As he stood in the foyer waiting, Cassius realized he did not know if he could do what was expected of him.

The thought was ridiculous, of course. He had no choice in the matter. He would continue to hold his post as he waited to chaperone the prince and Lady Penelope this evening. His responsibilities ensured that. He could not threaten his ability to care for those he loved because of his attraction for the prince that suddenly felt all-consuming.

He’d allowed himself to get lost in his fanciful thoughts despite telling himself he wouldn’t. Otherwise, seeing the prince with Lady Penelope later that night would not matter. The kiss they shared would have been a dangerous moment of pleasure and nothing more.

But it hadn’t been.

Over a day had passed and his lips still felt the press of Prince Merrick’s. Cassius recalled his taste—brandy and passion so fierce, Cassius’s soul caught on fire. For a moment, he had been willing to go up in flames, to burn to ash if he could have done so with Prince Merrick’s lips upon his.

But he could not do that, could he? He had too much to lose…as did Prince Merrick. It was not something he would have considered before, even if he had known the prince favored men. He risked his title. His family. His kingdom.

Even had he not tasted that reality upon the prince’s tongue, he would have felt it in the sadness that had rolled off Prince Merrick, thick and heavy as packed snow. Cassius would have seen the longing in his eyes when they caught one another in the mirror, or in their silence moments before as he’d dressed the prince for his outing; if longing for Cassius specifically or men in general, he did not know, but it was there—loneliness, duty, sorrow…hunger.

They understood each other, Cassius realized as he waited to follow through in his duty, only the weight upon Merrick was heavier than even Cassius’s. Prince Merrick… It would do him no favors to begin to think of the prince as strictly Merrick.

The prince desired men, and that would never be acceptable for him. He would be forced to court a woman, much like he was tonight, and soon his responsibility would call for marriage and an heir.

His gut cramped as his chest tightened with Prince Merrick’s devastating truth.

He tugged at the collar of his shirt, his tie suddenly feeling too tight. Cassius jerked down his waistcoat next. Because of the opera, he was required to wear more formal attire tonight.

Cassius knew the prince was there before he ever saw or heard him. He fought to keep his eyes upon the wall but could not prevent them from veering to the top of the stairs, where Prince Merrick stood watching him.

He was dashing as always. It hadn’t been long since Cassius’s eyes had been upon him, but somehow it was as if the first time he saw the prince’s cinnamon-colored hair, neatly tied at his nape. As if Cassius had never seen his pale skin, unblemished and soft. As if he did not know the rounded curves of the prince’s face and the lithe, firm build of his body. More than that, he knew what the prince’s mouth tasted like. How he swept his tongue when he kissed and the moans that slipped past his lips when he did so.

The familiar spark Prince Merrick lit inside him flickered as his heart ached, not only for himself, but for the prince.

“Oh, Merrick. Don’t you look lovely!” The queen’s proud voice snapped Cassius from his thoughts, making him jerk his eyes away. Christ, he had not even heard her approach.

“Thank you, Mother,” the prince replied as he descended the grand staircase. “I was going for dashing,” he teased, but his smile did not reach his eyes.

“Dashing it is.” She hugged Merrick when he met her.

They spoke for a few moments about what was going to come to pass tonight, excitement evident in the queen’s voice. To block the painful words from his ears, Cassius told himself a story of two men riding a mare to the end of the world.

It wasn’t until he heard, “Are you ready, Cassius?” in the prince’s velvety voice that he quieted his silent tale.

“Yes, Your Highness.” Cassius bowed his head, then turned to the queen and did the same to her before opening the door for the prince.

They did not speak while Cassius led him to the car. As they walked, Cassius saw the sun spark off something that fell to the snow, and realized the prince lost a cuff link again.

“Your Highness?” he said before he stopped, bent, and picked it up. “You lost your cuff link.”

He allowed himself to reach for the prince’s hand, fingers gently around his wrist. He was warm and supple and alive. Funny that he should think of another that way. Of course he was alive, but the touch…it made Cassius feel the same, made him realize how foreign the sensation was. How could he not feel alive? How could this touch be different from other men’s he had lain with?

The prince inhaled a sharp breath when Cassius’s fingers brushed against his hand. “This is how we met,” he whispered. “I can’t seem to keep myself together in your presence.”

Cassius didn’t want him to. “You do fine, Your Highness.” Before either could continue, he dropped the prince’s wrist and opened the door.

Their eyes snagged for one perfect moment before he disappeared into the motorcar.

Cassius closed the door behind him and took a couple of deep, painful breaths before he set upon accomplishing what he was there to do.

