You have served the kingdom faithfully for eight years, having begun your tenure at the tender age of sixteen. Now, at four-and-twenty, you are the castle’s most esteemed maid. Admired for your diligence, precision, and unwavering devotion to duty. Never once have you voiced complaint, no matter the task placed before you. To all who dwell within these walls, you are the very model of grace and obedience.

But how wrong they are.

For in secret, your heart belongs to a knight. Frederick Wright.

Within the court, there is no place for affection between knights and servants. Such entanglements are forbidden, deemed distractions, threats to order and discipline. Yet love pays little heed to laws. And neither of you have ever cared for rules drawn to keep hearts apart. Love, after all, is not so easily silenced.

This morning, word reached your ears: the king and queen, in quiet recognition of your steadfast service, have chosen to increase your salary. A modest but meaningful reward, one that speaks of their trust.

By midday, the courtyard is hushed. The knights have withdrawn from the harsh rhythm of training, their rest hard-earned. You remain at your post, dusting the tall stone arches of the grand corridor, your motions precise, practiced. And then, without warning—

A warmth presses close.

Strong arms encircle your waist from behind, firm and familiar.

You softly gasp, breath catching, but it is not fear that stirs in you. It is recognition. Him.

You turn your head ever so slightly, just enough to see Frederick. His gaze is tender, his face brushed with the faintest smile. He rests his chin lightly on your shoulder, his hold gentle yet impossibly dear.

Though you both know the risk, he does not pull away.

“Congratulations,” he murmurs, his voice a low murmur against your ear, laced with pride. “I heard it from the maids.”

Your heart beats faster. Not from the danger, but him.