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The knight bowed, the young woman swooned, and he caught her before she crumpled to the ground. She blinked up at him with large blue eyes, swimming in grateful tears, and the knight-
“Dull,” mumbled Suna as he flipped the page. He turned a few more for good measure, to avoid the rest of that scene. The book had been promising in the beginning, with mystery and adventure and plenty of gallant fighting. Now it had turned into something resembling a romance, and he’d never liked those. The women always swooned and cried, and Suna had never met a woman who’d behaved in such a way.
Especially not the mistress of the castle, who was far too busy reprimanding Suna for his laziness to consider swooning over a brave knight.
A throat cleared behind him. Suna slapped the book shut and leapt to his feet, already preparing an excuse for his inactivity.
But he hadn’t been caught by the mistress of the castle, or anyone else who would admonish him for avoiding his duties.
Prince Osamu stood in the kitchen doorway, arms folded, wearing a slight smile. “Neglectin’ your work again, Rintarou? You should be more careful, someone important might catch on.”
Suna sighed, soothed by cool relief. “You’re right. It’s lucky that you’re no one important.”
Osamu’s smile grew. “Lucky indeed.”
Suna wouldn’t have dared to joke with the prince or anyone else in the royal family when he’d first arrived several years before. He’d been meticulous around them, minding his manners and his posture, averting his eyes and subtly leaving a room whenever they entered. Things were different now; with the princes, at least.
Suna took the book off of the table and tucked it into one of the often-unused cabinets. There was a litter of old cast-iron pots in the front and a stack of well-read books hidden in the back. When he rose, Osamu had drifted closer, toward the spread of food Suna should have been preparing for lunch.
“What are you makin’?” asked Osamu.
“A stew most likely,” said Suna. “It takes the least amount of skill.”
“The least amount of effort, you mean,” said Osamu, glancing at Suna over his shoulder. “You’ve never lacked for skill.”
Suna shrugged. “Whatever you say, my prince.”
Osamu snorted and turned back to the food. “Can I cook it?”
“Are you asking me for permission?”
“I suppose I am.” Osamu pushed up his sleeves, dragged over a chunk of meat, and plucked up a knife. “Could you build up the fire?”
He said that as a question, not a command, as if Suna truly had a choice. Perhaps he did. If he stayed where he was, leaning against the wall to watch the shift of Osamu’s shoulders as he cubed the meat, Osamu would likely tend to the fire himself. He’d never told Suna to do anything. He’d rarely told anyone to do anything. That wasn’t very princely, but it was why Suna was so fond of him.
Suna crossed the room to add more wood to the fireplace and stoked it with an iron until the heat seared across his knuckles. He returned to the table where Osamu had now begun dicing vegetables.
“Your cooking skills have improved,” said Suna. “You’re almost qualified to be a kitchen servant.”
“You should be careful. Someday I might take your place and you’ll be out of work.”
Suna smiled as he hefted a large pot onto the table. “I’ll take your place as prince, then. Fair trade.”
“I wouldn’t mind.”
Suna fell quiet as Osamu sliced up the vegetables with a skill that came from years of practice. A prince shouldn’t know how to cook. It was improper, and his parents would have been embarrassed if they’d known.
But it was also improper for a simple kitchen servant to know how to read, and that hadn’t stopped Osamu from teaching him.
“Rintarou?”
“Yes, my prince?”
Osamu gave him a look of disdain, but didn’t press. He didn’t need to. Suna knew Osamu didn’t want to be addressed by his title, and he also knew that if anyone in the castle walked in on him referring to the prince by his given name, Suna would be beaten for his insolence.
Suna took a lot of risks, more than any intelligent servant should, but even he wasn’t so reckless.
“I need to ask you a favor,” said Osamu. He dropped a handful of small-cut vegetables into the pot. “You can decline.”
Suna would have been suspicious of that if anyone else had said it. On most occasions, favors weren’t optional.
But Osamu had never forced him to do anything at all.
“What sort of favor?” asked Suna.
There was a series of plunks against the bottom of the pot as Osamu dropped in some diced carrots. “My father is sending me to a distant kingdom as an emissary. Someone important must carry the message so it is taken seriously, and he can’t risk Atsumu.”
