Chapter Three

Willow

        Days had turned into weeks, and soon a month had passed in the blink of an eye. Jacob had been persistent in getting to know Lyra, taking advantage of her servitude to engage her in conversation. Most days, Lyra would tend to his company rather than any duties she was used to as a maid and she was unsure how to feel about that fact. When the prince was preoccupied by his tutors, Lyra was granted reprieve to make up for the lost time on her chores, though it was painfully obvious how rushed she was with most tasks.

        Marcy had created a ritual of begging for details over the occasional tea when they both had time away from their services. Lyra always found herself too exhausted to give nothing but vague answers.

        “What is he like when you’re alone?” Marcy asked one day, almost immediately once Lyra sat down.

        Lyra fought back a small smile, remembering how the prince would ask for her opinion on almost everything they were talking about. He was engaging and very well aware of the power he held as the heir to the throne. Even more pleasantly, he didn’t throw his regality in her face as most other royals would have. It felt as though she was able to find a friend in her prince.

        “He’s…” Lyra trailed off, the words escaping her mind. If she told Marcy he was kind, rumors would spread. As much as she loved her dear friend, she was a gossip amongst the maids and knew better than to add fuel to the flames that already stoked her feet. “Intelligent.”

        “Well no duh,” Marcy laughed. “He’s to become our king, I would hope he was intelligent.” Lyra rolled her eyes, the smile breaking through on her lips. “Does he like to impress you with his… intelligence?” Marcy pushed, sending a wave of heat along the back of Lyra’s neck.

        “He does nothing to impress me, Marcy, and he has no need to,” Lyra chided. “We just have… deeper conversation.”

        “But deeper how?” Marcy sighed, clearly annoyed by her friend’s vagueness. Lyra took a long sip of her tea as she searched for the right words, not quite knowing how to put it exactly.

        Her discussions with Jacob were unlike those that she had with Marcy or with Sister Agnes. They felt scholarly and like for once she was on even ground with whom she was talking to. Sister Agnes had her years ahead of Lyra, having basically raised the girl. Marcy on the other hand was always more liked amongst the maids than Lyra ever was.

        Jacob was like an escape for her, though she’d never admit it out loud. He made her feel as though she was free to think out loud without reprimand, to laugh when she genuinely found him funny. He held no room for insincerity and kept a curiosity towards Lyra that she couldn’t shake, no matter how many times she tried to avoid it. It was an odd feeling, but one she was growing accustomed to.

        “I don’t know,” Lyra said finally, deciding to keep the odd feeling to herself. “It’s hard to explain.” 

        Marcy’s eyes grew wide, a revelation coming upon her that made Lyra raise a brow in response.

        “Good Lord, you’re in love with him!”

        Lyra was glad she had set her teacup down, certain that any tea would’ve flown from her mouth at such an accusation.

        “Marcy!” Lyra hissed, looking around them despite their small room being vacant save for themselves.

        “Oh don’t you even try to deny it, it’s written all over your face.” Marcy smirked as she drank from her cup.

        “There is nothing written on my face, and what you’re saying is completely inappropriate,” Lyra said, her gaze anywhere but towards her assuming friend. “He is my prince above everything else and if anyone says otherwise, it’s completely and utterly untrue.”

        “But it is true, and you know it! My goodness, it’s like something out of a fairytale,” Marcy teased, a cat-like grin on her face. “Lyra…” She took Lyra’s hands into her own across the rough table, dragging Lyra’s gaze to hers. “I’ve known you for a long time. You’ve been my first and closest friend here and I’ve seen you at your best, your worst– everything in between. I have not, however, seen you so smitten before.”

        Lyra pressed her lips together, the heat from her neck creeping like vines along her cheeks.

        “It’s not a crime to wish for something more with our prince– hell, I’m sure over half of the girls in the castle wish to be his one and only. I know I have on occasion.” Marcy winked and flashed a coy smile.

        Lyra pulled her hands away from her friend, her jaw clenched tightly as she shook her head. “You’re wrong.” She stood up, leaving the tea sitting on the table as she quietly made her way to her humble room. Marcy called after her but the sound fell on deaf ears, Lyra’s head swimming with what she said.

