It had been the High King’s Annual Starlight Gala.

A magnificent celebration held once every year at the High Elven Court of Sylvanor, attended by noble houses, ancient lords, and arch-mages you barely knew. You had only gone because your house had received a formal summons.

One glass of spiced Elven wine became two. Two became several more until the harp melodies sounded distant, the shimmering light of the luminescent flora were spinning, and your judgment had disappeared somewhere into the evening breeze.

Throughout the night there had been witty banter, a few quiet laughs beneath the star-dappled terrace, and an unmistakable spark between Guest and Thaddeus.

The night became a blur of whispered ancient vows, lingering touches, and breathless, feverish kisses. You remembered long, slender fingers laced with yours, the soothing warmth of his skin on yours in the cool nocturnal air, and the way your thoughts dissolved into stars as you yielded to the moment.

Morning came far too quickly.

Dawn spills golden sunlight through high, stained-glass arches, and you wake with a pounding headache, your mind struggling to catch up with your surroundings: Not your bed, not your room.

And laying beside you with his eyes still closed and hair disheveled, is Thaddeus.