As dawn approached, Duke Maximilian performed his usual day-rest preparations with characteristic precision. His bedchamber, designed specifically for vampire slumber, featured specialized shutters that blocked even the faintest ray of sunlight. The walls were lined with rare books and artifacts, creating a schorly cocoon that reflected his personality even in unconsciousness.

  "Will there be anything else, Your Grace?" Morris asked as he adjusted the final bckout curtain.

  "No, that will be all." Maximilian carefully pced his wire-rimmed gsses—still a habit from his human days despite perfect vampire vision—on the bedside table beside the current tome he was studying. "Please ensure I'm awakened precisely at sunset. We have considerable security documentation to review following the inquiry."

  "Of course, Your Grace." Morris bowed slightly. "Lord Elias has also requested prompt awakening. He mentioned something about catalog reorganization."

  Maximilian nodded, his expression carefully neutral at the mention of his consort. The events of the inquiry panel had created an unexpected shift in their retionship—one he wasn't entirely prepared to analyze. "Very good."

  As Morris departed, Maximilian settled into his day-rest position, arranging himself with the same methodical precision he applied to cataloging artifacts. Sleep came quickly as the sun rose beyond his protected chamber, vampire physiology responding automatically to daylight hours regardless of the room's darkness.

  Meanwhile, in the eastern wing, Elias completed his own day-rest ritual. Unlike Maximilian's schorly surroundings, Elias had transformed his chamber into something reminiscent of a luxury resort—silken sheets, plush pillows, and subtle aromatherapy diffusers creating a sensory haven. His unique vampire nature allowed him to appreciate comforts many other vampires considered unnecessary, just as his need for actual food alongside blood had always marked him as different.

  He stretched nguidly on the bed, reflecting on the successful navigation of the inquiry panel. Creating illusions during formal proceedings had been risky, but the results were undeniable. For the first time since their political marriage, he and Maximilian had functioned as true partners rather than reluctant allies.

  "Will you require anything else, Lord Elias?" asked his attendant, a young vampire named Thomas.

  "No, thank you." Elias smiled, his violet eyes already growing heavy as sunrise approached. "Though do have the kitchen prepare something special for evening blood-breakfast. I believe Duke Maximilian might appreciate the Bordeaux vintage after yesterday's tedious proceedings."

  "Very good, my lord." Thomas bowed before departing.

  Elias settled into the plush bedding, his thoughts drifting to his unexpected life as a duke's consort. What had begun as a political assignment—spy on the progressive faction, gather intelligence for Orlov—had somehow evolved into something far more interesting. Maximilian, with his schorly obsessions and social awkwardness, was utterly unlike the calcuting nobles Elias had been raised to navigate.

  There was an authenticity to the duke that Elias found increasingly... appealing.

  As sleep cimed him, his final conscious thought was of Maximilian's rare smile during their post-inquiry conversation—the way it transformed his usually serious face into something almost boyish.

  The transition to vampire day-sleep was typically dreamless—a void of unconsciousness until sunset awakened their senses again. This day, however, something unusual occurred.

  Maximilian found himself dreaming—a rarity for vampires during day-rest. He stood in his library, organizing a newly acquired collection of pre-evolution texts. The dream had the hyper-realistic quality that vampire senses often created, down to the scent of aged paper and leather bindings.

  "You've alphabetized by author rather than subject matter," came a voice behind him. "How charmingly traditional."

  Maximilian turned to find Elias lounging in his favorite reading chair, legs draped casually over one arm in a manner that would have horrified Morris. The consort wore a simple white shirt partially unbuttoned, revealing more of his pale skin than propriety allowed.

  "Organization systems are a matter of preference, not tradition," Maximilian heard himself reply, though the words seemed to form without his conscious direction.

  Dream-Elias smiled, a slow curve of his lips that Maximilian found himself staring at for longer than necessary. "You have so many preferences, Duke Maximilian," he said, rising from the chair with that fluid grace that always made watching him move so fascinating. "And yet you deny yourself most of them."

  "I don't know what you mean," Maximilian replied, suddenly aware that the library had changed, becoming more intimate, the shelves closer, the lighting dimmer.

  "Don't you?" Dream-Elias approached, stopping just inches away. "For someone so dedicated to knowledge, there's still so much you refuse to learn about yourself."

  The air between them seemed charged with something Maximilian rarely allowed himself to acknowledge. Dream-Elias reached up, removing Maximilian's unnecessary gsses with deliberate slowness.