That could be taken in multiple contexts. Atsumu couldn’t be risked because he was the heir to the throne, the firstborn if only by a few short minutes. He also couldn’t be risked because he’d never learned politeness when speaking to people of greater status than himself.
“I’ll have my personal guards,” said Osamu, “but since it’s such a lengthy trip, I’ll need to take a servant along.”
Suna felt he knew what Osamu was about to ask, but it made no sense, so he kept quiet and waited.
“I’d like you to go.” Osamu put down the knife as he considered Suna. “As I said, you can decline.”
“You have servants who are actually skilled at their tasks,” said Suna. “Why would you choose me?”
“I can fend for myself just fine. I don’t need a servant to do things for me, I need good company that won’t drive me mad before we’ve even left the castle grounds.”
Suna considered that, for long enough that Osamu returned to preparing the food. Suna watched him with less discretion than he’d once used. Osamu despised attention, but he didn’t seem to mind it from Suna.
Osamu’s sleeves were beginning to slip back down his forearms. He wore his usual daywear, so casual that someone who didn’t know him may not have assumed he was a prince at all. His hair was messy, as if he’d dodged his valet that morning, and Suna knew without being told that Osamu had dressed himself. He’d never liked the fanfare that came with his status as royalty. He avoided it whenever possible, which was likely why he’d ended up spending so much time in the kitchens with Suna as they’d grown through their teenage years.
Suna had been afraid of Osamu when they’d first met at eleven years old. He’d been freshly sold into service at the castle because his parents could no longer afford to feed him, and Suna had felt like an abandoned kitten tossed into the rain. He’d been afraid of everyone, especially the royal family, and yet Osamu had been the one to make him feel like he belonged. Some of the castle staff hadn’t treated him well, and Suna had tried to run away more times than he could count. Yet he’d eventually decided that a life of working in the Miyas’ kitchens wasn’t so bad, not if Osamu was around.
“I don’t have traveling clothes,” said Suna.
Osamu smiled, as if that was the response he’d expected. “I have plenty. Come to my chambers at dawn, you can choose what you like and help me pack my things.”
Suna frowned, though his face wanted to do the opposite. “I thought you said there was no work involved, only the pleasure of my company. Packing sounds like work.”
“I doubt the strain will kill you, Rintarou.”
Suna snorted a laugh and Osamu’s smile was bright, unrestrained.
Suna secretly hoped Osamu only smiled like that for him, but he wasn’t foolish enough to truly think so.
“I’ll meet you at dawn,” agreed Suna. “I look forward to the trip.”
Osamu started to speak, but before he said a single word, a distant shout filtered into the kitchen.
“’Samu? Are you down here? I’ve been lookin’ for ages!”
Osamu’s eyes went wide. He’d been scolded just a fortnight ago for wasting his time in the kitchens; Suna had heard it himself.
Atsumu wouldn’t cause trouble for Osamu on purpose, but he also had difficulty keeping things to himself.
Osamu ducked beneath the table and Suna careened around it, standing to conceal Osamu from view just as Atsumu emerged into the kitchen.
“Good afternoon, my prince,” said Suna with faux politeness. “I was concerned one of the roosters had gotten loose in the castle, but I now realize it was only your voice.”
There was a soft snort from beneath the table.
“Mind your tongue, Suna,” said Atsumu, eyes narrowing into a glare as he folded his arms. “I could have you tossed into the dungeon for insulting me.”
That was true enough, but Atsumu wouldn’t. Suna had learned to trust Osamu, and he’d even built some trust with Atsumu; to an extent. Atsumu would never act maliciously toward him, but his recklessness was less predictable.
“I can’t imagine what you mean. I would never dare insult a prince.”
Atsumu rolled his eyes. “Have you seen my brother? I know he’s made a habit of lurkin’ around down here.”
“I can’t say that I have,” said Suna. “If he stops by, I’ll let him know you’re looking for him.”
Atsumu’s squint persisted. “You wouldn’t lie to me, Suna.” It was half-question, half-statement.
