At first there was only silence, and then, “You shouldn’t have come.”

It was probably crazy or stupid to admit it, even just to himself, but of all the things Kai wondered about, it intrigued him the most how Luhan always knew when he was there. It was a proven fact that Kai made no noise when he appeared, which admittedly was different from the faint popping sound when he disappeared. Kai was still working out the logic in that, but the truth of it held. There was no way Luhan should have been ultra perceptive enough to know when he was there, taking into account the pitch blackness of the room and Luhan’s lack of telepathic abilities.

Unless something else had manifested.

It was a rare thing to have more than one ability, and even rarer for a second to manifest itself out of the early pubescent years, but Kai had since stop believing anything was impossible.

“I always come.”

His voice was too high, and Luhan hushed him right away. It probably should have been Kai’s first clue.

“I know,” Luhan returned. “There’s no dissuading you, is there?”

“Nope,” Kai said cheerily enough, taking a deliberate step forward. His eyes shut automatically in the blackness and he recalled the layout of Luhan’s personal suite. Luhan was meticulous about keeping his belongings exactly where he wanted them, which almost guaranteed Kai a foolproof way to navigate the floor without incident. Briefly, but on more than one occasion, Kai had wondered if Luhan did it for him. For his late night visits. Then again, it was likely just Luhan’s incessant need to keep things clean and tidy.

Gently, and with concern, Luhan said, “You’re going to get caught one of these days.”

He was courting death. Kai was under no false assumptions what would happen if he was discovered in Luhan’s bedroom. He was an enemy of the state, classified as a wanted terrorist, and without a doubt, the enemy. Any of M’s guards, including the ones stationed right outside the door, would shoot in sight. And M’s prince would probably rip Kai apart personally.

Kai’s memory served to tell him that after only a few more moments he was already half across the room and standing in front of Luhan’s giant bed. Kai recalled the bright shine to the almost cherry colored wood the bed was framed by, the support poles reaching up to the ceiling and decorated with vine inspired carvings .

Luhan always looked so tiny in the bed.

And it was a far cry from the cot that Kai crashed on back at headquarters, having to cram in next to D.O. with not enough room for the both of them to sleep comfortably. His dreams were often filled with instances of him crawling up on Luhan’s bed, spooning behind him and making the bed seem less intimidating.

“I’d like to think,” Kai told him, his skin still vibrating from the teleporting, “that you would warn me immediately if something was going to go wrong.”

Six months ago Kai wouldn’t have been so sure, but then six months ago Luhan had just been testing the waters out, getting a feel for Kai. They’d barely had any sort of a relationship then. Of course that wasn’t to say that Kai hadn’t already been observing Luhan for over a year, and by then he was utterly, pathetically and dangerously in love with him. Six months ago Kai had been nothing but a dream to Luhan. Or a chance to be a little reckless in a world filled with too much sadness.

Kai paused, “You would, right?” He was only joking. He could feel how much Luhan loved him in the way their fingers brushed, how they kissed, and the way Luhan tried to make him promise never to come back at the end of every visitation.

Luhan sighed heavily. “I would that I could.”

Kai felt his stomach plummet a little. “Are you feeling okay?” It would take seconds for him to call for the lights, the automated system always at the ready. His biggest fear of the moment wasn’t being caught, but instead getting a good, hard look at a sickly Luhan. It tore away pieces of his heart every time he had to see Luhan beaten down, through no fault of his own.

“Debatable,” Luhan said, but there was a little humor to his voice. “Kai, what I meant was that … my connection with Mama …” He trailed off as Kai took another few steps forward.

“What’s wrong?” Kai’s shins knocked into the frame of the bed. It stung, but he kept quiet. “Tell me.”

Without his eyesight Kai was more aware of his other senses. He could smell the potpourri in the air, and the remnants of burning herbs. He could hear the way Luhan shifted underneath his blankets, and the clicking of the old, antique clock that he kept on a nearby table.

“My connection to Mama is more intense every day, Kai. Our connection is fluctuating wildly; hot and cold, and strong and weak. Sometimes she’s so weak, and those times her voice fades from my mind. I can’t see her in my dreams anymore, and her influence dwindles in a staggering way. But when we’re at our peak, I feel like there’s fire running through my veins, and I’m so strong I think I can do anything. That’s what I mean, Kai. My abilities are linked to her, and there is nothing steady about that link at the moment.”

