Chapter 43: Unknown Feelings(1)

The flickering light of chanted chandeliers cast soft shadows against the heavy curtains that draped Damian's quarters. 

His private quarters were simple but clearly regal. A large four-poster bed draped in deep midnight blue and black dominated the room. The ceiling above shimmered like the night sky, creating an enchanted illusion that reflected the sky outside. The walls were bare of unnecessary ornaments, save for a single large window that overlooked the imperial capital. The view was breathtaking but distant.

Damian's personal palace was not just a home; it was a fortress. Layers of magic were woven into its very foundation, including wards that deterred intruders, silencing spells that ensured privacy, and unseen sentinels that moved through the darkness.

Damian leaned against the edge of his vanity, his nightgown loosely wrapped around his waist. His chest was exposed, with a fine gold chain faintly shining in the light. Damian was reading a report while playing with a crystal glass full of amber liquid. The quiet hum of the night was broken only by the crackling fire and glass tapping the vanity. 

The door to the quarters creaked open, and Edward, the ever-dutiful butler, stepped inside with a quiet grace. He bowed slightly, the usual flicker of curiosity in his eyes tempered by professionalism.

"Your Majesty, Master Maximilian has arrived," Edward announced in his calm, neutral tone.

Damian nodded, but his thoughts remained distant for a few moments. He murmured, "Let him in, Edward," without looking away from the papers.

Moments later, Maximilian entered, his face just as weary as his older half brother's. The lines on Max's face had deepened over the last few weeks, and his usual vigor appeared faint behind the exhaustion. His posture was stiff, but the tired look in his eyes revealed his emotional exhaustion. He closed the door behind him with a soft click and took deliberate steps towards Damian's side.

"I hope you are not sleeping, Damian," Max said, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Damian met his gaze in the mirror, his face betraying no emotion. "Do I look like I am?"

Max sighed heavily, settling onto a chair nearby. He ran his hand through his own tangled hair, fighting back the frustration that seemed to be haunting him. 

"I have just returned from another round with George Claymore," he said quietly, as if the mere mention of the man would attract unwanted attention. "I can not shake the feeling something is wrong with him. Damian, his movements do not make sense."

Damian's gaze flickered briefly to Max before returning to his reflection. His lips thinned, and the cold logic in his mind began to process the words. "How so?"

Max's brow furrowed as he leaned forward, hands tightly clasped. 

"I've been raised by him and Callahan; their moves are odd; this is not something any of them would do. George is pressing me into marking Gabriel and Callahan is missing from the events. They were fine waiting before, planning every move; now they just demand things from me."

Damian's fingers brushed against the edge of the table, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Do you believe he is involved in something else? I last saw George at the hearing, when your name was announced. Do you think something happened?"

"I am not sure," Max admitted, his voice tinged with unease. "But I trust my instincts, which tell me he is up to something. I need to ask for your help." His eyes locked with Damian's, searching for some sign of a plan, some reassurance. 

Damian exhaled slowly, placing the glass down with a soft clink. His golden eyes, usually impassive, darkened with thought. He set aside the reports and turned fully to Max, the loose nightgown shifting slightly over his shoulders.

"George is not a man who makes sudden moves without reason. If he is acting outside of his usual methods, then something has changed," Damian mused, his voice measured. "And Callahan's absence is more than odd. I will assign someone to keep them under supervision; we need to find out what is going on."

Max tapped his fingers against the chair's armrest, frustration visible in his expression. "Exactly. George is pushing the matter of Gabriel aggressively now. Gabriel asked me to stay the night in his apartment, and I agreed. It was his plan to make George lower his guard, to let him believe we were closer than we actually are. My men were easily intercepted by George. We need to find Callahan."

Damian's fingers stopped moving. His gaze flickered, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. "Gabriel asked you to stay?" The words were careful, deliberate, ignoring the Callahan subject.

Max noticed the subtle shift and tilted his head slightly. "Yes," he confirmed. "It was a calculated move on his part. He wanted George to believe something happened, to manipulate the situation in his favor. And I agreed because he is right. We need George to lower his guard."

Damian's face remained calm, but there was a strange tension in his shoulders. "You are an alpha, and he was in heat," Damian noted.

Max's lips curled into a smirk. "Are you worried about him, Damian?" There was a teasing lilt to his voice, but his eyes remained sharp. "How did you know? Actually, I prefer not to know. He was perfectly safe. I would not cross the line. You should know that better than anyone."

Damian scoffed lightly, dismissing the question. "It is not concern," he stated flatly. "It is observation. You are my brother, but you are also a man in a difficult position. If George believes you will take matters into your own hands, he might become desperate."

Damian stood, pacing toward the window. The city below was quiet, bathed in the glow of lamplight. His reflection in the glass was unreadable, but his fingers tightened briefly at his side. "Something is forcing our hand. Either there is an external threat that George is hiding or he wants a bigger change. However, my patience with this country's nobles is wearing thin."

Max frowned, drumming his fingers against his knee. "And then there's the ball." His voice dripped with irritation. "You just had to throw that into the mix, didn't you? As if I do not have enough headaches."

Damian turned his head slightly, a ghost of a smirk touching his lips. "Well, from what I recall, you were the one proposing this idea. Did you change your mind?"