The summons came at dawn—urgent, unexpected, sending ripples of tension through the pace corridors.

  Natalie was helping Julian prepare for his scheduled meeting with Lord Chancellor Voss when the Imperial Guard captain arrived, his expression revealing nothing.

  "Prince Julian," Captain Laurent announced with a formal bow. "Your presence is required in the Emperor's chambers. Immediately."

  Julian and Natalie exchanged a quick gnce, both thinking the same terrible thought—had Augustus finally acted? Was this a summons to witness the Emperor's final moments?

  "Is my father—" Julian began, unable to complete the question.

  "His Imperial Majesty awaits you, Your Highness," was all the captain would say.

  "I'll accompany you," Natalie said, reaching for Julian's formal court jacket.

  Captain Laurent shook his head. "The Emperor requested Prince Julian alone."

  Julian's hands trembled slightly as Natalie helped him into his jacket. "Whatever news awaits," she whispered, straightening his colr, "remember our allies are in pce."

  He nodded almost imperceptibly, his face composed into the calm mask of royal dignity that had become second nature. Yet Natalie could see the fear in his eyes—fear not for himself, but for what might have befallen his father.

  As Julian followed Captain Laurent from the chamber, Natalie fought the urge to follow despite the instructions. Instead, she moved to the window, watching the pace grounds where courtiers and servants continued their morning routines, unaware of the tension gripping the royal apartments.

  Please let him be safe, she thought, surprised by the intensity of her concern. Over the years, her loyalty to Julian had evolved from pragmatic self-preservation to genuine dedication to his welfare. When had it become this protective instinct that made her heart race with worry whenever he faced danger?

  Julian followed Captain Laurent through the pace corridors, his mind racing through possibilities. Was this Augustus's endgame? Had the regency document been discovered? Or worse—had his father's condition deteriorated beyond recovery?

  The guard detail outside the Emperor's chambers had doubled since Julian's st visit. He noted the positioning of each soldier, assessing their loyalties based on what he and Natalie had mapped. Most wore the insignia of the Imperial Guard rather than the Pace Guard that Augustus controlled—a small but significant detail.

  Captain Laurent stopped outside the Emperor's bedchamber, gesturing for Julian to enter alone. Julian took a steadying breath, straightened his shoulders, and stepped through the doorway, prepared to face whatever awaited him.

  He was not prepared for what he found.

  Emperor Valerian V sat propped against pillows in his massive bed, pale but alert, his eyes clear for the first time in weeks. The Imperial Physician—not Augustus's Northern doctor, but the original royal physician—was checking the Emperor's pulse while the Empress stood nearby, her face an unreadable mask.

  And standing at the foot of the bed, rigid with barely contained fury, was Augustus.

  "Ah, Julian," the Emperor said, his voice weaker than normal but distinctly his own. "Come closer, my son."

  Julian approached cautiously, bowing deeply before his father while his mind struggled to process this unexpected scene. "Your Majesty. I am overjoyed to see you improved."

  "Improved indeed," the Emperor replied with the ghost of a smile. "It seems reports of my imminent demise were... premature."

  Augustus's jaw tightened visibly. "Father should be resting, not conducting audiences," he said. "The physicians have advised—"

  "The physicians have advised that I am past the crisis point," the Emperor interrupted firmly. "Though recovery will take time, my mind is clear, and there are matters that require immediate attention." He turned back to Julian. "Including certain documents that appear to have caused quite a stir in my absence."

  Julian fought to keep his expression neutral. "Documents, Father?"

  The Emperor's eyes—so like Julian's own—studied him carefully. "My private instructions regarding regency arrangements. Augustus tells me there has been some... confusion about my intentions."

  Julian gnced at Augustus, whose face had settled into a cold mask. This was dangerous territory. If Julian acknowledged knowing about the document, he would expose himself as having acted on information he shouldn't officially possess. If he denied knowledge, he might contradict something the Emperor already knew.

  He chose his words with extreme care. "I believe the Council has been following the Protocols of Continuance in Your Majesty's absence, as tradition dictates."