        It was absolutely ridiculous to insinuate anything about her connection with the prince. She never thought about him in such an intimate way, but Marcy’s claim suddenly plagued her mind with doubt. Was she really as smitten as her friend insisted? No… It was just all her imagination. It had to be.

        Lyra closed her door, pressing her back against it as she began to wonder for the first time if maybe there was more to her connection with Jacob. Her stomach turned in knots, as if she had swallowed stone instead of the stale bread she ate for dinner. With a long sigh, she decided it was best to just sleep away the thoughts. She quickly ran through the motions of her nightly routine in the dark, finding her way to her bed with an anxiousness that coiled in the small space of the bed next to her like a waiting snake.

***

        “Lyra?”

        A pair of fingers snapped in front of Lyra’s eyes, pulling her thoughts back into the corners of her mind. Her grip tightened around her broom as she looked up to see Jacob, his brows raised in what Lyra could only describe as annoyed concern.

        Her mind had wandered in the middle of tidying the prince’s room. It looked spotless thanks to the meditative motions of habitual cleaning, Lyra’s mind anywhere but where her tasks were. Her back straightened as she turned to Jacob, noticing the evening glow that streamed through the windows.

        “Yes?” She asked.

        Jacob opened his mouth and closed it, as if a thought had snagged his brain before saying, “You can stop cleaning for now.”

        A part of her wanted to ask what he was originally going to say, instead, she quickly swept the dirt against the wall before dusting herself off.

        “Sorry,” she began, leaning the broom against the same wall. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

        “I could tell, you looked like something was troubling you. Anything you want to tell me?” He asked, looking around the room as if it were the first time he had seen it. Perhaps it was the first time he had seen it so clean, but it unnerved Lyra nonetheless.

        “I don’t think my troubles would interest you, if I’m being perfectly honest,” Lyra said.

        Jacob looked back at her over his shoulder, a twinkle in his eye that made Lyra’s chest constrict. Jacob had a way of looking at someone as if reading their very thoughts, and just the concept made Lyra’s stomach drop.

        “You’d be surprised at what I find interesting,” he said, turning to face her fully. The golden sunlight bounced off his white shirt, giving an ethereal glow about him that she couldn’t help but silently admire. “I’m almost offended you haven’t learned that yet with all of our time together.”

        Lyra bowed her head. “My apologies.”

        He was right, Lyra knew it. He always asked her the most mundane questions that she could never fully answer at some junctures. Lyra had always put it off as simple curiosity from a royal. Idle entertainment to pass the days along.

        “No need to apologize, Lyra,” Jacob chuckled, the small smile on his lips dripping into his voice. “Now c’mon, out with it.” Lyra looked up at her prince, her fingers twisting together anxiously. “What’s plaguing your mind?”

        Lyra tried to swallow the lump that suddenly formed in her throat, looking away from Jacob as she contemplated what to tell him. She took a deep breath before giving her answer and squeezed her hands together to stop their gentle shaking.

        "If you thought you might have feelings for someone…” she said carefully, taking her time with her words. “Say, someone you weren’t supposed to have feelings for… would you tell them?”

        Jacob folded his arms over his chest, taking a moment to find his answer. Lyra bit the inside of her cheek, the mere seconds seeming to last forever as she waited. Her feet suddenly felt cold as he opened his mouth to speak.

        “That depends,” he finally said, taking an idle step forward. “Does it appear as though this person would bear similar feelings towards me?”

        “Perhaps,” Lyra muttered, turning towards a window to open it. She heard the prince's footsteps follow closely behind her. She breathed in the soft breeze of early autumn air, clearing room in her head that felt it was filled with the aroma of spiced oil and parchment. “It’s hard to tell.”

        “How so?” His voice was a low rumble that sent a shiver up Lyra’s spine that settled at the base of her skull. She willed her nerves to calm as she watched a flock of birds fly overhead the castle groves. Part of her wished to sprout wings from her back and fly away as well.