Feeling his way around the bed, Kai knelt down on the plush carpet and reached across the bed for Luhan’s body. He could just barely reach him, but he only let his fingers brush the warm form swallowed up by sheets.

“Your visions?”

“Sporadic, at best,” Luhan answered. “They come and go, some are strong but most are weak, and they can’t be relied on. As Mama comes closer to death, so do I.”

Immediately Kai called for lights.

It took a second for Kai to orient himself with the brightness, and it was his worst fear confirmed, from the dark circles under Luhan’s eyes, to the smear of blood under his nose, and the pallid tone to his skin. He looked worse than normal. He looked beyond fragile. Luhan was too thin, too worn down, and Kai hesitated to even touch him again.

“I--”

Then Kai saw the second person in the room. And the third. And he almost teleported away out of pure instinct alone. Luhan was not alone on his bed, and the chair on the other side was not vacant.

“Shh,” Luhan said, a smile pulling at his white lips, “they’re asleep.”

Kai’s eyes traced the death grip the boy on the bed seemed to have with Luhan’s hand. Lay. Kai recalled his name after a second more. This was Lay, M’s main healer.

Healers were twice as rare as double abilities, and coveted beyond belief. Kai himself could only recall the names of a couple of healers that he knew in K, all of them spread too thin and kept on the constant move to preserve their safety. As far as Kai knew, M had just as few healers as K did, and within the ranking system, Lay was known as a top tier. There was a reason he was the prince’s personal healer, not that the pompous heir ever saw real battle.

“You had a fit,” Kai accused, not sure why he felt betrayed.

“I had a vision,” Luhan corrected. “It brought on the fit.”

“Why?” Kai demanded. “Until recently you had visions all the time. They never caused fits. They never required a healer’s intervention.”

The other boy in the room was even easier for Kai to recognize. A year and a half ago when Suho had identified Kai’s ability and felt assured that he was stable enough to undergo a lengthy mission, his first and only assignment had been to shadow the royal family. For sixteen months Kai had been privy to as much of the prince’s behavior as possible, following him and his entourage from the royal estate in the country, to the capital, and even along the vacations they took as their men were fighting and dying in constant skirmishes with K’s soldiers.

During this time, as the prince should have been Kai’s focus, he’d fallen in love with Luhan. And as his focus shifted from the prince himself, to the overly protected older cousin to the prince, so had the knowledge of Luhan’s inner circle. Xiumin was Luhan’s most trusted friend, one of his oldest, and it was probably a miracle thus far that Luhan hadn’t told him about their late night meetings. It was probably the only secret Luhan had ever kept from Xiumin.

If Xiumin was present now, the fit must have been worse than Kai had imagined. Xiumin was part of Luhan’s personal guard, but he often spent lengthy periods of time with the prince, acting as an additional bodyguard with exceptional control over his abilities. Xiumin was the kind of dedicated solider that even Kai had to respect, but if he had any real weakness, it was Luhan.

Luhan rolled away from Lay a little, but he didn’t release his grip on the fingers that clutched at his. “Mama is very weak right now, Kai. She is dying. I don’t say this lightly. And our connection is strained. When I normally experience visions … she used to protect me from the harm they did to me. That protection isn’t there anymore.”

Kai felt himself tremble a little. There had been a time in his life when he had only known Luhan by his title, and thought of him as an entitled, egotistical royal of M, just like the rest of them. Now he knew Luhan for his kindness and compassion, and for his belief in equality between M and K. The belief that few of his fellow family members shared.

He couldn’t lose Luhan. He wouldn’t.

“This is why I don’t want you coming anymore,” Luhan continued. “It’s too dangerous. I can’t protect you if I can’t see the future. I can’t see the danger coming, I only know it’s there.”

“Dampeners,” Kai suggested immediately, brushing off Luhan’s concern for his own safety. He’d always known the risks spying entailed, and more than that he knew the risk of being found in a compromising position with Luhan. “What about using dampeners?”

Luhan shook his head, voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t risk it.”

