"You had the words that could have saved them both, and you kept them in a box. Why, Your Majesty?"
Aurelian leaned forward, his hand reaching out to tilt Julian's chin up. He didn't have his gloves on today, so his touch was cold, his fingers tracing the line of Julian's jaw with a terrifying possessiveness.
"Grief is such a useful tool, Master Astrea," Aurelian purred. "It keeps the heart at bay. That grief kept my brother focused on a grave and his duties instead of another. And now... it keeps you here, doesn't it? Drowning in the feelings of a dead woman because you're too empty to have any of your own."
Julian flinched, the Emperor's words hitting the exact center of his insecurity. Aurelian was stripping Julian of his dignity and his connection to the Duke, one letter at a time, making sure he knew his place.
Making sure this was the kind of 'love' the Duke was familiar with. And anything with him was just the leftovers.
