***Nathaniel Derrington***

I feel my self-esteem sinking lower and lower with each step as I jingle my way to the ballroom in my new suit. I'd dance a bit, Marigold could have her shits and giggles, then I'd escape and go home without giving in to fantasies of killing myself.

I think it's a pretty solid plan until I hear King Stephen's voice around the hallway and my balls shrivel into themselves. Years of being paid to efficiently annihilate things trained my body for survival. Survival means making choices running on pure adrenaline, honed by instinct, which is why I dive under a nearby table without common sense intervening.

The king's voice gets closer. It's too late to crawl out without him seeing me now.

"...in due time, love," another familiar voice murmurs. A woman's voice. Her voice.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

I close my eyes as their footsteps stop in front of me, their conversation coming to a slow, confused halt.

"Nathaniel?" the queen says slowly, drawing out my name. "What are you doing?"

I give myself two seconds to fantasize being a rock in the gardens. Then I clear my throat.

"Princess Marigold requested a game of hide and seek, Your Grace," I reply to her knees.

I'm not sure where that excuse came from, but hats off to me because it actually sounds like something she would do.

"Well, I'm sorry to say that my youngest daughter has played another one of her little tricks," the king laughs. "She's already at the ball. I hope she hadn't planned on letting you sit there all night! I'll have a chat with her later about misusing members of the royal guard."

I'm so focused on his voice that it takes a moment to absorb what he said. I make a mental note to remember to bribe or blackmail Marigold into backing up my lie when the king confronts her.

"Thank you, Your Grace."

"Nathaniel, how many times do I have to tell you?" he says sternly, bending down to look me in the eye. He holds out his hand and breaks into a grin. "When we're not around other people, Stephen will suffice!"

"Yes, Y- Stephen," I say, glancing at the queen's dress. I guess she didn't count as "other people."

I scoot forward and place my fingers on his gloved palm, skin against satin. After he helps me up our hands disconnect. I can't help but wonder when the next time we'll touch.

Thirsty much, Nathaniel?

I start to brush myself off even though I'm not really dusty, just for something to do, but stop halfway when the bells on my arm start to ring.

Marigold played smart by excluding her parents from the long list of people she made look like idiots. Their outfits suit them well, the gold fabrics loose and comfortable where they need to be, but taut in all the places that look good. And unlike my suit, which had bushels of bells stitched to joints to increase the noise they made, the king and queen only had a small handful between them. The decades they spent honing their social graces is probably the only thing keeping them from gawking.

"You did very well at the initiation ceremony today," the King Stephen says with a smile. "You put out a good image. Strong. Confident. That's the sort of thing they like in a royal guard."

"Thank you. I..." I glance at his hand, the one I just touched. Held, almost. "I was a little nervous, actually."

"And so was I," the king admits, giving a little laugh.

I can't help but look up at that.

"Don't look so surprised, Nathaniel! Everyone gets a little jumpy speaking in front of all those people, even if they don't act like it. Even Rose-"

"Speaking of Rose," the queen cuts in, her pale green eyes fixating on my brown ones, "she has been looking for you."

I can taste the conversation between the king and I coming to a close. I think the queen doesn't like it when we talk. Sometimes I'll catch her watching me and I get the creepiest feeling that she knows.

"Really? Rose is looking for me?" I say brightly. Maybe too brightly. "Where is she?"

"She's loitering around the halls somewhere in front of the main double doorways to the ballroom," answers the king. "She needed a break from all the sycophantic-"

His wife shoots him a look.

The king rolls his eyes playfully. "You know it's true. That's what we're doing, isn't it? Anyways, you best catch up with her before someone else does. Then you'll have to stand in line for who knows how long," he adds, lowering his voice and raising his eyebrows. I bite my lip to stop from grinning.

"In that case, I shall be on my way, Your- Stephen." He cracks a smile that I can't help but return. It gets a little smaller when I turn to his wife, who has never invited me to call her by her given name, Eliza. "Your Grace."

She responds with a polite, girlish sort of curtsy, the kind Marigold does when she's feeling sarcastic. I'm sure it's supposed to be a joke, but it's a little awkward because her smile doesn't really reach her eyes. I return with a full on bow, giving my wrist a little spin, feeling the air brush though my hair as I dip my head dramatically low.

I leave with the king's amused laughter echoing in my ears. For a few moments I'm smug because I know I won whatever that was. But then his laughter suddenly cuts short.

Something in my gut churns a bit. I get the feeling I should ignore him, keep walking, but I make the mistake of looking over my shoulder.

She's smothered that addicting laughter with a kiss, which he returns eagerly. And then I know that, in the end, she'll always be the real winner.

I turn away and walk faster, bells clashing with every step.