“Risk what?” Kai demanded. “Dampeners will reduce the risk of you having a vision, if not prevent them altogether. Why doesn’t your pathetic excuse for a cousin have them installed already?”

Dampeners were Kai’s worst nightmare. He feared the game changing advanced devices more than anything else. Everyone who knew what dampeners could do, did. Maybe his almost obsessive fear told him immediately that he was entirely too dependent on his abilities. But there was nothing more frightening, next to losing Luhan, than the idea of being helpless. Dampeners would rob him of his ability to escape a potentially dangerous situation.

They’d also prevent him from being able to appear in Luhan’s room for a late night rendezvous, but it was a small price to pay for preserving Luhan’s health. They’d find other ways to meet, if necessary.

“He did, and don’t call my cousin pathetic,” Luhan chided, but it was without bite as he was more than aware of how Kai felt about the heir to M’s throne. “Twice, actually. I made him remove them.”

“Why?” Kai demanded, his voice spiking so radically that Xiumin shifted recklessly in the chair he was sleeping in.

Luhan gave him a dark look. “Quiet.”

Kai nodded, then pressed, “Dampeners would make things harder on us, but they’d make things easier for you.”

“My visions are erratic,” Luhan said, “but necessary. They give me invaluable information. I need them.”

Maybe he needed them to be valuable to the prince, or to remain M’s darling. Or maybe he needed them to preserve his own imagine of usefulness.

Next to the prince, Luhan was probably the most dangerous person to K. His visions could be anything from the next day’s breakfast menu to what K’s tactical plans might be for the next six months. They were varied in content and utterly unpredictable, but the greatest security risk K could pinpoint.

More than once the topic of assassination had come up.

Kai would kill anyone who even thought about it. There was no doubt in his loyalty to K. He still reported frequently to Suho the activities of M, and relayed anything that might be beneficial. He swore his allegiance time and time again and never wavered in his belief that M had to be stopped, but Luhan was not the enemy. Nothing would happen to Luhan under his watch.

“If the prince thinks that your usefulness is worth the cost of your life, then he and I need to--”

“Kai.”

Luhan’s fingers reached out with his free hand and when they linked Kai could immediately feel the healing strength of Lay through Luhan as a conduit. Lay’s strength was astonishing, and frankly a little scary. The boy was obviously in a deep sleep, his breathing slow and even, but he continued to exert himself and his ability subconsciously.

“I don’t need them to help my king kill your comrades. That’s not why I value them.”

Desperately, Kai asked, “Then why? They are killing you, Luhan. I can see that with my own eyes. Why keep something that is draining your life away?”

Luhan looked frustrated. There was a pull around his mouth and faint crinkles at his eyes. “Something is happening to Mama. I’m trying to find out what, and see if I can help her.”

Mama.

Up until recently, within the last generation, Mama had been a myth. She’d been a story told to Exo children, before the split, to keep them honest and good. She was supposed to be the spirit of Exo, the soul, but she wasn’t supposed to be real. It hadn’t been until Luhan and a few others had been born with a spiritual connection that her existence had been confirmed.

In a lot of ways, the proof of Mama’s existence had instigated the split of Exo into M and K.

And apparently something had been weakening her for years. Maybe it was the split. Luhan had said on several occasions that he thought Mama was feeling the tension between her children, but it was only a feeling in his gut. Still, Kai hadn’t thought the situation had deteriorated so drastically. He didn’t know things were so bad.

“Can Mama die?” Kai asked, a little afraid of the answer.

Something heavy crackled through the air and Kai froze.

“Chen,” Luhan breathed out, his hand leaving Kai’s without hesitation. He pointed across the room, and urged, “Hurry!”

A half second later a knock sounded at Luhan’s door, and Chen’s concerned face was poking in.

“Hey,” Chen offered, “you’re up.”

“I got up for a drink of water,” Luhan explained. Kai could just see Luhan from the nearby armoire he’d barely had time to slip in. Luhan’s slippers were by the bed and it was a believable enough story with the half empty glass of water nearby. Luhan’s foresight was unbelievable at times.

“You should have called me,” Chen said, stepping fully into the room. He didn’t close the door behind him and that was a relief. He clearly wasn’t planning on staying long. “I would have gotten it for you. I’m just pacing out there.” He gestured back to the antechamber attached to Luhan’s room. “I’m actually surprised you’re up.”

