“I would appreciate it if you’d leave out the fact that I didn’t stop on the way there,” Burt was saying. He was walking along the path on the eastern side of the castle with Mike. Mike had grown up with Kurt and Finn, one of the few who had been friendly to young Kurt. He had been sent to work as a servant in Castle Dalton at the age of twelve, and in two years had become personal manservant to the younger prince. When Prince Cooper had died, he had stuck around despite the complete breakdown of the court and the ensuing destitution of the castle. He was unfailingly loyal to his Prince, and wouldn’t speak of anything related to him. However, he kept in touch with the Hummel family and visited the town often.

“You know he only worries about you,” Mike replied. “If you promise to keep your promises to him next time, I’ll let this one slide. Okay?”

“That’s an awful lot of promises, but I’ll do it.” Burt smiled and clapped Mike on the shoulder. “You’re a good kid. How’s your parents doing?”

Mike’s parents had moved far to the south after an infirmity made the cold weather hard for Mike’s father to handle. “They’re well. I received a letter from them last week.”

“Give them my regards in your return,” Burt said. “And your young lady?”

Mike smiled.

“Tina is also well,” he said. “She’s a maid here at the castle now, you know.”

“Really?” Burt was shocked. “The Prince takes on new servants? After all this time? How can he afford it?”

Mike paused, obviously uncomfortable. And then, for the first time in Burt’s hearing, he spoke of his Prince.

“The Prince is still a good man, and didn’t wish me to be apart from Tina, though I suspect it was more to keep me here,” Mike replied slowly. “And while he hasn’t collected his dues for seven years, we aren’t entirely impoverished.” He continued walking, heading towards the servants’ entrance. “We’re self-sufficient. We have beasts that we tend, and crops. We aren’t wealthy, but we manage. Just not in the luxury that we could should the Prince ever decide to resume his duties.”

“You know he can’t get away with this forever,” Burt cut in. “I was out towards Carmel the other day, and there were rumors. Smythe’s been getting greedier, and the worry is that he’ll try to make a claim if the Prince doesn’t resume his duties. People are getting tired—I don’t know what happened, and I don’t need to know, but it’s been seven years. We all expected the Prince to take back up by his eighteenth birthday, when he reached majority and gotten done with his schooling and recovery, but it’s almost three years beyond that now. The people have been patient, because Cooper was always so well-loved and they were willing to do the family the favor of waiting, but it’s running out. None of us want Sebastian on the throne, but we need somebody.”

Mike sighed deeply.

“Thank you for telling me this, Burt,” he said finally, leading Burt into the servants’ wing and showing him to his room. “I can’t promise anything will change, but I’ll be speaking to the Prince. Your concern is appreciated.”

They bade each other good night, but Mike didn’t return to his own chambers. He slipped out of the servant’s quarters, on the lower floor of the East wing, and through the main castle into the upper West wing. He knocked on the large wooden door at the end of the hall.

“Come in, Mike.”

Mike entered the old King’s office and shut the door behind him. The Prince was facing away from him, seated in a large chair by the window, staring out at the darkening fields, untended on this side of the castle. His ever-present hood was down, so Mike could see the wild, tangled black hair on the back of his head.

“What is it?”

“My lord, as I’m sure you know, Burt Hummel is visiting the castle and staying in the servants’ quarters.”

“This is the merchant from Lima you visit?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And? He’s visited before. You’ve never felt the need to inform me.”

“My lord, Burt is an intelligent man,” Mike said carefully. “He knows how to distinguish between idle gossip and truth, and he’s…informed me that it’s possible that Sebastian might be planning to attempt a claim on the throne.”

The Prince’s curly head turned slightly, giving Mike a faint outline of a strong jaw hidden behind a wild growth of hair. Mike waited in silence for a response.

“Tell me more about Burt Hummel.”

Mike smiled faintly. When they were boys, the Prince had always been curious about the people Mike knew. He was sheltered, where Mike was not, and he wanted to know more about the outside world. In some ways, Mike supposed, this had never changed.

“An impressive man,” he said. “A good man. He’s honorable, and honest. Blunt, and wise. He was a good friend of my father’s. I grew up with his two sons in Lima. Only the younger is his son by blood, but he married Carole, the apothecary’s widow, after his first wife died of illness when the boy was small. He raised them both, and he raised them properly—both have become good men.”

“Tell me about them.”

Mike smiled wider at the Prince’s curiosity, which he hadn’t even attempted to hide. “Finn, the elder, is a simple man. Hard-working and friendly. He’s got a sweetheart working in the local tavern that keeps his hands full. They’re expected to marry once Burt trains him to take over his market stall. He’s well-liked.”

“And the younger? Why is he not taking over his father’s business, if he is blood?”

 “Kurt,” Mike continued, his voice lowering sadly. “The townsfolk don’t like him much.”

“And yet you say he’s a good man.”

“He is,” Mike maintained, “but he’s different. His mother was a rare beauty—delicate, pale, and very smart. Too good for a small place like Lima—she was born for the court. Her father had plans to marry her off to a noble, I imagine, but she fell in love with Burt, and was a good and loyal wife until her death. Kurt takes after her, and the townsfolk resent him for it. He doesn’t fit in with the boys his age.”

