snorted, but quickly brought a fist to his lips, seeming almost on the verge of laughter. Errol nudged him with his elbow.

"And he only likes dark-haired ones!" Errol declared again. And Moe couldn't hold back a quiet laugh.

"Yes, yes, dear cousin, that's exactly right!"

He looked at the perplexed Yujin, mischievous sparks dancing in his gray eyes, so similar to Errol's.

"Don't misunderstand, Your Highness Yujin, I'm not laughing at you, but at my brother. You merely looked at me with curiosity for a second when you approached, and he's already beside himself with jealousy!"

"What are you saying!.." Errol protested indignantly. His cheeks and ears flared red. And Yujin watched this and couldn't believe his ears. Jealous?! Of him, Yujin? Blood rushed to his face, and his heart fluttered even more fiercely.

"Go on, go stand over there with Marquis Toranchell with your sour face!" Errol mumbled in embarrassment, lightly nudging Moe towards the high-ranking nobles. Moe moved in the indicated direction, still chuckling. Errol looked at Yujin again and laughed awkwardly.

"You… look magnificent tonight," he said with excitement, lowering his gaze for some reason. It seemed he was embarrassed by the scene that had just occurred. As if he truly wanted Yujin to look only at him. Yujin's face was already burning, and his heart fluttered like a little bird in his chest.

"And you…" he whispered, lowering his eyes. How could one look at anyone else when there was Errol? For him, since the very first meeting, there was no other man but him. And just as Yujin was about to say something else, he was hailed.

"Your Highness Yujin, there you are!.." A diplomat from his kingdom was approaching them.