Luhan made a show of yawning, then gestured to the two boys asleep in the room. “I won’t be in a second. And you should go to bed.”

Chen shook his head right away. “No way. The prince would kill me if I went and anything happened to you.” Chen’s emotions amplified his ability and Kai could feel his hair start to stand up from the electricity laced into the air around them.

“I have Xiuminie,” Luhan said fondly. “And Lay. And the defense system. Not to mention the guards out in the hallway, the ones stationed underneath my balcony, and the ones watching all around for the slightest sign of trouble. I mean this in the kindest way possible, Chen, but you aren’t needed. And I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep if I know you’re pacing a groove into the floor.”

“I shouldn’t,” Chen still protested, but it was clear he was weakening.

“Go,” Luhan said, and Kai could feel his stomach twist up as power rippled through the room. He shifted the tiniest bit in the armoire and it was barely fast enough to see Chen rock back a step.

“Okay,” Chen laughed out a little, “I get the point. No need to get pushy.”

Kai wanted to see more. In the year and a half he’d been watching Luhan, he’d barely seen him use his telekinesis. He’d seen the terrifying visions that had Luhan dropping like a stone in the ocean, but those were uncontrollable, often violent and intrusive. His telekinesis, his first ability, was something he had perfect control over, but barely exerted. However, when he did … the power behind it was palpable.

If K had any idea how strong Luhan really was, Kai knew he’d already be a traitor to his people. Luhan’s saving grace probably was how little he used his telekinesis, and how weak he allowed others to perceive him to be. It likely saved his life on more than one occasion.

It just saddened Kai’s heart to see Luhan repress his abilities so much. Those of them that were gifted, had been given their abilities from Mama herself. They were abilities meant to be used for the sake of betterment, but it seemed to Kai they only used them to wage war on each other.

Voice a little scratchy, Luhan asked, “Where’s Tao? Is he with Kris?”

At the door Chen paused. “Of course he is. Especially with Xiumin here, watching over you.” A sour look pressed onto Chen’s face. “Not that he’s doing a spectacular job of it.”

“Give him a break,” Luhan defended, “he’s exhausted. It isn’t easy following me around, trying to keep me out of trouble, and then doubling back to help Tao with Kris. You’d be surprised how little sleep he’s able to operate on, and still be relied upon.”

Chen scanned the room one final time and Kai held his breath. Then he relayed, “Okay, your highness. I’m sorry for bothering you. I’ll go now.”

“Just Luhan, please.”

Chen scoffed, closing the door behind him. “Not on your life. Not with the upcoming wedding.”

Kai toppled out of the armoire less than gracefully a second later, his pulse racing under his skin. Chen was another of the prince’s personal guard, highly skilled with his ability to generate and manipulate lightening, and staunchly discriminatory towards anyone from K. Chen would have torn the room apart to get to him, Kai knew, and alerted half the palace in the process.

“See,” Luhan argued as Kai resumed his spot next to the bed. “This is what I’m talking about.”

“Could have been worse,” Kai joked. “It could have been Tao.”

“Unlikely,” Luhan countered.

Tao was Kai’s worst nightmare. The captain of the guard was the one person Kai wasn’t sure he could survive an encounter with. Not only was he magnificent with a blade, deadly in physical combat, he was also able to manipulate time. What good was being able to teleport if Tao could freeze time and kill him before the thought even entered his mind? Kai’s saving grace was that despite his value as a soldier in the field, Tao was glued to the prince’s side nearly night and day to defend him against any assassination attempts.

It lurked in the back of mind at Kai’s mind at times that the prince was an only child, and the ten year long war between K and M had claimed a significant amount of royal lives. Luhan, with his direct link to the throne was second after the prince. If anything happened to the prince, Luhan would be king at the moment of ascension.

Day in and day out the king did his part to try and bring K back under M’s subjugation, and when the prince had that title, he would as well. Kai didn’t think that would be the case with Luhan. Luhan was clearly more suited for a goal of peace.

But Kai didn’t think Luhan could survive the pressure of the throne.

Neither was there any guarantee that Suho and Luhan could bring their fractured countries back together if that scenario played out.

