The warmth of a summer sun peaking over the horizon falls on my exposed neck as I bend over my desk in concentration. Reviewing reports and ledgers detailing taxations on imports and exports is a dull and tedious task, but an important one. I need to have a fresh mind to determine which goods should be taxed more or less based upon supply, demand, and the economic burden imposed upon the working class, so I like to do this chore first thing in the morning, while I still have energy. Unfortunately, my stack is particularly long today, and the rising sun acts as a ticking clock, reminding me that soon I will have other duties to attend to. I don’t think I will have time to finish it all before—

“You shouldn’t work in such dim light,” Gilroy says from his place on my bed. For the first time, I notice that my single candle has long since burned away to a mere stub, but I am almost finished and I am used to reading by dim light anyways. “You’ll strain your eyes,” he cautions in a playful tone.

I hurriedly scribble down some notations to mark my stopping place and finally tear my eyes away from my work to look at him properly. Even just after waking up, he is impossibly lovely: his rich mahogany skin shining like gold in the morning light, his honey eyes flaked with green still blurry with sleep, his black hair tousled messily falling on his forehead, a lazy smile gracing his delicate jawline.

I smile back at him. “I guess I will just need to start wearing glasses like you then,” I tease. “Maybe I could get a pair made from solid gold. Wouldn’t that be regal?”

“Sounds liable to break,” he mutters, “and they are not as convenient as you may think.” He reaches out to pluck his silver pair off the nightstand, sliding them onto his face, before standing to get out of bed. “Just call a servant to light a fire next time,” he says around a yawn as he stretches his arms above his head, displaying himself in all his glory for my viewing pleasure.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” I reply. “You looked so peaceful.”

Gilroy just snorts, before bending over to give his back a good stretch. “You should know by now, I sleep like the dead,” he huffs from his awkward position, before straightening up. “A little racket never bothered me. Besides, I should be awake by now anyway. Isn’t your maid a little late coming to start the fire?”

I nod absently, beginning to put away my morning work. “She’s new. I’m afraid she might have gotten lost again.”

Gilroy chuckles as he comes to my side, bending to kiss the top of my head. “You’re too forgiving,” he says. I look up and capture his lips with mine in a slow, sensual kiss reminiscent of last night.

Just then, the large oak doors to my room push open. I sigh, breaking away to see who interrupted us. It’s my new handmaid, a cute little thing with uncommon straw yellow hair and a button nose. Her unusually large brown eyes have impossibly doubled in size as she looks at the pair of us, understandably a little shell shocked.

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” she squeaks as she quickly averts her eyes from Gilroy’s naked form and drops into a low curtsy. “I should have knocked.”

“It’s alright, Hilda,” I respond evenly. “Just come in and light the fire. Gil, put on your robe before you give the poor girl an aneurysm.”

Gilroy smothers a laugh as he crosses the large bedchamber to collect his spare robe from where it hangs on a rack in the corner. Hilda scurries to the opposite wall with her pan of wood and kindle, obviously trying to avoid looking up again. I can’t help but smirk as I follow her movements closely. She reminds me of a frightened bunny, completely unaware that she is in no danger from me. Perhaps her last employer was harsh on her. I will need to break her in carefully then.

My attention drifts back to Gilroy, who is now at least moderately decent in his red silk robe. He is watching me watch the new maid with a knowing smirk on his face. I scowl at him, but his grin only widens. So I attempt to distract his mind. “I couldn’t find your pocketbook this morning, Gilroy. What’s on the schedule for today?”

Gilroy’s relaxed demeanor immediately vanishes. Back straight, shoulders square, face carefully neutral, he switches seamlessly into his other role. “Brunch with the Baroness of Onora is at nine,” he begins to recite from memory. “Reading at the orphanage at ten. Eleven: Blessings to the poor at the cathedral—”

“No, no, no,” I interrupt. “I told you I would be doing those at the palace courtyard indefinitely.”

“Your Highness—” Gil begins in that tone I know well. A lecture is coming, I can feel it.

I try to hedge off his objections before they can begin by saying, “Until the Church decides to reinstate proper hygiene policies, I won’t encourage people to gather in mass there.”

“Since you refuse to attend church anymore, you missed the Cardinal announcing you would resume your duties at the cathedral this week. People are expecting you to be there,” he counters.

I’m fuming at Gil’s revelation. “That dirty, underhanded, old—”

“Yes, yes. It wasn’t very diplomatic of him to go behind your back like that, but can you blame him? You’ve put him in a tough position by refusing to make a statement reaffirming your faith despite not attending services anymore.”

“I wouldn’t mind sitting for an hour through his stupid sermons if he actually practiced what he preached! Goodwill? Concern for the wellbeing of others? Common sense? How can I in good conscience give my Blessing of Health, when I know simply coming to see me puts my people at risk for catching the Plague?”