“Of course not, my prince.”
Atsumu didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t linger. He said, “add extra meat to the stew, it’s been lackin’ lately,” and left the kitchen with a flourish. Unlike Osamu, Atsumu didn’t dress in casualwear even on the most uneventful days. Perhaps because he was the crown prince, or perhaps because he took more pride in his appearance than Osamu.
When the castle entertained visitors, they often liked to talk about how impossible it was to tell the twins apart. It was the most ridiculous thing Suna had ever heard. The two of them were nothing alike.
Osamu emerged from beneath the table with a huff. “Thanks for coverin’, Rintarou.”
“It’s no problem.”
Osamu sidled up beside Suna and reached for the knife again. His elbow brushed Suna’s, and though Suna went stiff, Osamu didn’t recoil. “I can’t guess what Atsumu wants, but it’s likely somethin’ annoying.”
“That does sound like him.”
“I’ll never understand how he makes time for it. I’d think as many extra duties he’s assigned to prepare him for running the kingdom, he’d be too busy for me.”
Suna hummed, but didn’t respond. Osamu reached for something else and his shoulder bumped against Suna.
Suna should’ve gone to the other side of the table to give him space. This was far closer than a servant should ever be to a prince.
But Osamu was clearly unbothered, and when he resumed preparing the food, he stayed close enough that his sleeve touched Suna’s.
Suna should move. Even if he felt a little thrill every time Osamu brushed against him, even if Suna had often daydreamed about what it would be like to touch the prince, really touch him; his fingertips on Osamu’s knuckles, or jaw, or maybe even in his hair…
“’Samu, I knew you were in here!”
Suna startled as if he’d been the one caught. Beside him, Osamu groaned and turned to face his brother.
“’Tsumu, don’t you have duties to attend to? Duties that don’t involve me?”
“If you have free time for the kitchen, I have free time for my brother.” Atsumu approached and Suna moved to the other side of the table, as he should have done already. “Dirtyin’ your hands with food again? Mother would be so ashamed. Hand me the knife, I want to try.”
“So you can chop off your finger by accident?” said Osamu. “I don’t think so.”
The two of them bickered, and though their arguments had made Suna uneasy in the past, he was unbothered now. It was routine, comfortable. This wasn’t the home he’d wanted, but he supposed things could have turned out worse.
He stole a glance at Osamu, who gave in and passed the knife over. Their eyes met across the table and Osamu smiled.
Yes, Suna thought, things could have turned out so much worse.
Suna didn’t care for early mornings, but he’d never had much of a choice. He always rose before dawn so the Miyas could have an early breakfast, and even if he was ever given an opportunity to sleep late, he thought he’d likely lost the ability.
On this particular morning, it was easier than usual for him to crawl out of bed. He’d been given something to look forward too, and it was much more appealing than another monotonous day in the kitchens. He dressed and left the room quietly, so he wouldn’t disturb the other servants. It was rare for Suna to go to Osamu’s bedchambers, but not unheard of. On occasions when Osamu wasn’t feeling well, one of the kitchen servants was tasked with delivering his meals, and Suna always volunteered. At first that had been to get away from the kitchens, but after a while it had been because he cared about the prince’s wellbeing.
Since only servants were awake at this hour, Suna took the luxury of climbing the grand staircase in the middle of the castle rather than restricting himself to the twisty, cramped one that kept him out of the royal family’s sight. The twins’ quarters were in the east wing of the castle, smaller and less grand than their parents’ but still impressive enough that Suna was always left stunned that they spent every day in such opulence.
The door of Osamu’s bedchamber was already open, warm candlelight spilling onto the stone floor of the hallway. Suna paused in at the threshold to knock anyway and Osamu peered up at him, crouched beside a chest half-full of clothing.
“Good mornin’, Rintarou,” he said, layering a folded pair of trousers into the chest. “I didn’t expect you so soon.”
Suna glanced at the nearest window, overlooking the sloping castle grounds. The sun peeked over the horizon. “You said dawn.”
“I did, but I guessed you would be late.”
