Chapter Twelve: Lost What Was Never Had

Rain lingered over Evercrest Castle for three straight days.

Not violent storms, but the sort of cold silver drizzle that wrapped itself around the kingdom from dawn until nightfall, turning the gardens dark with water and cloaking the mountains in mist. The castle corridors smelled faintly of damp stone and candle smoke, while servants hurried through the halls carrying fresh firewood and dry linens as though trying to outrun winter itself.

Jeremy welcomed the weather. It gave him excuses. Excuses to stay busy. Excuses to disappear into quieter parts of the castle. Excuses not to think too hard about the prince.

Unfortunately, none of it worked. Because no matter how carefully Jeremy rearranged his schedule, no matter how many extra duties he volunteered for, his thoughts continued circling back to Kelvin like a compass needle refusing to point anywhere else, which was precisely the problem.

The balcony conversation had changed everything. There was no hiding behind friendship anymore. No pretending their feelings had been misunderstood or exaggerated by fear and circumstance. The truth stood plainly between them now, impossible to fold away neatly and ignore. And that truth could ruin both of them.

Jeremy adjusted the stack of folded linens in his arms before stepping into one of the eastern corridors. He had deliberately taken assignments farther from the royal wing these past few days. Fewer opportunities to cross paths with Kelvin. Fewer chances for someone to notice the way the prince looked at him now. Or worse, the way Jeremy looked back.

He rounded the corner quickly, only to stop short at the sight of two maids whispering beside a window alcove.

Their conversation cut off at once.

One of them smiled too brightly. "Good morning, Jeremy."

He forced politeness into his expression. "Morning."

The silence that followed stretched awkwardly enough to curdle milk.

Jeremy kept walking. He barely reached the staircase before hearing one of them hiss under her breath:

"I told you they've noticed."

Heat rushed into his face.

God. This was exactly what he had feared.

By the time he reached the lower servant halls, his chest felt wound tight as rope.

Oliver glanced up from polishing riding equipment when Jeremy entered the room.

"You look miserable."

"I feel miserable."

"Excellent. You're adapting to castle life perfectly."

Jeremy dropped the linens onto a nearby table.

Oliver studied him for a moment before lowering his voice. "You've been avoiding him."

"I've been working." He busied himself unnecessarily rearranging folded cloth.

"No. You've been hiding."

There was no point denying it.

Oliver leaned back against the table with a sigh. "For what it's worth, the prince looks worse."

Jeremy paused. Something uncomfortable twisted in his chest. "How worse?"

Oliver grimaced. "He nearly took a councilman's head off yesterday during training."

Jeremy blinked. "What?"

"The man kept rambling about military funding. His Highness snapped at him in front of half the courtyard."

That didn't sound like Kelvin at all. Or perhaps it did. He had begun realizing the prince carried far more frustration inside him than most people ever saw. Still, the thought unsettled him.

The stable boy watched him carefully. "You know," he said, quieter this time, "running from something doesn't usually make it disappear."

Jeremy laughed once without humour. "In this case, it might keep people alive."

And Oliver did not argue with that.

*

Elaine found Jeremy later that afternoon inside the castle greenhouse.

The glass ceiling overhead rattled softly under the rain while rows of winter roses climbed the stone walls in pale bursts of ivory and crimson. The air smelled of damp earth and lavender.

Jeremy had been trimming dead leaves from one of the flower beds simply to keep his hands occupied.

Elaine approached without attendants for once, her dark green cloak trailing faint droplets of rainwater behind her.

"You hide in strange places."

Jeremy nearly dropped the gardening shears. "My lady."

A small smile touched her mouth. "You looked disappointed that it wasn't someone else."

Jeremy turned back towards the flowers immediately. The woman noticed far too much.

Elaine moved slowly through the greenhouse, fingertips brushing gently across white rose petals as she walked. "When I was younger," she said, "I used to think becoming queen would solve everything."

Jeremy glanced up uncertainly.

She laughed softly at his expression. "I know. It's a ridiculous thing to admit aloud."

"You don't seem ridiculous."

"No," Elaine murmured. "Only naïve."

Rain tapped steadily against the glass overhead.