Double checking that both Xiumin and Lay were both still genuinely asleep, Kai noted, “I’m surprised his supreme highness himself isn’t in here, coddling you.”

“Kai,” Luhan said tiredly, sinking further into his pillows. “Stop being jealous.”

Kai snapped, “I’m not jealous.”

He had every right to be jealous.

Luhan surprised him then, saying, “You are the one I love.”

Catching Luhan’s hand in both of his, Kai bowed his head. “Do you have to marry him?”

“Yes and no.” Luhan’s voice was strained all the sudden. They rarely talked about the inevitable event that was quickly approaching. “It’s been arranged since he and I were born. It’s expected of us, and as much as you hate what M had done to K, I still love my people. They are my people, Kai. I want them to have some happiness. The wedding will take a lot of pressure off the war on this front.”

“He’s your cousin, and he can’t be the only option.”

The idea of the prince’s hands on Luhan’s thin form made Kai’s skin crawl. The prince, who was responsible for heartlessly and indiscriminately ordering the deaths of as many K citizens as possible a day, did not deserve someone like Luhan. Especially if their romance was fictitious and cooked up for the sake of war propaganda. No matter how fake the marriage was, they’d still be legally tied together by the end of the year, they would still have to consummate the marriage, and after that there’d likely be no chance to meet with Luhan in private. Luhan would be even more heavily guarded. Not to mention off limits.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Luhan said, finally letting go of Lay’s hand. He held his breath visibly for a moment, freezing perfectly still as he waited for something to happen. But then he was certain he was fine, and Kai was helping him from the bed. “I care for my cousin. I will marry him.”

There was very little blood actually tying Prince Kris and Luhan together. Kai had read the dossier himself before taking the assignment, but it was enough of a tie to validate Luhan in the succession line to the crown, and more than enough to make him an eligible choice to sit the throne next to the prince. There were also no other siblings or first cousins to consider, only much older aunts and uncles.

Kai’s hands fit perfectly at Luhan’s waist and he was able to fully breath in the scent that was all Luhan. The best part of Luhan, besides his heart, was the way he smelled. There was always a cedar smell to his skin, reeking of masculinity and unbridled strength. Luhan’s scent always gave him away, no matter how he looked. If Tao was the first person Kai didn’t want to go up against, Luhan was the very next.

“I don’t like how unwell you look,” Kai said, bowing his forehead against Luhan’s. “Holding onto your connection to Mama isn’t worth your life. I know you want to save her, fix her, whatever, but it’s killing you. Even I can see that.”

Luhan’s boney fingers rested up on Kai’s shoulders and he held on with surprising strength. “You asked earlier what happens if Mama dies. That’s what I’m scared of, Kai. I’m terrified.”

Kai argued gently, “But she isn’t Exo, Luhan. She might be Exo’s soul, but she isn’t Exo itself.”

“Can the body survive without the soul?”

Kai thought that was debatable, taking the prince into consideration.

Luhan shifted forward even further, his arms sliding up around Kai’s neck to pull him into a tight embrace. In Kai’s ear, he whispered, “Our wars have torn our people apart, but this is worse than that. Whatever is happening to Mama is tearing our planet apart.”

Things had been worse, recently. It was often hard to tell what was naturally occurring, ecologically speaking, as soldiers with abilities often masked the churn of nature. But there’d been an increase in earthquakes in M lately, and K had been hit by severe wind storms that weren’t the byproduct of a worked up special. The summer had been cold, the winter had been hot, and the air felt muggy most days. There’d been reports of tainted water from regularly safe sources, and of large groups of animals dying off without warning. It was all disconcerting, but none of it had been at the forefront of Kai’s mind.

How could he think about a freak tsunami off K’s southern coast when Luhan was looking worse and worse, and M advanced further and further into K’s already precariously small territory.

“Promise me,” Kai all be begged, willing to fall to his knees, “that if this gets any worse you will reconsider dampeners. They could save your life.”

Luhan’s fingers the skin at the back of Kai’s neck. “I don’t think any of us have very long, to be honest.”

“Then run away with me.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked. This time he meant it.

“That’s unrealistic, Kai.”

