~ Chapter 2 ~ The rhythmic gallop of the horses interrupted only by an occasional snort for air worked beautifully alongside the creaking of the carriage wheels. The maroon leather seat provided a heavenly cushion and seemed to snuff out the jitter of every rock and imperfection of the road. The Prince beside me stared out the window; his eyes tracing the bountiful countryside beyond the glass. Where does this go? Where does this end? The questions trailed behind me lost somewhere along the unending dirt road and I had no choice but to leave them there. Any word at the tip of my lips was halted by The Queen and the Princess sitting across from me. My only defense was the silence kept between us, but this silence whispered to me and kept my thoughts to wonder. The wooden wheels of the carriage began to creak as they turned faster. The hooves of the horses created tremors reverberating through the air; while the evening countryside outside played tricks on my eyes. As I saw it pass by from the window, it distorted into streaks blurring together onto a canvas. I gazed into the art piece to see shapes and abstract pictures form. Squinting out yonder, I saw the strokes form into a pup with his gaze pointed upwards. The face was blotched, but I could recognize it anywhere. The streaks of multi-colored paint danced together closer and closer onto the canvas until it became easier and easier to see the scene. White blobs of paint dotted a black sky. Grey streaks created the chilly bricks below. He pointed his eyes to the cosmos, but I pointed mine to the all-too-thin strokes of reddish-brown paint that made up his arms. “Milo, dear, we’re home.” Damian outstretched a paw from outside the carriage. I took but a breath before taking it and stepping down. The structure stood veiled in the darkness of the night with its towering exterior shown only through the amber glow of lanterns and candlelight. My eyes adjusted to the darkness to vaguely make out the distant corners of the palace. With each step up the smooth stone steps to the front doors, I held Damian's paw tightly; reveling in the fact that maybe he had my back in all of this. I didn’t know how the chiseled stone of the palace would envelop me. I also had no clue when the Queen or the Princess, stepping close behind me, would catch wind of what lay behind closed doors. For now, though, I could at least masquerade into the night and live to see the rising sun of tomorrow. The carved wood of the front doors opened before me by well-dressed servants. Once inside, I looked upon the large foyer and saw glimpses of grand portraits in the light of the lanterns. Before me was a massive staircase with all too many stairs to count. It stretched up ahead, absorbing the space, before slicing off into two separate directions and continuing up. Upon the carpeted landing, was a well-dressed, white wolf that stood like a statue. He was well-groomed and well-mannered with every hair of fur on his body seeming intentionally placed. My paw clung onto the Prince's tighter and its small trembles were replaced with an iron-like rigidness. He briefly looked at me out of the corner of his eye before twitching his lips into a short smirk and bowing. “Your Royal Highness, shall I wake the servants? My sincerest apologies for being ill-prepared." My fingers loosened around Damian’s sizable paw as I released my grasp. Suddenly, I felt maybe I wasn’t so alone here. The Queen and the Princess took their place beside the Prince. Queen Katherine let out a deep sigh. “That will not be necessary, Simone. It’s far too late as is. I’m actually quite shocked to see you’re awake at all.” He hardened back to the emotionless expression I knew all too well. “Very well then, I shall prepare a room at once for our guest.” “Also not necessary. Milo will be staying in Damian’s room.” I froze up once more and Damian seemed just as puzzled. It’s been such a long day and I only prayed for her to be playing a trick on us. Victoria looked to the Queen appalled. “Mother, isn’t it too late for such jokes?” “It wasn’t a joke. I do not care about maintaining this charade in our very own palace.” She stumped Damian and I once more, but he was quick to match her bluntness. “Whatever charade are you talking about?” She frowned at him for a second, but he remained steadfast as their gazes met. I dug my claw into my side keeping my eyes down to the neatly polished floors. The Queen clenched her teeth to him. "You know exactly what I mean. Don't play me a fool here." I stepped away as her finger pointed right towards me. "You love him, that's why Damian. When I dated your father, we had to do all the mindless nonsense. The exchange of his handkerchief. The silent dances with some space for the Lord between us. The sneaky peaks of our lips at dinner wishing I could just kiss him already. All the silly rules we create just to keep each other at arm's length." The Princess raised an eyebrow and the Queen softened her tone. “You and Milo are safe here. You have been meeting and kissing in private for far too long as is. Why hide anymore just for our servants?” I felt my face grow warm. Even when beds were scarce in the servant's quarters, I'd never share one with anyone. The implications of such were far too risky, especially with a man. Damian put his paw around my side and pushed me closer to him. His warm expression fell onto my stiff body. "I appreciate this, Mother. I believe as though we were destined to end up in the same room at some point regardless." I uncomfortably clung to him. “Why yes of course. My love for Damian wouldn’t keep me.” Simone pursed his lips to us and darted his eyes back between Damian and Queen Katherine. “I shall be ready to accommodate Milo in Damian’s room then.” With the Princess’ witty smile, the Queen’s wink, and Damian’s embrace, I suddenly began to feel as though I stumbled into some sort of brothel. Simone laid across a fresh pair of white, silk nightshirts neatly folded up onto either side of the Prince’s bed. From the oak canopy above, were curtains of ruby red velvet neatly held into folds at the carved oak pillars. I stood by Damian’s side clutching him tightly at his side as Simone finally seemed pleased with his work. “Prince, Lord, the