Suna breathed a laugh, and realized only as he began to relax that he’d been nervous. He was unsure why. There was no reason to be nervous. “Sorry to disappoint you, my prince. What would you like me to do?”
“I’ll finish packing my things,” said Osamu as he rose from his crouch. He gestured toward the wardrobe in the corner. “My traveling clothes are there. Choose a few sets, anything you like. I’ll find some new shoes for you before we go.”
Suna looked down at himself. He’d never been in want for clothes, but they’d never been particularly impressive. He wore the same plain garments as the rest of the castle’s servants, and he'd never minded.
But as he opened Osamu’s wardrobe and took stock of the clothing within, he was suddenly much more self-conscious of his own clothes.
“My prince,” said Suna, staring at the finely-woven sleeve of an overcoat, “I can’t wear these.”
“I believe you can,” said Osamu, still packing items into the chest. “The trousers might be short, but only a little. If I’d been given fair warning about this trip I would’ve arranged for the tailor to make somethin’ for you.”
Suna shook his head. “That isn’t what I mean. I can’t wear clothes of this quality. I’m a servant, it isn’t proper.”
Osamu turned to look at him. “Why do you think that?”
Suna plucked at a sleeve. The stitching shone gold. “This was made for a prince. It would be an insult if I-”
“Rintarou.” Osamu paced over and shoved open the second wardrobe door, revealing even more impressively tailored clothing. “I’ll decide what’s proper and what isn’t. Choose what you like.”
“My prince, I can’t-”
“I’ll do it for you, then.” Osamu reached across him to grab an overcoat, the one with the golden stitching. “This will look nice on you, and you may need it. The weather will cool down as we get further from the castle.” He draped it over his shoulder and rifled through the wardrobe. “Try this tunic and these trousers. You’ll have to cinch them up but I think they’ll be an acceptable fit.” Osamu pushed them into Suna’s hands, and he had no choice but to take them. “I’ll pack this for tomorrow… and perhaps this one. Do you have a preference for colors?”
Suna stared at the fabric bundled in his arms. “No, my prince.”
“I’ll take both, then.” Osamu carried the chosen clothing over to the chest. “Change into that set. If it doesn’t fit properly we’ll try again.”
Suna didn’t move. “Should I return to my bedchamber to change?”
Osamu blinked at him, as if surprised by the suggestion. “There’s no need.” He went to the door, closed it, and returned to the clothes he’d chosen. He turned his back to Suna and started folding them. “Go ahead. No one will enter uninvited.”
Suna wasn’t concerned about anyone walking in on him; at least, not anyone who wasn’t already in the room. But he didn’t seem to have much of a choice, so he slowly stripped out of his own clothes and carefully replaced them with Osamu’s. He kept one eye on Osamu, half-dreading and half-hoping that he would turn to catch a glimpse of Suna’s state of undress.
But Osamu kept his back turned, which was expected. He had manners, even when interacting with his servants. He wouldn’t intentionally make Suna uncomfortable.
It shouldn’t have been disappointing. Suna shouldn’t have hoped that perhaps Osamu would be interested in looking at him. Of course Osamu had no desire to see him in such a state.
Suna pulled the trouser laces tight and knotted them. The tunic was roomy, more than it should have been, but it fit well enough. He said, “What should I do with my clothes?”
Osamu took that as permission to turn back. He eyed Suna, his stare lingering, before kneeling to arrange the contents of the chest. “Leave them here. No one will touch them.” He glanced up at Suna once more and said, “That suits you. You may keep the clothes, if you’d like.”
Suna’s face warmed. He turned away to retrieve his own clothes from the floor and said, “Even if you don’t believe it’s improper, I think the rest of the castle would disagree.”
Osamu said, quietly, “Perhaps.”
When Osamu had said his trip was a lengthy one, he hadn’t exaggerated. He chose one of the smaller carriages, with room enough in the cab for only himself, Suna, and the large chest filled with his belongings. His two assigned guards sat outside on the driver’s bench, their voices mingling with the clop of the horses’ hooves. According to Osamu, his parents had advised him to travel with more guards and he had quietly chosen to do otherwise. He did that far more often than he should have.
