The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

"Darling, if you chase mysteries long enough, pessimism is the safest mood lighting."

They turned another dial. A faint ping echoed; one of the slender crystal columns cracked a millimeter. Rodion waddled over, optics pulsing.

<Warning: structural integrity of reader array at ninety-three percent. Adjust mana feed or prepare containment.>

Mikhailis waved him off. "Fine, fine—we'll reinforce." He slid a silver clamp into place. Behind them, a chimera ant worker scooted past, balancing a tray of tiny screws on its head like a saucer. Serelith caught the motion and watched with widening eyes.

The worker reached a low shelf where two siblings assembled a gear-driven beetle. One held a magnifying lens bigger than its carapace while the other inserted a brass limb into the socket with surgeon precision. Serelith's earlier amusement bloomed into fascination.

"They build for you?" She bent until her face neared the little trio. The ants froze, then waved antennae in greeting. One even presented a shining screw like a gift. She accepted it between forefinger and thumb, giggling. "You tiny marvels!"

Mikhailis beamed—pride, yes, but also relief that she hadn't screamed. "Colony's environmental branch. They like projects. And secrets."

Serelith straightened, tucking the screw into her bodice like a keepsake. "I wonder what's happening inside that head of yours," she said, eyes flicking to him with warm curiosity. "I'm very interested."

He felt heat creep up his neck. No joking this time, just a quiet honesty. "Mostly? Trying to impress you without blowing up the castle."

"Ambitious." She returned to the bench, brushing against him deliberately, sending that warmth skittering down his ribs.

Work resumed. They etched containment circles, rinsed sample slides with violet alcohol that smelled of bruised berries, and recorded mana oscillations that never repeated the same pattern twice. Minor mishaps followed them like playful sprites: a dripping condenser that painted pink streaks across Mikhailis's sleeve; Rodion tilting to stop a rolling beaker, only to overcorrect and nearly body-check a rune burner; a slip of Serelith's concentration sending sparks up her glove cuff.

<Safety margin exceeded by twenty-one percent,> Rodion intoned, tone flat as a dinner plate.

Mikhailis blew out a laugh. "Consider it experimental margin."

A respite came when the palace bells rang vespers far above their heads. The hour surprised them; the deep-set stones muffled outside sound so thoroughly that time often dissolved in the lab. Mikhailis fetched a ceramic teapot etched with ladybugs. Steam rose scented of mint and vanilla bark. They settled on a low bench strewn with forgotten scrolls—the parchment curled like sleeping caterpillars.

Serelith cradled her cup, letting steam kiss her nose. "You serve tea in the secret dungeon beneath your bedroom. That's somehow the most charming and most unsettling fact about you."

He shrugged. "Even mad scientists need hydration."

She sipped, humming pleasure. Then, as if mentioning a change in weather, she said, "Elowen left this morning. Off to Sorewyn province. Mana-soil degradation, trade routes snarled, the usual headaches."

The announcement jarred him. A spoon clinked too loud against porcelain. Gone? Relief prickled—he could dig into this leaf without immediate royal duties—yet guilt twined close behind. The queen trusted him implicitly, and here he was cozying up to her friend while chasing secrets she might have cautioned him against.

Serelith watched the emotions play over his face. "Relax. She expects you to meddle. I suspect she loves you for it." Her grin edged sly. "And maybe I'll report this lab, hmm? I imagine she'd be very interested in how you spend your nights."

He leveled a deadpan stare. "Ready to explain why your lipstick's on half my glassware?"

She traced her bottom lip, smearing the faint indent he'd left. "Evidence tampering is a hobby of mine."

They finished tea and returned to the bench. Hours slid by measured in sigils inked, notes scribbled, and stolen kisses whenever a glyph needed to settle. Serelith tried on his magnifying goggles and declared them deeply arousing. He retaliated by adjusting her monocle so it projected upside-down runes across her cheek, pretending he'd invented a new beauty mark.

At one point she coaxed a shimmering illusion of a tree made of dancing leaves—each leaf a perfect likeness of their emerald specimen. The image faded after a breath, but it left Mikhailis dazzled. "You make me feel like a novice," he murmured. She smiled, nudging his hip with hers: Mutual inspiration, the gesture said.

Eventually, fatigue tugged at their shoulders. As they wiped down the workbench, Serelith leaned back, palms braced, and fixed him with an intent gaze that cut through the fading humor. "It's not just curiosity, is it? This leaf, this puzzle—it's tied to your sense of self. To our kingdom's story."

He traced a chalk line on the table, unable to meet her eyes for a heartbeat. "If Verdant Canopy's roots hold memories and I unearth them, what if I learn we've built everything on a lie? Or that my role in all this is an accident?" He tried for a grin, but it faltered. "I laugh things off so people think I'm fearless. I'm not."

Her soft palm settled over his. "You don't have to face it alone."

He turned his hand, lacing their fingers together. In that moment the hum of crystals, the scuttle of ant workers, the rhythmic tick of a gear-beetle all seemed to hush.

"You're the first person I've wanted to share this with," he admitted. "Even Rodion agrees."

<Risk assessment: Lady Serelith's involvement will likely improve lab productivity… and romantic entanglement,> the AI announced in its measured cadence.

Mikhailis groaned, head dropping to Serelith's shoulder. "He always knows how to kill the mood."

She tilted her head, brushing her lips against his temple. "He's just jealous."

Clean-up proved slower thanks to their chemistry—beakers dried a fraction slower when punctuated by stolen pecks; scrolls re-shelved blurred as they whispered teasing threats of blackmail and reward. At last only the leaf remained, secure in its cradle. Lanterns dimmed to embers. It felt like midnight, though neither could be sure.

Serelith set down a cloth and prowled closer, eyes gleaming in half-light. She pressed him backward until the edge of the bench dug into his hips. Her palms flattened to his chest, heat seeping even through fabric. "You've now made me the sole keeper of your most precious secret," she murmured, lips skimming his throat. "Dangerous move, Your Highness."

"Danger makes life interesting." His voice came out rougher than intended. He curled an arm around her waist, pulling her close.

Their kiss this time was unhurried, tasting of mint tea and smoky vanilla. She nipped his lip; he answered by catching her lower lip between his teeth, gentle but possessive. Fingers drifted—hers to his hair, his to the small of her back, memorizing the curve through satin.

The sterile air of the lab grew warmer, tinged with resin, ozone, and something undeniably human. Clockwork crickets halted their ticking, as if too polite to intrude.

She drew back first, eyes hooded. "I won't tell," she promised, voice husky. "Not yet."

He brushed a pink curl behind her ear. "Not yet?"

Her smirk returned, wicked and beloved. "Give me a reason not to."

"Stay curious," he murmured.

With a final lingering glance at the leaf, she slipped to the stairwell. Rodion drifted aside, polite as a lantern, while the bookshelf door whispered shut behind her. Silence reclaimed the lab, broken only by the soft hum of mana coils.

Mikhailis rested both hands on the table, breathing deep. The emerald leaf glowed steady, as if pleased with the night's progress. He felt the echo of Serelith's warmth against his chest, mingling with renewed purpose.

Rodion hovered close, optics dim.

<Next step: catalog all Thalorian seed-memory myths. Suggest field expedition within forty-eight hours.>

Mikhailis tapped the vial gently. "Let's see what secrets the forest is still hiding."

Rodion's optic slit brightened faintly.

<Acknowledged. Adventure parameters set to 'highly questionable.'>

Mikhailis laughed softly. "Sounds about right."