Just as Julian was about to slip fully into the moment, a voice shattered the heat like cracking glass.
"Your Grace…"
A knight stepped into the balcony hallway, his eyes fixed on the floor, head bowed low.
Julian froze, his aura flaring in frustration. His jaw clenched, and his grip on Eliz's hip tightened before releasing. Slowly, he turned to the intruder, his face twitching in fury.
The knight didn't dare look up.
Eliz stumbled forward with a gasp, quickly adjusting her dress. Her hands trembled as she tried to compose herself, her heart thundering wildly in her chest. Embarrassed didn't even begin to describe it—she felt exposed, caught in the act, her lips still parted from a whisper that hadn't finished.
"I—I'm sorry, my lord…" She mumbled, backing away, unable to meet anyone's gaze.
Julian didn't say a word at first—just stared at the knight like he might rip his tongue out for interrupting.
"What is it?" he finally asked.
