At nightfall, I made my way to the servants' quarters.

I could hear shouts from inside the heavy door, rowdy cries and the crack of wooden mugs slamming together. I slipped inside and climbed over a tangle of sprawling limbs as the usual gamblers made themselves comfortable at the table.

Geoff waved me over to his cot.

"What's going on?" I asked, sinking down beside him. He wrapped an arm around my back, as if to say, I've missed you.

"Oh, little celebration," he told me. "Roggar brought two kegs of beer back from the tavern."

Roggar slammed his fist on the table, his other hand grasping his mug. "Beer, beer for everyone." He belched loudly.

"Got whiskey?" I asked.

"Oi, Rat Boy's a whiskey drinker," Coopers' friend chimed in. I'd learned his name was Mr Kett.

"You can stop with the..." I trailed off as they all turned back to their card game, ignoring me. "Name now."

Geoff rubbed my shoulder. His beard tickled my cheek as he leaned in. "Never you mind them, Auden, they're all practically on their deathbeds."

I gave a wry chuckle and turned sideways in the cot, stretching out my legs and laying my head down on his lap. He smelled of sweat and pigs' blood. "Laugh's on them, I'm waiting for a very special visitor tonight."

"Oh?" His thick fingers slid through my hair. I tried my best not to flinch. "Who would that be?"

I forced a smile. "You wouldn't believe me." Nor would he approve. Geoff hated the King. Everyone in the room hated the King. They would call for my head if they knew where I was going tonight.

Did that make me a traitor, then?

I suppose it did, in a way.

So be it. I was already far worse.

"I haven't seen you in so long," Geoff murmured, his thumb brushing my cheek. "You worried me."

"I'm sorry." My tone came out flat. "Can I have a mug?"

"Sure." As he leaned across his cot to the table, my eyes landed on the knife in his belt. I remembered holding it in my hand, the rush I'd felt as I tried to slit his throat. The rush as I watched him kill the guard.

Stop. It.

He drew a filled mug from the cluster on the table and took a sip, then offered it to me. I gripped it with both hands and gulped down three mouthfuls.

I would need it.

From his seat in the circle of gamblers, Roggar was going on about the tavern. "No God-fearin' woman should ever step foot in a place like that," he said, "lest she's owned by the house."

"Hear, hear!" someone yelled.

"I let my wife go to the taverns one time-" He lifted the nub of his missing finger. "One time, an' now I got an itch in me trousers that'll never go away."

They all roared with laughter.

"Least you men got wives." The grunt came from Mr Coopers. He tossed a coin into the pile. "I ain't fucked nothing but a sock in twenty years."

Another round of laughter exploded from the men. The sound was booming, like cannons firing. Roggar pounded on the table and clutched his side as water welled up in his cloudy eyes. "Let's sing," he shouted, raising his mug. "A night like this deserves song!"

"Quiet, you old fool," another gambler hissed. "You want to get us all flayed?"

"Oh, you, you-" Roggar scowled and tipped his now-emptied mug upside down, trying to shake out any remaining drops onto his tongue. "There'll be no flayin' for a little song! Coop'! You remember our song, don'cha? Our little song?"

"Aye." Coopers laid down his hand of cards and took a sip from his mug. "That's a proper chuckle, that one."

I glared at him. I still thought he was the one who stole my ring.

"Patriotic, too."

Roggar began tapping his foot on the floor, his steps slow and rhythmic, until some of the others joined in. They clapped once and broke into song.

God rot the King

Still him in his bed

God rot the King

Strike him till he dead

Roggar lifted his four-fingered hand high while the others clapped on.

God rot the King

Singin' o'er our bread

God rot the King

Knock 'im in his head

"Enough!" I shouted. The men looked up, their eyes flashing. Geoff's brow tightened in concern. "For God's sake, stop the goddamn singing! You make me want to rip my fucking ears off!" I snatched up my mug and emptied it in Coopers' face.

"Oi, oi!" Roggar shouted. "Don't waste it now!"

Just stop singing.

"Auden, what the hell?" Geoff grabbed both my arms to pull me back.

"Get off!" I brought my boot down hard on his foot and he let go with a squawk of surprise.

Coopers wiped the beer off his shining face, his blackened grin making me more uneasy than any show of anger could. "Looky there," he chuckled. "Geoff's boy orderin' him about."