  A flicker of approval crossed the Emperor's face. "Indeed. And you have pyed a role in ensuring these protocols were followed?"

  "I have tried to honor your teachings about the importance of w and tradition, Father," Julian replied, aware of Augustus's growing tension beside him.

  The Emperor nodded, then turned to Augustus. "You see? As I told you. Julian has conducted himself appropriately."

  Augustus bowed stiffly. "Of course, Father. I merely expressed concern that certain parties might have been using your illness to advance their positions at court."

  "A concern we all share," the Emperor replied dryly. "Which is why I have decided, now that I am recovering, to crify matters personally." He gnced at the Empress. "Would you summon the Lord Chancellor? It's time we put this succession question to rest."

  The Empress nodded and departed, leaving the two brothers alone with their father. The tension in the room was palpable.

  "Augustus will continue his excellent work administering the Northern Territories," the Emperor continued, his voice strengthening as he spoke. "His presence there has brought stability and prosperity to a previously troubled region. In fact, I believe more of his attention should be focused there."

  Augustus's eyes narrowed slightly. "Father—"

  "Meanwhile," the Emperor continued, "Julian will assist me here at court during my recovery, which the physicians assure me will take several months. His aptitude for historical and legal matters will be valuable as I resume my duties gradually."

  Julian kept his face carefully neutral, but his mind raced to interpret his father's words. Was this a subtle elevation of his position? A test? Or simply a practical division of responsibilities?

  "Of course, Father," Julian said. "I am at your service."

  The Emperor studied both his sons for a long moment. "Family rivalries are as old as monarchy itself," he said finally. "But they must never supersede duty to the Empire. Both of you would do well to remember that."

  The weight of the Emperor's words—and the implicit warning within them—settled over the chamber. Before either prince could respond, the door opened to admit the Lord Chancellor, his formal robes suggesting he had been prepared for this summons.

  "Chancellor Voss," the Emperor greeted him. "Thank you for coming so promptly. We have matters of state to formalize."

  Julian recognized his dismissal. He bowed to his father and departed, aware of Augustus's cold gaze following him. Outside in the corridor, he exhaled shakily, processing what had just occurred. His father was recovering. Augustus's pns—whatever they had been—were at least temporarily thwarted. And Julian himself had been positioned closer to the center of power, though in a way that seemed designed to increase tensions with his brother rather than resolve them.

  He needed to tell Natalie.

  When Julian returned to his chambers, he found Natalie pacing anxiously. Her face lit up with relief when she saw him.

  "Julian! What happened? Is your father—"

  "He's recovering," Julian said, still amazed at the words even as he spoke them. "Remarkably so. The fever has broken, his mind is clear, and he's already reasserting his authority."

  Natalie's eyes widened. "That's wonderful news! But how? The st reports suggested—"

  "I don't know," Julian admitted, sinking into a chair. "The Northern physician was gone, repced by the original royal physician. No one offered an expnation." He ran a hand through his hair. "Augustus looked furious."

  "I can imagine," Natalie said, sitting across from him. "This disrupts whatever pns he had in motion."

  "More than that," Julian continued. "Father has essentially divided responsibilities between us—Augustus to remain focused on the Northern Territories, me to assist here at court during his recovery." He leaned forward. "Natalie, he all but confirmed the regency document exists, but in a way that protected me from Augustus's accusations."

  "He knows you've been building support," Natalie realized.

  Julian nodded. "I think he approves, though he couldn't say so directly. But he also issued a warning about family rivalries." He stood, moving to the window. "This isn't over. Augustus won't accept this setback easily."

  "No," Natalie agreed. "But it gives us time. Time to strengthen your position, secure more allies."

  Julian turned to look at her—really look at her—as she sat analyzing the implications with that quick, practical intelligence that had guided him through so many challenges. Sunlight from the window caught in her auburn hair, illuminating the delicate features that had become so familiar to him over the years.

  Something shifted in his perception as he watched her. The feeling had been growing for months, perhaps longer, but he had been too preoccupied with court politics and survival to acknowledge it. Now, in this moment of reprieve, it struck him with sudden crity.

