When I returned to the dining hall on Monday, it seemed that people had suddenly lost interest in the topic of their job safety and was focused on a more thrilling topic.
Love triangles.
Specifically, the one I was apparently in with Coleman and Luke.
"I'm not in a love triangle!" I protested when a couple of people asked me. "I'm dating Luke."
"How could you date him when Prince Coleman likes you?" one girl asked.
"Coleman doesn't like me," I lied. "This is all a big misunderstanding!"
I was fairly heated by the time I got to Prince Coleman's door. Luke hadn't talked to me since our argument Saturday night, and now rumors were flying around about Coleman and I.
I opened the door to the room, and saw Coleman sitting on the side of his bed, resting his forearms in his lap. Luke was noticeably absent.
"Your breakfast, your highness," I said, giving him a lame curtsey.
"You can just set it on the table," Coleman said, turning to look at me with humbled green eyes. I nodded and placed his platter down.
I didn't say anything for a moment. "Where's Luke?" I asked.
"He asked for the day off," Coleman said. "I gave it to him."
I sighed. "Of course he did." I folded my arms. "You know, everyone's talking about you. About how you came to my room."
"I'm sorry," Coleman said.
"And now Luke's off to who-knows-where," I said, but quickly regretted saying it as emotion crept in my voice.
"Did you two fight?" Coleman asked.
I bit my lip. "He—he didn't want you to know," I said. "He thought it would cause drama, and I guess he was right."
Coleman stared blankly ahead. "I see."
"I probably shouldn't have told you that," I said. "You're not going to fire him, are you?"
"Of course not," he said. "He didn't do anything wrong. He's not required to tell me about his personal life."
Coleman's unusually calm and pensive demeanor caused my own frustration to sizzle. I decided I'd leave him to his breakfast and was about to leave when he spoke. "When..." he hesitated for a moment. "When Mr. Prescott retired, I must admit I was...I was very sad."
I rose my eyebrows. I had not expected him to say this.
"Of course, I understood that he wanted more time with his real family but—" He paused. "But I was going to miss him. It was, admittedly, a strange dynamic we had. Yes, he was my servant, but he also was someone I relied on. And not in the simple servant way. He didn't just manage my schedules and lay out my clothes. Mr. Prescott listened to me when I needed to talk something out. He taught me how to ride a bike and how to shave and how to drive a car. It's not that my parents didn't care or anything; I was very close to my mother, as you know. We spent a lot of time together." He chewed on his lip.
I took a couple of steps closer. I was close to my mother. "Did you spend much time with your father?" I asked.
"My father," he looked down at his lap and smiled sadly. "I loved him dearly and I looked up to him like no one else, and I know he loved me and cared about me, but he was the King. A very busy man. He didn't have very spend much time to spend with me." Coleman took a deep breath. "And so, when Mr. Prescott said he was retiring, I was sad. Because at the end of the day, he was just an employee that we paid to babysit me."
I could see it in his face—I could see the loneliness. I thought about Coleman's reaction when Mr. Prescott had left him again after visiting. At the time I'd had no sympathy for him, but now I felt my heart had softened.
"That's not true," I told Coleman. And perhaps it was not my place, but I went over and sat a foot away from the Prince next to him on the bed. "I know it's not. Mr. Prescott loved you, Coleman." I turned to look at him. "I know that he talked about you all the time when he got home, and he was proud of you. You weren't just the kid he was hired to babysit. You meant a great deal more than that to him, so much so that..." I drifted off. "That, it was sometimes hard for his own family to see how much he loved you."
Coleman looked at me. "Really?" he breathed.
"It's true," I said. "Couldn't you tell?"
"I could hope," he answered. "But you can never know for sure."
"I understand that," I said, looking forward again.
"Was that hard for Lucas?" he asked.
I didn't answer for a moment. "Yes," I finally said.
Coleman sighed deeply. "I see. That makes sense. I'm sure if my own father spent all his time with another little boy, I'd have been very jealous."
I didn't say anything.
"When Mr. Prescott retired, he suggested his son take his place. Of course, we were going to take his suggestion no questions asked. I remember I was rather excited to get to know Mr. Prescott's son. I realized it would be a different dynamic to have someone my own age as my butler, but I thought it might be fun. I thought that perhaps...perhaps we could be friends of a sort. But then I met him. I asked him if he went by a nickname such as Luke, as his father had referred to him by that name, but he told me 'Lucas' was fine. He was everything you could ever want in a servant—organized, punctual, reliable, calm. But I realized very quickly that he didn't want to blur the line between servant and master, and I wasn't going to force him out of that comfort zone.
"I guess—I guess that's why I never thought you two would date," he chuckled. "To me, you just seem so different. Maybe he's different around you, but as far as I can tell he is stoic, quiet, serious, orderly, and with little sense of humor. I daresay he even airs on the side of boring and I must admit all these adjectives do not describe you. You are so vivacious and full of life and I just never thought you'd go for someone like Lucas, though he is admittedly a good-looking fellow. I mean, even Prince Nikolas is more interesting than him."
"Luke's really not like that," I said. "I mean, I wouldn't describe him as feisty but he does have a sense of humor and he smiles a lot and likes to have fun."
Coleman smiled weakly. "I guess so. I only know Lucas, however, while you know 'Luke.'" He shook his head. "When Lucas suggested I hire a personal maid, I thought it was a fine suggestion. I was a bit surprised to see that little Marstella Adams walk in with her fiery red hair and confident gait." He sighed. "And you know what? She asked me questions. She started out with little questions, such as 'how did you sleep?' and 'how are you?'.
"I'll spare you the details, but one thing led to another and I considered her somewhat of a friend. Of course, she was a very attractive friend and you know of my nature well enough. She told me about her plight with Lord Allegro and I decided to help her out. I know that the whole affair was just a scheme for me to restore her birthright, but you know my mother. If I vowed to turn my back on any woman who ever hatched a scheme, I could never talk to my own mum. So, I didn't hate her.
"Marstella and I are still friends—it's not quite the same, but I enjoy her company. I like it because I know she isn't in love with me so there isn't that awkwardness of unreciprocated feelings. I can talk to her about things. But—but I never knew that she and Lucas used to date. I didn't realize that she dated him to get to me." He let out an angry puff of breath. "I mean, the signs were there. But I guess I was too busy looking in the mirror to notice!" He then sighed, and I felt as though the energy was being drained out of him. "He hates me, doesn't he?"
I didn't answer.
"Well?" Coleman pressed. "Doesn't he?"
"I don't know," I said. "I don't know if he hates you, he hasn't said. But...he is very insecure about you, I think."
He shook his head. "This whole time I thought he was just a quiet guy. I didn't think it was personal or anything."
"I think...I think that it's complicated," I said.
He sighed. "I suppose it is. I guess that's life."
"So it seems," I mused. "I mean, look at us. What would you even label this whole mess, huh?" I chuckled softly, glancing at him. I found him staring at me with arresting eyes, locking my gaze to him.
"I don't know," he murmured. "But we are certainly complicated."
I smiled. "I don't know exactly how Luke feels about you. But know this, I wanted to hate you."
"Oh, thanks," he rose an eyebrow.
I smiled lightly. "I've been very mad at you," I said. "In fact, I was pretty mad when I came into the room this morning. But try as I might, I just can't hate you. Not really."
Coleman looked at me very carefully. "Cassie," he started quietly. "Try as I might, I can't..." he trailed off.
"You can't what?" I asked him.
"Um, well, I guess I can't hate you either."
I smiled, and stuck out my hand for him to shake. "To not hating each other."
He stared into my eyes, his green onesunreadable. "To not hating each other."