I barely slept that night, and even when I did, I dreamed of Prince Richard, turning into a terrifying demon and demanding my execution when he found out what I was.

As I left for the stables to muck out the horses, I hoped desperately that I was not so transparent in reality. Sir Tristan had kindly told me that I might take his second horse, Willow, for my visit to the castle later. I made sure she was cleaned and fed for the journey, before getting myself ready.

I cleaned myself up, donned the smartest clothes I had and brushed my mousey blond hair, making sure I also had a warm coat and hat to guard against the cold. I readied Willow, and as we departed, I was grateful that the wind was less biting than it been the previous day. Sir Tristan had wished me luck when he saw me and reiterated that I should enjoy myself. It had been clear that he could see my nerves but did not know the full extent or reason for them. And as I set off on my journey to the meet the prince, those nerves were badly in need of redirection.

The majestic turrets of the great castle were taller than any structure I had seen before, and flags fluttered at the summit of each. A sprinkling of frost made the ground sparkle, like there was something magical about the palace.

I was greeted warmly by one of the castle servants, a man of about my age with ginger hair, who asked about my business. Once I told him, he smiled and said I had been expected. After tethering Willow and giving her an apple, I followed the young man through the ornately carved doors where I was hit with a wall of heat in contrast to the icy cold outside. The servant offered to take my outdoor clothes, so I obliged and thanked him.

The corridors he took me down were filled with royal portraits and armour decorated with weapons. The walk to the dining hall was relatively short, each step further deepening my nerves. As the servant knocked loudly on the door, my stomach constricted, and I felt slightly dizzy. I was about to face the stunning prince and still had no understanding of the underlying reason for this lunch invitation. I stood behind the ginger man until I was formally introduced.

"Sebastian, Your Highness," stated the servant with a small bow.

"Please, come in Sebastian," boomed a voice from inside the room.

I stepped to one side and Prince Richard came into view. I had been through this situation in my mind a thousand times since I had received the invitation, but his chiselled handsome features still blew me away. Warmth flowed through my body as I soaked up the sight of him, looking every inch a prince in his royal attire.

"Your Highness," I managed with a bow.

The prince stood and smiled broadly. I steadied my breath as his smile hit me square in the chest, and I pondered how I could possibly make it through this lunch without giving myself away.

"Ah, Sebastian, please," he gesticulated to a nearby seat at the dining table, and only then did I see anything about the hall. A long dining table stretched across it, with a white cloth and decorated modestly. There were two places set for eating, on opposite sides of the table at one end. A long fire crackled at one end in an ornate hearth.

Prince Richard looked as though he were indicating for me to sit down. As I moved forward, I heard the door close behind me as the servant departed. I hesitated next to the seat, unsure what to do, as it certainly was not customary for a squire to be seated in the company of a member of the royal family.

"Um...," I stumbled while trying to decide whether to be seated.

"Sebastian," the prince said warmly. "Did Tristan not inform you I had invited you for lunch? Your surely cannot eat while standing. Please sit." I looked at Prince Richard, who was smiling pleasantly.

"Of course," I nodded to him and then added, "It is only that ... this is most irregular, Your Highness."

I sat as directed. Now that I was so close to him, I could see that his eyes were a warm brown, earthy, like he belonged to nature, framed with dark lashes. He was truly stunning.

Prince Richard sat down opposite me, looking entirely comfortable with this bizarre situation.

"Probably," he waved his hand nonchalantly in the air. "I'm not one for customs and traditions. My father often despairs with me. I would far rather you were at ease."

Since there were more chance of pigs flying than my comfort levels increasing, I simply replied, "That may take some time, Your Highness. With respect, we have only just been introduced."

"Of course," he replied. "In which case, perhaps we should get to know each other better. Tell me something of yourself."

Prince Richard leaned back and folded his arms behind his head. I hoped that my brief glance towards the muscles that strained slightly against his shirt had been missed. This behaviour and his request for information were highly unconventional and stunned me into silence as I fumbled for something of interest to tell him. A butler entered and the smell of roast beef hit my nose, confusing me further. Prince Richard spoke again before I managed to grasp anything tangible to respond with.

"Ah, lunch has arrived!" he exclaimed, and I was grateful for the delay. The butler served us up a small feast, including the meat, potatoes, an array of colourful vegetables and a deep red gravy.

"Thank you, Williams." Prince Richard started eating enthusiastically as the butler was still pouring wine for him. He continued speaking through a mouthful of food, still somehow managing to look immensely attractive while doing so. "Please eat and tell me how long you have squired for Tristan."

Williams lifted the tip of the wine bottle towards my glass. I put my hand over the top to prevent him from filling it. The butler received the message and nodded. My perversion would surely come to light if my senses were impaired in any way. I took some water instead.

"For four years," I replied, cutting some potato and trying it. It was really very good, with a decent crunch on the outside and fluffy inside.

"And you find him reasonable?" asked the prince, before taking a sip of wine.

"As well as kind and generous," I added. "I have been fortunate indeed that he agreed to my service."

"Tristan is a dear friend of mine," the prince looked up from his food and pointed his fork in my direction. "He appears to be fond of you also. He described you as a hard worker and an honest character."

"Then I must thank him later," I replied. "I owe him much."

