Those damn eyes.

I knew exactly who they belonged to. They were the same steely blue-grey eyes that every servant child in the castle was taught never to meet for more than a heartbeat. And now they were locked on mine as I rounded the shelf of what should have been an empty library.

“I suppose this is where you have been the last 10 years,” the prince said, breaking eye contact to make sure the growing pile of books tucked beneath his arm didn’t fall.

I just stared as my momentary panic gave way to confusion. Luckily, the prince didn’t seem to notice either emotion as he looked back up at me, only for the pile to shift and steal his focus.

“Could you actually hold these for me?” He fumbled to stretch the uneven stack towards me, sending the top book tumbling.

“Certainly, Your Highness,” I said with a slight bow of my head, my hands darting to catch the fallen title, my childhood training as a servant boy finally kicking in. I'd spent my whole life learning to disappear in the presence of the crown, but there wasn't another soul among these shelves for him to notice in my place. 

“Cal,” he corrected as he placed the books on my open palms. “Formality isn’t necessary here. As far as I am concerned, the only difference between you and me is that you have probably been in this library far more than I have.”

I took a moment to scan the titles now in my hands. A History of Highalder: King Braddock’s Court. Records of the Royal Surveyors. A Healer's Guide to Cognitive Disorders.

“What’s this one for?” I adjusted the stack so he could see the last title.

 “My great-grandfather. They all are,” he replied, glancing away from the shelf only long enough to see the book in question before surveying the shelves again.

“Isn’t he dead?” The words slipped out before I could consider how insensitive they might come across. “Sorry, I didn’t…” My voice fell away. 

“You’re fine. We weren’t that close.” He finally picked another title off the shelf and gave me his full attention again. “But yes, he’s deceased. And on his deathbed, he said something I can’t let go of. I figured that text would either make sense of what he said or prepare me for my impending descent into madness figuring it out.” 

“Well, going mad from books could hardly be considered madness at all. What did he say?” I glanced at the title in his hand, immediately regretting my question. 

“I am not sure, truthfully. The phrases were mixed in with obvious nonsense, so it’s hard to distinguish. Something about a prophecy taking his first family and how he shouldn’t have made her flee.” He reached out to relieve me of the stack in my hand, hugging them all to his chest. “Would you care to help me see if any of these have some answers?”

“I don’t think that one is going to help you.” I motioned to the last title he pulled off the shelf hoping he would allow me to return it to the shelf before he read it. A Study of Travelers. It had been over a decade since I’d last read that book, but I was still incredibly intimate with its contents, it was part of the studies for every child growing up in the servants’ quarters of the castle. It’s how we learned the ancient magic that allowed us to quickly traverse the large castle. Magic that was punishable by death if you’re caught practicing. I was only hoping the prince didn’t know what a Traveler was.

“It looks old enough. Maybe the family was one of these travelers?”

“They weren’t.” I snapped a little too quickly to hide my nerves. 

“And how can you be so certain?”

The prince studied me as he awaited an answer I wasn’t going to give. Any answer was sure to be the end of my time in this castle.

“If you have gone mad yourself, I do wish you’d see the healers.” He was notably irritated by my lack of response at this point but still didn’t seem to know what was in his hands.

“I’m not mad, Your High- Cal.” I took a steadying breath before I continued. “It’s just that I’ve read that one and there’s no mention of any crown family members.”

“And what if they weren’t a member of any crown family? What if they’re not actually his family?” His tone was still sharp, challenging me to reject his theories.

“Travelers were almost always servants. There’s only ever been one Traveler who was ever affiliated with the royal family, and she was killed for it. If the family fled, I don’t think you’ll find anything about them in that book.”

“Wait. Say that again?” His voice shifted rapidly from irritation to interest. “What happened to that traveler?”

“The only Traveler who ever entwined with the royal family was executed by the King for it.”

“I have heard no such thing of anyone in my lineage declaring an execution over a visitor-”

“Traveler,” The correction escaped before I could think about the consequence.

“Are they not the same?”

His face was unreadable, a skill they sharpened in every royal from a young age to prepare them for the day they assume a throne.

“What do you know?” he asked with a hint of mischief and intrigue in his striking steel-blue eyes.

“Too much.” I admitted, accepting the fact that I had already signed my own execution warrant. “Including the contents of that book, and just about every other on this shelf.” A shelf that wasn’t supposed to exist. An archive of knowledge that was ordered to be erased generations ago. Dozens of books that had now been found by the one family who was never supposed to know they’re still being read. But strangely, he doesn’t even seem to know they’re forbidden.

“Renem, I am beginning to believe I have spent far too long chasing life outside these walls and not enough time learning about what’s really happening within them. Care to help me study?” He smiled mischievously, but his question wasn’t what caught my attention.

“I never gave you my name?” I recounted our conversation in my head once more just to be certain, but I couldn’t recall ever volunteering my name.

“Yes, you did.” He assured as if that was the only answer I needed.

