   When I was fourteen, I met Alister for the first time. He had been a boy with hair as red as that of candle flames, and freckles that looked like someone had thrown a cup of dirt on his face. He was taller than me—though, every boy my age was.
   I remember how he’d stared at me from his seat on the bench while the man in front with an open bible preached to the small congregation gathered in a villager’s common room. There was something almost ironic about two teen Protestant boys ogling each other as their parents and the rest of the congregation prayed for the fall of the Catholic Church.
   I knew I liked men already, and I knew Alister was like me. Alister fancied me, and I fancied him. We just never said it out loud. We became friends, and two years went by. Two years of helping our little congregation set up for sermons. Two years of studying the bible together while pretending that our hearts didn’t skip anytime our fingers brushed. Two years of pretending that we didn’t see each other as anything more than very good friends.
   When we were sixteen, Alister decided to push that boundary. He started asking me questions. Questions like if I loved God like I would love a woman, and if I thought Jesus kissing his disciples was bad. He liked the relationship between Jesus and John to that of a husband and wife, and he asked me if David and Johnathan had been something more.
   There was something about his questions that made me panic and distance myself from him. I knew what he wanted my answers to be. I knew what he wanted me to admit out loud even though I was comfortable with never letting the words that defined me leave my lips. He wanted me that way, and I wanted him that way, but I had been afraid—
   The sound of trotting horse feet brought me out of my thoughts. I looked out of the window, watching as a carriage passed through the castle gates. It was probably food and supplies coming in. A sigh left my lips as I shook my head and stared down at the book on my lap. It was a simple fairy tale the master had picked out for me himself.
   I wondered when the master would be back. Being alone by myself made me think too deeply. Daydreaming wasn’t something I’ve been wanting to do, considering the memories from my youth that had been triggered by the Lord had started to plague my every thought for the past few weeks.
   A small hum rang through my chest as I closed the book on my lap. It was early in the afternoon at the lord’s castle, and I had started my day by giving him his breakfast and helping him get ready for his midday walk which he was yet to return from. The winter cold was more bearable since it stopped snowing, and I had made it a habit of mine to read at the common room while looking out the large bell-shaped windows behind the lord’s favorite settee chair.
   I blew off the strand of hair that floated in front of my face. My hair had grown longer, but I didn’t know how to cut it myself, so I let it be. Troy had followed his master on his walk, so the castle was unbearably quiet with Marie also taking a midday nap.
   My eyes shut close, and I drifted into sleep in the armchair. When my eyelids peeled open it was considerably darker. I squinted before widening my eyes when I noticed the Lord was on his settee with a cup of tea in his hands.
   “You’ve been sleeping for a while. You must really be tired,” he muttered when I looked down at the book in my lap. “Did you like the book?” the Lord asked me, making me raise my eyes to meet his. His dark eyes watched me as I held up the books and tightened my grip on its side.
   “I could barely read it,” I said, and he laughed. I noticed that Troy was laying on the floor by his feet when the dog raised its head at the sound of the Lord’s chuckle.
   “I could help you understand the words you can’t make out if you want,” he said, letting out a sigh before bringing the china cup to his lips.
   I narrowed my eyes at it, letting my gaze move from it to the tray by the settee. “I’m sorry. I should have prepared that for you,” I said, noticing that I had slept through the period when I was supposed to get him brunch.
   “It’s alright, Marie took care of it,” he said, putting his cup aside before grabbing the book that was sitting beside him. “You didn’t reply to my offer to help you with your reading.”
   My eyes flickered to the book in my hands. “I don’t think it’s my place to have you tutor me like I were your apprentice.”
   “I do that already, don’t you think?” Lord Evenus’ words made me look up at him. “I’m teaching you how to ride, and I plan to show you how to hunt—with a gun. It’s a lot easier than you think.” The grin on his face made my chest feel warm. I sat up in the armchair, wondering if it would be rude for me to just get up and walk away.
   “Yes, I suppose so,” I ended up saying before licking my lips. “T-thank you,” I added, watching as the Lord closed his eyes and hummed. He had his book open on his lap. He was wearing yellow breeches and matched them with white stockings. Over them, he had on an emerald green doublet jacket. The Lord was always tastefully dressed even when he was just lying about the castle.
   I took a brief look at my brown hose and tunic, licking my lips before looking up again. Startled at finding the Lord staring at me I looked away, feeling the thick paper that encased the book on my lap.
   “You always dress so plainly,” the Lord said, but I gave no response. “I should get you some clothes when I travel next.”
   “Speaking of which, one of these days I should take you with me,” he said, and I just stared at him. I have wondered what towns beyond Barcombe and the other villages at the edge of the South were like. I’ve lived in Barcombe all my life. My parents had fled from the North when I was a baby to live in Lord Evenus town. Barcombe, Axminster and the few others were the exceptions and not the rule. The Lords didn’t care much about what the inhabitants did as long as they paid their taxes. There was no policing of who worshiped, read or wore what.
   “Ah, no response? Did I do something wrong?” The lord asked, chuckling before looking down at his book.
   My face warmed up. “It’s not like that,” I said, watching as he looked up at me again.
   “If that’s so come join me,” he muttered, patting the empty space beside him on the blue settee. I took in a deep breath before getting up from the armchair and walking over to him. He hummed when I sat down beside him, reaching out to catch strands of my hair between his fingers.
   “Your hair is long, you should ask Marie to help you cut it,” he said, letting go. My eyes fluttered away from his face, moving to the carpet on the floor. The lord had a strong jawline that was usually buried under stubble, but today his face was clean-shaven.
   “Or, would you like it if I cut it for you?” the Lord asked in a low tone, leaning forward so that he could see my face.
   “I don’t mind,” I half-croaked, closing my eyes for a bit before opening them up again. The common room fell into silence, and Troy must have grown bored with us because the dog got up and wandered to the other end of the room before lying down.
   “Are you afraid of me, perhaps?” Lord’s Evenus’ question hung in the air like a hook. I felt my throat clog up and my heart race. “Are you worried that I might approach you inappropriately?” Lord Evenus asked, reaching to touch my hair again. “Have you figured it out?”
   I didn’t want to answer that question. I didn’t want the possibility to be true even though I craved him in that way.
   “A Lord who takes the name of his former commander. A Lord who inherited his wealth from a man who was not family. A lord without a wife or a mistress,” the master kept listing off descriptors of himself and my chest squeezed up as his hand moved from my hair to lightly press against my neck. “Have you figured it out?” he asked again, and I wasn’t sure what to say.
   I let out an audible whimper as I buried my hands in my lap, gripping on the fabric of my tunic.
   “I would never do anything you wouldn’t want,” he continued, taking his hand away before folding them over the book in his lap. I stared at his fingers, watching him fidget as he stared out into the room. “And you have a right to refuse me if I step out of line. You might be my servant, but your body is yours.”
   There was a period of silence where the only sound was Troy yawning in the background and the sound of the settee creaking when the Lord adjusted his position “Would a kiss be rude?” I blinked, looking up to find his face inches from mine. My mouth parted, and my eyes softened as I stared into his darker ones. They pooled with compassion—compassion reserved for me.
   “No,” I muttered under my breath, hearing my own heart pounding in my ears as my toes curled up. The Lord smiled at me, reaching out a hand to cup my cheek. He brushed it with the base of his thumb before leaning.
   A smile formed on his lips as he used his free hand to touch my thighs through my hose. “You have beautiful lips, Manfred,” he whispered.
   And for the first time, our lips met in a kiss.
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