Every evening, after dinner, Prince Caelan retreats to his quarters and spills his cup of chamomile on the duvet of his bed.

It's the only way he can get to see Maisie alone.

Maisie is the bedroom maidservant of Blair Castle. An orphan from a young age, she came to the castle at twelve years old to beg for work, desperate. Caelan dragged her by her grimy hand to his parents and demanded she should stay because he needed someone his same age around, having no siblings. 

That was five years ago. They'd only grown closer since. Now, they were too close.

Caelan may need to find his future wife soon. Romantic fraternization between the staff and the prince is forbidden. Maisie knows this. 

But Maisie can't decline when duty calls, even if that duty is enabling Caelan's mischief.

Maisie has told the playful prince many times that this ruse can only be kept up for so long before gossip will start to whisper through the castle. 

As much as Maisie loves Caelan, she doesn't have the luxury to be reckless like him.

Maisie walks into Caelan's quarters, fresh sheets tucked into one arm. Once the door shuts, Caelan awards Maisie with a smirk. 

"You came," Caelan says with a triumphant tone.

Maisie rolls her eyes. "I have to. It's my job, Your Highness." 

Caelan's smirk widens into a devastating grin. 

While Maisie knows Caelan would never bed her without her permission, it's the thought of him asking that scares her. Soon, their love won't be able to dance at the edge of intimacy anymore. They have never even kissed.

Caelan watches Maisie strip the soiled covers. Wisps of her deep brown hair, color of the soil in the garden, breaks free of her french braid draping halfway down her back.

Caelan thinks she's so beautiful like this. 

"It's all done." Maisie gives the bed a pat and turns to face the prince. She startles at his nearness, his baby blue eyes shimmering lovingly. 

Maisie believes Caelan loves her, too. A feeling in her gut. She has always trusted that.

Caelan tucks Maisie's stray hairs behind her ears, fingers lingering around her face. Maisie looks at him, curious. Caelan decides that her expression is enough to broach the reason for all these rendezvouses, finally.

"My parents have begun my search for a wife . . . " Caelan stops his sentence, cupping her face between smooth palms.

Maisie shakes her head.

If she entertains this, Maisie will begin to feel Caelan's kind of love. 

Maisie's love frees her. 

Caelan's love binds.

As Maisie opens her mouth to speak, the door opens. A couple of other maidservants stand in the entryway, faces blank, yet intrigued.

"Get OFF! Just because you're the prince, doesn't mean you can touch me whenever you want. I thought we were friends!" Maisie exclaims. She shoves Caelan aside, and he staggers onto the bed. 

Maisie turns and storms out of the room.

If Maisie hadn't given Caelan enough warning, she hopes that the chamomile will stay in the teacup henceforth.