“I’m serious.” Kai held him as tightly as he dared. “Last time D.O. and I were out scouting for Suho we came across this tiny little island out of the way. It’s got fresh water, a ton of fruit, and just enough room for two people to hide out on. You wouldn’t have to get married to someone you aren’t in love with, I wouldn’t have to tell Suho about the prince’s father, and we could be together. At least we could be together for whatever time we have left.”

“What did you say?” Luhan asked, frowning at him.

Kai repeated patiently, “There’s this island, and no one knows about--”

“No,” Luhan interrupted, real fear on his face. “About Kris’ father.”

Kai looked away immediately, letting Luhan slip away from him and create a buffer of space between their bodies. “I’m expected to report into Suho by the morning. I’ll have to tell him about the king’s health.”

“You can’t,” Luhan breathed out, his eyes wide and painfully worried. The expression made him look so young, and in fact Luhan always looked younger than he actually was.

“I have to,” Kai argued back, watching from the corner of his eye as Lay rolled over on the bed, maybe feeling the lack of contact with Luhan. Either way, he knew he didn’t have much time left. “You know what I do, Luhan. You knew before I told you. My loyalties have always been clear to you, along with what I will do to assure K’s survival.”

It was still so fresh in his mind, that perfect moment when he’d tailed the prince and Luhan, along with half their entourage to the seaside a year earlier. While the prince had lounged around eating the kind of food frivolously that Kai knew K hadn’t seen in half a decade, Luhan had wandered off, driven forward by a vision and the promise of meeting Kai.

Kai had almost shot him accidentally, mistaking him for one of his guards and believing his cover had been compromised.

But then Luhan had said, “I know you’re there, Kai.”

Of course his response had been to ready himself for teleportation. He was faster now, and still got faster all the time, but back then it had take him a second or two to envision his destination and lock the imagine into his mind. He’d never teleported before without that lock. He’d seen, however, what had happened to another teleporter who’d been either unfortunate or lazy. Suffice to say, Kai was the only one of his kind left now.

“Don’t go.”

There’d been something about Luhan’s voice, sweet and unthreatening, that had made Kai pause long enough to have second thoughts and lose his lock.

“How do you know my name?”

With a grin impossibly wide, Luhan had replied, “Because you’re going to tell me what it is, and then we’re going to be important to each other.”

In retrospect, Kai had been doomed from the start with Luhan, but that had been the moment, the singular moment of recognition, when he’d fallen desperately in love.

“If you tell Commander Suho about Kris’ father, he’ll feel compelled to act on the information. He’ll see the weakness for what it is.”

Luhan’s words jarred Kai back to the present. “It’s not an option not to tell him the king is on his deathbed.” Kai nodded to Lay. “He’s your best healer, right? Even he hasn’t been able to cure the king, or even prolong his life by a few more months. The prince is at his majority. When the king dies, he’ll be legally old enough to ascend to the throne without a proxy. But he’ll still be young and inexperienced.”

Prince Kris would be over confident, untested and an easy mark, as far as Kai was concerned. He had a feeling Suho would share his sentiment. M was far superior in most industries, with the larger population and greater access to resources, but a weak ruler could tip the scales.

Sadly, Luhan relayed, “Lay’s been trying for months to do something. Anything.”

“The king’s days are marked.”

Luhan gave a faint nod, swaying a little on his feet.

“Sit,” Kai said, helping him to the edge of the bed, and then sitting next to him. He forced a smile and relayed to Luhan, “We’ve always know this was going to be tricky. But we have always been honest with each other.” It was a slippery slope to walk with Luhan, and they’d hurt each other before on several occasions with miscommunication, but as long as the information that Kai learned wasn’t a direct threat to Luhan, Kai was going to report it.

“I don’t agree with what Kris’ father’s choices have been in this war. My heart breaks for your people, too, Kai, not just my own. But if M is perceived as weak in any way, and K gains the upper hand, they’ll do the same thing to M that has been done to them. Nothing will change.”

“Better your people than mine, Luhan. Yours can take the brunt for a while. Mine are at their limit.”

“Better no one’s,” Luhan said, his shoulders trembling.

Kai put a strong arm around him and pulled Luhan against him, trying to enfold him as much as possible. He told himself he’d be able to protect Luhan if something happened, but there really were too many variables. Too may things were out of their control, and his promises now just felt hollow.

