“Of course I do. I’m sure Her Majesty feels the same.”

Florian snorts. “Sorry to burst your little fantasy, but I met her in the gardens. She must’ve been taking a walk.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“It wouldn’t be out of character for her.” He curses himself for the slip of tongue when Ren quirks an eyebrow at him. Florian forces a nonchalant shrug. “People don’t change much.”

“Do they now?” The weight of Ren’s piercing gaze on him makes his skin itch. “So how was it?”

“How was what?”

“Meeting her again.”

Florian gives up another shrug, all I-could-care-less. “Nothing special.”

“I think a moonlit rendezvous warrants more than just a ‘nothing special’.”

Against Florian’s best wishes, a memory flashes through his mind: of a garden cloaked in winter chill, awash in the light of the moon. Only instead of topiaries and the back of a dark cloak edged in fur, what comes to mind is this: the sounds of a distant ballroom and the gentle burbling of a marble fountain; a high, hesitant voice rising above all of that.

“Hey.” She looks at him with wide violet eyes, concerned and bewildered all at once. “Are you-“

Florian pushes the tray away from him abruptly, appetite soured. “The use of the word rendezvous would imply both parties actually intending to meet each other,” he says distastefully.

“So why were you out so late last night, if not for a rendezvous?”

“What, a guy can’t take a midnight stroll around his own gardens?”

Ren rolls his eyes skyward. “No, no, of course you can. I’m sure they’re even more of a sight to see under the moonlight.” A quiet huff escapes him as his gaze falls away from Florian.

There’s a brief note of silence, a pause filled only by the clicking of ceramic as Florian reaches for his cup of coffee.

“You were wrong though,” Ren says eventually. “About people not changing.” Florian quirks an eyebrow at him as he sips, waiting for him to elaborate. “I’ve heard stories from the head steward you know; stories about the palace before I started working here. Some were about you, naturally.”

“Stories about what an angel I was, I bet.”

“He said that Lady Vastein was all you used to talk about.”

Florian swallows harshly, his coffee going down the wrong way. “I was a kid,” he manages to bite out.

“He said that you used up all the paper in your study to write her letters. That you couldn’t sleep the night before you visited the Vastein Estate, only to end up making a fuss the next morning because you were worried about looking awful in front of her. That—”

“That’s all in the past.” Florian’s voice comes out sharper than intended. When he meets Ren’s gaze, what’s reflected in his eyes makes Florian’s stomach curl.

“Then what changed, Your Highness?”

“You know what changed.” His words come out bitter, tasting of resentment and the acrid sting of caffeine. Florian’s cup clatters back into its saucer.

Ren sighs. “How long will you cling to past grievances? Just because of what happened when you two were children-“

“You know it’s more than that!” His hands ball themselves into fists on the surface of his desk. “It’s more than just a past grievance and you know it.”

Ren looks unflinchingly back. “Then for how long will you keep running away? From reality? From your fiancé?”

“Don’t you start with me, Ren.”

“What if there’s more to what happened all those years ago?”

“The last thing I want to hear from her,” Florian spits. “Is an excuse.”

“Perhaps. Or maybe, it could also be the truth.” Ren’s voice remains damningly even. “She’s already here, Your Highness. Will you face her properly this time? Or will you keep running?”

Florian clenches his fists, tight enough that he’s sure of the angry half-moons etched into the skin of his palms. “Get out,” he says through gritted teeth.

“So you’re running.”

“Get. Out.”

“Your Highness— no, Flynn-”

“Don’t make me turn it into an official order, Ren.”

Silence. He hears a sharp intake of breath; an attempt at maintaining composure. “I’ve overstepped,” Ren says coolly. “As you wish, I shall take my leave now. Please enjoy the rest of your breakfast, Your Highness.”

Fading footsteps, before the door closes behind him with a resounding click. Florian pinches the bridge of his nose as he slumps backwards into his seat.

Shit. He shouldn’t have pulled the royalty card on Ren.

He presses his palms into his face with a sigh, the beginnings of a raging headache already throbbing at the base of his skull.