It was difficult not to view someone like Prince Merrick with a quiet disdain Cassius regretted feeling but couldn’t seem to control. It was like a vicious bacteria sometimes, eating away at him, taking over his body bit by bit. He didn’t want to be so angry. He didn’t want to look at the world through jaded eyes. It wasn’t Prince Merrick specifically, but what he represented, what every royal or aristocrat represented: things he would never have.

It wasn’t wealth or standing he desired—only the ability to comfortably provide for his family. His father had spent a lifetime working himself to the bone to care for Cas, his mother, and his two sisters. The moment Cas was of age to work, he’d done the same while quietly yearning for what his father had always called foolish dreams. “It is okay to have dreams, Cas. But you must also be realistic. There is a time and place for such thoughts. Dreams do not put food on the table.”

His chest pinched at his father’s voice in his head. It was so fresh, his death, and Cas couldn’t help but wonder if his voice would always be so clear in his memory. Would it fade over time?

The sound of a door closing came from the west hall. Cas had just finished his afternoon chores of lighting fireplaces and polishing silverware. He held his head high, posture perfect, as he walked to the door and waited in case he needed to open it. Simultaneously, he wondered why it should matter how he stood. Did they appreciate what they had or notice what others did not? Becoming a royal was not something they had worked for. The family had been born into royalty, the same way Cas and his parents before him had been born as commoners.

Cassius gritted his teeth and tried to tame his frustration. His father would be disappointed in him, but Cas had never been as good of a man as he. Cas was moody, standoffish, and easily annoyed, especially as of late.

“Did my dear brother leave?” Cassius heard Princess Marjorie ask.

“Yes, ma’am, some time ago,” her lady maid replied as they approached the stairs, across from where Cas stood. “He was to court Lady Angelica.”

Earlier in the day, he’d heard Queen Edeline speaking of the woman her son was to court as though she were the answer to some private prayer. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. It was as if the lady herself did not matter—only their desired outcome. They wanted the prince wed; that much was obvious.

The princess sighed and shook her head, making Cas wonder what might be troubling her. She caught his eye, and Cas bowed. “Do you require anything, Your Highness?”

“No, thank you,” she replied with a smile before the two women made their way up the grand staircase decorated with gold and red carpeting, and disappeared.

Cassius recalled the prince flinching slightly when his valet had reminded him that they must be on their way, and wondered if it had anything to do with the princess’s disconcerting response to the news. Not that he cared or that it was any of his concern. He doubted the prince counted his blessings; more than likely, he had not a care in the world—especially when he was off gallivanting with society ladies.

Yet something in the deep brown of his eyes hadn’t looked quite as smug as Cas would have expected, and that surprised him. He’d seen the prince often, of course, but it was typically from a distance. They had much less contact when Cas worked in the kitchens. He’d just been promoted to footman weeks before, and the other moments he’d been in the prince’s company had been when more people were nearby and he’d been busy with his family.

What am I doing? Why must I overthink this?

Because the prince was beautiful, of course. His eyes deep and penetrating, with dark, thick lashes that touched his cheeks when he closed his lids. His chestnut hair had been styled immaculately, and Cas had felt the strange urge to muss it. Everything about him, about all of them, was perfect—and that just made the fire of Cas’s annoyance burn hotter.

When his replacement footman came to relieve him, Cas excused himself with a heavy ache in his gut he did not quite understand. He made his way to his chamber in the servants’ quarters, which held only a small bed, plain table, chest of drawers, and a closet without a door. His room at home wasn’t much larger, but at least there he felt like he belonged.

First things first. He dug his own slightly wrinkled clothes from his drawers, and that made him smile. He could not wait to feel at ease instead of so pressed and tidy.

Cas used the unoccupied bathroom to wash himself before he shook out his slacks and pulled them on. His long-sleeved shirt was thick, plain, and worn, just how he liked it.

Once he had on his jacket and gloves, he made his way down the servants’ hallway and out the back door to the worn path most servants frequented, out of the public eye, of course. Servants should always be hidden.

