In the depths of daytime sleep, Elias's mind wandered into the familiar twilight state where his prophetic dreams sometimes formed. Since coming to Maximilian's estate, he had mentioned to Max his occasional glimpses of the future—blurred visions about the estate and Max himself that came to him in fragments, like looking at reflections in moving water.

  But this dream was different.

  The crity hit him first—sharp-edged and vivid where his previous visions had been soft and indistinct. He could feel the night air against his skin, smell the distinct scent of soil after rain, and hear the distant sounds of the forest surrounding Max's estate.

  He was standing in the moonlit courtyard, Maximilian beside him. Above them, the stars shone with unusual brightness, each consteltion perfectly defined against the night sky. The estate grounds seemed more real in the dream than they often did in waking life—every detail crisp and significant.

  A procession of bck cars appeared at the gates, bearing the unmistakable insignia of Archduke Orlov's house. These weren't ordinary vehicles but modified luxury cars designed to resemble traditional carriages from the outside—a perfect symbol of Orlov's traditionalist approach, maintaining aristocratic appearances while embracing modern practicality when convenient. The lead car's headlights illuminated the mist rising from the grounds, creating an ethereal pathway toward where he and Max stood.

  From the lead car emerged a messenger in formal Orlov livery—a vampire Elias recognized from his time in Orlov's court. The messenger carried a sealed document bearing Orlov's personal crest.

  In the dream, Elias could see the document's contents without it being opened—formal nguage demanding his immediate return to Orlov's court, decring his arrangement with Duke Maximilian void, threatening consequences if he refused.

  The vision shifted, showing multiple possible outcomes with perfect crity. In one future, he returned to Orlov's court, never to see Max again. In another, he remained but brought destruction upon Max's estate as Orlov's forces came to retrieve him. In yet another path, something unexpected occurred—a choice neither he nor Orlov had anticipated.

  The messenger's voice rang out in the dream: "Three days hence, I shall arrive. Be prepared with your answer."

  The final image burned into Elias's mind: himself standing at a crossroads, literally and figuratively. Behind him, Max waited, hand outstretched. Before him, the road back to Orlov's domain stretched dark and lonely. And to his side, an unexpected path he couldn't quite make out, shimmering with possibility.

  Elias woke with a scream caught in his throat, his body jerking upright in bed as the st rays of sunset faded from the sky. The terror of the dream clung to him like a second skin, more visceral than any vision he'd experienced before.

  Without conscious thought, his ability activated—the raw emotion of the dream manifesting as an illusion of white-blue fmes licking up the walls of his bedchamber. The illusory fire cast no heat, but it looked terrifyingly real, dancing and flickering across every surface.

  "Max," he gasped, throwing aside his bedcovers. For the first time since their kiss two nights ago, the awkwardness between them seemed trivial compared to the urgent warning pulsing through his mind.

  Elias bolted from his room, not bothering with a robe over his sleep clothes. The staff he passed in the hallway recoiled in arm at the wild-eyed consort sprinting through the corridors with traces of illusory fme still flickering around him.

  "Where is the Duke?" he demanded of a startled night maid.

  "In his chambers, my lord. He's just risen for the evening," she replied, eyes wide with concern.

  Elias didn't wait to hear more. He took the most direct route to Max's chambers—through the hidden passage behind the great hall tapestry that they had used during security rounds st week. In his haste, he failed to trigger the mechanism properly, causing the false panel to slide only partially open.

  He squeezed through the narrow gap and promptly snagged his sleeve on an exposed nail, tearing the fabric and stumbling forward into the dark passage. Cobwebs festooned the rarely-used section of the secret corridor, sticking to his hair and face as he pushed through them.

  Halfway along the passage, his foot caught on an uneven fgstone, sending him sprawling face-first onto the dusty floor. Elias scrambled back to his feet, now covered in dirt and cobwebs, and continued his frantic journey.

  When he finally burst through the panel into Max's private chambers, he was a sight to behold—disheveled, filthy, wide-eyed with panic, and still trailing wisps of illusory fme.

  Max, who had just finished dressing for the evening, stared at his consort in absolute shock.

  "Elias? What on earth—"

  "Orlov is sending for me," Elias blurted, still breathless from his mad dash through the estate. "A messenger is coming in three days to demand I return. If I go back, I'll never see you again. If I stay..." He stopped abruptly, suddenly aware of how he must appear and sound. "I had a dream."

  Max approached slowly, genuine concern repcing his initial shock. In the two nights since their kiss, they had maintained a careful distance, both unsure how to proceed after that unpnned moment of intimacy. Now, he reached out hesitantly, brushing cobwebs from Elias's hair.

  "A prophetic dream?" he asked quietly. "Like the ones you mentioned before?"

  Elias nodded, some of his panic subsiding at Max's gentle touch. "But stronger. Clearer. I could see everything in detail. I could smell the air. Hear sounds. It felt completely real."

  "Tell me exactly what you saw," Max said, guiding Elias to a chair and kneeling before him, all awkwardness temporarily forgotten in the face of this development.

  As Elias recounted every detail of the dream, Max listened intently, his schorly mind cataloging and connecting the information. He didn't question the validity of the vision—not after months of witnessing Elias's abilities firsthand.

  "The formal demand for your return," Max mused when Elias finished. "This isn't entirely unexpected. Orlov likely sees this as a matter of pride. He may have considered you disposable, but the idea that you might establish yourself elsewhere would be unacceptable to him."

  "What does it mean?" Elias asked, the st of his panic giving way to anxious curiosity.

  "It means," Max said thoughtfully, "that our arrangement has evolved beyond what Orlov anticipated. He arranged this marriage thinking it would be purely political, a formal gesture without substance. What he didn't expect was..." He hesitated, seemingly unsure how to categorize what had developed between them.

  "Us," Elias supplied simply.

  Max nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. "Yes. Us."

  The validation in Max's voice made something tight in Elias's chest loosen. Unlike his experiences in Orlov's court, where his glimpses of the future had been dismissed as delusions or the ramblings of a fwed vampire, Max accepted his ability without question.

  "What do we do?" Elias asked, suddenly aware of how ridiculous he still looked, covered in dust and cobwebs.

  Max's expression shifted from concern to determination. "First, you need to clean up," he said with a faint smile, gesturing to Elias's disheveled state.

  Elias looked down at himself and let out a small, embarrassed ugh. "I was in a bit of a hurry."

  "So I see." Max's smile grew warmer. "Next time, perhaps consider using the door instead of the secret passage?"

  "Next time I see my future at a crossroads, I'll be sure to take the scenic route," Elias replied, relief making him bold.

  As Max called for fresh clothing to be brought, Elias realized that the awkwardness between them had dissipated. The crisis had forced them back into the partnership they'd been building before the kiss had complicated everything.

  Though as Max's hand lingered briefly on his shoulder, Elias wondered if perhaps some complications were worth having after all.