“I have given you more information than I likely should have today, but I can assure you my name wasn’t in there. How did you-”

“I never said you gave it to me today.” He interrupted. “We both grew up in this castle. I have known your name probably just as long as you have mine. Now, if you could please make your decision quickly, these books are going to take me hours to study, and I would like to begin.”

“What decision?”

“To join me in discovering the secrets of this castle or go back to pretending you aren’t one of them.” It took a moment to set in what he was implying. The prince really wanted to dig into books that his father would no doubt execute my entire family for keeping all these years, and he wanted me to do it with him. And what did he mean that I was one of them? Did he know about the silent halls that connected the servants’ quarters to the rest of the castle? Did he know 

I must have taken too long to decline because my racing thoughts were interrupted by a book dropped into my hands and a grin that told me Cal had already claimed me as his accomplice.

I stared down at the cover, the words written on it unreadable through the fog in my mind. “People die to protect the secrets on these shelves,” I muttered, not intending for the prince to hear me.

Silence lingered as I looked up to find the prince scanning the titles on the shelf, his features schooled into an expression I couldn’t quite decipher. As he turned back towards me, I finally noticed the blend of fear and fight in his eyes. “Would my father really kill a man for these?” He raised the books in his own hands slightly, his voice quieter and noticeably lacking the confidence it had previously possessed.

For the first time in my life, I stood face to face with a royal less interested in the crown atop his head than the people living in its shadow. And somehow, my inability to hold my tongue was tearing down every wall that had been built around him. I took a steadying breath, swallowing down two and a half decades of rules and expectations I’d never trust again before I spoke softly. “Many have been lost to his hand for less.”

Something steeled behind the prince’s eyes as disbelief gave way. In that moment, I knew there would be no returning from the secrets that had been accidentally dusted off between these shelves. I had spent 27 years keeping secrets I didn’t fully understand, and standing here as they tumbled out of my mouth, I questioned whether they’d been buried for the right reasons.

“Let’s find out what your great-grandfather was trying to tell us,” I said as I raised the book in my hands slightly. The prince matched my movement, the corner of his mouth lifting into the same grin he’d worn earlier. Together, we spent the remaining hours of daylight tucked away in the empty echoes of the library, swapping stories both lived and read until the line between recorded history and forgotten truth blurred beyond recognition, taking every certainty we’d inherited with it.

I was already 4 drinks in when she walked through the door, dropping onto the stool next to me. The fixed position stools left more distance than I could bear between us, but I knew trying to close the gap would just sever any bridge I hadn’t yet turned to ashes.

“One Dirty Shirley, extra shot. And please close my tab,” she said with a smile to the bartender, a gorgeous brunette with a shirt so tight you could easily tell she had nothing else between it and her soft porcelain skin. She didn’t even turn toward me as the brunette walked away; she just watched as the bar staff effortlessly swept around each other. 

“Tess,” I started, silenced immediately by a whip of blonde curls and ice blue eyes I knew were no less than 5 minutes from shattering me right here on this scuffed hardwood floor.

“You have until I finish this drink to convince me between breaking that pretty face of yours or shoving this heel so far up your ass that it will never see the light of day again.” The bartender slid back her credit card and a pink concoction I’d made at least a hundred times over the past 5 years. I didn’t even have a chance to pretend I knew what to say before she swallowed a large sip and continued. “Fifteen years, Matt. Fifteen years and you threw it all away for a stranger.”

“Tess, please. I tried to tell you-”

“No more bullshit, Matt. I saw your tongue down her throat. You’re lucky I left and didn’t tear you both apart right then and there.” Half her drink was already gone in just a few long sips.

“I should’ve never gone to that damn bar.”

“And I should have never come into this one.” She took another long sip from her straw, her drink line dipping below the top of the ice now. “Who was she?” The sharpness to her tongue told me I wasn’t meant to answer that.

“Tess, I’m sorry” My heart was lead inside my ribcage, already struggling to beat as her sips turned to a deafening gurgle as the last of the cherry flavored drink moved through her straw.

“Time’s up, Matthew. But I’ll leave you with the ever so kind parting gift of my own nonviolence. I hope it was worth it.” 

As she stood to walk away, I dared one last reckless move and reached for her wrist. Touching her skin, it was like every soul in the crowded bar disappeared and we were 19 again, laughing in her childhood bedroom about God knows what. But when her eyes locked on mine, there was no hint of the light I once brought to them. For the first time in my memorable life, I didn’t recognize the woman who stood in front of me. She was still Tess. Still had the same white-blonde curls. The same blue eyes I used to memorize across a kitchen table every night. But the Tess I knew was gone, and I’d killed her. 

“I promised Zeda I’d be home in an hour,” she said, pulling her wrist from my grasp. “She didn’t even want me to come, but I needed to tell you this in person.” She straightened her shoulders and locked her gaze on mine. “I was pregnant, Matt. The night you went out. I was coming to tell you the news when I saw your tongue down that girl’s throat.”

The room once again vanished as I dropped back to my stool.

“Don’t worry,” she said, forcing a small smile. “I lost it.”