Morning light spilled across the courtyard of Heaven’s Gate with a soft gold radiance, catching on the tiled roofs and pale stone walkways as if the palace itself were waking slowly from sleep. The air was heavy with the scent of pine resin and horses, sweetened by the faint perfume of lilies that grew along the marble paths. Cicadas sang from the bushes, their rhythm steady and hypnotic.

 

Kaori breathed in the cool air, savoring the quiet before the day’s obligations found him. Summer in Tenkai always carried a kind of shimmering stillness. Every sound seemed softened by the weight of gilded sunlight, brassy and bright. Even the banners along the front drive hung motionless, their colors deep and rich—crimson, gold, and white—as if the whole world were holding its breath before the season turned.

 

Feeling the weight of a gaze on him, he turned his head to see Hunter walking at his side, eyes fixed on his face with a calm, assessing expression. The corner of Kaori’s mouth twitched upward. “Am I that interesting to look at?” he teased.

 

Hunter’s eyes glinted softly. “This light favors you.”

 

Despite himself, Kaori felt his face heat at the compliment—which was precisely what Hunter had intended, he guessed. Feigning annoyance, he punched the other man lightly on the arm. “Being married is supposed to mean we’re getting used to looking at each other.”

 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to looking at you.” Hunter’s face creased in a small, lopsided grin.

 

Inwardly, Kaori’s heart fluttered. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to looking at Hunter, either. Twining their arms together, he pulled the other man closer against his side as they walked.

 

They had been married for about two months now, and Kaori was still growing accustomed to the idea. Hunter wasn’t just his lover any longer, wasn’t just a soldier—he was Kaori’s chosen lifemate, his husband and partner by Kazurian law. No matter what the rest of the country thought about it, it was official. No one could ever treat Hunter like he was an embarrassment or a servant again.

 

A pair of Palace Guards spotted the two of them rounding the corner and straightened at once. Their bows were deep, crisp, and perfectly synchronized. “Good morning, High Lord, Lord Sansa.”

 

Hunter flinched. It was subtle— a tightening of his shoulders, a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth— but Kaori saw it. He still wasn’t used to being addressed like a nobleman, not after spending most of his life as a soldier in service to the Sansa family.

 

“You know,” Kaori murmured, leaning just close enough for his voice to be for Hunter alone, “you could simply accept the greeting like a normal person.”

 

Hunter’s expression didn’t change, but Kaori caught the faintest narrowing of his eyes. “I am accepting it.”

 

“That’s not what accepting looks like.”

 

“It’s what it looks like when it’s directed at the wrong person.”

 

Kaori smiled, warm and amused. “You married me. That makes you the right person.”

 

Hunter made a low sound that might have been a groan. “It makes me your husband. It does not make me a lord.”

 

“Tell that to the guards,” Kaori said lightly. “They seem very determined.”

 

Another pair of soldiers bowed as they passed. “High Lord. Lord Sansa.”

 

Hunter’s jaw tightened. “I swear they’re doing it on purpose.”

 

Kaori laughed under his breath. “They’re not. But I might be.”

 

Hunter shot him a look—the kind that said you are impossible and I love you in equal measure.

 

They continued down the walkway, the palace slowly coming alive around them: servants sweeping the stone paths, the distant clatter of the kitchens preparing breakfast, the soft rustle of banners stirring in the breeze. It was peaceful. Familiar. A moment Kaori wished he could stretch into an hour.