“‘Know’?” Gil scoffs. “That’s a bit of a hasty conclusion to make. Lady Galewood theories of disease and cleanliness, while interesting, are yet to be proven,” he reasons. I roll my eyes, because, despite his diplomatic approach, I know he agrees with the renowned healer’s “theories” as much as I do. “How about this? We have a bit of extra spending money from your gala last month. We can use the funds to buy a few hundred soap bars to give out, and I will personally remind each guest of your official stance on hygiene after you give their Blessing.”

“I would rather the Cardinal endorse my stance during one of his sermons,” I mutter bitterly, but I know the discussion is closed for now. I spot Hilda trying to make a hasty exit now that she has got a good fire roaring in the hearth. “Wait, Hilda,” I call before she can slip away. She stops, but still refuses to look our way. “When you come back, please bring a bit of breakfast for my advisor,” I say guestering at Gilroy.

“Of course, Your Highness,” she says curtseying once more before leaving the room to put away her tools.

“She’s cute,” Gil points out as soon as she is gone.

“Down boy,” I mock. “I don’t think this one is ready for you quite yet.”

“Yes, she did give off that distinctly innocent doe vibe,” he says thoughtfully. “Maybe you could break her in for me?”

“Maybe…” I let myself daydream for a minute about how lovely she would look between my silk sheets.

“Do you think she will gossip about us?” he asks a bit more seriously.

“That little lamb?” I scoff. “Nah. And if she does, it will only be to the other female servants, which may actually work to our advantage if they get talking.”

A slow smile creeps across Gil’s face at my words. “Your deviousness never ceases to amaze me, Saoirse.”

“What can I say? I know how to pleasure a woman, and I haven’t had a bad review yet.”

“Not to your face,” he teases lightly.

I smack his arm with the back of my hand, to which he predictably reacts overdramatically. “Abuse!” he cries. “You really are one of those cruel rulers!”

“Oh, stuff a cork in it,” I say as I roll my eyes just as dramatically.

“If you insist,” he flirts close to my ear. A shiver runs up my spine at his hot breath close to my neck. Damn, I love it when he gets kinky. I turn to kiss him, shoving my tongue down his throat greedily. I would happily continue where we left off last night, but a new day is calling, and we both have work to attend to.

I reluctantly break away from him after only a minute. “Tell me what is after the trip to the cathedral,” I say a little breathless.

“Hm…” he hums, as if he needs a second to think about it. I know he doesn’t. “The Assembly is meeting with your father from one to three, but His Majesty excused you from attending today so you have time to prepare yourself for the Duke of Crissomid’s arrival at five.”

“I don’t need five hours to get ready. Tell my father I’ll go to the Assembly as usual.”

“You could use the time to take a bit of a nap. Did you sleep at all last night?” he asks, concerned.

I bite my lip, slightly annoyed at no one in particular. “No,” I say through gritted teeth.

The concern in his eyes deepens as he begins calmly rubbing my arms up and down. “Are you feeling anxious?” he asks.

“Who wouldn’t be?” I answer honestly. “But, I’m fine. I don’t feel particularly tired, and I doubt I would be able to nap if I layed down anyways.”

Gil nods, understandingly. He’s used to my insomniac habits by now. “Well, I know a way we could use the time to relax instead. Just enjoy our final hours together,” he says, changing the stroking pattern on my arms so just the tips of his fingers run up and down, sending shivers through my spine.

“You make it sound like I’m dying,” I respond flatly despite the way his flirtatious teasing makes me feel. “Nothing is going to change.”

His stroking stops as he looks away from me, slightly abashed. “You don’t know that,” he whispers. “I’m sure some things are bound to change.”

I furrow my brows, frowning slightly at his words. “Are—are you jealous?” I ask incredulously.

“Who wouldn’t be?” he echoes my earlier words.

I lean in close to him, resting my head against his chest to think. I can understand why he is feeling a little insecure right now. Gilroy is not just my Royal Advisor, he is also my best friend.

As the illegitimate son of a duke, he was the ideal playmate for me growing up. He was well educated and a magic user; a suitable companion for a young princess. But he couldn’t inherit land or hold a seat in the Assembly, so there was nothing he could gain from trying to manipulate me. Of course, after my older brother died in the war, and I was named Crown Princess, he did gain something from our long-term friendship. No one was pleased when I named him my Royal Advisor, but it wasn’t expressly forbidden by law, so I didn’t really care. I wanted Gilroy by my side for life, and with his new title, my father couldn’t send him away once it became unseemly for me to continue spending time with a commoner.

Besides, in all honesty, Gilroy really is the best man for the job. Even if his connection to divine magic is weak, he is intelligent, diplomatic, insightful, and, of course, has this incredibly useful ability to remember with frightening detail anything he has ever heard or seen. I’ve never told him this, but I’m actually deeply in love with him, and, if I could, I would name him my king.

Unfortunately, I can’t.

We always knew this day would come eventually. The day when someone would come to threaten our peace. When I was younger, before I became the heir apparent, I worried I might be sent to them, and never see Gilroy again. Now that I have him firmly secured by my side there is no way I’m going to let some highfalutin prince stand in my way of being with him in every way possible.

“There's no need to be jealous,” I try to reassure. “You should know by now, you’re the only man for me.”