Spring arrived at the palace with its usual fanfare—petals drifting through courtyards, birds singing from ancient eaves, and servants bustling to prepare for the season’s ceremonies. But Kieran barely noticed any of it. His attention was fixed on the solitary figure walking back from the garden pavilion.

Prince Aldric moved through the blooming landscape like a shadow cutting across light. While everything around him sparkled with life, he seemed to carry his own weather—a sullen atmosphere that followed wherever he went. Other servants whispered about it, how the prince had changed three years ago, but they never lingered to understand why.

Kieran understood, though. Or at least, he saw what others didn’t bother to see.

From his position at the second-floor window, Kieran watched the prince’s rigid posture, the way his shoulders never quite relaxed even in the privacy of the garden. He watched until his knuckles turned white against the window frame, until Aldric disappeared beneath the covered walkway.

“Kieran!” A sharp voice made him jolt. “Are you daydreaming again? The prince’s chambers need attending.”

“Yes, Head Steward. Right away.” Kieran released the frame, flexing his stiff fingers.

This was his life now—three years of service in the prince’s household. Three years of watching from appropriate distances, of perfecting the art of being helpful without being seen. Three years of something growing in his chest that he had no right to feel.

He gathered fresh linens and made his way to the prince’s quarters, passing gilt-framed portraits of stern-faced ancestors. The palace was a place of rules, of hierarchies as old as the stone walls themselves. Servants served. Royalty ruled. The order was absolute.

Kieran had been taught this since childhood, had pledged his loyalty at sixteen with the full understanding of what it meant. His future was sealed, his path predetermined. He would serve the royal family until he could no longer stand, and then he would train his replacement. It was an honor, they said. The highest duty a commoner could aspire to.

He believed it, too. Or he had, before he met Prince Aldric.

The prince’s chambers were empty when Kieran entered, which was both a relief and a disappointment. He worked quickly, efficiently, changing bed linens and organizing the scattered books on the desk. Everything had its place in the prince’s room, a reflection of the control Aldric maintained over every aspect of his life.

Everything except the small wooden box on the windowsill.

Kieran had never touched it, never asked about it, but he’d noticed how sometimes the prince would stand there, holding it, staring out at nothing. On those days, the carefully constructed mask would slip just slightly, and Kieran would see the weariness bleeding through.

“You’re still here.”

Kieran spun around. Prince Aldric stood in the doorway, and up close, the contrast was even more striking. His face was composed, a pleasant expression carefully arranged, but his eyes were distant, somewhere far beyond the palace walls.

“Your Highness.” Kieran bowed deeply. “I was just finishing.”

“I see.” Aldric moved past him, and for just a moment, Kieran caught the scent of garden flowers clinging to his robes. “You’re thorough, as always.”

It was a simple observation, nothing more. Yet Kieran’s heart hammered traitorously in his chest.

“I only do my duty, Your Highness.”

Aldric paused, then turned to look at him—really look at him—for the first time that day. The prince’s eyes were a shade of gray that reminded Kieran of winter storms, beautiful and unreachable.

“Yes,” Aldric said softly, almost sadly. “Duty. We all have our duties, don’t we?”

Before Kieran could respond, the prince dismissed him with a gentle gesture. Kieran bowed again and left, his mind whirling with the brief exchange.

Outside the door, he pressed his back against the cool wall and took a steadying breath. Three years of this. Three years of serving someone he could never have, of keeping feelings locked so deep that sometimes he forgot they were there.

Until moments like this, when a single glance could undo all his careful restraint.

Spring had come again, bringing its promises of new beginnings. But for Kieran, it only meant another season of the same careful distance, the same unspoken devotion.

The same impossible love that he would carry, masked and hidden, for as long as fate demanded.