The heavy door stayed closed. Outside, the manor continued its usual rhythm — footsteps in the corridors, distant voices, the faint clink of silver being prepared for the evening meal — but inside the study the world had narrowed to the two of them.
Lucien's arms remained around Elian, one hand still resting at the nape of his neck, the other splayed across his back. He seemed unwilling to let go just yet. Elian didn't rush him. He simply leaned into the embrace, cheek pressed against the solid warmth of Lucien's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
After a long moment Lucien exhaled and loosened his hold just enough to look down at him.
"How is your head?" he asked quietly.
"Better than this morning." Elian's fingers traced the edge of Lucien's collar. "Talking to her helped more than I expected. She's angry… but she's listening. That already feels like a victory."
