The weeks that followed were a study in careful avoidance. Kieran threw himself into his duties with renewed dedication, arriving early, staying late, volunteering for every task that would keep him busy and his mind occupied.

It didn’t work.

Every time he entered the prince’s chambers, every time he stood at a respectful distance during meetings, every time their eyes accidentally met—the awareness was there, humming beneath the surface like a plucked string still vibrating.

Spring deepened into full bloom. The palace gardens became a riot of color, and with the warmer weather came more outdoor events. Kieran found himself assigned to serve at a garden reception, pouring wine and ensuring the guests wanted for nothing.

Prince Aldric moved through the crowd with practiced grace, smiling, conversing, embodying everything a crown prince should be. Kieran watched from his station, tray in hand, as noblewomen laughed at Aldric’s remarks and ministers sought his counsel.

“He’ll make a fine king someday,” an older servant whispered beside Kieran.

“Yes,” Kieran agreed quietly. A fine king, destined for a brilliant political marriage, surrounded by advisors and courtiers. A future already written in stone.

A future that had no place for a common servant’s feelings.

As the reception wore on, Kieran noticed Aldric’s smile growing more fixed, his responses more automatic. When the prince finally excused himself and walked toward the far end of the garden, Kieran made a decision he knew was foolish.

He followed.

He found Aldric standing beneath a flowering tree, away from the crowds, staring at the wooden box Kieran had seen in his chambers. The prince’s carefully maintained expression had crumbled, replaced by raw grief.

Kieran should have left. Should have turned around and returned to his duties. Instead, he cleared his throat softly.

“Your Highness.”

Aldric quickly closed the box and turned, his mask sliding back into place—but not quite fast enough. “Kieran. I didn’t hear you approach.”

“Forgive me. I thought…” Kieran hesitated. “I thought you might need something.”

“What I need,” Aldric said with a bitter smile, “isn’t something that can be brought on a silver tray.”

The words hung between them. Kieran took a careful step closer.

“The box,” he said quietly. “You hold it often. If I may ask… what’s inside?”

For a long moment, Aldric said nothing. Then, slowly, he opened the box. Inside lay a simple bracelet of woven thread, faded and worn.

“A reminder,” Aldric said softly. “Of someone I couldn’t save. Someone I…” He stopped, his jaw tightening. “Three years ago, my younger sister fell ill. The physicians tried everything. I tried everything. But she…” His voice broke. “She was only twelve.”

Understanding flooded through Kieran. The sadness that clung to Aldric, the weight he carried—it was grief, deep and unresolved.

“She made this for me,” Aldric continued, touching the bracelet with gentle fingers. “Two days before she died. She told me to wear it so I’d remember to smile. She always worried that I was too serious.” He let out a shaky breath. “Everyone expects me to have moved on. To focus on my duties, on the kingdom’s future. But how can I, when I failed at the one thing that truly mattered?”

Without thinking, Kieran moved closer. “Your Highness didn’t fail. Some things are beyond anyone’s power, even a prince’s.”

Aldric looked at him, and in those gray eyes, Kieran saw something that made his heart ache—loneliness, buried beneath layers of responsibility and expectation.

“You’re the first person who hasn’t told me it was ‘the will of the heavens’ or that ‘all things serve a purpose,'” Aldric said. “Everyone else wants me to accept it and carry on. But you…” He paused. “You see it, don’t you? The pretending.”

“Yes,” Kieran admitted. “I see it.”

“And yet you never speak of it. Never pry. Why?”

Because I love you. The words nearly escaped, but Kieran caught them just in time.

“Because everyone needs someone who sees them without demanding explanations,” he said instead. “Sometimes witnessing is enough.”

Something shifted in Aldric’s expression—surprise, gratitude, and something else Kieran couldn’t name. The prince took a step closer, and suddenly the distance between them felt impossibly small.

“Kieran,” Aldric said softly. “I—”

“Your Highness!” A voice called from the garden path. “The ambassador from the Northern Province has arrived!”

The moment shattered. Aldric stepped back quickly, the mask slamming back into place with almost audible force.

“I must go,” he said formally, all trace of vulnerability gone. “Thank you for your… discretion.”

He left without looking back, and Kieran stood beneath the flowering tree, his heart pounding, knowing that everything had just changed.

They had crossed a line, and there was no going back.