Surviving A Novel I Don't Remember: A Tutor's Guide To Staying Alive

Julian felt Lucius’s grip tighten. The boy didn’t move, his small face set in a mask of polite hesitation. He looked up at Julian, silently asking for permission, his loyalty clearly displaced from the throne to the tutor.

The Emperor’s eyes finally flickered to Julian, and the warmth vanished instantly, replaced by a cold disdain. Julian, the roach that had crawled out of the pit he was meant to die in and somehow managed to burrow deeper into Alaric’s heart, was here again.

He couldn’t even hide the disdain he felt with a fake smile now that there was hardly an audience.

"Master Astrea," Aurelian said, the name sounding like an insult. "I see the Duke has finally allowed you out of your cage. You look... remarkably fragile. One might wonder if the air we all breathe in is too thick for someone of your ’limited’ constitution."

Julian bowed low, keeping his expression a perfect, scholarly blank.

"I greet the sun of the Empire," he said his greetings to the Emperor, his voice steady and his posture proper despite the lethargy in his limbs, and then to the prince and princess. "And the little stars of the Empire."

"Hm," Aurelian hardly acknowledged his greeting properly, but Julian continued regardless.

"I am recovered enough to serve the Crown, Your Majesty," Julian said,

"Service is a noble thing," the Emperor mused, standing up and gliding toward them. He ignored Julian’s bow and stopped directly in front of Lucius, ruffling the boy’s hair with a possessive touch. "Did you receive the invitation?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Julian said, showing the letter.

The Emperor narrowed his eyes a bit, not feeling satisfied with this.

"It seems my brother did not share the news of the Masquerade with you," he said and looked over at the knights standing outside.

They were not allowed into the Solvar since they carried weapons, and standing before the Emperor while wearing a sword around their waist was no different from undermining his authority and standing as a threat to his life.

He looked at Kaelen, his brother’s trusted knight, standing outside, and realised what all of this was.

The Duke did not tell Julian about the ball, likely to keep him away from the palace, and he even sent his trusted knight to protect Julian. He wasn’t a fool that he would try to assume that they were sent for Luciuss’s safety.

"How strange," the Emperor mused, his voice dropping into a low, melodic purr that sent a shiver of pure instinctual dread down Julian’s spine. "One would think he was your lover with how strictly he is keeping you ’safe’." Julian flinched.

The word ’lover’ was spat out with a venom that made Julian’s stomach turn.

"The papers and the tabloids are quite colorful these days, Master Astrea. They say the Great Duke of the North has finally found a treasure he refuses to let out of his sight. How true is that?"

Julian kept his head bowed, the golden envelope still gripped in his hand.

"The Duke is merely concerned for the stability of his household, Your Majesty. My health affects the education of his son, after all." It was an obvious lie that not even a passing child would believe.

"Your health," Aurelian repeated, the words tasting like ash as he scoffed. He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the invitation Julian held. "And yet, you seem surprised by a simple piece of envelope. Did my brother truly keep you in the dark about the Masquerade ball? Or are you just playing the part of the oblivious scholar?"

Julian tightened his grip on the envelope.

He had no idea there was a ball, but even if he did, he probably would’ve pretended he didn’t. He was tired of social life and drama.

"I was... recovering, Your Majesty. I imagine the Duke did not wish to burden me with social obligations until I was fit to stand properly."

"A burden?" Aurelian laughed, a sharp, cold sound. "A ball is a celebration. Unless, of course, he’s hiding you from me. He knows I have a penchant for things he finds precious."

Is that something to be proud about? Julian wondered but did not dare speak anymore. He just wanted the Emperor to hurry and finish his speech so he could start his lesson.

The Emperor’s gaze scanned Julian’s face with a clinical, mocking intensity, looking for the crack, the flaw—the reason why Alaric, the brother he could never truly possess, had chosen this man.

"In any case, you are obligated to attend," he said, but then changed his tone. "You must, and that is the end of it."

"Yes, Your Majesty, I shall attend the masquerade ball," he said, though he wished he could take back his words.

And then, as Julian shifted his head to avoid the Emperor’s piercing stare, the high, stiff collar of his midnight blue coat dipped just enough. There, against the pale skin of his neck, was a fading, violet-tinted shadow. It was a mark left by Alaric in a moment of desperate, grounding passion—a brand of a man that shouldn’t have been there.

And worst of all, the Emperor caught sight of this mark.

The silence in the Solvar became absolute. Even the birds outside seemed to stop singing.

Aurelian’s expression didn’t just crumble; it hardened into something monstrous. The realization hit him hard: the rumors weren’t just tabloids. His brother—the stoic, untouchable Lucien—had actually laid hands on this roach. He had claimed him.

They... had shared a bed. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

Aurelian threw his head back and laughed. It was a loud, unsettling sound that echoed off the glass walls, devoid of any humor. It was the sound of a man who had realized he was the only one playing by the rules of a game everyone else had already abandoned.1

"I see!" Aurelian choked out between ragged bursts of laughter. "I see now! All this time, I thought he wouldn’t go this far, but he did. You weren’t a toy after all, you were a possession."

Julian flinched. What was going on with the Emperor now? He had no idea the Emperor had clearly seen the fading hickey on his neck.

He stopped laughing abruptly, his face contorting into a mask of pure rage. If he couldn’t have the Duke’s loyalty, and he couldn’t have his heart, then he would at least desecrate what Alaric valued most.

Before Julian could even process the shift in the air, the Emperor’s hand moved to the back of his neck, fingers tangling painfully in Julian’s hair.

This action shocked, or rather, startled everyone watching, and Kaelen grew alert as well.

"If you’re so good at serving the North," Aurelian hissed, his voice a venomous whisper meant only for Julian, "let’s see how you fare in the Sun."

In front of his own children, in front of the horrified Rowan, and within clear sight of Sir Kaelen standing helplessly behind the glass doors, Aurelian jerked Julian forward and crashed his mouth against Julian’s in a violent, punishing kiss.

It wasn’t an act of affection; it was an assault. A declaration of war. It was a way to overwrite Alaric’s touch with his own Imperial authority.1