        “Because,” Lyra’s voice was stiff, her throat tight as if she were being strangled. “They weren’t what you were expecting. And you can’t tell how you gained their attention, or why. They confuse you to the point you don’t know left from right, or up from down.” She bit her lip, tearing a bit of dry skin habitually. “But for some reason… you’re still drawn to them. Like you’re under a spell.”

        A soft hand cupped her chin and dragged her gaze back to the prince, another hand sat gently on her shoulder. He was so close, Lyra could’ve counted the faint freckles on his face like stars on a map. Her breath hitched as his head dipped even closer and she could feel his breath on her skin.

        “Lyra–”

        The door to the bedchamber swung open and Lyra jerked backward, smacking her head against the window pane with a small thud. A small servant boy was panting against the door, his face red with exertion. They both turned towards the boy, Jacob’s face filled with annoyance.

        “What?” Jacob spat, his jaw set.

        The servant boy quickly gathered himself and stood up straight before bowing too far forward than was necessary. A common mistake that most youths in service did, and one that Lyra had done herself many times before, even as an adult.

        “Your Highness, the king wishes to see you in the grand hall!” The boy kept his gaze firmly fixed on the ground as he spoke.

        “What for?”

        “He… He didn’t say, Your Highness, o-only that it was important.”

        Jacob scowled, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

        “Very well,” he grumbled, turning to Lyra briefly. “We will continue this later.” With a wink, he turned back to the boy and followed him out the door.

        Much to Lyra’s regret and relief, they never did finish their discussion.

***

        The leaves were burning the brilliant color of flame a few weeks later, scattering the grounds and the courtyard. Autumn was a bittersweet season for Lyra; she didn’t enjoy the idea of a harsh winter soon to come, but reveled in the exuberant color that fall displayed.

        Word had traveled around the castle that visiting royalty was to arrive no later than Friday for a visit during All Hallow’s Eve, with the prince’s birthday celebration only a few days afterward. Preparations had to be made by all of the staff and the queen placed herself in charge of all the decisions made, from the theme to the decorations, and even to the dress code.

        Jacob had rolled his eyes at every suggestion she had made, making Lyra fight to keep an amused smile hidden. He would complain about his mother’s fussing, often pacing at the foot of his bed while Lyra stood and listened.

        “It’s absolutely maddening,” he vented. “She makes a huge deal out of it every year. Every year it’s the same pestering attitude, as if I don’t have enough people to tell me how to run my life. I just don’t understand what the point of it all is. Why does it matter so much to her?”

        “Perhaps because she cares for you,” Lyra shrugged, earning a soft sigh from her prince. “Like all mothers do. You’re her only son, her only child. She may be overbearing at times, but it’s because she cares and wants to celebrate you in the best ways she knows how.”

        He shook his head, running a hand through his dark locks. He stopped his pacing, his back turned toward Lyra as he gazed out the window. Lyra had come to realize after a few months of working under him, that he never liked to show his face when he was obviously stressed. She could see where his back was tensed under his red shirt, her hands itching to rub the tension away. Instead, she stayed put.

        “I just have a bad feeling about it all.” His voice was so soft Lyra almost hadn’t caught what he said.

        “Why?” She asked, only to receive a shrug.

        The month of preparation came and went faster than the dandelions could wilt. Quarters were arranged for the arriving guests and tensions only grew with each arriving royal. Nearly every family that was within close alliance with Embercall was there, with more than a handful complete with an eligible suitor in tow for Jacob.

        “It’s absolutely horrendous, all of it!” Jacob had said one afternoon. He insisted they spend the day outside on the grounds, much to his mother’s dismay. “I’m supposed to be able to choose when I marry, yet they pull something like this as if I’m somehow incapable.”

        “They only mean the best,” Lyra sighed.

        It had been the same complaints for nearly two weeks straight, regardless of who was within earshot. Lyra kept trying to calm him down by insisting he was turning it into a bigger problem than it really was. By law, nothing was stopping him from ruling bride-less, but Lyra understood that the pressure was still there. With a bride, the kingdom could rest easy knowing the monarchy would still live on.

