University of St. Andrews, 2001

It’s your least favorite kind of lecture: long, echoing, and far too full. The kind where you have to arrive early just to get a decent seat—not too close to the front, not so far back that you can’t see the projector slides. You sit near the middle, notebook open, coffee cooling beside you.

He comes in five minutes late. Again.

William. Or Wills, as everyone whispers behind his back like it’s a magic spell. He never seems to mind the stares, but he never returns them either. He slides into the row ahead of you, somewhere to the left, a few students and bags between you.

The professor starts talking about Romanesque arches. You’re halfway through copying down a date when you notice it—something being passed down the row.

At first you think it’s just notes. But it keeps coming, hand to hand, until it stops next to you.

A folded piece of paper.

Your name is on the outside.

You glance up. He’s not looking. He’s scribbling something in the margin of his notebook, face neutral, jaw set. You wait a beat—then open it.

Do you actually understand what she’s saying about “spiritual volume”? Or are we all just pretending at this point?

Your lips twitch. You cover your mouth with your hand. After a second, you flip the page over and write back.

It’s either architectural metaphor or the beginning of a cult. Unsure.

You fold it, pass it forward through the same chain of half-interested students.

He reads it, and this time, he does smile.

It’s small. Barely a shift. But it softens something in his whole face. Like he’s used to being looked at—but not looked back at.

A few minutes later, the paper returns.

Cult it is. You can lead it. I’ll take notes.

You shake your head, trying not to grin. You write:

Tempting, but I’m not great with followers. You’re the one with the royal experience.

He turns around slightly at that. Just enough to meet your eyes. One eyebrow raises—quietly amused, maybe a little impressed.

The professor clears her throat. The two of you look forward again.

The lecture continues. But you don’t hear much of it now. All you know is you’ve caught the eye of a prince.