Geoff stilled, his back straightening as he took a step in front of me.

Immediately, I regretted stomping on his foot. If the whole room ganged up on me, he might be the only one who would try to protect me.

"What?" Coopers snapped when no one laughed. "I can't be the only one thinkin' it. Them two's always off from the rest of us, fiddlin' with one another in the back. Come on now! Someone else must see it!"

"I think y'see what you wanna see, Coop'," Roggar said.

Coopers ran a hand over his bald head, red creeping up his neck. His workshirt was dark with beer. He cleared his throat and tugged at his collar. "Quiet, you know I ain't that sort."

Roggar poked him with the nub of his missing finger. "Perhaps all them years alone with the sock's made you that sort."

A sharp burst of laughter ensued.

The bald man was silent for a minute, the patch of red on his neck spreading to his cheeks. His fist balled at his side. Two seconds later, he slammed it into Roggar's teeth.

With a broken cry, Roggar tumbled backward off his barrel and hit the floor, limbs splayed. He choked as his mouth filled with blood.

"Oi!" Kett shouted, reaching to restrain Coopers.

The bald man was up from his seat before Kett could touch him, towering over Roggar's writhing form. Coopers landed a swift kick to his ribs and watched the older man roll over, moaning in pain and clutching his middle. "Next time I cut your filthy tongue out," he spat.

Geoff turned, his features contorted, and took my arm. His body curved inward as if to shield me. "Are you alright?" he asked.

I opened my mouth to respond when the heavy door to the servants' quarters cracked open. Missus Mack peered in, holding a candle to her face. She wore a nightcap and a long striped nightgown that dragged on the ground.

Oh, God. We're all getting whipped.

Coopers went white with fear as two men hauled Roggar to his feet. "Apologies, ma'am," he mumbled. "We's just... havin' us a bit of fun, is all."

"Someone here to see ya, boys," she said, then pushed open the door.

My breath caught.

The page couldn't be any older than twelve. He had brown skin and was dressed in orange breeches that ballooned out over his stockings. A white wig sat atop his head.

I almost teared up. I'd never been so happy to see one of those damned wigs in all my days.

"Special orders from His Majesty to collect Auden Murray," the boy said, staring down at a slip of parchment.

I turned to Geoff with the first genuine affection I'd ever felt for him. "Will you be alri-"

The look in his eyes chilled me to the core.

"What did he say?" he gritted.

My lips trembled. "I-I have to go," I murmured.

Geoff gripped my arms, so tight I couldn't move an inch. "The fuck does that bastard want with you?" I'd never seen him so angry. It terrified me. "Bloody cuckoo, that's what he is. Asking your name and now-"

Mack's voice rattled across the dank room. "Get your arse over here, boy. I'm not stayin' up all night."

"I have to go," I whimpered, and at last Geoff released me.

I kept my eyes firmly planted on the floor as I made my way over to Mack and the page. I could still feel his fingertips digging into my flesh, see his rage burned into my vision.

"Special orders from who now?" An old man at the table stuck one pinky in his ear and wiggled it.

"His Majesty," someone said. "That means the King."

"Rat Boy's in with the King."

"Well, I'll be damned," said Roggar.

"Are you..." The page looked down at the parchment uncertainly. "Aud-"

"Yeah, yeah, let's go," I muttered. The sooner I got out of there the better.

"A roll in the hay, that's what he's after." Coopers' voice was soft but sinister. "Kings and Dukes and Lords, they're all that way. Think they're above sin."

The men at the table considered his words. I was torn between denying the accusation to save my own name and keeping silent, lest I appear to defend the King.

"You think the King's a bugger, Coop'?" Roggar said.

I bit down on my jaw.

My eyes met Geoff's, silently begging him to say something. To tell them all to fuck off to hell. He regarded me cooly for a moment, the way one would a stranger. Then he strode to the table and leaned over the men, his elbow pressed to Coopers' shoulder. "Bet you're right, old boy. Say, I wonder if he likes it up the arse."

The men howled with laughter.

"Oi, there's a lady present," Kett protested.

"Mack's no lady, are you, Mack?" called Roggar.

"Quiet, 'fore I report ya all to the steward!" she screeched.

I flinched as the door slammed shut, and then Missus Mack was making her way back to the kitchen and the men were laughing and calling for another round of beer inside. I followed the page's silent footsteps, my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

Don't think about it.

