Magnus stood in front of the mirror, combing through his dark curls. It was a quiet morning with the only noticeable sound being the chirping of a handful of birds outside his bedroom window. There were no meetings or events for that day, so he opted just to don a plain white dress shirt tucked into brown pants and paired with his usual black boots. He always kept his dagger hanging on his belt in case he needed it, finding carrying around a sword on a daily basis far too cumbersome and rather superfluous in comparison.

Conversely, Sylvan kept his sword at his hip at all times, even as he dozed on one of Magnus's couches, sorely needing sleep after yet another restless night. The hardest part of his job was that he was Magnus's full time protector, never switching shifts with anyone else. It was a mutual decision between himself and the prince; Magnus trusted him the most and Sylvan refused to allow anyone else to get too close to him. Having served as a guard since Magnus was a young boy, he was just as wary, if not more wary than Magnus himself, about all the hidden rebels possibly lurking around, almost always leaving him on edge. Since there was no formal rebellion, most of these intruders either worked in small groups or completely solo, making them more unpredictable to spot and harder to catch. Rarely anyone ever told the full truth about why they came to the castle, meaning no one could ever be fully trusted. Of course, he wasn't fully honest about why he was there either, but some things were better left unsaid.

Looking around the room, Magnus sighed, noticing the mess it had become. The sheets of his bed were crumpled, clothes were hung on random pieces of furniture, and a half finished painting leaned against the wall surrounded by an array of art materials. He hadn't had a personal maid in a while and very few people were even allowed in his room. Cleo was the most recent exception, but that obviously didn't end very well. Occasionally, cleaning maids were allowed in but only when he was out of the room. It wasn't that he needed help with basic tasks such as getting dressed or taking a bath, but sometimes he just yearned for someone to talk to or even just be with. Without the presence of anyone else, his room ended up feeling painfully empty and lifeless. He had all this space to himself, but what good was that? When he was really young, his mother filled in that space, opting to spend her time with him rather than the king, but those days were long gone. Sylvan's presence was appreciated, but he wasn't the most conversational, and his constant worry tended to weigh heavily on Magnus. Sighing to himself, he began to tidy up, working quietly so as to not disturb his sleeping guard. Stopping at his unfinished painting, he propped it up on his easel, staring at it for a few minutes. It depicted the outline of a hand holding a rose in full bloom. He had finished coloring in the crimson petals, but the hand and the rest of the background remained empty.

"You should finish it," Sylvan's low voice murmured as he began to sit up. "Looks good so far."

Magnus smiled. "Thanks, but there's still something missing. I need to think about it a little more." Walking over to his guard, he took a seat on a chair next to him. "Sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you. I needed that."

"You certainly deserve much more than that."

Sylvan shook his head, standing up and stretching. "Perhaps, but I don't need it."

Magnus titled his head, knowing he had to force Sylvan's hand a little to get him to relax. "I heard some of the guards are going to go out for drinks tonight."

Sylvan paused. "Yes, that's true."

"And what about you?"

"Staying behind to look after you of course."

"You can go. I'll be fine for one night."

"With all due respect–"

"You deserve it. Take a break and just have some fun."

Sylvan frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Consider it an order."

He hesitated, but eventually bowed in gratitude. "Thank you. I won't stay out too late."

"Enjoy yourself. I'll be fine, I promise."

"Alright. Just lock the doors and windows."

"As always."