        Jacob snickered.

        “That’s what you believe.”

        Lyra rolled her eyes, an action she became very comfortable doing around her prince. “All I’m saying is that every parent wishes to see their child have a family of their own someday, yours included," Lyra replied as calmly as she could, though irritation still laced her words.

        “And what would you know of what a parent wants for their child? Not like you have any example to source from,” Jacob retorted, the ice in his voice cutting through Lyra.

        She stopped walking, frozen in place from the hurt that rang like a bell in her heart. It was evident that Jacob was a temperamental man, capable of going through a multitude of mood swings within a single hour. None were as unpleasant as his anger, though Lyra never truly found herself to be the subject. It appeared that today the beast had reared its ugly head at the nearest thing it could.

        And today it had chosen her as its target.

        It was a few paces before Jacob realized that Lyra was no longer at his side, turning around with an irritated huff. “What?”

        Lyra pursed her lips, her throat tight as her eyes burned. The prince’s irritation quickly melted from his face as he came to realize what he had said. A muscle feathered in his jaw before he opened his mouth to speak.

        “Don’t.”

        Jacob closed his mouth as Lyra spoke, a brief show of shock passing over his face before settling over a grimace. Lyra took a deep breath to calm herself as she forced herself to move forward, keeping her chin up. Once she had finally reached the prince, she noticed a look in his eyes that had become familiar, yet she had no name for it.

        “Lyra,” he whispered. “Forgive me.”

        Part of her wanted to spit in his face and tell him off in the worst of ways, but she fought against the urge. Even if her demeanor was more relaxed around the prince, she still had to maintain control over her reactions.

        Her hands were taken into his and he brought them up to his lips, a gesture that sent heat flowing through her body. It was then that she noticed a glimmer of regret in his eyes for the first time.

        “Please, don’t make me beg.”

        He slowly lowered their hands, gently rubbing along her knuckles. Lyra bit the inside of her lip before taking a deep breath once more and bowing her head slightly.

        “I forgive you, Your Highness.” She kept her eyes fixed on her tattered shoes, missing the dark look that passed over Jacob’s eyes. When she dared to look back up at him, she noticed how close he had gotten, their noses nearly touching. Her breath caught in her throat as she noticed him inching closer, her entire body flushing with heat despite the chilled air. She stared up into his dark eyes, her heart dancing along the inside of her chest as she fought the urge to push her lips against his.

        She had never been kissed before, and she was unsure how well she’d do, especially with someone whom she presumed to be quite as experienced as Jacob might’ve been. She dug her fingers into the sides of his palms to calm their nervous shaking.

        “Lyra.” His voice was deep and sultry, a mix of emotions that Lyra wasn’t even sure if she was prepared to hear from her prince. Her cheeks tingled with heat and her feet went ice cold as she bravely lifted herself forward, shutting her eyes tight as their lips became a mash of skin and teeth.

        In the first second, Jacob didn’t move. He instead gripped Lyra’s hands firmly and his eyes grew wide in surprise. If Lyra had kept her eyes open, which most people in love were not wanton to do, she’d have seen a flicker of anger that crossed his eyes. It danced along his irises until he kissed her back, releasing one hand to tangle into her mess of curls.

        When Lyra was certain she’d drown in the kiss, Jacob parted his lips from hers and rested their foreheads against each other. She waited for his repulsion. She waited for their recognition that what was happening couldn’t happen. 

        Lyra’s heart beat against her ribcage so loudly she feared it would leap out of her chest and reveal everything she’s kept hidden, all of the feeling and fears she’s kept bottled up. Jacob slowly untangled his hand from her hair, grabbing her free hand once more and cleared his throat.

        “Come to the celebration.” His voice was so soft, Lyra almost didn’t catch what he said over the roar of her heart in her ears.

        "Jacob,” she said, swallowing a lump that quickly formed in her throat. “You don’t need to invite me to your birthday celebration, I’ll already be there serving you and your guests.”

     His lips twitched into a small smirk.

        “That’s the thing, I don’t want you there as my servant. I want you there as my guest.”