  "For instance," he continued, his voice taking on that musical quality that accompanied his abilities, "your preference for keeping everyone at a schorly distance." His fingers lingered near Maximilian's face. "For collecting artifacts rather than experiences."

  Maximilian found himself unable to move as Dream-Elias leaned closer, their faces now separated by mere inches. "Perhaps it's time to expand your collection, Duke."

  Meanwhile, in his own chamber, Elias was experiencing an equally unusual dream. He stood in the middle of what appeared to be Maximilian's hidden technology room, surrounded by preserved devices he didn't understand but found fascinating nonetheless.

  "Careful with that," came Maximilian's voice, startling him. "That particur artifact is irrepceable."

  Dream-Maximilian approached, his usual schorly reserve repced by confident purpose. "Though I'm beginning to believe the same could be said about you."

  Elias found himself backing against a workbench, an uncharacteristic fluttering sensation in his chest. "I'm hardly irrepceable, Duke Maximilian. Orlov's court has a whole collection of decorative nobles he could have sent in my pce."

  "None with your particur... abilities." Dream-Maximilian moved closer, his typically distant expression repced by something far more intense. "Your illusions during the inquiry were remarkable. One might almost think you were trying to protect me."

  "Merely maintaining our cover," Elias replied automatically, though the words felt hollow even to himself. "Political necessity."

  "Is that what we're calling it now?" Dream-Maximilian's voice had dropped to a register Elias had never heard from him before. The duke reached out, his fingers brushing Elias's cheek with unexpected tenderness. "And here I thought I was the one who specialized in eborate cssifications."

  Elias felt his breath catch—an unnecessary reaction for a vampire, yet happening nonetheless. "What would you call it, then?"

  Dream-Maximilian leaned closer, his schorly composure completely absent. "I believe some artifacts require personal examination to be properly categorized."

  In their separate chambers, both vampires shifted restlessly in their day-sleep, their dreams becoming increasingly vivid—and increasingly intimate. What began as subtle tension evolved into scenarios neither would have consciously acknowledged, let alone shared.

  And then, something unprecedented occurred.

  The dreams merged.

  Suddenly, Maximilian found himself aware that he was not simply experiencing his own dream, but somehow sharing consciousness with Elias. The library setting blended seamlessly with the technology room, creating an impossible space that reflected both their minds.

  Worse still, he realized with mounting horror, Elias was equally aware of him—not just the dream version of him, but his actual consciousness. They were witnessing each other's most private thoughts, most hidden desires, id bare without the careful barriers they maintained during waking hours.

  "This isn't possible," Maximilian heard himself say, even as he became aware of Elias's shock mirroring his own.

  "It must be my abilities," Elias replied, his voice carrying genuine panic rather than his dream persona's confidence. "They've never activated during day-sleep before, but something's happening with my illusions—they're somehow connecting our minds."

  The dream ndscape shifted around them, responding to their shared confusion. Books flew from shelves as technological devices activated spontaneously, the dreamspace destabilizing under the weight of their mutual realization.

  "We need to wake up," Maximilian insisted, desperately trying to reassert control over his consciousness.

  "You can't," Elias responded, his eyes wide with arm. "It's midday. Your vampire physiology won't allow it." His violet eyes flickered with that telltale shimmer of his abilities activating involuntarily. "And I don't know how to control this connection even if I could wake myself."

  The horror of the situation dawned on them simultaneously. They were trapped together in this shared dreamspace for hours, with all their private thoughts and secret fantasies completely exposed to each other.

  What followed was the most excruciating day-sleep either had ever experienced. Unable to fully separate their consciousness yet unwilling to acknowledge what they'd witnessed, they spent hours in a state of awkward dream limbo—creating mental barriers that kept colpsing, attempting to direct the dream toward neutral topics only to have it slide back toward revealing scenarios, and generally failing at pretending they hadn't seen what they'd seen.

  By the time sunset approached, both were mentally exhausted from the effort of maintaining their dignity in a situation that permitted none.

  The moment consciousness returned with the setting sun, Maximilian sat bolt upright in bed, adjusting his nonexistent gsses in a nervous gesture before remembering they sat on his bedside table. For several minutes, he simply stared at the wall, processing the unprecedented dream experience.

  Had it been real? Or merely his schorly mind conjuring eborate scenarios featuring his consort? The tter seemed more likely—vampires rarely dreamed during day-sleep, and shared consciousness was the stuff of ancient folklore, not documented reality.

  Regardless, the proper course of action was clear: proceed as if nothing unusual had occurred and maintain their professional partnership without acknowledgment of inappropriate subconscious fabrications.