room is prepared for the both of you. How else might I serve you?” I bit my lip looking up to Damian and placed my hand upon his upper chest making Simone slightly displeased. Damian held me tightly and we gazed longingly into each other eyes as he spoke. “You are dismissed. I believe we need some...” “Privacy,” I gasped out with uneven breathing. “Oh yes, privacy is always good. I agree. You definitely need some privacy and I will take my leave. I will head out at once, my Highness of Royalty– er, my Royal Highness." He began to swiftly leave the room before turning back to us sharply. "Yes, there is one preparation the Queen, herself, requested. It has been placed within the top drawer of your dresser." I wetted my lips with my tongue to Damian. “Very well. You are dismissed,” the Prince said. Without another word, the butler seemed to vanish into thin air. The door shut with a whoosh of air following the click of the lock. I immediately pulled away from Damian. “I want to go home.” His maw scrunched up as he grasped his forehead. “This is home now. You are just as tangled in this as I am.” I made my way around the room. “Yes, I am, but, although I was a servant–” “Are a servant.” I rolled my eyes. “I will not stand by your side and fulfill your homosexual fantasies.” “You really believe I was ever interested in you? You’re just a lucky servant given the privilege of living in the Royal Palace. To be frank, I believe a thank you is in order." I opened up the dresser drawer to pull out a textured, glass bottle with a brown cork stuck within it. “Ah yes, thank you, my Highness, for giving me the gift of being a mere slip up away from death in the Royal Palace. At least we were graciously gifted an all-too-fancy bottle of water for our troubles, isn’t that just rather butter upon bacon?” “I’m sure your life as a servant was much more enjoyable than the life of royalty, my mistake,” his voice trailed off. I sat on the end of the bed and stared at the bottle. This had to be some elaborate dream somewhere. Another dream to add to the list of dreams I had being in a room just like this, but, as the silence drew, I knew my reality was here. Pulling the cork off the bottle, I decided to at least indulge myself in whatever sort of pure, imported water this must have been, but, just as I brought it to my lips, I was interrupted. “That’s not water.” I brought it back down from my lips. “Then what is it?” “It’s uh… lubrication.” “Lubrication? What in the dickens do we need that for?” “Well, my mother believes we’re in love with one another." I frowned. "I don't know much about courting. I only read a couple of books of rules to follow when dealing with the upper class and ways of being polite when I was training to be a server." “You misunderstand. It’s not going to be in any of those books.” He studied me weighing his next words. “Homosexuals use lubrication for more... intimate moments.” “How?” “It’s nothing to concern yourself with.” “If we want this ridiculous plan to work, you have to teach me how to pretend to be your lover. It is of my concern.” “Fine then. It’s for a man to make it easy to stick his fiddle into another man’s rear.” “Why would anyone do that?” He gritted his teeth losing patience. “Because they’re homosexuals. That’s what they do to make love.” I gasped. "I’m not doing that with you. I’ll pretend to be all lovey-dovey, but I'd soon be dead than do that atrocity." “I’d never.” He shot out. “That’s absolutely atrocious. I’m not a homosexual either, Milo. Trust me, I am not doing this for any sort of sick kicks.” I put the bottle of lube down onto the table and stood up off of the bed. “Then why are you doing this? Is this just to dodge out of marrying that tigress?” “You’ve exhausted my patience. Let’s just go get some rest and talk about this in the morning.” “I exhausted your patience? You just took my entire life into your paw without a care in the world and you aren’t even slightly concerned about a plan moving forwards or even giving me the bare minimum information. I guess you must be royalty after all.” He walked over to me silently and I took a step back. “Wait, what are you doing? You can’t intimidate me, Prince.” With a loud thump, he slammed his back down on the bed and laid out over it. “...I damned us both, Milo. Is that what you wanted to hear? I’ve been fucking my seamstress, caught the eye of a duchess, and now I got you, a servant of all people, stuck in a fake, homosexual relationship with me. The heavens have turned their back on me and maybe somewhere... I damn well deserved it.” I thumped my back onto the bed beside him and stared up with him at the same mural on the ceiling. “If you want to go home,” he sighed. “I’ll arrange for you to be taken back in the evening tomorrow.” He looked dazed in a thought. “But, there is this... ball on Saturday.” My ears perked up. “All sorts of representatives from all over will be there. If you were to continue this act for just six more days leading up to it and allow just… one dance in front of all them there, I’d reward you handsomely before sending you back off.” I stared in contemplation at the mural on the ceiling and admired all the painted panthers within it. Thin, beautiful tree branches spread out across the ceiling with leaves coming out from them. Puffy, pink clouds dotted the golden colors of the sunset in the background. I began to understand why he enjoyed staring into this mural. It reminded me of a distant home I’d long since forgotten. “How much of a reward are we talking here, Prince?” “5,000 shillings. That should keep you off work for at least a decade.” I gulped a dry lump in my throat and turned abruptly to him. “Surely even royalty doesn’t have that much to just hand out.” He seemed amused by this. “You think we afford this palace on pleasantries and goodwill?” Gazing into the mural of the ceiling, I returned to a familiar nook in my brain I’d visit when the Eatery became unbearable. I saw a nice home, not too big yet not too small, with my own stone fireplace crackling. A life without worry. One where I could curl up in bed and lay there for weeks at a time if I so wanted to. “Well, what do you say? You got six more days in you?” I smirked. “I do, my prince.”