"Where did he find you?" asked Prince Richard.

And so, throughout the main course, I told him how my mother was a cook for a local lady of Thain, the village to the north that I grew up in. My father was a blacksmith that was visited by Sir Tristan when the knight was in need of new horseshoes. Sir Tristan was looking for a squire, and I longed to go with him and train, so we made an agreement on it. I knew I had been lucky to receive such an offer – the son of a blacksmith working for a knight was not a common occurrence.

"Sir Tristan tells me that you send part of your earnings to your parents," the prince commented. "Is this true?"

"It is, sir," I replied, but hardly saw why it was relevant.

"Then I will add 'humble' to your list of attributes." He flashed his brilliant smile, dazzling me, such that I had to remind myself where I was and collect my wits.

The butler came back and started to tidy the crockery and cutlery away.

"Was it good?" asked the prince, gesturing to the empty plates being cleared.

"'Good' does not do it justice," I replied. "As you can see, I left nothing. Thank you, Prince Richard."

"Do you have room left for something sweet?"

"A small space can always be made for something sweet," I smiled pleasantly back.

Prince Richard nodded to the butler, who left with a small bow.

"Will you allow me to tell you a little about myself while we sit together?" Prince Richard asked, and despite his obvious authority, it seemed to be a genuine question. I was bewildered he should even be asking.

"Of course, Your Highness."

Prince Richard was the youngest of three children, which made him unlikely to be King. But since he also had no desire to be, the situation suited him. His older siblings, Edward and Jasmine, were both married and no longer lived in the castle. He told me how he had always been different to his siblings and peers. Where they preferred large parties, elegant balls and formalities, he preferred the countryside and more casual environments. They preferred to fight with swords, he preferred to fight with strategy, and seemed well-read and well educated. His father, King Harold, had married below his station, which I had previously heard rumoured, but Richard now confirmed. Richard's love for his family and his horses was apparent in the way he spoke of them. I also learned he preferred a select few trusted friends to large numbers of acquaintances.

While he spoke, dessert arrived. It was a simple apple and blackberry crumble, still warm from the oven with fresh cream. I could not have asked for anything with more flavour and ate slowly to savour the taste. The prince finished his before me and a small smile played on his lips as I scooped up the last mouthful.

"To your liking?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Amazing, thank you," I replied. I had relaxed a little, but it still was not entirely clear what I was doing here.

"Walk with me?" The prince stood up, and although it was posed in the tone of a question, it was clearly rhetorical. I followed him through the door and down a corridor as he spoke.

"I have informed you I prefer strategy to swords. I enjoy challenging my brain and have developed a taste for strategy games involving an opponent."

The prince led me into a snug, where another log fire was already lit. A three-tiered game sat in the centre of a small table with two chairs on either side. A dark green sofa was pressed against one of the walls and a landscape painting hung above the fire.

The prince strode over to the table and took a seat in one of the chairs.

"Will you play against me?" he offered, waving to the other chair. I had played games like this in the past. Not often, and never with anyone with a higher social standing, but I recalled enjoying them when I had played. I walked slowly to the other chair, with my eyes on the game, making sure they were not wandering inappropriately.

"With regret, sir, I am not familiar with this game," I admitted as I approached.

"Then, if you are willing, I can teach you," he replied.

"Please do," I confirmed, settling in.

The prince explained that each player had sixteen pieces of different colours, mine green, and his red. The aim was to use the three tiers of the playing area to move the pieces in straight lines in any dimension, and 'capture' the opponent's pieces, removing them from the board. The winner was the first player to 'capture' all their rival's pieces first.

"You must play honestly and to the best of your ability." The prince gave his final instruction.

It was not customary for the son of a blacksmith to play a game like this against nobility. In the rare instances it might happen, convention and social structure dictated that I yield before the end. However, given my unfamiliarity with the rules, and his apparent knowledge of this game, I was confident I would lose regardless of my intention.

So, I nodded my agreement, and we played.

After ten minutes or so, I found myself in a quandary. I could see a way in which I was certain to win, but a different decision on my part would see the prince win instead. I bit my lip as I thought.

It was not polite for me to be the winner. Aside from being culturally unacceptable, Prince Richard had been kind and generous, and I had no desire to insult him by winning a game against him that was so foreign to me that I needed the rules explaining. Showing him up seemed like bad form after what he had given me today.

On the other hand, he had made a point of asking me to play fairly and to the best of my ability, and I had agreed. Perhaps he was prepared to be beaten by the son of a blacksmith.

"You are thinking particularly hard about this next move?" he asked. I looked up to find him in good humour, brown eyes twinkling. I had to look away again to answer him. I did not trust myself to answer sensibly otherwise; those eyes were maddeningly attractive.

"I am," I admitted, but possibly not for the reasons he thought.

His good spirit helped with my decision, and I made the move that would surely enable me to emerge victorious. Indeed, three moves later, the red pieces were all captured.

"You have me beaten," he declared.

"It would appear that way, Your Highess," I responded, hoping my decision had been sensible and that I had not just insulted him. It was difficult to tell from his expression now, but as I looked at him, a small smile spread across his face. It became a grin, mesmerising me once again.

"And now we can talk about why you are here," he said, leaning back in the chair with his hands behind his head.