“You mean he isn’t a stupid, bumbling boor.” Mike could tell the Prince was being sarcastic. He had no idea that he had hit the truth directly. Mike laughed bitterly.

“That is exactly what I mean. Kurt is…special. He is talented. He can sew well enough that he could be a clothier to a noble. He plays the lute. He is a particularly gifted singer. He wants to be a bard. ”

“Then why isn’t he a bard?”

“No one will take him to apprentice, my lord,” Mike explained. “People gossip about Kurt, and the gossip isn’t kind. I don’t think you understand just how badly he’s treated. He’s tormented by the other boys. He’s quick enough to defend himself, my lord, and he has a sharp tongue, but he’s not as…physical as they are. These are blacksmiths and farm workers and heavy laborers, and there have been many occasions when Kurt has had to hide bruises.”

The Prince was silent, but Mike, who knew him well, could see that he wanted to know more. It was in the way his head was tilted to the side and slightly up, as though if his ear was directly facing Mike more information could get in.

“My lord,” Mike said, hoping the talk had softened the Prince as well as intrigued him. Maybe if he was interested in some of his people, he’d take what Mike wanted to say to heart. “I am worried that Burt may be correct. You know how Sebastian is, and the past few years he’s been raising his taxes and keeping all the excess for himself. He’s knight-commander of a regiment, and he has the resources to come to Dalton and take over without a problem.”

“Perhaps that is what’s best for the kingdom,” the Prince sighed.

“No, my lord, it’s not,” Mike insisted. “He’s cruel and rapacious, and he’d abuse his people.”

“Is that really any worse than neglecting them?”

Mike paused, and then said quietly, “May I be blunt?”

The Prince’s cheek turned up in a humorless smile.

“By all means.”

“The people needn’t be neglected,” Mike said passionately. “They would follow in an instant if you decided to lead. Send out a message to the Lords. Collect your tithes, fix up the castle, and hold court again. There are enough of us to pull it off until things get settled and you can keep more servants. We are all loyal, and the Lords would follow.”

“I’m not so sure, Mike,” the Prince replied, his voice all but dead. “You know how superstitious the people are. Who would follow a man accursed?”

“They would follow you, my lord!” Mike cried. “They love you!”

“They loved my brother,” was the rejoinder, suddenly bitter and harsh. “They loved the handsome boy I was. If they saw me now, they would cower in fear or demand I be put down as the beast I am.”

Mike’s jaw tensed as he ground his teeth. He’d seen the Prince fall into this self-loathing before. There was no reasoning with the Prince when he became like this. His temper was lost, and only time would regain it.

“I’ll leave you,” Mike said quietly, backing toward the door and reaching behind him for the handle. “But we can’t ignore this forever. Sebastian will come by your twenty-first birthday. Less than two months away. And you can do something about it, but you choose not to.”

There was no response.

“I wish you could see what I see, Blaine,” he said, and turned to leave. 

The Prince remained silent.

A little less than a day’s travel away, Kurt wandered in the back gate absently and sat down on the wooden bench beneath the lilac bush his mother had planted a year before her death. It was almost dark, the world colorless but just light enough to see. The sun had just disappeared behind the mountains in the west, the ones Kurt wondered if he’d have to cross should he ever wish to live the life he wanted. Would he ever get the chance to sink over the edge of the world, following the sun and the rivers and his own bittersweet dreams? His father had promised to look for an opportunity for him, but there was no guarantee. Why should anyone want him? Whoever his father could contact would be just like the townspeople that had shunned Kurt all his life. Why would he even hope for it to be different this time?

He’d spent the whole day thinking thus, melancholy and preoccupied. He’d left early that morning, drifting out to the wild fields on the outskirts of town. He remembered there had once been a farm somewhere out here, long before his birth, when his father was a child, but all that was left were some blackberry bushes and the ruins of the farmhouse. A fire had taken it, and since the Smythe family had taken charge of Lima three generations before, the village had become increasingly poor. Things hadn’t been too bad, however, until the latest Lord had taken his place.

Sebastian.

He’d come of age and taken over from his dying father about a year before Prince Cooper’s death. And while Cooper had never been a particularly attentive Prince, preferring to hold lavish court and deal with more interesting people than the peasants he ruled over, he had still done his duty and responded to the requests of the village councils and the Lords. He’d kept Sebastian in check, a fact that no one could have known until that next year, when Prince Blaine had taken over the throne and let it fall into disarray. Sebastian had seized his chances and grown increasingly bold over the years, demanding more and more tribute from the villages but only responding to the councils when he wasn’t off picking fights with other regiments or raiding free cities. The last year he’d doubled taxes and completely ignored his people. More and more places were ending up like the farmhouse—empty, dilapidated, cold.

Kurt sometimes felt that the people could be described the same way, but he wasn’t entirely sure that was Sebastian’s fault.

