Here meaning close enough to intervene. Close enough to break bones if Marcel so much as breathed wrong.
The thought shouldn't have been as comforting as it was.
Marcel and I walked, Apollo padding between us like a golden buffer. The corridor stretched ahead, all marble and gilt and the weight of centuries pressing down from painted ceilings.
“Your father tells me you've been sleeping better,” Marcel said after a moment. “That the new security arrangements are helping.”
“Some.” I kept my eyes forward. “It's easier to sleep when you're not worried about someone breaking in.”
“I can't imagine living with that fear.” His voice carried genuine concern. The kind that sounded real because maybe it was. “You've been through so much, Sebastian. More than anyone your age should have to endure.”
The use of my name instead of my title felt deliberate. Intimate in a way that made my skin prickle.
“We all have our burdens.”
“True. But yours are more visible than most.” We turned down another corridor, this one quieter. More private. “I wanted to apologize, actually. For not being more present these past months. I knowyour father relies on my counsel, but I should've been checking on you as well. Making sure you had support beyond just security.”
I glanced at him, surprised. “That's not necessary.”
“Isn't it?” He stopped walking, turned to face me fully. His expression was open. Honest in a way that felt almost painful to look at. “You lost your mother eighteen years ago. You've been the target of how many attempts on your life now? Three? Four? And through it all, you're expected to smile for cameras and attend functions and pretend everything is fine.”
He said it like he understood. Like he'd looked past the crown and seen the person underneath.
It made me want to believe him.
It made me suspicious of how badly I wanted that.
“I manage,” I said carefully.
“You do more than manage. You thrive despite impossible circumstances.” Marcel's hand came to rest on my shoulder, warm and solid. Paternal in a way my own father sometimes forgot to be. “But thriving doesn't mean you don't need support. It doesn't mean you have to carry everything alone.”
Something in my chest loosened. Just slightly. Just enough to hurt.
“I'm not alone. I have my father. Élodie. The staff.”
“And Mr. Volkov, apparently.” Marcel's smile was knowing. Gentle. “Your father speaks highly of him. Says he's exactly what you needed. Someone who won't coddle you but won't let you self-destruct either.”
“He's thorough.”
“He's more than that, I think.” Marcel studied my face like he was reading a book I'd tried to keep closed. “I see the way you look at him. The way you've started to relax in ways you haven't in years. It's good, Sebastian. You deserve to feel safe with someone.”
The observation landed like a stone in still water. Ripples spreading out before I could stop them.
“It's not like that.”
“Isn't it?” No judgment in his voice. Just gentle understanding. “I'm not here to lecture you about propriety or duty or any of the otherthings I'm sure people have already said. I'm here as someone who cares about you. Who wants to see you happy as much as safe.”
He squeezed my shoulder once before letting go. The absence of contact felt pointed. Respectful of boundaries I hadn't known I'd drawn.
“Your mother would be proud of you,” he said quietly. “Of the man you've become. Of how you've survived when so many others would've broken.”
My throat tightened. “You didn't know her well.”
“No. But I knew her enough to see where you got your kindness from. Your ability to see people instead of just their roles.” He smiled, and it reached his eyes this time. Made him look younger. More human. “She had this way of making everyone in a room feel valued. Like they mattered. You have that too.”
I didn't trust my voice. Didn't trust the emotion threatening to spill over if I opened my mouth.
“I worry about you,” Marcel continued. “I worry that in trying to protect you, we're building a cage instead of a shelter. That the security measures meant to keep you safe are actually keeping you isolated.” He paused. “If you ever need to talk. If you ever need someone outside the palace walls, outside the formal structures. I'm here. No agendas. No expectations. Just someone who remembers what it's like to feel trapped by duty.”