For a moment, she simply stood there among the roses, looking strangely distant. "Everyone spends their life telling daughters of noblemen stories about love," she continued. "As though beautiful gowns and crowns guarantee happiness."

Jeremy lowered the shears carefully onto the table beside him. "And they don't?"

Elaine looked at him then. There was something painfully honest in her expression. "No. Sometimes they simply guarantee performance."

The words settled heavily between them.

Jeremy swallowed. "I never intended…" He hesitated. "I never meant to complicate things."

Elaine smiled faintly. "The cruel part is that you didn't have to try."

He looked away at once.

The rain grew louder overhead.

After a long silence, Elaine finally spoke again. "He smiles differently with you."

Jeremy's chest tightened sharply.

Elaine gave a quiet shake of her head, almost amused by her own sadness. "I noticed it long before either of you did."

Jeremy wished desperately that she hated him. Hatred would've been easier to survive than kindness. Before he could think of a response, footsteps echoed outside the greenhouse entrance.

Elaine straightened immediately, noble composure slipping back into place as smoothly as silk gloves. "Be careful, Jeremy." Then she left him alone among the roses and rainwater.

*

Kelvin finally cornered Jeremy three nights later.

The old tower library stood nearly abandoned at that hour, tucked away inside the eastern side of Evercrest where few people bothered climbing after sunset. Rain battered softly against the tall windows while firelight crackled low inside the hearth.

Jeremy had come searching for a misplaced inventory ledger. Instead, he found the prince waiting beside the shelves.

Kelvin looked lost. Not physically. Something worse. His expression sharpened the moment Jeremy stepped into the room. "So this is where you've been disappearing to."

Jeremy's pulse stumbled. "I wasn't disappearing."

Kelvin let out a short, humourless laugh. "Really? Because you've spent the past week avoiding me like I carry the plague."

Jeremy closed the library door carefully behind him. "This isn't easy for me either."

"I never said it was."

He tried focusing on the shelves instead of the prince standing far too close across from him. "People are talking already."

"They always talk."

"Kelvin—"

"No." Frustration cracked through his voice at last. "You don't get to vanish and then speak to me as though none of this matters."

Jeremy stared at him. Rain streaked silver against the windows.

The prince ran a hand through his hair sharply, composure fraying around the edges. "You keep acting as though staying away from you should be simple for me." The honesty in his voice hit harder than the frustration.

Jeremy looked down. Because hearing those words felt dangerously close to hope. "You think I don't know what's at stake?" he asked quietly. "You're the future king of Aragon."

"And you think I somehow forgot that?"

Silence stretched. Heavy. Unsteady. The fire crackled softly between them while rain whispered against ancient glass.

Jeremy exhaled shakily. "If this becomes scandal—"

"I don't care about scandal."

"But I do."

That stopped Kelvin cold.

Jeremy finally looked at him fully. "I care because they'll destroy you for it."

Something shifted across the prince's face then. Not fury. Not pride. Agony. An aching agony. He crossed the room before Jeremy fully realized he was moving. Then his hand caught Jeremy's wrist. Warm. Firm.

Jeremy's breath snagged. The distance between them vanished all at once. They simply stood there, close enough now that he could see the storm of emotions Kelvin had spent months trying to bury underneath princely restraint.

Rain hammered harder against the tower windows. Jeremy's pulse turned traitorous. Kelvin's grip loosened slightly, though he still hadn't let go. And slowly, almost unconsciously, Jeremy stepped closer too.

A single breath separated them. That was all. One reckless inch. One terrible decision.

The library door opened suddenly and both men jerked apart at once.

Edwin Pike froze in the doorway holding an armful of books. His eyes widened. "Oh."

Nobody spoke.

Poor Edwin looked seconds away from throwing himself out the nearest window. "I— Lord forgive me, I was told the inventory records were—"

Kelvin recovered first, princely composure snapping back into place with frightening speed. "Leave them there."

Edwin practically dropped the books onto the nearest table. "Yes, Your Highness." Then he fled the room so quickly it almost would've been funny under different circumstances.

Silence crashed back down afterward. Jeremy's heart still pounded violently against his ribs. Kelvin looked equally shaken.

For several long seconds, neither moved. Then Jeremy stepped backward first. And in some way, that hurt more than touching him ever could have.