The hatred Lady Catherina harbors for Madin is incomprehensible. He wonders why she can't just mind her business.
He isn't competing with her for Arthur's hand; the prince is marrying her, after all. Shouldn't that be enough?
Within just a week, the preparations for Arthur and Catherina's wedding are complete.
The palace is abuzz with the dual celebration of Arthur's coronation. The current king, aged and weary, has chosen to step down, eager to see his son ascend the throne before passing away.
In this same week, Catherina's life transforms. Once a mere servant, she is now the prince's fiancée. It's revealed that she's the daughter of a general—not Michael, who was exiled from the palace after his disgrace__ assistant.
During a formal address, the king extols Catherina's virtues to the court, emphasizing her intelligence and kindness.
He praises her willingness to marry Arthur despite knowing the prince's heart belongs elsewhere. "She is a blessing to the kingdom," the king declares, "and will help Arthur rule wisely."
Though the words are meant for the crowd, Madin feels the sharp sting of their message. The king's disdain for him is evident, his words cutting deep. Madin wonders how much more humiliation he can endure.
As the ceremony unfolds, Madin watches Arthur from a distance. The prince sits at the royal table, laughing with his family and his new bride. The sight twists a knife in Madin's chest.
Just last night, Arthur swore to him that Catherina was nothing more than a means to an end—a vessel for heirs to secure the kingdom's future.
Arthur had said he made this clear to Catherina, even offering her the chance to decline. Yet, here he is, acting as if nothing else matters, seemingly content in his new role.
Madin clenches his fists, anger bubbling beneath the surface. Does Arthur even remember their promises? Or has he already moved on?
The grand hall is alive with chatter, music, and the lively movements of dancers entertaining the guests. But Madin feels out of place, suffocated by the opulence and betrayal surrounding him.
As the wine flows freely, Madin drinks far more than he should. His head spins, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him. Needing air, he stumbles out of the hall into the quiet corridors.
The palace hallways blur as he walks, his legs unsteady, his vision swimming. His foot catches on the flat floor, and he starts to fall—only to be caught by strong arms.
"You're so drunk, jeez!" a familiar voice exclaims.
Madin blinks, trying to focus. He vaguely recognizes the figure. Jeremy. Arthur's loyal bodyguard.
"I'm fine," Madin slurs, attempting to pull away.
"You almost hit the floor," Jeremy says, steadying him. "Let me help you to your room. Stop struggling; I don't bite."
"I said I'm fine," Madin insists, though his words are jumbled.
Jeremy sighs but doesn't let go. "I know it hurts," he says softly. "Seeing someone you love with someone else. But what can we do?"
Madin sobers slightly, his interest piqued. "We?! Did your lover choose someone else too? Wait… is it that girl—Catherina?"
Jeremy's laugh is humorless. "Her? Never. I hate her because she's making you suffer."
Madin stares at him, confused. "What are you talking about?"
Jeremy's face softens, his voice dipping into something more vulnerable. "I hate her because she's hurting you. I can't be with you, Madin, but that doesn't mean I don't want you to be happy. You love Prince Arthur, and I've accepted that. All I want is for you to find joy."
Madin shakes his head, trying to comprehend his words. "I… don't understand you."
Jeremy hesitates, then murmurs, "I knew you were a boy from the start, Madin."
The revelation shocks him. Madin pulls away slightly, his dizziness forgotten. "What are you talking about? Make yourself clear."
Jeremy exhales deeply, his eyes filled with emotion. "I've always known I'm attracted to men. I've never desired a woman, no matter how beautiful or willing she was. When I realized my feelings for you—how I kept looking for you, following you around the palace even before Arthur assigned me to—it all made sense. That day you ran off with the prince, I saw you. I let you go because your happiness mattered more to me than anything else."
Madin's heart races as Jeremy continues, his voice tinged with regret. "I also need to confess something. I was the one who reported your closeness with Michael. I thought it would bring you back to the palace. I even organized secret searches for you after you disappeared, but I never found you."
Jeremy's words hang in the air, heavy and unexpected. Madin stares at him, his mind reeling.
"You… love me?" he finally asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
Jeremy nods. "I do. I always have."
Madin studies the man before him. Jeremy is strong, with defined features and a quiet confidence that could draw anyone in. He looks older, maybe 25, but his eyes hold a vulnerability that surprises Madin.
"How did you know I was a man from the beginning?" Madin asks, still grappling with the confession.
Jeremy smiles faintly. "I could feel it. My heart knew before my mind did. Everything about you captivated me—your courage, your spirit. I couldn't stop myself from falling."
Madin's chest tightens. "But… Arthur…?"
"I know," Jeremy says quietly. "He's my prince and your love. I'll never interfere with that. But I needed you to know how I feel. If you ever need someone to care for you, someone who loves you unconditionally, I'm here."
Madin doesn't know what to say. His life feels like a cruel game, each twist more complicated than the last. How could Jeremy—a man so close to Arthur—harbor feelings for him?
"Jeremy," he whispers, his voice strained. "This… this changes everything."
Jeremy shakes his head. "No, it doesn't. Your heart belongs to Arthur, and I respect that. I just couldn't keep this inside anymore."
Madin pulls away, his head spinning again—not from alcohol this time, but from the weight of Jeremy's confession. His life feels like a cursed story, one where happiness always remains just out of reach.
He stumbles back toward the hallway, leaving Jeremy sitting alone in the dim light.