Before he allowed the anger to dig its claws into him again, he walked to the woods, to the stump that all the servants knew was his favorite spot. Cas pulled the small journal and pen from his jacket pocket.

It lay frozen in the snow.

A glint of royal adornment from his cuff.

He bent to feel the cool metal in his fingers.

Maybe he was not so put together after all…

“Cas?”

Cas shook his head at the sound of Valor’s voice behind him.

“I uttered your name three times.”

“Did it cross your mind that I was busy?” Cas turned and cocked a brow at his friend.

“Or maybe you are just pouting. You are forever pouting, my friend.”

“I am not.” He shoved the journal safely back into his pocket where Valor wouldn’t eye it, though Valor had stopped asking to read anything Cas wrote; he’d learned a long time ago that Cas would always say no.

He’d met Valor when they were children. Valor wasn’t noble, but he also wasn’t as poor as Cas and his family. It had been a chance meeting at the market, and somehow, a friendship had formed. They met when they could, but then Valor, who was two years his senior, had left for his chef program. He’d written to Cas, something that had surprised him. He’d figured Valor would have been too preoccupied to bother with him. He hadn’t been, though, and their friendship lasted. It was because of Valor that Cas now worked at Pinewood Castle. It had always been Valor’s dream—unlike Cas, who saw it as a means to an end.

He missed working with Valor. That wasn’t the only thing he missed from the kitchens, but he’d been promoted and needed any help he could get to care for his mother and sisters.

“How are you?” Valor climbed onto the tree stump beside him. “Brr. It’s cold.”

There was a sound behind them, and they both turned to look but didn’t see anything there. “Must be the wind,” Valor said, then again asked, “How are you?”

“How do you think I am?” Cas replied, then sighed. “Sorry, I cannot seem to shake my mood.”

“Do not apologize, my friend.”

Cas bent his neck and looked down in hopes of avoiding discussion. He hated the weakness swimming in his blood.

“I still cannot believe your father is gone,” Valor said.

No…Cas couldn’t either. The heart attack had taken him quickly.

“How is your family?”

“They are doing as well as can be under the circumstances. Mother is ecstatic about the promotion. Her son, a footman! I think it’s fucking nonsense. The girls are taking care of her as best they can, though much of the responsibility rests upon Emily’s shoulders.” She was the eldest of his two sisters and Cas’s dearest confidante. “The compensation from my promotion will help, but…” He let his words trail off, unable to finish them. Cas wasn’t always the best at saying how he felt. Words on paper were one thing, but uttered aloud, another.

“But you want to be with them and you cannot. I am sorry, my friend.”

Cas was sorry too. “Yes, I miss them. But I can care for them better this way.” He really desired a swift end to this conversation—it would do no one any good. Cassius brought up the first thing he could think of—the stables, where he most enjoyed being at the castle. “They’re taking good care of the horses, right?”

Again, he heard what sounded like the snap of a branch, a crunch of snow, but when he looked back, nothing was there.

“Of course. I know you miss the horses too—sneaking the ones here extra food from the kitchens.”

As a child, Cas had trained with a local farmer and then took a position there as his first place of employment. The man had not been able to pay Cassius much, and he’d been forced to seek employment elsewhere. He had been angry at that for years, and perhaps he still was.

“It was the only chance I could spend time with horses. It is much more difficult now. I miss them. One day, I’ll have one of my own.” He loved words and animals because they did not judge him, did not push him; they let him be. There was no pretending with animals or words, and they were the two things in this world that never expected anything from him, that he could tell his dreams to without feeling foolish.

“Well…I just wanted to say hello. I should head back,” Valor said, jolting him from his…well, pouting. Valor had been correct.

There was a rustling, an animal sneaking away, maybe.

“I’ll be there soon. I just need to finish something.”

Valor waited a beat…perhaps hoping Cas would share more. When he didn’t, his friend walked away, and Cassius pulled out his notebook once again.