I find the second bucket on the next landing. I pick it up carefully, and then pause, trying to wrap my mind around what's going on. Everything got so complicated so fast. We only wanted to check if Justice's map could be relied on, and now I'm posing as my long-lost brother in the role of a castle slave. Among all the scenarios I and Oliver have considered, we have never imagined this one.

I must return to the secret passage, but I can still hear the guards one floor below me. That way is closed for now. I can only go up.

I climb the stairs, the bucket with hot water growing heavier with each step. At last, I reach the third landing and stop in front of a door.

I take a deep breath and push it open.

After the shadowy stairwell, the room in front of me seems too bright and too large. I allow myself one sweeping glance, taking in the marble bathtub with steam rising above it, the large canopy bed, the walls covered with embroidered hangings, the richly decorated rugs on the floor. My eyes stop on the tall, open window. Three men are standing next to it, too engaged in their conversation to notice me. The sun is behind them, so I can't quite make out their faces.

I bow my head and look down, realizing with horror that I have no idea what to do next.

There's a movement, and a young woman in grey clothes similar to mine grabs the bucket from me.

"Took you some time," she whispers before retreating.

She spills the water into the tub, then heads back to me.  She places the empty bucket by the wall, and kneels next to it on the stone floor, her back bent, her hands on her knees, her eyes cast down. Then, she throws a quick glance at me, frowns, and jerks her head as if to indicate the place next to her.

I join her on the floor and try to emulate her posture to the best of my ability. Yet, she frowns at me again, and I look away quickly. If she's been working with Grumio, she's bound to notice some differences. Could her suspicions be strong enough to call for the guards?

She doesn't, and, gradually, my rushing heart begins to slow down. I'm fine for now. I just need to see what she does and do the same. At a first opportunity, I will slip away and follow Oliver and Grumio.

I wince with guilt at the thought of my brother. After fourteen years apart, the first thing I did upon meeting him was to knock him out. On the other hand, the first thing he did was to set the guards on me.

I guess we have a lot of catching up to do.

Gradually, the voices by the window cease to be a background noise, and I begin to pay attention to what they're saying.

"It's a waste of time, you highness. I have always seen tutoring his majesty's children as an honor and a privilege, but your attitude turns it into a challenge," says one of them in a deep, confident voice of a middle aged, highborn man. "Your unwillingness to put in any effort, combined with your natural predilections and abilities --"

"Are you saying that King's son could have a problem with his abilities?" The new voice is young, clear, and amused. "Or predilections?"

"I would never say such a thing," says the first man, "but if you could put at least a tenth of the efforts that your sister puts into her studies, you would have been one of the most learned people in the kingdom by now."

"Mortimer, please." There's a movement, and then a long purple silken robe stops a couple of steps away from me. "You're teaching me the wrong things, that's why it doesn't work. I could understand learning geography, or maybe a couple of languages, but chemistry? Mathematics? Do you take me for an accountant?"

"I take you for the second in line to the throne."

"My brother is the heir. And once he gets married, his sons will precede me, as you well know."

My heart starts pounding again. If his brother is the heir, it means it's prince Hadrian, standing just a couple of steps away from me. After all the years of dreaming about getting to the royal family, I am now in the presence of one of them. I could just pounce at him and break his neck in one motion.

Except that I don’t just need him. I need all of them. I need the King.

"What do you expect me to teach you then, your highness?"

The purple robe leaves my field of vision.

"How about you teach me to be happy, Mortimer?" The words are followed by a quiet laughter.

"Your highness, if you don’t want to study, I can't force you. Philto will leave the papers here. You will have your examination next week, as your father demanded, and if you fail, he will know about that."

"Let's just hope I won't fail, then. Now, if you don’t mind, my bath is getting cold."

There's a pause, and then Mortimer storms past us and out of the door.

I look up and see the prince sitting on the edge of the bathtub, testing the water with his fingers.

"Aren’t you leaving, Philto?" He gets up and begins to untie the sash of his robe. "Don’t you want to follow your master?"

The young man standing in front of him is dressed like a valet or perhaps a knight. He's holding a stack of papers and books and watches the prince's every movement as if hypnotized.

"My lord, if you want to study, I could help," he says at last. "Your father will be displeased if you fail. Please let me help you."

"Dear Philto, I won't fail." The robe slides off Hadrian's shoulders and pools on the floor by his feet, leaving him naked. Philto looks away quickly. The prince is almost a head shorter than the skinny, tall Philto, but unlike him, perfectly built—slender, with white skin and blond, shoulder-length hair.

Philto backs away, clearly not knowing where to look. Ignoring his confusion, Hadrian follows him until Philto's back hits one of the bed poles and he is forced to stop.

"He's prepared the examination, hasn't he?" says Hadrian.

Philto swallows so hard I can hear him from the other side of the room. "Yes, your highness."

"And you want to help me, don’t you?"

"Sir, do you… I mean…"

Hadrian traces his fingers along Philto's sleeve, then down his hand. He's curiously comfortable standing completely naked in front of fully dressed Philto, while the latter seems on the verge of fainting.

"Do you want me to get the examination for you, so you could solve it in advance?" Philto manages at last.

"No. Why would I want such a thing?" Hadrian shrugs. "I want you to solve it and give me the answers. Will you do that for me?"

Trying to avoid his gaze, Philto turns his head in my direction, so I look down again.

"You are so clever, Philto," I hear Hadrian say. "So willing to learn. I…respect that…in people…other than… myself…"

"Oh my," says Philto in a breaking voice. "Oh my."

I can hear him pant, and the curiosity to see what they're doing almost gets the best of me. Yet, I keep my eyes on the floor.

"Will… you… do… that?"

A soft gasp escapes Philto. "Yes," he breathes out. "Yes… yes… oh yes!"

Hadrian laughs quietly, and I can’t help but glance up.

Philto is still leaning on the bed pole, but Handian is already walking to the bathtub.

"I want the papers by the nightfall," he says matter-of-factly. Philto only nods, gasping for air. Hadrian turns around, and I get my first clear view of his features: the large eyes, the straight nose, the heart-shaped face framed by locks of wavy blond hair. "You may leave now. I assume you will need a fresh pair of pants before you continue with your day."

Philto nods again and stumbles away. He almost runs into the door frame in his hurry. Then, the door closes behind him, and we remain alone with prince Hadrian.

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