* * *

Cassius kept his eyes firmly on the road after they collected Penelope. In a pale-pink dress and matching coat, she was as elegant and beautiful as she had been two nights before, and her laugh was infectious.

She was kind, and Cas thought maybe this would be easier had she not been. He wondered if Prince Merrick felt the same. If his destiny was eating through him like a rapid-moving bacteria, or if her kindness eased his burden. If he saw her as a good match, despite his leanings, because they were both compassionate.

Could Prince Merrick feel attraction to both men and women? He’d heard of such a thing, though that was not him…and he did not believe it was the prince either.

His body felt a pull to the prince that he didn’t understand. He longed to meet his eyes in the mirror but feared what he would see and how the prince made him crave.

The snow did not fall as they drove to the opera. Theater staff awaited their arrival as they always did when royalty was involved. Cassius slowed the vehicle to a stop and twisted the turn-key ignition before he said, “Allow me to get your door, Your Highness.” He realized the absurdity of his statement the moment it left his lips. Of course he would open the door. That was his responsibility.

“Thank you, Cassius,” the prince replied, his voice somewhat rougher than it typically was.

Cassius cleared his throat as he mentally chastised himself. He could not afford to allow himself thoughts of the prince. He could not risk his livelihood by continually obsessing about the royal artist with the gentle smile.

He hoped the brisk air would somehow cleanse him of those thoughts as he walked around the polished, black motorcar and opened Prince Merrick’s door. He held his arm out and the prince took it, and he wondered if it made his heart accelerate as it did Cassius’s.

“Thank you.” Prince Merrick’s voice cracked.

“You’re welcome, Your Highness,” Cassius replied before he offered Lady Penelope his arm as well. She took it and presented him a smile, which he returned.

“Thank you, Cassius,” she told him.

“You’re welcome, Lady Penelope.”

Theater staff cleared a walkway specifically for the prince. Men in uniforms stood shoulder to shoulder, saluting the prince as he walked into the gray brick building. He tugged at his collar, Cassius noticed, and again he found his mind wandering to what Prince Merrick was feeling. Did it make him uncomfortable? Being here? The attention?

They were led through a restricted entrance, upstairs, and to a private box. With each step they took, Cassius’s stomach flipped quickly and with more intensity. He longed for another moment like the one they’d shared in the prince’s quarters two nights previous. As he saw the prince with Penelope, watched him help seat her, he wished the prince’s hands were upon him.

When he sat beside Prince Merrick, the warmth of his flesh so near yet out of reach, he was angry at himself. He wanted their moment back because it would likely be the only one they ever had… As the prince’s leg brushed briefly against his before pulling away, Cassius thought that one night in Prince Merrick’s bed—skin to skin, teasing and tasting and learning his body—would be worth the consequences he’d face.

What would his skin taste like? What would he smell like when they were nothing except two male bodies together?

The opera began, and Cassius found that he struggled to breathe. It was as if he had gone into shock or had an allergic reaction, his throat closing the way Elizabeth’s did with her allergies.

Lady Penelope sat close to Prince Merrick. She smiled at him, her grin brightening the dark, before her eyes were upon the stage again.

The music was muffled in Cassius’s ears. He had never been to an opera before, and he knew he wouldn’t remember this one because all he could think was that he had ruined his chance. There was nothing Cassius had in his life that was for himself. He did not allow himself to daydream of the quiet longings that filled him—for his family to be okay, to lose himself in the beauty of the written word, to ride a horse until he could ride no more, to capture in a story what he saw…

He yearned for the prince, hungered for him, wanted to know what it was like to feel the prince’s touch upon his body. Prince Merrick would be the only true indulgence he allowed himself, yet he’d denied himself. Shoved away from the prince. Lost his moment to experience freedom.

“Cassius?” Prince Merrick whispered, looking at him as though he could feel Cassius’s tension. “Are you well? You’re shaking.”

“I’m…I’m sorry, Your Highness. I am well.” He managed to get the words past his dry lips.

Though it was too dark to see the prince’s eyes, he could feel them upon him, his stare intense. He felt it like a caress, like soft yet urgent fingers against his skin.

Why could he not have this one thing for himself? A moment that went beyond satisfying his prick with a man he did not know, but with one he did. Someone he enjoyed, someone he desired beyond simple fucking.

Because he is a prince and you are his servant…

This was not a story, a fairy tale selling the lie of a happily-ever-after that couldn’t be a reality for someone like Cassius. That was not a reality for Merrick either.

He turned away, did not let himself gaze at the prince for the rest of the performance. He ignored Lady Penelope’s whispers to Prince Merrick, the jealousy that burned through his gut.

This was his reality, and he had better get used to it.