Kurt didn’t get to see Blaine go because he ended up cleaning the kitchen and then later the house with Carole and the new mousy girl that had been hired as a maid. Quinn and Lady Terry had definitely figured out his obedience and even though they didn’t say anything about it, they were going to exploit him. Kurt hated more than ever that his father had gone away. But he didn’t say anything to his stepmother or stepsister and instead let Carole and Rachel entertain him as they cleaned.

Rachel was tiny. She had a small waist, and she was small in stature as well. She was also super annoying. She also had the foreign accent of someone that had come from Carmel. Rachel was also an amazing singer.

“I’m the best there is,” she often said, “I wish Dalton had more musical interest.”

Kurt didn’t know if he should like Rachel or not. She talked about herself too much but at least wasn’t obsessed with the Prince. She also spent a lot of time singing and Kurt was getting sick of having to listen to her.

A week after Blaine had left found Kurt in front of Lady Terry and Quinn. Brittany was also in the room but distracted by a cat she’d found. Kurt thought the thing probably had fleas, but he didn’t say anything and was glad he wasn’t told to take care of the massive thing. He couldn’t understand how a street cat could have gotten so large.

“Your father has written,” Lady Terry told him, “he did not find good conditions at the elves – they were not interested in his wares. He travels on. But I will not have you eating from my table. You will earn your stay.”

Kurt didn’t dare say anything. He should have seen it coming. By the next morning even more of his things had been taken away and he had been moved into an even smaller room in an area near the kitchen where the servants were supposed to sleep. Kurt was officially nothing more than a servant in his own home. He ate meager meals in the kitchen, he cleaned the house, scrubbed the floors, and even helped Carole cook. It was rare for him to have a spare moment to go out and do as he liked. Every day he grew to hate his stepmother more and more. But at least with Blaine gone to Carmel, Kurt couldn’t be upset about not being able to see him or having to listen to Quinn go on about him.

The first letter from Blaine arrived on a Thursday morning, three weeks after he’d departed. It was addressed to Carole. If Rachel who got the post that morning thought it was odd, she didn’t say anything. Instead she just handed the letter to Carole and Carole just slipped it into her apron.

Kurt didn’t get to read until that night when he was in his room. He had stolen a couple of candles just for the occasion and he giddily lit them. He sat on the floor by his one window and held the candle in one hand and the open letter in the order.

Dear Kurt,

I arrived at Carmel covered in mud. There was a storm and Pavarotti made me fall. But I am alright, do not worry. But so far my stay has been boring. I was in bed for a few days and missed the hunting party. They’re said to be back later today and maybe my boredom might be finally put to rest.

I’m afraid this letter will be boring to you. I promised stories about Carmel, about the singing and adventure. All the adventure I’ve had is in a dream. The trip here was spectacularly dull. We stopped at an inn one night and I spent it hiding in my room because the daughter of the owner thought she’d try and seduce me. Needless to say, it didn’t work.

I’m looking out the window as I write this and I think you’d love it here – I wish you were here. It’s been only two weeks since the last time I saw you and you won’t get this for another week yet. Not seeing you, or being so isolated has made me think and made me consider that which was on my mind even before this. And so I have to ask, do you ever think you will marry?

My mother asked me if I had found someone – she didn’t ask about a girl. I think she knows, Kurt, and I don’t think she minds. It’s my father I worry about. I want to tell them. I want them to know I will not marry a woman if I marry at all.

So, Kurt, will you marry if you could? Would you take the risk of letting everyone know you are different?

I do not know how to sign off.

Your friend, Blaine

Kurt read the letter three times before he let it fall to the floor next to him and then he knocked his head back against the wall. Blaine couldn’t do this to him. He couldn’t ask the question that Kurt knew had the answer he did not want.

He didn’t want to answer, but at the same time he knew he’d have to write back. He picked the letter back up and folded it. He hid it in a book and left the book under his bed. He resolved to write in the morning and decide then how he would respond.

Kurt woke up earlier than usual the next morning, just as the sun was rising. He wasn’t expected in the kitchen until much later, so he got the letter back out and then brought out the box with cut parchment and his ink and quill that Terry had let him keep because his father would expect answers to his letters, and then he sat with the quill poised not knowing what to write. So, he decided to be honest. Or as honest as the curse would let him.

Dear Blaine,

Your letter when I first saw it picked up from the post brought me more joy than you can imagine. I had wondered what you’d been up to and if your trip had gone well. It pleases me to know you are in good health. Still, I would reprimand Pavarotti for not caring for such precious cargo. I too am well though I’ve become acquainted with a girl from Carmel who drives me crazy with her singing. It’s not that she isn’t good because Rachel might have one of the best voices I’ve ever heard – it’s that she sings so often.

She hopes to make it big one day. She won’t tell me why she left Carmel where music is more appreciated. I think she’s becoming a good friend, but only if I don’t spend too much time with her.

Quinn hasn’t mentioned your name in a while, probably because there is nothing new for her to relate that we haven’t all already heard. I’m glad she doesn’t know you are writing me and I you.

I do not want to answer your question. But I can say that I miss you and sometimes I try and remember your laughter and come up short – nothing in my mind could do justice to the real thing. Your boring is probably much better than mine and I wish more than you can imagine that I were with you – even boredom could be borne.

For a long time I’ve known I do not intend to marry. But you said the same thing to me once and everyone changes their minds. I’m glad your mother supports you – that’s important and I think it’s also important to be truthful.

I await your next letter with too much anticipation.

Kurt