Already his father looked at him with suspicion whenever he spoke too long with noblemen who visited. It wouldn’t do for anyone to get the wrong idea even if the wrong idea happened to be the right one. They had, William reminded him pointedly, a reputation to uphold as a family, a reputation for which Kurt was responsible as well. The last thing Kurt wanted was for anyone to assume his lessons with Blaine were merely an excuse to ogle the man. Though that happened to be a rather pleasant side benefit, Kurt wanted to learn and had thrown himself into the lessons with all the passion he possessed.

His head snapped up at the sound of light laughter. No longer was the queen studying every perfect stitch of her embroidery. Instead he found her large green eyes fixed pointedly on his face. Kurt blushed at the realization that he had entirely lost the thread of their conversation some minutes before. “Forgive me, I... my mind drifted. What were you saying?”

“Actually, I said that you seem distracted.” The woman went back to her sewing, but the smile lingered on her lips. “Very. Does this distraction have a name, or have you simply been too long in those dusty books?”

“The books are very well kept, thank you,” Kurt returned. He knew the joke for what it was and took no offense. Emma alone seemed enthusiastic about his new pursuit. Finn offered honest support but was visibly confused by the idea that he wanted to work when it wasn’t required. “I suppose I... it’s nothing.”

As usual Emma read the truth beneath the words and set her work aside at once to focus in on her eldest son. “I am your mother. While there may be things that are... that are less easily discussed with your father given his position, you have never hidden the truth from me before. I ask that you refrain from doing so now.”

Kurt sighed and slumped back in his chair. It was true to a point. He rarely kept anything from the woman, his juvenile crush on Finn being the notable exception to that rule. “I may be a bit... a bit distracted by... by Blaine,” he finally confessed quietly.

“Ah,” Emma replied in a tone that said she’d known as much before he spoke a word. “And the young man? Does he share your... distraction?”

Rolling his eyes at the very idea, Kurt scoffed, “Does anyone? Even if he did, it... we both know that...” He hesitated and took a moment to gather his thoughts, to find the perfect way to say what he wanted to say. It was an idea that had been niggling at the back of his mind with particular force since he found out that his brother was soon to marry. “We both know that the love I seek is not one that would be... well received.”

The Queen frowned and idly picked through the thread she had selected for her newest project. “I want to see you happy, Kurt, and-”

“It will have to be happy without love, and we both know as much.”

“I hope someday that won’t be true,” Emma returned, though she politely changed the subject just the same. “Have your lessons been going well?”

Kurt let some of the tension drain from his shoulders. “Very well. I’ve learned the first two volumes of the books on herb-lore, and Blaine let me make a poultice this week without looking over my shoulder.” He smiled fondly at the recollection of how difficult it had obviously been for the other man to stay away. Every time Kurt looked up, he’d caught Blaine’s worried gaze from across the room, but never once had the physician checked in until the task was complete. “I believe he very nearly put himself in an early grave trusting me with it, but it came out well.”

“I’m proud of you for standing by this and working so hard. I am sure that your father is proud too.” The Queen held up the beautiful lace square on which she had carefully embroidered a small field of bright flowers. “Do you think that your brother’s betrothed will like it?”

Kurt inspected the piece carefully and smiled his approval. “If she doesn’t, I say we send her back to wherever she came from.”

“Now, Kurt, she will be a guest here... well, to begin with, she will be,” Emma said reproachfully. “We need to make the Lady and her attendants feel welcome.”

“Yes, I will. Of course I will. If she makes Finn happy, then... then she will be family, after all.” Kurt did his best to ignore the way his gut twisted at the words. He did want his brother to be happy, but there were moments when he mourned deeply and truly the realization that the happiness could only come with someone else. Even if they had not been siblings for all intents and purposes, Finn had been seeking to impress one lady or another since he found out what a lady was. He would bend over backwards and tie himself into knots to get some pretty little thing to smile at him, and now their father had found a proper match. Whatever he felt for the lady, Finn was expected to wed her and begin producing heirs of his own.

Taking the words at face value, Emma smiled. “I have heard that she is quite beautiful. It was something of a coup that she chose to come here, chose to marry your brother.”

Kurt only barely held his tongue at the bold use of the term “chose” when he knew that neither of the parties involved had done anything of the sort. “I have every faith that they will be very happy together.”

“Of course they will,” the Queen agreed, “it’s a perfect match.”

************

Kurt had to force himself into any sort of joviality when he met Blaine that afternoon for a tutorial on the proper mixing of tinctures for rheumatism. “I am beginning to think that you dislike state dinners as much as I do,” Blaine observed as he watched Kurt try the same simple mixture for the third time. “I have never seen you so unfocused.”

The words drew a sigh from Kurt, who gave up altogether pretending to work on the potion. “It bothers me, the idea that Finn has to marry some random girl from somewhere just because her kingdom would be a good ally with our own.” He rarely spoke so openly to anyone, but Blaine’s own blunt nature demanded the same in return. He never feared for a moment that the physician might report to anyone that he had spoken inappropriately or chide him for being direct.