I took a quivering breath as tears of betrayal collected in my eyes. I didn't know why it shocked me that Geoff would join in with them. He'd been insulted as well tonight. He was likely just looking after his reputation.

No. It was more than that.

He hated me now, didn't he? I could see it in his eyes when the page read my name. I'd betrayed him, so he betrayed me.

As we walked, I watched the quality of the castle's interior improve dramatically. The cracked stone walls became polished, the dirty floor turned smooth. My scuffed boots looked ten times filthier atop the shiny flooring.

Upstairs, guards in red uniforms stood stationary along the hall. I stared at them in wonder, wiping my tears on the backs of both hands and imagining what they must think of me.

I felt faint.

At the very end of the hall, the page stopped short, pausing outside a tall door. This must be it. The King's chamber. Surely the finest room in the entire castle.

A footman was posted outside, bordered by two more guards. He nodded to us and reached for the door with a bow.

Mother of God. He bowed to me. To me. Auden Murray.

As the door opened I was quickly ushered inside by the page. I stood there, frozen in shock, unable to process the sight before me. The King's bedchamber was at least twice the size of my whole house. A magnificent chandelier hung from the impossibly high ceiling, white-gold and hosting close to thirty candles, all no thicker than the width of a finger.

I turned in a slow circle, my eyes dancing from each chair, each table, each portrait on the wall, and then finally to the huge, crystal clear mirror placed above the fireplace mantel.

In it, I saw my own reflection. Dirty, ragged clothes. A scruff of greasy brown hair plastered to my forehead. Jesus. I really did look like a rat.

Behind me, in the mirror, a second face made me jump.

The King sat on his bed, half-hidden by the white canopy curtain.

"God!" I hissed.

He grinned. "Hello."

Unease trickled like cold water throughout my body.

"Come," he said, hopping off the bed. "You must see the view."

He wore only a linen nightshirt, his feet bare atop the marble floor. My eyes flitted along his body. The soft round of his belly, the curve of his hips, the white flesh of his chest peeking out beneath his drawstring collar.

"I am sorry I did not call for you sooner," he murmured. "Beauregard kept talking and talking... I think he knew I was waiting for him to leave."

My nose wrinkled at the name. "What's Beauregard doing here?"

Philip giggled. "Preparing me for bed. It's his job."

"Is it?" I said, a little too bitterly.

"He's my Lord Chamberlain. He wakes me each morning, precisely at eight, calls Charles in with my breakfast, dresses me. He arranges all my meetings and social outings. At night he undresses me and prepares the bed."

"Lovely," I muttered.

He turned, and for the first time I was facing him, his soft eyes on mine. He smelled as beautiful as he looked, like faint lilac. His features were rosy, smooth. Angelic.

He was an angel and I, a wretched sinner.

"What, um, what were you going to show me?" I breathed.

"Oh!" He took my hand and led me to the glass balcony doors on the opposite end of the room, overlooking the courtyard. Moonlight streamed through them into the room, illuminating the floor.

He's holding my hand again.

"Would you like to go outside?" he asked.

"No, I'm-" I gripped the wall as he reached for the door handle. "Scared of heights."

"It's alright." He smiled. "We'll just go out a step."

I dug my nails into my palm and tried to gulp down my terror as he opened the glass doors. The night air was cool, a biting breeze that made his nightshirt flutter and cling to his form. I bit hard into my inner cheek.

Below us, I could see another balcony. Just above the main entrance of the castle.

The pillar railing was still in shambles.

I clapped my free hand over my mouth as a wave of nausea racked through me. "Jesus Christ." I ducked my head against his shoulder.

"It's a bit morbid, I know," he murmured, as if he'd read my mind. He gave me a small smile. "We won't fall. This landing is very secure."

"It's not that." I shook my head to clear the dizziness. "It's just-" Your father fucking died right there.

He gave my hand a squeeze. "How about some wine?"

I nodded and he disappeared back inside, allowing me to slump against the wall. Two months ago I had stood out there, in the courtyard, nothing but one man of a crowd, watching his King meet a grisly death of blood and stone.

Was I the same man?

No.

Too much had changed.

Where once I had looked up, I now looked down. Where once I had known all too well my place in the world, I now knew nothing.