At that, Magnus stood up, gesturing to Sylvan to come with him on a walk. Stopping at his dresser, he picked up his crown and placed it on his head. He hated wearing it, but his father insisted that it was necessary for someone in his position. He complied, even though it seemed to weigh heavier on and in his head with each passing day.

~~~

When Mina saw him, he was standing out on the castle wall, staring out at the green fields and the rest of the kingdom beyond. The breeze rustled through his hair and loose clothing and the sun illuminated his golden crown. When he turned to converse with his guard, she noticed that he wasn't smiling, but rather a solemn and perhaps contemplative look creased his face.

As if he could feel her staring at him, his gaze shifted to the people out working in the stables. His eyes met hers, and a smile came to his face. She looked away as he waved, embarrassed that he caught her looking at him. Directing her eyes to the ground, she scurried after Sophie, her boots squelching in the mud.

"I see the prince has caught your eye, hm?"

Mina felt her cheeks heat up. "Ah...no."

"You were staring."

"I was not! I just got distracted."

"By him?"

"Sophie, no."

"Mhm," Sophie teased. "I don't blame you. He is good looking."

Mina rolled her eyes, hating that she was still blushing. "Whatever."

"See, I'd say go for it, but he's already enamored with me."

Mina paused. "What?"

"Oh, you know, no one can resist this beautiful face of mine." Mina sighed, shaking her head as Sophie laughed. "What, you don't believe me?"

"No, no, I'm sure that's completely true."

Sophie grinned. "Better believe it. But anyway, Prince Magnus has always been a gentleman which is why most of us maids like him."

She couldn't help but wrinkle her nose. "Not all of us. Being courteous is the bare minimum trait of any decent person."

"Well," Sophie shrugged. "To be fair, bad rep isn't all unfounded. He is a little...well, out of touch with reality, so to speak."

"What do you mean?"

"He's nice, but probably too nice for his own good. He doesn't seem to understand that people lie and such."

She scoffed. "So he's a sheltered brat."

"Mina!"

"What? It's true."

"You can't say that about the prince."

"What is he going to do? If he's so nice, he wouldn't do anything about it."

"Still, what if someone else heard you?"

"Fine, fine. But I won't take it back. You know it's true too."

Sophie's lips curved down into an almost comical frown. "Alright maybe, but I'd much prefer him to be a doe-eyed soft boy instead of a blockheaded thug."

"Or maybe just settle for neither, hm?"

As they headed back inside with all the dried laundry, Mina's eyes scanned the walls for any signs of hidden doors. She still couldn't stop thinking about the tunnel in the wall, but she needed some other way to confirm what Sophie had claimed was true. As if reading her mind, Sophie pointed over at an innocuous stone wall.

"There's where the passageway leads to," she asserted, her smile apparent from just listening to her tone. "It's quite dark in there though, so I suggest bringing a candle."

Mina frowned, but didn't reply. How bad would it be if she actually tried it out? None of Sophie's pranks were actually harmful, just frustrating and irritating if anything. If it was just all a lie, she'd just not tell Sophie about it, keeping her from any satisfaction of successfully tricking her again.

That evening, she did exactly that. Scarfing down her simple dinner of chicken and grits in record time, she promptly excused herself and scurried off, leaving Sophie wondering aloud about what she was doing. After passing her dishes off to Ivy and Talia who were doing the washing for the day, she grabbed the nearest candle holder and lit a flame before hurrying out. Coming to a stop in front of the tapestry, she glanced around briefly to make sure no one would see her. Pulling down the mounted candle holder, she heard the familiar clank and chorus of squeaks as the door swung open. Before entering, she stuffed a rag in between the gilded furniture and the wall, essentially jamming the door open in case she needed to turn around. Sucking in a breath, she entered the dark space, holding the candle out in front of her to see at least a few steps ahead. It smelled musty and damp there, and she kicked up a cloud of dirt with every step. Even in the dim light, she could see the cobwebs filling every corner and she could hear the squeak and scuffle of rats whose dwelling she disturbed. The pathway twisted and turned seemingly endlessly, and she fought the urge to turn back. Perhaps it didn't lead to where Sophie said it would, but maybe it led to something more useful.

After what felt like forever, she finally reached the end of the hall, stopping at what at first glance seemed like a blank wall. Switching the candle holder to her left hand, she slid her other hand across the surface, feeling her hand soon become covered with dirt and grime. Finally, she came in contact with a ridge that was slightly elevated. Hooking her fingers under it, she pulled, nearly gasping in surprise when it moved. The hidden door swung open and she was immediately hit with the cool air of the night. Stepping out, she looked around to find herself in the stables, close to where she was working that morning, just as Sophie had said. Pushing the hidden door shut behind her, she let out the breath she didn't know she was holding. It appeared Sophie did tell her the truth for once. Now, she just had to find a way to maybe use this in a beneficial way. Trudging through the dirt, she made her way to the wall, searching around for any sort of door through which she could discreetly slip out. Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice behind her, making her freeze in place.

"What are you doing here?"

Turning slowly, she found a young man staring at her. His black brown hair was tousled and olive skin was splotched with mud. He had thick eyebrows, a button nose, and deep dark brown eyes. He looked a few years younger than Sophie, likely still in his teenage years, and he was only slightly taller than herself.

"I...thought I forgot something out here."

He offered her a good natured smile as he approached. "Are you new here? I saw you pass through this morning, but I didn't get the chance to speak to you."

"Yeah, I just started here not long ago."

He extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Micah."

"Mina."

"Welcome to the palace, Mina. You're a cleaning maid, I'm guessing?"

"That's right."

"Noted."

"What about you? Stable boy?"

"For now. But I'm going to be a knight one day."

She raised an eyebrow. "You?"

"Yes, me. What's wrong with that?"

"Was your father a knight or lord?"

He frowned. "No, but if I prove myself, maybe I can persuade them otherwise."

She shook her head. "That's never going to work."

"You only say that because it's never been done before."

"Ever consider that maybe there's a reason it's never been done before?"

He bit his lip, as if swallowing back a retort. "Of course I have. But that won't stop me."

He sure was tenacious, even if that was possibly fueled by innocent naivety. But he'd soon find out the futility of having such aspirations, she figured. Having nothing more to say to him, she moved on, brushing past him and heading to the main doors to get back inside. Micah turned to watch her leave but didn't say a word. He was used to people dismissing his dreams, but frankly, her reaction was rather tame compared to the bucketloads of ridicule he'd received over the years, especially from his older brothers. And yet, here he was, working at the palace while they tended the fields of local farmers. Smiling to himself, he picked up his rake and got back to work. One day, he'd make it happen.