“That’s the way it’s done,” Blaine answered nonchalantly. He sounded no more pleased than Kurt, but tried to smile for the other man’s benefit. “Perhaps you should be happy that you aren’t the crown prince. You may yet avoid such a fate.”

Kurt’s scowl deepened at the words as his thoughts turned to the unlikelihood that he might ever find a match of his own, let alone one based on love. “Yes. Of course. You’re right. I’m sure she’ll be... be lovely.” The truth was that a very large part of him didn’t want the girl to be lovely. He wanted her to be hideous and awful - enough that his father would throw her out of the castle gates and leave things as they were.

“Perhaps she’ll even have sisters who need a match,” Blaine added, utterly missing the point as he idly shook a bottle of liquid in one hand and then peered at it skeptically. “You could-”

“There is no need to mock me.” Kurt’s tone was cold as ice, and he sat up straighter before looking back down at the bowl before him. His inclinations were well known enough throughout the household staff, and Kurt knew better than to think that Blaine had been spared the gossip. That the man would even make such a joke stung more than Kurt wanted to admit. “Show me again,” he demanded as calmly as possible as he picked up the first of the ingredients once more. “I will get this right.”

************

For once Kurt sat at the head of the table - or, at least, near to it. His mother and father were flanked by Finn and his betrothed, who was every bit as lovely as everyone had said. Her hair shone like gold, her eyes sparkled, and her smile never faltered. His brother seemed pleased enough with the young woman, ducking his head bashfully whenever she laughed at some jest or comment. Kurt loathed her for that and more, but he tried to focus his attention on the delicious food and easy conversation. Evenings with his father did not always pass so well, but the king was in a fine mood with the arrival of the Lady Quinn and her myriad attendants. Chief among these was a rather lovely girl with dark hair who hovered nearby to attend to the Lady’s every need. Unlike most servants, the brunette seemed to stick her nose in everywhere, monitoring her lady’s food and chiding the other staff whenever their enthusiasm or speed seemed to flag for a moment. Kurt found himself torn between admiration and annoyance as he heard her hissing comments melting into the background noise of the room.

Quickly enough Kurt found his attention wandering. He hated chatting with even the most pleasant of the neighboring royals and wished that Blaine were seated at the table instead of taking his usual post among the other servants. Then he could have spoken openly and comfortably with at least one person. The more time they spent together the more time he wished they could spend together, a frustrating state of affairs when Kurt knew that the best they could hope to achieve was friendship.

He sought Blaine out in the shadows only to find him sliding up next to another servant. At first Kurt thought he was simply whispering something to a friend, but in a flash of movement so deft that it might have gone unnoticed by anyone else, the man tipped something into Finn’s goblet.

Kurt’s mouth went dry as he saw the servant turn, oblivious, back to the table to serve the drinks. At first he assured himself that Blaine would certainly do nothing to harm anyone, but he hardly knew the man well enough to say that. He knew precious little about the man apart from his brusque nature, knowledge of herbs, messy hair and kind eyes. No easy explanation for the dose or the subterfuge apart from the obvious - poison - came to mind, and Kurt found himself fighting panic as the drinks were served out.

“Wait!” he gasped as Finn reached for the ornate glass. The word had come before Kurt found any way to explain himself, a fact that struck him only after the fact as the room fell silent. Kurt’s cheeks flushed with the sudden attention and the clawing desperation at not knowing what to do.

When no quick words followed the first, the king fixed a steady glare on his elder son. “I assume that you have reason for this interruption?” He hated anything to disturb a feast that didn’t add to its quality or create some diversion for the guests. Such a breach of etiquette at the dinner to celebrate his son’s betrothal was unheard of.

“I... the... I think there may be something in my brother’s drink,” Kurt explained lamely. It sounded weak at best, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak Blaine’s name. Even with the apparent evidence of betrayal, balked at doing the man any injury. If it truly was nothing more than some misunderstanding, then he might be harming a friend with no reason. He had precious few friends, and if he were wrong, he would look a fool. If he were right, Kurt had no idea how far he might be willing to go to protect Blaine or if any explanation could make him forgive someone who tried to hurt his family. Desperately he searched for Blaine in the crowd once more and found him nowhere.

“Kurt, this is no time for foolishness.” King William’s tone was even, but his eyes communicated his anger clearly just the same. “This night is for your brother and his lovely bride to be. Let us not-”

“I only want to-”

“Let us not,” the king continued somewhat louder, “do anything that might take away from this special occasion.”

Kurt’s own temper flared at the dismissal. “I would never-” He saw Emma shake her head in helpless protest and the anger boiled over. “A toast, then,” he proclaimed instead, “to the happy couple.” Kurt rose from his seat and snatched Finn’s goblet up, draining half the wine from it in one go. He felt the slow burn of humiliation as nothing happened and the gaze of the table remained on him. “Forgive me... I...” Even as he fought to apologize, the room began spinning, and Kurt placed his hands flat on the table to steady himself. “I...” The last thing that Kurt was aware of before he spun off into the blackness was the firm pressure of an arm around his waist and warm breath against his ear, a voice whispering, “Damn it, Kurt,” as everything went dark.