Spending an entire day alone with a prince inside a carriage should have been uncomfortable, and it would have been if that prince had been anyone aside from Osamu. As it were, Suna was perfectly at ease. They talked about the scenery as they drifted further from the castle and peered out the window slats. They talked about food while they ate the lunch Suna had prepared for them the day before. When they stopped after several hours to stretch their legs, Suna realized that he hadn’t been outside the castle grounds a single time since he’d first arrived, and Osamu’s face did something strange when he mentioned it.
When dusk began to fall, they stopped at an inn in a town Suna had never visited nor heard of. It wasn’t as luxurious as Suna would have expected, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. Osamu likely preferred this. He had dressed rather casually, as if hoping no one in passing would recognize his status. With Suna wearing Osamu’s borrowed clothes, one could almost believe they were of similar rank.
Yet, as Osamu passed a handful of coins to the innkeeper as if it wasn’t the most gold Suna had ever seen, Suna knew they couldn’t be more different.
They had dinner downstairs, and it was the first time in nearly seven years that Suna had eaten food that wasn’t prepared by himself or another member of the kitchen staff; or occasionally Osamu, who had gotten surprisingly good at cooking. The innkeeper’s daughter served them food and filled their glasses, and when she spoke, she addressed both of them equally. Maybe she didn’t know Osamu was a prince, or maybe she wasn’t much bothered by it.
The food was excellent, and Suna ate more than he normally would have. When they retired for the night, they went upstairs flanked by Osamu’s guards and said their goodnights before Suna went into his respective room. It was simple, non-lavish, and about the same size as the room he slept in at the castle. But at the castle there were three other servants sleeping in that room with him, and he hadn’t realized how much he appreciated privacy until he felt it here. He collapsed onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, listening to the vague sounds of the inn downstairs. He wondered if Osamu would go on more trips like this in the future, and if there was a chance he would be invited to go along again.
He was almost asleep, lulled by shadows and peace, when there was a soft knock at the door. If Suna hadn’t still been awake, if only barely, he wouldn’t have heard. He thought it may have been the innkeeper checking to see if the room was comfortable. With a sigh he pushed himself upright, paced across the floor, and opened the door.
Osamu waited on the other side, dressed down in his nightclothes and carrying a chamberstick with a lighted candle. The flame flickered as he said, “Sorry for wakin’ you. Can I come in?”
There was no polite way to say no, and even if there had been, Suna wouldn’t have done it. He stepped back to allow Osamu inside and closed the door behind him. Osamu went to the table by the window and carefully put down the chamberstick. He sat in one of the chairs and gestured for Suna to do the same.
“You should be sleeping,” said Suna, as he took the seat across the small table. “Tomorrow will be just as tiring as today.”
“There was nothing tiring about it,” said Osamu. He settled back in his chair, his usually perfect posture dissolving into a slouch. His shirt was plain, and loose laces crisscrossed into a V from his collarbones to his sternum. “It’s been an enjoyable trip so far.”
Suna agreed, though he didn’t say it. He studied Osamu from across the table, watching the shadows flit across the planes of his face, cut into sharp shapes by the candle flame.
“I’ve never told you,” said Osamu in a low voice, “but I was pleased when you showed up in the kitchens all those years ago. ‘Tsumu was the only friend I’d ever had, and the other servants my age were uncomfortable around me. You never were.”
“That’s untrue,” said Suna with a smile. “I was terrified of you when I first arrived. I thought if I took one wrong step you would have me hanged.”
Osamu’s brows pulled together. “I hope that fear passed quickly.”
“It did,” said Suna. “After I witnessed you trip up the stairs for the sixth time I was less afraid.”
Osamu laughed, the candle flickering from the exhale. “Good to know my clumsiness made you feel at ease.”
Suna smiled, although that wasn’t necessarily true. Suna’s fear of Osamu had morphed into admiration the first time he’d met Osamu in the kitchens. Suna had been halfway through a heated scolding from one of the older servants, and Osamu – still a child the same as Suna had been – had asked her to stop. Asked , not told. He always asked, and everyone always listened. The older servant had gone about her business and Osamu had asked Suna to show him around the kitchens, since he’d never been permitted there. Suna had dried his eyes and done as his prince asked.
