Frederich hadn’t seen Radhildur in over a month. In fact, it was almost two months before he heard whispers of the heir again.

Back then, on that fateful day, upon returning Radhildur to the palace once the knights of the Commons discovered their identity, their Highness had been swept away in a flurry of council members and advisors. Radhildur had said nothing, their hands gripping their hat and sword in a white-knuckled hold. They said not even a goodbye to Frederich when they were pulled away. 

And the absence of their warmth beside Frederich had been staggering. 

Frederich had returned to the library and the scriptorium foyer, waiting to be rebuked for aiding Radhildur. But no scorn ever came. As much as he had tried to focus on work that day, he found he couldn’t. He had slipped home early. 

That day onward, his father refused to talk to him. His parents couldn’t kick him out of the house since the deed for it was in his name, and all its monthly dues were paid primarily by Frederich. But that resulted in avoidance. The month went by painfully slow, with little interaction from his family—including Bea. 

There was no word from Radhildur in all that time either. 

Frederich’s dreams were also oddly empty. No strong or masculine crusader, no haunting entity. Just a stilted slumber.

The loneliness was oppressive. Using the anxiety and need for diversion, Frederich dove completely into his studies. He expedited the time he needed for his graduation, and earned his title as a Master Scholar in the time that passed. Given the situation with his family, he was unable to celebrate the win with anyone but Trevor. For something he had been waiting years for, the long-awaited recognition felt hollow and pointless, especially in the lack of the cursed heir’s presence.

Day after day, his new duties fell short of fulfilling. By the time autumn and the rainy season crept up, Frederich finally laid eyes on them. 

Radhildur walked into the library, a deep velvet veil in place of their usual opaque one, and an even deeper emerald velvet dress covered them, with matching ribbons in their wild hair. They didn’t stop to talk to him or the other Scholars, only walked past the writing desks and disappeared amongst the shelves. Fredering stood up with an armful of books and excused himself. He hurried through the rows. He knew where he would find them. 

The alcove at the back of the fiction section opened before him like a meadow, and within the little nook, Radhildur sat against the wall—fast asleep already. To Frederich’s chagrin, there were deep circles underneath their eyes. While the rest of their face was completely hidden behind their new veil, he could tell they were drained. It looked like their expression was set in a frown, even while dreaming. It was the deep heaviness that set their jaw taut and their brow furrowed forward. The way their hands still fisted in their lap even while unconscious. But it was only then that Frederich noticed, his breath catching in his chest as he did, that Radhildur’s sword was missing from its sacred spot at their waist.

He had so many questions—why hadn't he seen them? Why were they so exhausted? No one had heard a peep from the cursed heir in some time, so why now did they emerge?

As all of these thoughts swarmed his head, he noticed the sound of approaching footsteps. Instantly, he raised an arm and braced it on the upper part of the alcove wall. His cloak billowed over the opening, blocking Radhildur from sight. He clutched the books in his other arm closer. 

An advisor approached from one of the many rows, shouting at Frederich to see if he'd run into the youngest princess in passing.

“No princesses here,” Frederich answered with an annoyed lift of his brow.

The advisor sighed and went on their way, hissing out Radhildur's name. 

Exhaling slowly, Frederich returned his gaze to the alcove. Radhildur stared up at him, their eyes half-lidded and their golden gaze dim. He swallowed slowly. 

“Good morning, Highness.”

They observed him for a long time, saying nothing. Frederich stood resolute, blocking them from the rest of the world. Eventually Radhildur released a long drawn sigh.

“Thank you, little Scholar. You didn't have to lie for me.”

Frederich could’ve collapsed from relief, the endearing nickname a solace to him. “I spoke only the truth, no princesses. Just one very, tired royal pain.”

“You and that tongue of yours,” Radhildur snorted, their eyes narrowing with amusement. 

Frederich chuckled before growing serious. “Where have you been? I haven't seen you anywhere. Not even in the Atrium.”

“Ah.” Radhildur frowned, and Frederich instantly wanted to kick himself. “They haven't been letting me sleep.”

Surely he'd misheard that. “What?”

“The king and queen, and the head advisor,” Radhildur said slowly. “They all agreed the less contact I had with Ku, the better. So I’ve not been allowed to sleep. I'm permitted five minutes of rest within a two hour window. That's it.”

“How could they do that?” Frederich demanded. 

Radhildur shrugged. “My tutor for today just so happened to eat something that settled poorly in their stomach. So I ran.”

“As you very well should!” He had half a mind to throw his books down and have a stern word with the king, his position as a meager Scholar damned. How could a father, let alone a king, treat an heir as such? While Radhildur was last in line for the throne, they were still the king's child! “What do you need? I can help you get out of here so you can sleep longer.”

“No, Frederich,” they shook their head. “It took a lot of convincing that you weren’t involved in the Commons incident. Luckily, even Sir Dullahan, who’d been summoned, denied your presence. That was one thing the two of us could seem to agree on.”

“Rathi—”

“Don't worry about it,” Radhildur stood, turning him by the shoulders so they could stand toe-to-toe. “I'd much rather take the full blame for my actions than have you get all tangled up.”

“I would be honored to get tangled up,” Frederich said as he rolled his eyes. “Like it or not Highness, I became stuck in this mess from the moment you recruited me.”

Radhildur’s eyes became crescents, and Frederich could recognize the fondness in their gaze anywhere. “You're very loyal, aren't you, little Scholar?”

The smile that eased onto his face was as easy as breathing. “Fortunately, only to you.”

Laughing, Radhildur patted his shoulder. “Unfortunately for you though.”

Frederich shrugged and looked off to the side, trying to ignore the raging blush spreading up his neck and ears. “Yes, well. Your fault for being an incredibly decent person contrary to the rumors around you.”

Radhildur hummed slowly, a rumbling sound that reverberated against their chest.

“I can't stay away long, but, is there anything I can do?” Frederich asked, casting a weary glance back over his shoulders to make sure no one was around. “We could make another disguise for you, get a meal, enjoy the night?”

“As lovely as that sounds, I'm not allowed to leave the castle premises either,” Radhildur said, their tone tense. “Under guard most of the time and what-not.”

“When has that ever stopped you before?” Frederich asked.

There was a pause and Radhildur reached forward. They gently pried the books from Frederich's hold, easily balancing them on their palm. “Let's just say I have vested interests now.”

“If it's because of me—”

“Not everything is about you, goodness.”

“But—”

Radhildur wouldn't let him get a word in. “I promise nothing good will come of knowing.” They stepped around him and started to walk away. “See you around, little Scholar.”

Frederich panicked. Would he really see them again? “It's Master Scholar now, Rathi.”

“Oh?” There was genuine surprise in their voice as they faced him for just a moment. Their head cocked to the side and their eyes narrowed again with a pleased look. “Congratulations, Frederich.”

Frederich watched them go. His fist clenched.