"That a mate will choose love every time," Damien answered. "No matter the status. No matter the time."
And with that, the vampire prince stared off into nothing in particular. He had chosen love. Gods, he had. He had risked everything. And still, it wasn't looking like love was going to choose him back.
Veyron studied him closely. This wasn't just a prince confiding in an old advisor. This was a man beginning to break under the unbearable weight of hope. Of wanting.
"I need you to tell me the truth, Your Highness," Veyron said finally, sitting forward. The jest had left his voice entirely now, replaced with a steely resolve. "And please know that I ask for the good of the kingdom before yours."
Damien turned his gaze to him, slowly. He looked tired.
"Veyron…" Damien sighed, as though the confession itself might crack Veyron, perhaps himself.