Suna would do anything his prince asked.
“Regardless,” said Osamu. The creases of laughter at the corners of his eyes began to fade. “I’ve enjoyed your company, Rintarou. I always have.”
Suna’s smile flickered like the candle flame and dimmed into darkness. Osamu said that as if it was in the past, as if something was ending.
“I enjoy your company as well,” said Suna carefully.
Osamu nodded and his expression was tight, strained.
Suna thought the trip was going well. Osamu had even said earlier that it was enjoyable. Suna couldn’t guess what he’d done wrong, or how he should fix it.
“I invited you to come along because I’m fond of you,” said Osamu, “but for another reason, as well.”
Suna would have fixated on that – I’m fond of you – if he hadn’t been so concerned about what Osamu was about to say.
Osamu dropped something onto the table with a shuffling clink . It was a drawstring bag crafted of velvet. “This is for you.”
Suna didn’t move to take it. “My prince-”
“We’re alone,” said Osamu. “You don’t have to address me like that.” He pushed the bag across the table, closer to Suna. “Take it.”
Suna didn’t want to, but he felt he didn’t have a choice. He took the bag, and there was no need to unwind the strings. He knew what was inside, felt the weight of the coins in his palm. His fingers curled around the bag as he looked at Osamu. “What is this for?”
“As I said, it’s for you.”
“My prince, I-”
“Rintarou.” Osamu spoke his name softly.
Suna swallowed. He glanced to the door, half-expecting one of the guards to be watching, but there was no one. They truly were alone, more alone than they’d ever been. He said, cautiously, “Osamu.”
Osamu smiled at him, the curve of his mouth gentle.
“Osamu,” repeated Suna. The taste of that name on his tongue was familiar and foreign all at once, but undeniably sweet. “I don’t understand.”
Osamu sighed and looked out the window, though there was nothing to see in the darkness. “You never asked to be a servant. It wasn’t something you wanted, or something you deserved. I was too young to realize it when you first arrived, too young to understand your situation.”
The velvet was soft against Suna’s palm. He didn’t speak.
Osamu turned away from the window to look at Suna. “I understand now, and I regret that you spent so much time indebted to my family. Although I’m glad I met you, and I’m glad for all the time I’ve spent with you, I understand that your service to the castle was against your will. I can’t give those years back, but I can give you your future. It doesn’t have to be a future as a servant. It can be whatever you want it to be.”
Suna was unsure what to say, unsure what was happening. He wished Osamu would return to his room and sleep. Perhaps he could forget this conversation by morning, forget whatever Osamu was trying to do.
“We took a detour to get to this town,” said Osamu. “It’s not on the way, but I’ve visited a few times and thought you’d be comfortable here. There’re plenty of opportunities. You can be whoever you want to be.”
Suna swallowed. He didn’t like this, not at all. “I want to be your kitchen servant, my prince. Osamu.”
“You don’t want that,” said Osamu, “and you don’t have to. I packed a bag with the clothes I picked out for you. It’s waiting right outside the door. No one will stop you when you walk out of this inn, Rintarou. No one will look for you, I’ll make sure of it.”
Freedom. That was what filled the velvet bag, not coins. It was an offer of freedom, and the weight in Suna’s hand suggested the offer was a generous one.
Suna would have given anything for that offer when he was younger, when he’d spent his time concocting escape plans that always failed. It was all he’d wanted.
Suna looked at Osamu, past the shadows dancing about his face.
That wasn’t what Suna wanted anymore. He wanted something else; it was something he couldn’t have, but he wanted it all the same.
“I can’t,” said Suna. He placed the bag on the table and pushed it toward Osamu. “I don’t want this. The castle is where I belong and I’ll return there with you.”
“I’m not testing you,” said Osamu. “This is genuine, Rintarou. You won’t be punished for accepting.”
“I’m not afraid of punishment.”
“Why would you turn this down? You can be free. It’s what you want.”
“It’s not what I want.”
