Finneas gripped his wrist, nails digging into flesh as he clenched his jaw tighter. “I hope you’re right.” If he could actually control this, if he could make sure that he would never harm Maron, he would use it. But there was too much chance. If someone else could scar Maron like that, using this same power, he could, too.

“I hope so as well.” That slimy, dripping voice was much closer than Finneas had expected it. Altrusia sauntered toward him, the look of a petulant child shining bright in his eyes. “I don’t know entirely why I wasn’t consulted on this decision, but it doesn’t make much sense to me. Some untrained magician with total access to his powers is going to be around the prince every second of the day?”

Perhaps Finneas had choked in his practice because of the exact same thought, but from that mouth, it infuriated him. He clenched a fist, but kept his posture straight and his voice even. Being loud or looking angry would only make him look worse and though he didn’t expect respect from Altrusia, appearing irritable would only hinder the cause. “His Highness made this choice. I trust in his decisions.”

If Maron had any doubts, he wouldn’t have come to Finneas with a key. Maron trusted him not to let him get hurt. If Maron gave him that trust, he must have done something to be worthy of it. Finneas would do everything within his power to ensure that he was.

“I worry that our dear prince is blinded by your tactics.”

Finneas wasn’t going to take that bait. He just stared at the man blankly.

“Don’t play dumb. Everyone is already well aware that you’re inappropriately close to him. You think you were chosen because you were the best protector? You seduced him. There are rumors, you know. That you’re less of a guard and more of a bed warmer.”

“Enough.” Joel’s voice wasn’t loud, but the way it snapped made it feel as if it was ringing in Finneas’s ears. “Finneas, you have a meeting. Get cleaned up and go. Altrusia. A word.”

Finneas didn’t say a thing before he started walking. The sooner he left, the better, and this was an opportunity.

It wasn’t as if he’d never heard that before. It wasn’t as if there was no truth to it. Speculation among other servants had begun the day he was first seen around the prince, long before he’d been made Maron’s attendant. Even as children, the moment others had realized just how often the pair were side by side, there had been whispers that they were too close for a servant and a royal. They shouldn’t have been friends.

When Finneas began attending lessons with Maron, at the young prince’s insistence, there had been loud, public arguments about it. Why should a servant, a commoner with nothing special to offer, be given such an honor? And, alternatively, why was he the only child in the palace to be allowed? Because he was a Stone? Because it made the royal family look good to offer the opportunity to a magician? Finneas hadn’t thought about it like that back then. He’d been genuinely surprised to find that anyone around him had fought against Maron’s decision. Back then, his friend had offered him an education and he had lept on the chance. Maron had given him a gift, and he hadn’t thought twice.

Older and more aware of the optics that surrounded him, having heard the words from the mouths of servants and palace officials alike, Finneas had done his best to keep himself perfectly in line. He could be a friend. He could be a classmate. He could be close with Maron so long as he was a perfectly presentable young man who performed his duties without complaint and only ever spoke well of the royal family.

As a guest attendant, he didn’t have a hard life. When nobles or scholars visited, he was to ensure their comfort in their temporary chambers. If he was recognized as more than a moving piece of the scenery, it was usually by a guest lecturer who’d spoken with him and Maron and found themselves surprised to have him working for them. It was pleasant. As long as he stayed in line, it was nice. He didn’t mind serving people who wanted to make small talk after lessons. He didn’t mind the people who allowed him to function as nothing more than a mechanism of the palace; bringing food, running baths, taking laundry without a word. Being invisible wasn’t so bad.

Even those like Altrusia, who looked at him, glared at his wrists, and made a harsh passing comment weren’t too difficult. If they found so much issue with having a magician as an attendant, they’d usually request a replacement and he would be on his way to the next room. Usually.

It had been some lower nobleman, perhaps in his fifties, visiting for a month to consult with His Majesty. Finneas couldn’t remember the name, but he remembered his pale, wrinkled skin and the way he reeked of tobacco. He remembered lighting the fireplace and being shoved forward, the feeling of the metal on his cuffs heating until the gold glowed red. He remembered the sound of his own screaming. The fire had only made contact with his cuffs, but the metal burned. The feeling of a dress shoe pressing into his shoulder, the inability to move, the absolute fear that the flames would grow beyond the small sparks in the tinder, that he wouldn’t be able to remove his face from the fireplace, that–

The second he’d been released, he’d run to Maron.

The gold on his wrists was still hot when he found him.

Finneas hadn’t been offered the open position of personal attendant because he was the most qualified option. He had been offered it because Maron didn’t want to ever smell Finneas’s burning flesh ever again.

He’d been told never to speak about what had happened. It would make the royal family look bad if someone they’d invited had hurt a servant that badly. To anyone outside the immediate family, Finneas had been selected for the role because Maron liked him and wanted him around more often. And with that came implications.

The rumors didn’t bother Finneas. Not really. People still looked at Maron with the same respect whether they thought he was sleeping with his attendant or not. After all, if he was, wasn’t that just proof that he was no longer afraid? And people still looked at Finneas as if he was nothing but an armed extension of the prince. He was a shadow. That was nothing to worry themselves over.

Finneas took a low breath as he entered his bathroom. He scrubbed at his face, squeezing his eyes shut as hard as he could. The rumors weren’t the problem. So long as Maron was still well-respected and so long as he wasn’t upset by it, there was no issue. It didn’t hurt Finneas’s pride if people made assumptions. After all, there would be no shame in it if it were true. If that was what Maron asked of him, he’d be more than willing to give it. And, he could admit that their relationship had long since crossed the threshold from friendship to something else. That was fine. All of that was fine.

Damon Altrusia’s presence in his life was not fine.

It didn’t matter what anyone thought of him. It didn’t matter what anyone said. But the way Altrusia spoke, as though he were nothing more than a nuisance that would inevitably fester into a threat, it made Finneas feel sick.

It wasn’t that he was right. It was just that he spoke with the same cadence as every horrible thought that had ever crossed Finneas’s mind. If he couldn’t control himself, if he was putting Maron in danger just by being nearby, he wasn’t worth any of the effort he’d made to ensure Finneas’s position. He was barely worthy to be at Maron’s side as it was before. If he was unable to prove he could rein in the fire inside him, he shouldn’t even be near him. He could make the exact same mistakes–

The attack fifteen years ago hadn’t been a mistake. Finneas was not Jameson Pallor. He was nothing like him.

A man like that wouldn’t be staring in the mirror, holding back the sting of tears ready to fall, fingers desperately grasping at the edge of a sink, over the thought of allowing Maron to get hurt.

He took a breath.

Finneas was good.

He was good.

Author's Note

Everyday I beg Finneas to find a therapist. Also!! Big thank you to everyone who's joined the Patreon! In addition to the upcoming Maron print, I just posted this month's NSFW bonus, and I'm so proud of it! Thanks, y'all!