Chapter Two

Mistletoe

        Lyra wasn’t sure what to expect when she opened the door to the prince’s chambers. A dark room greeted her, with the morning light peeking through the thick drapes.

        She walked over and opened the curtains to bring in the light, rousing the prince from his sleep. He sat up and once the blankets had slipped down to his lap, Lyra turned away, her eyes wide. Her face lit up with heat as she gathered her composure.

        Aside from his obviously naked state, his hair was nothing but a mess of tangles and knots. Lyra wondered if he had slept well at all. When he finally threw on his robe and made his way towards his bathroom, Lyra could finally begin straightening up the room.

        She quickly made the bed and discarded any clothing that was strewn about the floor to be taken to the wash. She spotted a desk on the far wall of the prince’s chambers, turned away from the windows and cast in shadow. She walked towards the desk and began to straighten the parchment and books that seemed to have been haphazardly thrown about.

         Lyra felt tempted to rifle through the pile, a couple of the phrases catching her eye. There was a slip of paper that looked like a letter from an unnamed sender, speaking on plans that they only touched on vaguely. The sound of wet feet hitting the stone floor tore Lyra away from the letter and she quickly shoved the papers in her hands into the drawers of the desk. She turned around and saw the prince leaning against his bedpost, the thin robe clinging to his wet skin.

        Lyra cleared her throat and stood at attention.

        “Find something you like?” The prince smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. His robe shifted ever so slightly, unveiling a glimpse at the very fit physique that lay underneath the silk fabric.

        “No, Your Highness,” Lyra said, giving a curt bow.

        “You don’t need to keep calling me that, you know.”

        Lyra’s brows scrunched in confusion. “What do you mean?”

        “The whole ‘your highness’ thing, it gets very repetitive after a while, and quite annoying to say the least,” the prince sighed. He walked towards the wooden partition that sat in a corner of the room, farthest from the windows. Lyra scrambled to find the right chest that held the prince’s clothes. When she came across the right one she grabbed what she could find and all but ran to the partition.

        “Then what should I address you as?” Lyra asked, handing the clothes over the wooden structure.

        “Jacob,” he said, his voice briefly muffled from his shirt. “Just Jacob will do nicely, Lyra.”

        “As you wish your– I mean… Jacob.”

        Lyra could hear the smirk in his voice. “Did you have a chance to read the book I gave you?”

        “Only the first chapter,” she said.

        Lyra hadn’t had much alone time past her task in the library the day before. The only reprieve she’d had was during her bath. The rest of her time, she had to deal with Marcy gushing over her new position as the news broke out faster than lightning among the fellow maids. 

        “Pity,” the prince pouted, walking out from the partition, dressed in simple brown pants and a green tunic. “What if I gave you the day to read it then?”

        “Your Highness, I–”

        “Ah,” the prince raised his hand to interrupt her. “What did I just say about the titles?”

        Lyra clenched her jaw. This prince was going against every formality she could possibly think of. Even visiting royalty would not be this relaxed with her and it made her weary.

        “May apologies, Jacob,” she said, keeping her hands clasped together. “But I hardly believe that spending my day in your service, only to sit and read, would be considered appropriate.”

        “Then spend the day with me,” he said matter of factly. “But I do expect you to have read that book from cover to cover by the end of the day.”

        Lyra’s shock showed through in her face. She truly had no idea the prince would be so… unorthodox.

        “Don’t worry, Lyra,” he chuckled, walking towards the door that led out of his chambers. “You’ll come to realize that being my servant isn’t a terrible experience.”

        ‘It certainly isn’t proper.’ Lyra thought, biting her tongue.

        They walked in silence down to the dining hall where the king and queen were waiting respectively, the other staff blending in as best as they could into the shadows of the room. Lyra joined the other staff, keeping her movements small and even thought of herself as small.

        She had realized from a young age that when she had thought of herself as such others tended to overlook her, which brought more mercy than it might’ve sounded. In a castle as large as this, being undetected was simply survival.

        The royal family began with their usual chatter about matters that Lyra personally found quite dull. Trade deals, treaties, whether or not the queen wished to renovate the grand hall once more.

        Lyra’s thoughts wandered, thinking back to the first few pages of the story she had managed to read. The author was very descriptive in his writing, she could’ve closed her eyes and felt the sea splashing across her face from just the words on the page.

        The king cleared his throat, giving a pointed look to the obviously distracted girl his son had spontaneously hired. He clinked a ringed finger on his glass, to which Lyra was hasty in retrieving the pitcher of wine and filled the king’s glass as steady as she could.

