They finally got into the carriage, and the moment the carriage door clicked shut, the frantic shouting of the reporters and the blinding flashes of the cameras were cut off, replaced by a heavy silence.
The carriage lurched forward, beginning its journey away from the Imperial Palace, away from the court, and away from all prying eyes, but the space inside felt smaller than it ever had before.
Julian waited for the Duke to set him down on the opposite bench. He waited for the Duke to adjust his robes and return to his usual stoic, distant self. But the hands around his waist and under his knees didn't loosen. Instead, Alaric settled onto the seat and kept Julian firmly in his lap.
For a moment, Julian didn't exactly know what to do. It wasn't that the Duke's lap wasn't comfortable; it was, and the warmth from him was soothing, but…
How could they be like that the whole time?