“If M falls,” Kai said, “whether it happens tomorrow or fifty years from now, know that I will come for you. I won’t leave you to …”

“To be pillaged and ravaged,” Luhan asked dryly. “I know what K will do to M if they’re strong enough to invade. Especially if I’m married to Kris at the time. But K will just be doing to M what M has been doing to K for ten years. Don’t you see the horror of the cycle?”

It was such a simple statement, one that probably didn’t next to be said to be felt, but Kai couldn’t help sighing out, “I really hate this. All of it.”

“Running away is actually starting to look like a viable option.”

Kai raised a hand to Luhan’s cheek and let his thumb rub over the soft skin there. “I do mean what I said, though. If the palace is breached, or if someone targets you, I’ll be here.”

There was a set of fierce determination in Luhan’s eyes. “I don’t need to be protected, Kai. I let you entertain the idea because it comforts you, but I’m more than capable of defending myself.”

“Against a hundred guys with abilities, high on the surge of war? And you’d better believe they’ll send that many in for you and for the prince. They won’t want to take any chances, if they do it.” If Suho did it. Suho, who cracked jokes and cared for Kai when no one else did, and had been the one to take a chance on him and his early, erratic manifestation of power. It hurt to think Suho was more than capable of ordering Luhan’s death, if the opportunity presented itself. And then Kai would be forced to turn against the man he considered an older brother.

“You have no idea what I’m capable of, Kai. A hundred wouldn’t be enough to kill me.”

Honestly, Kai believed that. He believed the deadly tint to Luhan’s words.

Kai’s hand on Luhan’s cheek stilled. “I know you are powerful and capable. You don’t need to be protected but you’re right, it makes me feel better to think I could be the one to do it. So even if you don’t need the protection, and even if you could kill me with your pinky finger, if something happens to M, if the tides of war every change, I will be here. Without hesitation.”

Luhan surprised him by leaning in suddenly for a searing kiss, breathing out sharply through his nose as he pressed in as deep as he could.

I’ve got you, Kai wanted to tell him, but it felt more like Luhan was the one who had him instead.

“Not too late to run away,” Kai teased in-between kisses.

Luhan did not have a third ability. Kai knew it and was confident in the way that he knew he’d personally never have a second, so there was no way Luhan was feeding him any sort of power. But when they kissed, when Kai’s lips caught Luhan’s and they were more connected than Kai had ever been with anyone else, Kai felt super strong. He felt like he could move the ground like D.O. or manipulate the other elements like so many of his friends. Luhan’s mouth put fire in Kai’s blood like he thought Chanyeol had to feel.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Luhan said, his fingers scratching gently through the material of Kai’s thin shirt. “I just want to be here, with you, right now.”

If Lay and Xiumin hadn’t been in the room Kai would have laid Luhan out on his bed right there and then, and made love to him with every fiber of his being. He would have cherished him and comforted him in the ultimate act of love. But oddly enough, with that not an option, he was still content enough to simply kiss Luhan breathless.

“Will you be gone long this time?” Luhan asked after his lips was properly swollen and Kai was feeling a little buzzed.

Kai tried to frequent Luhan’s rooms in some sort of pattern, usually once every couple of weeks. It was never frequently enough to put himself in danger, but if he went too long real unease started to eat away at him.

“Aren’t you going to beg me not to come back?”

Xiumin groaned in his sleep, slipping further down his chair.

“He’ll be awake in a few minutes,” Luhan said, tracing his line of sight. “And while I assure you that he will hesitate to act until he’s sure you’re a threat to me, it won’t take him long to come to that distinction and freeze something off. Something vital, I might add.” Luhan took a deep breath, looking weary. “I won’t ask you not to come back again. I’ve never been able to tell you what to do before, I can’t imagine it’ll change now. I’m also starting to think you have a danger complex.”

“I’ve been accused of such a thing before ,” Kai agreed. He bent to kiss Luhan for the last time, relaying, “I probably won’t be back for a while. At least not until the king is dead. Suho won’t want to risk me being exposed until the prince has his coronation. It may be several months before we see each other again.”

Quietly, Luhan told him, “There’s been talk of moving the wedding up. In fact, it’s almost set. Kris wants it done before his father passes. He thinks it’ll present him as a stronger leader when he takes the crown. He’s not wrong in that.”