        “As I was saying,” the king said. “King Richard is coming in a few months time. He’ll be accompanied by his daughter, Bellatrix.”

        The prince made a dismissive sound, causing the queen to look up from her meal. She glared at her son, her thin lips disappearing into an even line as she pressed them together.

        “She’s a fine girl, Jacob, now quit your whining,” she glowered.

        “Mother, I’ve told you and Father that I’m not ready for marriage,” the prince sighed, holding his glass out for Lyra to fill.

        “A kingdom cannot wait–”

        “For the right one to walk through the door, Father, I know.”

        “Don’t you take that tone with your king,” his majesty snipped. “Remember your place, son.”

        “I do remember my place,” the prince shot back as Lyra returned to the shadows, the pitcher still firmly in her grasp. “And last I remember, I am still the rightful heir to this kingdom, and I have the right to choose my bride. A law, might I add, that you created. You will not take this choice away from me.”

        “You speak as though you’ve already found her,” the queen muttered, playing with a blueberry on her plate of fruit.

        “Perhaps I have.”

        Silence filled the dining room, the tension so thick that Lyra dared not breathe. The king looked as though he was holding back a storm of words, while the queen looked at her son with a calculated gaze.

        “Leave us.”

        The servants were already one step ahead of the king’s order, everyone but the royal family filing out through both servant chambers and the proper exits. The pitcher in Lyra’s hand was quickly taken away from her by one of the kitchen staff. Murmurs started to fill the hall, both men and women alike speculating what the prince had been talking about.

        “Do you think it was the last visitors they had?” A scrawny girl, no older than fifteen whispered to another maid.

        “Please, they had to have the prince in the opposite wing so they wouldn’t tear each other apart,” the maid muttered.

        No one came to gossip with Lyra, most other maids not paying her much attention. She kept her speculation to herself, thinking back to the vaguely written letter. Regardless, she only prayed that whomever Jacob chose was fit for the kingdom. In the back of her mind she hoped, as foolish as it was, that the woman would see fit to release her from her servitude.

        A foolish hope, but one that lingered with a pang in her heart.

        Rather than stand around to try to overhear the royals, Lyra slipped away from the crowd and began to walk towards the prince’s chambers in search of something to do. She had already tidied his room, but it was also an often vacant spot in the castle– the prince was very strict about privacy to the staff– and if the prince wanted her to read the book he gave, she would do her damndest to try.

        She weaved through servant passages until she reached the prince’s chambers, not wishing for anyone to follow her. The book sat heavy in her dress pocket, the awareness of its presence only causing Lyra’s steps to hasten.

        Once she arrived at her destination, she waited a moment in case there was in fact someone already in the room. After hearing what felt like a solid minute of silence she felt as though she could breathe again.

        She pulled out the book from her pocket and immediately walked to the desk in the room. After lighting a candle, she opened the book and delved back into the world between the pages. She quickly became engrossed in the characters and the plot, and found the female side character to be an oddly strong one. She was filled with wit and wisdom that helped to guide the unfortunate male protagonist.

        A small smile bloomed on her lips as she read and leaned back against the chair, not noticing when the hours had flown past. When she heard the door being opened she scrambled to her feet, snapping the book shut and hiding it behind her.

        The prince looked around the room, an irritated crease in between his brows that matched the small pout of his pink lips. When his eyes landed on Lyra he gently closed the door behind him, quirking an eyebrow.

        “There you are,” he muttered. “For a while I thought my parents managed to scare you off. What’re you hiding?”

        Lyra slowly pulled the book out from behind her, the prince’s eyes glinting with understanding.

        “How far have you gotten?” He walked closer to her, resting a hand on the back of the chair.

        Lyra didn't reply, but simply showed him the thick width of pages she had already read compared to the dwindling few she had left.

        “Good, I've been wanting to hear your thoughts on it,” he said. He slipped into the chair in front of her and kicked his feet onto the desk, crossing one boot over the other.

        “Well, I’m not finished yet,” Lyra said, slipping the book back into her dress pocket.

        “You don’t need to be finished with a book to talk about it,” Jacob scoffed.

        “But I wouldn’t want you to spoil anything about the ending now would I?” Lyra quipped back.

        “You only have a few pages left, I think there’s very little I could spoil for you now.”

        “You never know,” Lyra mused. “A lot of things can happen in just a few pages.”

        The corners of his lips twitched into a small smile.