  He cared for Natalie. Not just as his attendant and advisor, not just as his closest friend, but as something more—something he had no name for, something that made his heart beat faster when she smiled or touched his arm or challenged his thinking.

  The realization stunned him into silence.

  "Julian?" Natalie prompted, noticing his distraction. "What are you thinking?"

  I'm thinking you're beautiful, he wanted to say. I'm thinking I don't know what I'd do without you. I'm thinking I want to know who you are beyond the role you py at court.

  But he couldn't say these things. She was his attendant, technically his servant. Any expression of personal feelings would be an abuse of his position. And beyond that, they were in the midst of a dangerous political struggle where any vulnerability could be exploited.

  "I'm thinking we need to reassess our strategy," he said instead, turning back to the window to hide the confusion in his expression. "Augustus will be watching more closely than ever now. Our network of allies must be protected."

  "Of course," Natalie agreed, rising to join him at the strategic map they had been developing. If she noticed his momentary distraction, she gave no sign of it. "We should send word to Lady Cordelia first. Her position is most precarious given her connection to Madame Bckwood."

  Julian forced himself to focus on the political discussion, pushing his personal revetion aside. Later, alone in his thoughts, he would examine these feelings more carefully. For now, he had a role to py and responsibilities to fulfill.

  But as they pnned their next moves, he found himself acutely aware of her presence beside him—the slight brush of her arm against his as she leaned over the map, the scent of the vender soap used by the pace servants, the determined set of her jaw as she analyzed their situation.

  One day, he promised himself, when Augustus is no longer a threat and the succession is secure, perhaps then... But he knew such a day might never come. Royal duty rarely allowed for personal happiness. And she was his attendant, with her own life and aspirations that likely had nothing to do with his newfound feelings.

  No, better to keep this revetion to himself, to cherish their friendship and partnership without complicating it with emotions she might not welcome or return.

  So Julian said nothing of his realization as they spent the afternoon readjusting their pns. He focused instead on the practical challenges ahead—reorganizing their network of allies, establishing direct communication with his father now that the Emperor was lucid, preparing for Augustus's inevitable countermoves.

  Yet something had changed within him, a shift as significant as the Emperor's recovery. For the first time, Julian glimpsed a future beyond political survival—a future where personal happiness might exist alongside duty to the Empire.

  It was a dangerous hope in their precarious position. But like the Emperor's unexpected recovery, it offered a new possibility where before there had been only doubt and fear.

  That evening, as Julian prepared to attend a small celebration the Empress had arranged to mark the Emperor's improvement, Natalie adjusted his formal attire with her usual efficiency.

  "You'll need to be especially careful tonight," she advised, straightening his ceremonial sash. "Augustus may be publicly gracious about your father's recovery, but privately..."

  "I know," Julian said. "This is a setback for him, not a defeat."

  Natalie stepped back to assess his appearance, her critical eye noting every detail. "Perfect," she decred. "You look every inch the prince."

  Julian smiled at her. "Thanks to you."

  As their eyes met, Julian felt that new awareness pulse through him again. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to imagine telling her how he felt, watching her expression change with surprise and—in his most hopeful thoughts—pleasure.

  Instead, he simply said, "I couldn't do any of this without you, Natalie."

  "You underestimate yourself," she replied with a smile that sent his heart racing. "But I'm honored to serve you, Julian."

  Service. The word reminded him of the boundaries between them, boundaries that royal propriety demanded remain in pce regardless of his feelings.

  "I should go," he said, stepping away. "The Emperor expects punctuality, especially from the son he's just elevated."

  Natalie nodded. "I'll await your return. Be careful with Augustus—he'll be looking for any vulnerability."

  He's already found one, Julian thought, gncing back at Natalie one st time before departing. He just doesn't know it yet.

  And so Prince Julian rejoined the court that evening, pying his role in the complex dance of power while guarding not one secret now, but two—his network of allies against Augustus, and his growing feelings for the attendant who had become essential to his heart as well as his ambitions.