“When,” Kai ground out, his voice terribly rough.

“A week.”

“That’s not enough time for a royal wedding.” Kai could feel his blunt nails digging into the skin of his palms as his fists tightened. “Doesn’t the prince want a spectacle?”

Luhan wouldn’t meet his gaze and Kai felt like he was losing him completely.

“We’ll likely be married in a small, private ceremony before the king passes, and then something more public afterwards.”

So the next time he saw Luhan, he’d have no right to him. Luhan would be another man’s spouse, and Kai was no adulterer. He couldn’t ask Luhan to be one, either.

“Fine,” Kai bit out, and it was the only kind of response he could come up with. Other than screaming until his throat was raw, which would land him either dead or in the dungeon. M probably had a dungeon somewhere.

“Kai,” Luhan pleaded, Xiumin shifting again. “Please don’t leave angry with me.”

Angry with him? Kai wondered how he could ever be angry with Luhan for doing the best he could. Luhan wasn’t marrying the prince to be malicious. He was doing it because there was nothing else for him to do, and he cared too much for other people.

“I’m not angry,” Kai said gruffly. “Now ask me not to come back and see you.”

Startled, Luhan demanded, “What?”

Kai readied himself, squaring his shoulders, his heart heaving and hurting. He repeated, “Ask me not to come back. Because I’m from K and you’re from M. Because I’m a street kid who got lucky and had a useful ability, while you’re insanely powerful with royal blood running through you. Luhan, ask me not to come back and see you anymore because we can’t run away together, and you’re getting married to another man. Ask me. Tell me.”

There were tears in Luhan’s eyes and Kai’s own were burning something fiercer that he couldn’t allow out.

“Don’t do this,” Luhan begged, reaching up to touch the underside of his own nose as blood seeped over his fingers. “I can … we …”

“I won’t come back,” Kai said, hating himself deeply. It took everything in his power not to reach out and comfort Luhan, or fuss over his bloody nose, or show even a shred of uncertainty. “You don’t have to ask.”

“Kai. Please.”

“I love you, Luhan,” Kai said, then took a step back. “And if you need me, I’ll be here. But the truth is I’ve always needed you more than you’ll ever need me.”

“Luhan?” Xiuhan mumbled, his eyes cracking open.

“I have to go,” Kai said quickly, panic starting to set in. “Tell them I tried to hurt you. If anyone asks, this is a blotched assassination attempt.” If he waited any longer he wouldn’t be able to hold it in. He’d be a blubbering mess.

“You would never hurt me,” Luhan argued, more blood flowing, running over his fingers, painting his nails red.

“Luhan!”

Xiumin was up on his feet a second later, eyes analyzing the situation. There was quick recognition of both Kai’s status as an intruder and the blood streaking down Luhan’s face.

“No, Xiumin. Don’t!”

It happened so quickly even Kai could barely keep up.

He had a lock in his mind. He could see his childhood home so easily, the creaky hovel that had barely sheltered him from the danger outside. But just as the lock fell into place and Kai began to teleport, shards of deadly ice were flung his way. The ice was faster than he was, and it seemed his fate was inevitable, at least until a heavy weight slammed into him.

Luhan pushed him so suddenly out of the way Kai broke the lock of his destination. The picture of his childhood home slipped away, but it was too late to stop himself from popping out of existence. He was already gone, a survival instinct taking over, blotting out reason from his mind that he was in terrible danger.

But in that split second, in the slightest time between losing the lock in his mind, and his ability taking over, Luhan was at the forefront of his mind. Luhan … Luhan was still in danger. Luhan and the ice were on a collision course meant for Kai, and Kai thought even Luhan didn’t have time to stop the shards.

The only thing Kai could do was curl his fingers around Luhan’s tiny wrist and squeeze hard enough to bruise.

His lock was gone and a half second after that he was hurdling into an unknown void that would surely kill him. Worse than that, Luhan was coming with him, and Kai was absolutely sure in his last few moments of consciousness that this counted as kidnapping. M would come at K with every bit of their power in a bid to recover Luhan. They’d destroy and burn everything to the ground. It would be Kai’s fault. He would carry the burden of the lives lost.

If he or Luhan even survived to know the damage.