“It must be. After all the years you’ve spent working in the castle, all the times I’ve caught you looking out the window as if you wanted to fly away. I know you, Rintarou. Let me do this for you. Please.”
“As I said.” Suna found it easier to stare at the table than meet Osamu’s eyes. “It’s not what I want.”
“What could you possibly-”
“You,” said Suna. It was far too bold, and he never should have voiced it, but he found himself unable to stay silent. “I want to stay with you, Osamu. I could have a future in this town, a good one, but you wouldn’t be in it. I’ll go back to the castle with you and I’ll continue to serve you. That’s what I want.”
There was silence. Somewhere beneath them, a woman's laugh rose through the floorboards.
Osamu said, “You were sent to our kingdom against your will. How could you possibly feel an obligation to my family?”
“I don’t care about your family, or your kingdom.” That was even bolder, and if Suna had said it to anyone else, it would have been a death sentence. “If that’s all there was, I would leave at the first opportunity.” He raised his stare to meet Osamu’s. “It’s you. My obligation is to you. Not because it’s my duty to serve you, but because I want to stay with you. If that means a lifetime as a servant, I’ll endure it.”
“Why?” Osamu’s voice was a whisper.
Suna shouldn’t say anything more. He’d already gone further than he should have, further than he’d ever intended. Silence was his ally, and yet he found himself saying, “I care about you, Osamu. More than is proper. I always have.”
Osamu’s stare was dark, the candleflame reflected in his eyes. He started to speak, stopped himself. He rose and paced toward the door, and Suna thought he’d made a grave mistake. There would be no chance of staying at the castle now, and the offer of freedom was certainly gone. Any possible future had just been snuffed out by his carelessness.
But Osamu didn’t storm out of the room. He stopped with his back to Suna, raked his hands through his hair, and returned to the table. When he sat and again looked at Suna, there was something different about his face. He almost looked as if he was in pain.
“Atsumu won’t be king for a long while,” said Osamu. “Years, most likely.”
Suna didn’t know why that was relevant, but Osamu spoke as if it was important, so Suna listened.
“When he is crowned, I’ll have my own freedom. My parents will lose their right to impose on me. I can do whatever I’d like, because Atsumu won’t mind. He tries to control everything else in his life, but not me.”
Suna’s chest was tight. He didn’t know where this conversation was leading, or what would happen when the night ended. His future was shifting, changing in a way he felt deep in his bones.
Osamu said, “I care about you too, Rintarou. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone. But I can’t act on it until Atsumu is king, until getting close to you will no longer put you in danger.”
Suna closed his eyes and breathed in deep. He was afraid to be pleased by that confession, afraid to let himself think Osamu cared for him in the same way he cared for Osamu. It didn’t seem possible.
Suna was only a servant, and not even a good one.
Yet when he opened his eyes again, Osamu was still looking at him. Suna knew him well enough to know when Osamu was lying, and Osamu wasn’t lying now. His face was genuine, earnest, and perhaps a bit anxious.
“I suppose I’ll work in the kitchen for a while longer then,” said Suna, “and hope you don’t get bored of me while we wait.”
Osamu’s laugh was breathless. His shoulders slumped, as if the weight of tension had rolled off of him. He said, “I won't get bored of you, Rintarou. Not ever.” He pushed the bag of coins back toward Suna. “I’d still like you to have this. As a promise, if nothing else. You can do whatever you’d like with it. If you change your mind and leave during the night, I’ll understand.”
Suna took the coins, and this time the velvet felt like a gift rather than an exile. “Thank you, but I’m not going anywhere.”
Osamu slid a hand onto the table, palm-up, as if in invitation. Suna hesitated, but carefully extended his own hand to hover over Osamu’s. He lingered there for a moment, his breath caught in his lungs, before carefully linking their hands.
Osamu’s skin was warm and smooth and a thrill raced all the way up Suna’s arm.
“You should get some rest before we set out tomorrow,” said Osamu. He squeezed Suna’s hand, lightly, and slowly pulled away. He said, “I may see you in the morning, if you’re still here.”
“I’ll be here,” said Suna. The conviction in his voice spoke of a promise. “I’ll always be here.”