His thoughts kept circling back to Sebastian. After his encounter with the young Lord that night at the tavern, he hadn’t been able to shake a feeling of dread and anticipation. Sebastian had shown interest in him openly, and Kurt knew what happened to people he showed interest in. Girls, boys, it didn’t matter—Lord Smythe seduced them all, and when he was finished, they were left shamed and discarded if they didn’t meet their end in some unfortunate “accident.” Kurt recalled the chandler’s son, some three years prior, who had, upon his fifteenth birthday, been invited to sup with Lord Smythe.

He hadn’t come back. The excuse was that he’d drunk too much wine over the course of their weekend of celebration. Kurt suspected he hadn’t taken the bribe to keep his mouth shut.

And now Sebastian had seen Kurt and didn’t show any intentions of unseeing him. The night prior, Kurt had answered a knock on the door to find a grim soldier standing outside, bearing a letter addressed to him. It had borne Sebastian’s personal seal.

Kurt hadn’t had the courage to open it yet.

“Kurt?”

Kurt looked up quickly, having forgotten himself. It was overcast and now completely dark, and the light shining from within the cottage was the only source of light. He saw the outline of Carole at the back door, a lantern held in her hand.

“I’m here,” he said, lifting his hand. “Sorry, Carole.”

She moved closer, the lantern bobbing in her hand, a small smile on her kind face. Kurt made to stand, but she waved him off, hanging the lantern off the post next to the bench that had been placed there for that very purpose. She sat on the bench next to Kurt and looked back at the lilac bush.

“Should be blooming soon,” she said, reaching out a hand to brush against some of the overhanging branches. “It’s been getting warmer every day.”

“I’ll have to make a wreath to bring to her grave,” Kurt muttered. Carole nodded, not needing anymore explanation.

“You were gone a long time today, Kurt,” she said, apropos of nothing. Kurt turned to look at her and, when he could tell nothing from her face, he shrugged.

“I had a lot on my mind.”

Carole’s smile turned sad.

“I know.”

She reached into a pocket of her apron and pulled out Kurt’s letter.

“Where did you get that?” he asked, the color draining from his face.

“I think you need a better hiding spot than under your pillow, sweetheart,” she laughed. She held the piece of parchment out to him, and the wax seal gleamed in the lamplight.

“How did you know to look for it?” He recoiled a bit, not making any attempt to take it from her.

“A soldier was at the door today,” she replied. “He demanded an answer, so it wasn’t terribly difficult to conclude that you’d been given a message of some sort. You needn’t worry, though,” she added, seeing how pale Kurt had gotten. “I told him you’d send your reply when you were good and ready.”

Kurt laughed incredulously. “You didn’t!”

“I did,” she chuckled. “You should’ve seen his face!”

“But Carole,” Kurt said, growing serious, “you shouldn’t have done that! He could’ve done anything!”

“Oh, horseshit,” she said wryly. Kurt held his hand up to his mouth to hold in his laugh. “He wouldn’t touch me, not if it would ruin his lord’s chances with you.”

Kurt became grave again. He took a shaky breath and looked down at his hands where they were clenched tightly in his lap.

“So you know everything.” His stepmother had always been a clever woman.

“Finn was there when Sebastian spoke to you,” she said. “He didn’t have any problems filling me in on why Lord Smythe might be leaving messages for you.” She held out the letter again, and this time Kurt took it. “I think you should read it.”

Kurt snapped the seal and unfolded the parchment. The sharp black letters looked like knife cuts on the pale, smooth paper, and as he read the message, they began to feel like they were cutting him as well.

“He requests my presence at my earliest convenience,” he said, staring down and trying to control his breathing. “He invites me to sup with him so that we can discuss my integration into his household. He doesn’t even make the pretense of having me apprentice to his clothier like he did in the tavern.”

Kurt crumpled the paper and tried to fight down the nausea that had threatened to overtake him since he’d opened the damn letter.

“I don’t know what to do, Carole,” he breathed, feeling his eyes start to prickle and wishing away the tears. “When he first spoke to me, I could brush it off as him just indulging a whim, but now that he’s actually taking steps to take me…I’m afraid to turn him down. But I can’t go up there.”

“There is another answer, you know,” she said. “Your father returns tomorrow. He could have word of another opportunity for you. If you’re already promised to apprentice elsewhere, he won’t be able to fault you for turning him down. You can’t go back on your word.”

“And if Dad didn’t find someone to take me?”

“I’m sure your father will have no trouble stretching the truth a bit,” she said mildly. “What Sebastian doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Kurt smiled. “It might work. At least until Dad leaves for his next market and I don’t go with him.”

“We’ll figure out something to keep telling him. I don’t think anyone would go against your father. Not even the Lord of Lima.”

Kurt laughed at that. “He can be rather terrifying, can’t he?”

Carole laughed with him and grabbed one of his hands in her own. “He can. And he will, to protect his son.”

She stood, pulling Kurt up with her and embracing him.

“It will be okay, Kurt,” she said, and Kurt had never felt more grateful to have her. “We’ll make sure of it.”

With that, she turned, grabbed the lantern from the post, and led the way to the house. Kurt followed, feeling better than he had in days.