        “Fair point, Lyra.”

        A silence fell over them, the prince staring up at Lyra as she avoided his gaze. She couldn’t tell if he was looking at her with interest or disdain, though she wasn't sure if she was prepared enough to find out.

        Lyra cleared her throat before speaking. “Is there anything I can do for you, Jacob? Perhaps, grab some tea from the kitchen?”

        Jacob continued to look at her, taking a second to answer before he looked over to his desk.

        “Unless you can find me a magic wand to make all of my problems disappear, I’m afraid not,” he sighed and rubbed his temple gently.

        “If I had a magic wand I’d do more than just that,” Lyra muttered. She looked around the room for any speck of dirt or dust she might be able to busy herself with.

        Jacob snorted, pulling Lyra’s attention back to him. “Don’t tell me you have similar troubles with your parents?”

        A stone sat heavy in her gut as she shook her head, her curls bouncing with her somber movement. Jacob raised a brow as their gazes met and sat up straighter in his chair.

        “Really? They aren’t trying to court you to a nice shepherd or to a blacksmith’s son?” He asked, tilting his head in a way that shifted the shadows on his face. He looked softer from where Lyra was standing– like something delicate surrounded by darkness.

        She shook her head once again, her throat tight. He hummed inquisitively, looking up and down before slowly standing up to turn his back to the desk and lean back against it. He crossed his arms over his chest as he contemplated his next question.

        “Forgive me for being so forward, but why not? Are you infertile or something?” He finally asked, sending a searing heat to Lyra’s cheeks.

        She had to squeeze her hands together to stop herself from smacking him across the cheek for such an assumption. “No,” she said, clenching her jaw tightly. “I am not infertile, your highness.”

        The tightness of her voice made his back straighten and Lyra quickly bowed her head. She shouldn’t have used that tone, he was simply asking a question– it wasn’t his fault she wasn’t very open like Marcy.

        “My apologies–”

        “Why?” He asked softly.

        She looked up timidly, discovering a gentle expression on his face, his eyes glittering with what she could only imagine were a thousand and one questions.

        “Because they’re dead.” The prince’s eyes grew wide from the revelation. She tried to swallow around the lump in her throat before she continued. “When I was little, they perished in a fire. I don’t even remember their faces that well, I was so young.”

        “My sincerest apologies, Lyra,” Jacob said somberly. Lyra had to raise her hand to pause what he would say next.

        “Thank you,” she said. “But I’ve made my peace with it. I’ve had plenty of time to realize that to dwell on the past is a fool’s pastime.”

        “Spoken like someone well ahead of her peers.”

        His lips quirked into a small smile that she returned. It was then that Lyra could really see just how boyish the young prince was. 

        “Thank you, Jacob,” she said softly, the air between them suddenly changed. “Is there anything else you need from me?”

        He took a step forward and Lyra became very aware of just how close they were suddenly. She could see the sunlight streaming through his eyes, how it made them seem like bright amber, and how his nose cast one of them in shadow. He took his time thinking over his answer as she breathed in the foreign cologne he wore. It was some type of spiced oil, she knew that, though which ones they were she couldn’t tell. All she knew was that he suddenly smelled addicting and all she wanted was to drown in it.

        “I think I’ll take your offer of some tea,” he said, his voice quiet. “But I’ll add your company to the request. I’d still like to hear your thoughts.”

        “My thoughts?” She scrunched her eyebrows together in confusion, earning a soft chuckle from the young royal in front of her.

        “On the book.”

        Her eyes widened as her face flushed in embarrassment.

        ‘Of course he would be talking about the book, what else would he possibly be talking about?’ Lyra thought.

        “Right,” she said, taking a step back. “I’ll go fetch the tea then.”

        Before the prince could respond, she quickly took her leave. Her heart was racing as she descended to the kitchens, the motions barely registering in her mind. Once the kettle was hanging above the fire, she let out a deep breath and willed herself to lock away whatever was making her behave so strangely.

        To love the prince anymore than a dutiful citizen would only end in one way. Lyra was determined to save herself the heartache, no matter the cost.

        The kettle began to scream as she made her silent vow, gathering a single cup and saucer, and poured the tea inside. She stirred the water three times counterclockwise, remembering Sister Agnes’s instructions. To stir clockwise was to invite something in, to stir counterclockwise kept things out. Though Lyra wasn’t a full believer in superstitions, she was willing to try anything to save her heart.

        She promised herself she would never fall in love with Jacob Dolion, by any means necessary.